Sunday, 20 September 2015

In anticipation of my first Morrissey concert

It's not that I stand by every word this man could ever utter ‐ nor that I could forgive him anything... It's the songs, and it's his voice, and how ‐ even to this day  he can be a saviour of sorts*.

That it's taken me 20 years to be going to see Morrissey in concert I can't begin to explain, but nonetheless I am excited. And it's his solo work I want to hear. I've gradually concluded that his voice became deeper, stronger, at its best after The Smiths. There is such a wealth of work, and maybe his lyrics and song subjects became more varied, and those unique and overwhelmingly great and fascinating melodies are rife.

World Peace is None of Your Business is an anthem for these times, so I'd hope for either that song as powerful opener in concert, or I can hear Kiss Me A Lot as triumphant introduction to the night:
Also hoping for Speedway as a closer ‐ those drums, those lyrics and the vocal delivery, immense:
An unlikely wild card song I would love to hear is Jack The Ripper, as I've just rediscovered/remembered how powerful it is, and how much stronger it sounds performed live:
Morrissey fever is apace. I'm reflecting a lot on certain periods of my life: unavoidably, because he helped define swathes of my life, and connected me to many people, ideas and things. I'm also reading a load of old interviews compiled in book form. I've ordered his new novel from the library, and they are going to buy it in which is brilliant.

More thoughts to follow later, I think.

  (*in the nonreligious, literal sense.)

Wednesday, 29 July 2015

The early albums of Gorky's Zygotic Mynci, and teenage summers past

I can't imagine a band as weird (and young) and experimental and exotic sounding as Gorky's Zygotic Mynci existing now. This band caught me off guard, in the mid 1990s, aged 15, enough to rabidly scrawl the band's name on the back of my homework book: spelled GORKY'S ZYGOTIC MONKEY, of course.

From haunting, childish ballads about picnic hampers, to unabashed, anthemic Welsh language jollity, to what sounded like acid trips in the woods, this band soundtracked my transition from GCSE revision to starting sixth form, and they were incredible.

I only tracked down the band's Lucy's Hamper EP in the last five years or so, as hopes of a provincial, commercial music shop selling it at the time were vaingloriously shallow... Getting hold of the band's Ankst Records releases at the time was a real coup, being where I was. I was yet to approve of my parents' record collections, so all this 70s style acid soaked folk mixed with xylophones, recorders, synths, and whatever else Gorky's felt like dabbling with literally blew my mind. Growing up when I did, I can't help but think that teens these days might not be quite so fazed (and dazed) in the here and now, what with all the accessible past. And yet, as I say, I can't imagine anyone dabbling like this, creating anything as imaginative as this. Times are so desperately drab. John Peel is surely running around kicking things over in disgust as he looks down...

The simplicity and stripped back experimentalism of Gorky's Zygotic Mynci's early album, Tatay, has the sound of a bunch of young pals delighting in home recording. They've learnt their instruments, but the elements of fun and exuberance are so clear. The colours, the textures created are alive and wild.

Tatay, followed by Bwyd Time, were albums full of ludicrous songs. The band dressed as wizards in a forest on one CD sleeve served to stoke the sense of psychedelic. Cartoons of mystical elves and recruits from Puff the Magic Dragon adorned sleeves too, and I drank it all in soberly but wide eyed and keen, in disbelief.

The intro to the album Bwyd Time, of the same name, probably serves as a perfectly bizarre starting point:
As I listen to the album again, two songs in particular stand out still, and are still evocative of a wonderful summer of 18 years ago:
Miss Trudy, a wacky, dramatic, funny song about violin lessons and smashed up violins that's also a tribute in pretty ballad form.
Oraphis Yn Delphie is a fantastic instrumental song that follows Miss Trudy on the album. It's a swirling haze of brass and playful, sweet humming, simply like nothing else. Certainly not like Menswear or Supergrass!!!

After those albums came the single Patio Song, which was one of the most brilliant, vivid, lilting, alluringly tuneful singles a young teenager could hear. Totally at odds with all the brash 'Britpop' that had come before. Casually breaking into the Welsh language was a natural part of the song, and I only sang along to it more fiercely, even if I hadn't a clue what was being sung. There was no internet about then, so I can be forgiven for just going along with things, open minded, unable to decipher. Whatever it was, it was fucking amazing! Jools Holland saying of the Welsh language singing: 'That in itself deserves a round of applause, ladies and gentlemen', must have sounded like so much insulting bullshit to the band as they appeared on his show. Though it did feel revolutionary to English speakers, and exciting to me as a teenager, it was the band's mother tongue and it was more about our attitudes and our acceptance than offering a patronising 'Well done'!

Diamond Dew as a single was equally heartstopping, then I bought Young Girls and Happy Endings with its super pop catchiness, which was on the radio often. I helped both get into the top 50 of the charts.

The band delighted me so much, they were honestly a hugely pivotal part of why I chose to go and study at a university in Wales for a time.

I can't boast to have learned Welsh, but I do still carry massive amounts of fondness for Gorky's, and they remain truly creatively great.

Friday, 12 June 2015

Brix And The Extricated, at the 100 Club, 29th May 2015

Brix was a pivotal part of many of The Fall's best creative periods. The thrill of her returning to music, with intentions to publish an autobiography, is still reverberating. A moot point for some, but for me this club gig with other former Fall members outstrips anything the Mark E Smith group have done in a decade. While Kicker Conspiracy, CREEP, Hit The North, Dr Faustus, LA, Big New Prinz, Totally Wired, Cruisers Creek are songs that wouldn't fill up a usual Fall setlist nowadays, they are played resoundingly powerfully tonight – and are all we could wish for and more. It's not the hankering for the old, but hearing these songs fronted by the almighty and wonderful Brix in such a commanding manner.

Whilst Brix is clearly reliving the glory of 80s and 90s Fall, and must have a lot of great memories, she is also buoyant about the present moment, being frontwoman, innovating a cracking set of songs. This is a new and absorbing experience. Certain Fall fans faithful to Mark E Smith as centrifugal overlord are wrongly wary. Questioning Brix's credentials is not an option: she has nothing to prove. Hearing this batch of songs and many more from those years, emphasises her imagination, ideas, contributions through several crucial epochs of The Fall. In the interim between her departure from the MES-led Fall and this current venture, Brix had a pop career – Adult Net, a sunny sounding rock act with gentle, lovely vocals that represent a different side of her – now she's here playing her favourite old Fall songs, and she's singing with more fierce force and power than Mark E Smith. Her voice is deep and dark. The intent in her delivery is full of sure-fire strength. Wilful ignorance or gendered contempt from a certain kind of Fall fan is not to be tolerated. Pining for MES ('it's not The Fall without Mark!') is tiresome. How about instead opening your ears and mind to a positive alternative from someone who was equally a key player in the finest Fall achievements? Mark E Smith is a great, but it must be admitted that the live shows have become poor: continual celebration of frothy, drunk mutterings as spectacle becomes hollow and sad (Mark can be sharper, and all the better for it).

Brix's confidence and control show her seriousness of purpose. With the celebrated Hanley brothers on bass and drums, and Fall Heads Roll era Steve Trafford on guitar, this is no tribute: this is still the music of legend very much alive. Lay of the Land is a surprise highlight of the set, and that classic, crunching, tight, rhythmic sound so definitive of early Fall kicks up a storm. Likewise, 2 X 4 is a surprise and heavyweight addition. We are spoilt with Hit the North and Mr Pharmacist - and Big New Prinz, possibly Brix's defining moment (from The Fall's most overlooked LP, I Am Kurious Oranj), is the perfect closer to a compelling gig. Brix shouting the lyric: 'He is not appreciated!' seems at odds and feels poignant (she must be appreciated!). This isn't about nostalgia because the new songs sound beyond worthy in comparison, and the old stuff has been enlivened anew. If Brix and The Extricated are to be a long-term concern, they threaten to surpass current Fall standards by a long shot. These are invigorating times.


U.S. 80s-90s
Feeling Numb
Leave the Capitol
2 X 4
(a new song)
Cruiser's Creek
(2 new songs)
Hotel Bloedel
Dead Beat Descendant
Totally Wired
Lay of the Land
Hit the North
Mr Pharmacist
Big New Prinz

Monday, 11 May 2015

The Housemartins are the band of the moment here

The band whose music most sums up these times, for me, is The Housemartins. Just before the UK election, the animated anthems from the band's first album summed up many sentiments: Freedom about the voting system and power ('So this is freedom, they must be joking'), or Sheep about people thoughtlessly romanticising certain parties, tribe-style, sometimes rooted in the past ('It's the sheep we're up against!'), or Sitting on The Fence about voters' indifference.

It became very clear that I'd overlooked this band at previous opportunities over the years, not listened to the lyrics with care. I could sense the politics in my teens, even with the happy clappy Happy Hour hit single that's actually more sour than most care to realise, but only recently have I appreciated the intensity and brilliantly spoton, political vitriol abundant in the rest of their catalogue.

Now the shock of the election outcome is somehow settling into reality, The Housemartins seem an even more pertinent band to be listening to right now. I want to sing out these protest songs loud and clear.

The World's On Fire sums up the feeling most citizens woke up with on Friday 8th May:

'Oh! What a beautiful morning
Oh! What a beautiful day
What a sickening feeling
It took this long to make it
Now we're throwing it away.'

You Better Be Doubtful feels like the ultimate depiction of what we're stuck/faced/threatened with. The demonisation of (predominantly peaceful) protesters as 'hate mobs' by The Daily Mail over the weekend as well as countless cases of students being banned from protesting in public or being threatened with criminal results has just come... we're losing our right to speak up against. Not only this but the Conservatives had it amongst their policies that they would 'scrap' the Human Rights Bill (scrap the Human Rights Bill, it's worth repeating since it's in no way a casual thing...!).

'You better be doubtful
You better beware
You better not shout now
You better not care'
Where Build once seemed like an innocent ballad, it now looms like an anthem from the government who so aggressively push everyone towards buying property (not even calling it a 'home', as a home is to live in, not invest in and make money from.. and yes, we do need more housing, but there are other options like addressing the situation of countless empty properties first, as well as not bulldozing social housing to make way for building of more costly or even luxury flats). Since first writing this post, a certain newspaper has started up competitions to 'Win a Buy To Let House', and I feel more disgust and doom about attitudes towards housing, than ever.

My partner thinks that The Housemartins outsmart The Smiths, and I'm veering towards agreeing. I would love a Housemartins reformation. The band warrant far greater reassessment, respect, and so on.

Friday, 20 March 2015


Feel like remembering some of the great orchestral indie pop bands of the mid and late 90s.

I rediscovered Animals That Swim not so long ago, as written about here. Whipping Boy have been a constant favourite. Now I'm recalling the band Jack. I collected a couple of singles/EPs over the years, and certain songs made it onto compilation tapes often. There are various distinctive song titles I recall, and hearing more of their songs on Youtube, I'm easily transported back to my teenage bedroom, half expecting Steve Lamacq to chirp in with a back announcement on the radio...

What a gloriously sophisticated sounding, lyrical, romantic lot Jack produced. There was an otherworldliness to their songs, hearing them as a teen who was yet to start going out... picturing Parisian style cafes of London, suave, bookish people, dimly lit clubs playing debonair songs of the 60s, dramatic romances, that sort of stuff...

Looking back, it's pretty criminal that it was the likes of Rialto that were having hits and primetime TV championing. Passable pop rather than seriously good songwriting... standing up as a 
a bit indie boyband and lightweight in comparison. Ditto with the likes of My Life Story having repeat comeback concerts and reminisces in recent years... I quite liked them, but they were nothing like as soaring, mature, dreamy, literary. Introspection mixed with unaffected grandeur, Jack were one of those perfect indie bands.

Saturday, 31 January 2015

Chrissie Hynde live at Koko, Camden, 16th December, 2014

Brass in Pocket was instantly put onto one of the first compilation tapes I made, as a teenager, in the 90s*, at a time when I was digging around for music from the past that fascinated me. It's strange that I never pursued the band beyond that one song, somehow, until recent years. First, acquiring the band's debut LP from someone who was happy to pass it on. Then, late last year, I was curious about seeing Chrissie Hynde live, when a date was announced in London. I have a friend who is a great fan, and the idea of seeing a strong voiced female performing really appealed. I don't have enough musical heroines, least of all whom are frontwomen. I instantly booked up, despite the hefty fee, as I was working my socks off and deserved some fun.

I bought Chrissie Hynde's solo album, Stockholm, amazed that this album was not only recently released, but was her first solo work. It's a marvellous album! Strong, deep, low female voices are the ones I love best, maybe because I more easily match that if singing along. The album lit up my world, felt strident, ace. So many good tunes, excellently produced, and with her brilliant voice and lyrics to the fore. It's odd that at the age of 34 I should be seeking strong female icons to admire**, but I revelled in finding Chrissie Hynde to be just this, last autumn. A couple more Pretenders albums on vinyl were bought up in secondhand record shops, and many instances of singalongs and euphoric dancing followed... until it was time for seeing Chrissie live.

I don't know all that much about Chrissie Hynde, personally. The music stands strong alone, for me, and that's also what counts. I've heard negative things said about her, derision, but I'll go with forming my own opinion based absolutely on her musical output.

It felt genuinely exciting to be heading over to the gig, and I rarely feel that old, pure, innocent feeling about gigs. My friend felt the same. We were instantly engrossed by the range of merchandise on sale at Koko, sweatshirts and fanzines. I bought the fanzine style programme right away, it was only £5 too, rare to find such things so affordable! Gazing at a T Shirt resplendent with a full length Chrissie Hynde rocking out with her guitar, I just thought how rare it is to see the image of women with guitars, on T Shirts, in culture, anywhere...

Seeing Chrissie Hynde centre stage, with guitar, blew me away, too. I cannot apologise for saying all this, because what I felt are revelations, and that's to be celebrated. I found myself dumbstruck and thinking: just when have I seen a female, right up in the centre of attention, playing rock music, leading a band, all eyes on her, screams of adulation from both women and men? People were just shouting her name. She replied with a playful 'f*** off', which was hilarious and humble. She had so much presence, and her voice was incredible. Her guitar sparkled gold and felt like an emblem to me and my friend. We both left the gig, saying how we wanted to pick up our dusty guitars and play music again.

Since this gig took place, in November, last year, my friend has bought a new guitar from Denmark Street, and I have been there to pick up new strings and music books. I like to think that we've both become more powerful, impassioned, inspired, driven!

It was a really emotional gig. I loved hearing all the songs from Stockholm. You Or No One is fabulously 60s shimmery girl-group pop. Like in the Movies is really cool. And, Dark Sunglasses has a great pop hit sound.

I wasn't expecting Pretenders Greatest Hits territory, but we were privileged to be gifted Don't Get Me Wrong, a pure groove-along. Then there was Back in The Chain Gang, which has really grown on me lately. We also got Precious (!), and a pre-Christmas present (alas without faux snow), in 2000 Miles.

The dance at the end that the band did 'for the grebo fans' was surreal, and felt like it showed humility towards the Pretenders' roots and a sense of fun for the original fans. I can't escape mentioning: that pout! Chrissie pouts away to perfection, as she ever did.

I'm looking forward to the wealth I have to read about and hear from Chrissie Hynde, in interviewee mode, and musically. And to dancing my vegan boots till their worn, again, some time...

Found a gig setlist for that night, here.

*The song was wedged in between Teenage Kicks by the Undertones, and Somewhere in my Heart by Aztec Camera... I took a little while to improve on the ways of mix tapes...
**Interesting to note that Chrissie Hynde was 34 years old when Don't Get Me Wrong was in the charts. Inspiring to know!
Early on new year's day, I played some old tapes, and found myself feeling a pang of poignancy, hearing 1963 by New Order. It is one of the songs that bridged the way from commercial dance music to more guitar based stuff for me, as a young teen. Essentially, going from, say, MC Sar and the Real McCoy to The Smiths!

I got transported back to January 1995, and my absorption in the single as its video played on The ITV Chart Show. I don't remember the video being quite so quirky (it stars Jane Horrocks larking about), but I do know that the tune was one that had me heading to the music shop straight after the TV show, to buy the single. And I still have it, on tape. The cover is ace:
I seldom write blogs harking back with nostalgia, but I think this year will inescapably remind me of the magical year I started to discover a good deal of the bands that would mean so much to me. I find myself reflecting on how odd it was in 1995 for me as a provincial (and female) 14 year old to be listening to stuff like Billy Bragg, The Cure, Echo and the Bunnymen, The Smiths, Mega City Four, Joy Division, Members, 80s synth pop, obscure early 90s indie outfits... I would unearth all this music through borrowing from the local library, raiding my aunty's compilations, reading music books and magazines, listening to 'retro' radio, secondhand record shops, market stalls with bootlegs... 

It was weird to be young and yet be heading backwards in time, then, and in an unprompted way: rare. Whereas now, it's taken for granted, with all that's available online, everything's reassessed and everything up for grabs. Back then, at my school, there were either dance fans (Helter Skelter, Nicky Blackmarket, Dreamscape, rave), or metaller kids (Iron Maiden, or Nirvana), and in between, just your current chart pop fans. I was totally alone in my corduroy flares, velvet suit jacket and Nick Drake tape from the charity shop. But this was what was to come... the borrowing from the past, the music revivals, the reissues, the album special gigs. I didn't know it then but what The Stone Roses' second coming, and then Pulp, Blur and Oasis and the like did for indie guitar music, in making it mainstream and entwined in popular culture and fashion was the beginning of all that, and nowadays, looking back to previous decades is more the norm. In general with all music, not much is left unearthed, left to the alternative or to the dusts of time...

I remember how ethereal Killing Moon by Echo and The Bunnymen seemed to me at that age, when I saw the video on TV:

It's just nice to think back fondly to how otherworldly it all seemed to me, and how secret it all felt, how I was almost enjoyably alienated in this sepia musical world that I could only find scant traces of, that I really had to dig around to discover, because there was no easy click of a computer button and instant access to history and details. I spent a long time listening to The Cure, for example, without any idea of what the band looked like. The only way I could obtain a poster of Robert Smith was later when I got my dad to photocopy an album sleeve, as borrowed from the library. Of course, the following year, they made a return to the fore, and I could live in the present moment, even see the band live, and meet Robert Smith himself...

I was muddling through and finding my own way independently, without any guidance or notions. I went out on a limb, and I actually had more in common musically with my 40 year old music teacher, who used to daub Fall lyrics on the whiteboard of a morning, and hum Smiths songs. It was more likely that any taping of albums I wanted was done via my dad's mate at work (in his 40s), than via anyone of my own age (Blackmarket Clash comes to mind).

So perhaps kids are luckier now, in a sense, as archive stuff is much more easily accessible and distributed... and widely welcomed.... But I still cannot help but feel a kind of warm romance to think back to my clandestine discoveries, my grappling with the unknown, and my mixed up music fandom, and all my delight within, all the same.

Thursday, 22 January 2015

The Pop Guns, at The Borderline, 22nd November, 2014

The buoyant return of The Pop Guns was one of my favourite gigs in recent months. I was familiar with a couple of records and a flexi disc care of my boyfriend, who is a long time fan. Waiting for The Winter was the song I knew best: melancholy in sentiment yet soaringly bright, hopeful pop. I was looking forward to seeing the band who'd hit their stride in one of my cherished periods for indie (the start of the 90s).
I was also thrilled to take the chance to get over to the Borderline off the Charing Cross Road in London - one of very few gig venues remaining in that once thriving area. We've just lost the 12 Bar Club on Denmark Street, and we were forced to say goodbye to the once dependable, pivotal Astoria and LA2, as well as the fantastic basement bar Metro (indie club extraordinaire + spotlight for new bands). The Borderline was a great choice for gathering the band's original fans, as well as new ones, in an atmosphere akin to a student union circa the 90s. Big 80s pop hits played as we waited, mixed in with new wave bands like The Go Gos, and the Buzzcocks.

As soon as Wendy Pickles and band stepped on stage, their sense of jubilance to be playing together for a crowd could be warmly felt. If memory serves, it was City Lights, the opener to their newest album that dazzled us first. Bold, strident, twinkling and tuneful, it felt like a well-worn favourite. Lovejunky had a similar effect, so immediately catchy, kinetic and smoothly sung. It's a song worthy of indie club playlisting and delighted dancing.

Wendy's singing was complemented with brilliant effect by Kate Mander 60s girl band backing style, or lending strength with joint lead. This had resonance with me, as this sort of female-led, jaunty, jangy, guitar pop is all too rare in current times, and we need more. There simply hasn't arrived a new female indie singer who is equivalent to Wendy Pickles or, say, Amelia Fletcher, another longstanding indie great. At times, I found it hard not to be reminded of the great Amelia Fletcher. Wendy too has the knack of singing with a full, genuine smile, which only makes the Pop Guns' songs seem all the more gleeful, giddy, model pop, much like Amelia's many ace bands over the years, Tender Trap/Marine Research/Heavenly/Talulah Gosh.
Waiting for the Winter was received with appreciative ebullience by the audience. Pleasant heckles about 80s and 90s Pop Gun gig memories came along with other older songs.

I ought to add that the Pop Guns are not typically sensitive, gentle, jangly indie pop -there is a real sense of punk influence at work, which thrives when played live. Guitars are as threshing, thrashing as the Buzzcocks. At times, The Pop Guns are more akin to the heavier moments of The Wedding Present than anything from Sarah Records.

But, given there is also the reminiscence of Amelia Fletcher and jangly indie pop, it did come as a huge surprise to witness an encore that night of Wendy Morgan expertly rapping (!) A Tribe Called Quest's hot song, Can I Kick It....! She sang an unfaltering version of the 90s novelty hip hop song. It was the perfect bit of pre-Christmas fun. It turns out the band recorded it as a B-Side years ago.

I don't bother much with thinking about albums of the year type lists, but Pop Fiction by Pop Guns was a highlight of 2014. It lends memories of that perfect indie pop from the early 1990s, but also sounds very now, and is very essential, emotional, confident pop. The charcoal drawn album cover also gives smitten delight: