It's not particularly difficult to find records to write and talk about on here. We've only just turned the corner into February and I've already had ten or more excellent albums to document, catalogue, talk and write about here. Music remains wonderful distraction and refuge from the madness of the world.
For Thursday we have Tuung. 'Pagan Folktronica' , if you will. The collective's eighth album Love You All Over Again is cottage industry craftsmanship. Textured old school Art. Words and rhythms weaving together magically to form fascinating labyrinths of sound.
The instrumentation here is astonishingly inventive. Unconventional collages are fabricated utilising seashells, voices and collective endeavour. 'Disquisitions on nature, mythology and the human condition.'
This is an intiguing old school creation. A joyful discovery. Almost like an Oliver Postgate soundtrack to Noggin the Nog, The Clangers or Bagpuss. Love You All Over Again is a thing of intricate but mysterious beauty which insinuates iteslf under the skin and burrows its way gently and lovingly into the soul. In short, I like it.
A lie in allows me forty five minutes with Prince Billy and his latest album The Purple Bird. He's an ornery critter. Very much his own man. He's created his whole alternative universe and now he's revelling in it. Not unlike Nick Cave.
By contrast with Cave though Billy seems to have made his way to the light. 'After the bright night comes day. Yellow and grey.' 'Love overcomes.' It's such a pleasure to be in such company
Over his career the man has made a crucial shift form The Blues to C & W. And although both genres are imbued with religious intensity. Battles with the beer and the darknight outside. Struggles with the soul and the cry of the demons. There's a constant sense of community here though. This a record of enormous communal warmth, One last hoedown around the campfire then we make for hearth and home arm in arm.
Prince Billy is sleeping with the dogs tonight. 'I'm all bark and she's all bite.' It's hokey as hell and unashamedly so. But the vein of humour is incredibly rich and so are the tunes. This has a glorious understanding of the ancient musical welI it draws upon,
This is a wonderfulm sentimental record to draw us into the day. Ultimately this is a record that draw you into the water and then drags you to the surface of the ;ake into the bright sunlight. Cleansed. Restored.
There are worse things to do than put your headphones on or else lie back in the arms of someone you love for forty five minutes and listen to an Air album together. They're a band of rare and stately grace. Crackling static.
Not an album I expected to relate to or spend much time with but FKA Twigs EUSEXUA is certainly one of the more notable early releases of the year. I gave it a listen last night and frankly found myself gripped.
I've never really caught Tahliah Debrett Barnett's work before but I get the feeling that I may have been missing out on simething really special. A frequently other worldly and incredibly creative record.
Obviously focused on sexual identity and dancefloor politics. I'm not an authority of either but have immediately warmed to the incredible fluidity of this album. The enormous diversity of the rythms and attitudes here. It's a planted flag and a fascinating record.
A wistful throwback start to the first working week of February.. Brett Anderson fronting a Flying Nuns band. Ohio band The Laughing Chimes strike no end of artful poses which hark unmistakeably back to yesteryear on the posily entitled Whispers in The Speech Machine.
You can't help but feel that you're in a damp cellar somewhere in the Eighties wearing your favourite polkadot shirt. Back in the days when you had a full and not unimpressive head of hair.
The lack of variety in The Laughing Chimes schtick wear slightly over the course of a whoe album. Also the mannered delivery of their lead singer. But this is a bright start to the working week.
My life goes from day to day. That's a great way to live. I recommend it. An Existential approach. . I woke up on Thursday and took the stairs down from my bed to my living room in darkness in preparation for my working day. At my desk on my laptop to my surprise and delight there was a message from a fundamental and central friend of mine waiting for me..An important person. There aren't many such people in anybody's life. I hadn't really heard from her for many years.
She told me she had got a divorce a couple of years back and she would be in London in April with one of her beautiful daughters. That she was happy. Should we meet? I hadn't really known she was unhappy but the news didn't really surprise me. I met the man she married. Was at their wedding. I'd been surprised at the time. Puzzled. I replied that I would love to see them both. Suggested tea at The Dorchester. Mentioned Budapest where we had spent the best Christmas together. Possibly of my whole life. Twenty years ago.
That has been the emotional backdrop for my last couple of days. This seems to be the world we live in now.Living in the present. Dwelling on the past. Thinking of the future. Outside there's a climate of fear. Every time you look at the news. Turn on the TV or the radio. Look at the front pages. Read the headlines. . A plane has just crashed into water near Washington DC. An American president is eager to blame others rather than taking charge and clearing matters up so we can all sleep in peace. Life is and remains stranger than fiction.
Never mind all that. I have lessons to plan and teach. It's a great way to spend my days. Teaching German business students online. People who are probably waking like me. Glancing at the news.Putting it to the back of their minds and thinking of the day ahead and the task at hand. Children off to school. A pecked kiss for a partner. No time to worry about a German parliamentary election. An important one surely. Just a matter of weeks away.
Meanwhile the music plays. I like to make my own soundtrack. My life has been great in that respect since I left a stale and hostile corporate office space a year ago and became self employed. In my flat as I bathe and dress, The Goon Sax's debut album Up To Anything spins. Insouciante, irrepressible youth, First love, first friendship, first heartbreak. We may not realise it at the time But the heart is a remarkable organ. Resilient. Durable. It heals. We go on towards the coming day
I check my emails from work. Text to friends. No more time to delve further into the news. It cares not for me. It would do no one any good for me to weep at my desk. I take off Up To Anything. Put on Lou Reed's New York. A lament for his home town. From 1989. Lou is gone. But New York goes on. We must go on. 'Fly, fly away. From the Dirty Boulevard.'
I've got a sub to teach first. I love sub classes. Melissa, the group's regular teacher needs to take a week off. So I've been parachuted in with a basic roadmap. I click on the Teams link and am admitted into a virtual classroom where four IT businesspeople await me and we sail into the lesson.
I always feel like teaching is a breeze. An opportunity to immerse myself in the now. Sub classes generally demand that you meet people, find out the basics keep them entertained and hopefully help them in some way. Teaching is a noble pursuit. At least that's the way I look at it.
This class is fun. The students are funny. They know each other well and I warm to them increasingly as the ninety minutes proceed. We talk about different kinds of humour. They have good senses and feelings for it. We laugh and I hope learn something together. Time doesn't lag. They give ad hoc presentations, demonstrating their ability to describe their working processes in English. Switching between active and passive voice when required. Like professional footballers with two good feet.
Half an hour later and I'm into one of my regular classes. I play this one by ear, I have a powerpoint but subject matter comes up from the group and I pursue it. We talk about the property market. Compare what goes on there and what goes on here. As with pretty much everything I've learned about Germany since I started this a year back it strikes me that they have a saner approach and that we might do well to learn from them. An astonishing idea. 'Learn from Johnny Foreigner.' Perish the thought.
I'm done by 1.15. Do my paperwork, tidy up a bit and the day is fine. I've decided I'm going to a bash in the Cobalt Studios in Ousburn tonight. I've hardly been out since I got back to Newcastle a couple of weeks ago and it's time I did so. I don't wish to become a hermit.
I stop off at Beatbox Records across the road for a chat with Sam of No Teeth. They're probably a syndicalist commune or something of the sort but franky Sam is in charge whatever anyone tells you. We chat for a while. Sam is good and rolls me a tab for good measure and I'm on my way.
I pop in at The Telegraph to see if Amy's in. She isn't so I chat to the young barmaid who has a Nirvana T Shirt on. We chat about Nirvana and I say I was in Dortmund at the time of Grunge when Cobain died. I witnessed events unfold one Friday afternoon. A highly memorable event for me. It was genuinely upsetting. Cobain and Nirvana seemed to matter to a lot of people.
The barmaid is amiable but I get the impression that she isn't particularly interested. In what I have to say or actually in Nirvana really. It's just a t shirt she chose from her drawer. Nothing wrong with that. I go to the jukebox put on some songs that remind me of those days. Drink my cider and I'm on my way.
I like the idea of choice these days. It gives my life rhythm, The Bridge? Nah not this time. Down the winding steps to The Quayside and the Crown Posada. One of the ultimate pub destinations in Newcastle. Or anywhere else for that matter.
I buy my non alcoholic beer. Sorry I'm a dull man these days. It was time to show the alternative to non alcoholic beer the door. A young group of people come and sit next to me. They seem perfectly OK but get engrossed in a never ending chat about a sad psychotic who murdered some poor young children recently.
I'm sorry but I avoid discussion of things like these because I find it can lead to string 'em up conclusions. Or general unhappiness and confusion.I want and need to be happy. I make my way as inconspicuously as I can past them and back to the bar. I read an article about the fine new Dylan film instead. Then I'm off into the night..
The Quayside is glossy and still. Ink black. Bible Black. As somebody with more poetry in his soul would have it. This acts as my exercise for today as I'm giving the Fitness Centre a break for a while.
I'm into the Ouseburn Valley and I spot Alan at the doors of The Cluny. One of the best baman of my lifetime. An avuncular, friendly Viking of a man whose hobby is beng a viking. Staged battles and talks for the kids. I'm pleased because I've had a solitary day and it's great to catch up with someone I haven't seen for a while. Newcastle's wonderful for that.
I invite him to my 60th Birthday Party. We chat about common acquaintances. Then I'm off into the Ouseburn night . It's one of the best parts of Newcastle. Up the hill towards The Tanners. Turn right under the bridge to Shieldfield. Past Ernests, a community art space and I'm at the doors of the Cobalt Studios. One of the clutch of venues in Newcastle that offer cheap, affordable artistic nourishment in difficult times.
There's a young man at the counter. He's got one of those inadvisable half hearted attempts at a moustache which seem quite current. He seems angry but friendly. For some reason I think of Dexys Midnight Runners Kevin Archer.
He asks if I've bought a ticket. I say no, I'd like to buy one now. He says 'You'll have to wait for food' A nourishing meal in with the price, usually curry, rice or salad is one of the best things about Cobalt Studios Thursday nights.I'm not bothered about the food tonight.
I'm just glad to be back in the Cobalt Studios again. It's just a nice space to be in. Rows of chairs. Tables. People of all ages chatting together. Likeminded people. It's all quite idyllic actually. Artistic. the word has got out about this place. It's pretty much full. People smile at each other.
Not taking the food option doesn't bother me. I don't bother with it tonight. I'm just happy to be here and have already promised myself that I'll come back in company soon. This is an interesting project. A project for troubled times,
A band come onstage. Four or five players. Wingbeats. Nu Jazz according to the flyer. It immediately ticks all boxes. Not corporate ones perhaps but emotional and spiritual ones. They play a graceful, languid set. The mood is mellow and positive.
I have a chat with the young guy next to me. We agree that places like these are important in times like these. Inclusive ones. He's a medical student and he talks about where his course of study is lacking. It's all about the money. Isn't that what's wrong with the word now. Isn't that what needs to be critiqued and challenged.
Places and spaces like the Cobalt Studio might be a part of the solution. An alternative. I like the place very much.I don't need to stay for the headliners. I've got three classes tomorrow. I thank the young medical student and head for the doors.I say goodbye to Kevin Archer and thank him too. I'll be back.
Circa Waves Never Going Under made some impression on me in 2023. They're back earky in 2025 with Death & Love. Pt 1 and first impressions are less durable or impressive. It's all rather innocuous Indie Landfill twenty years after expiry date I'm I'm afraid. I think they should regroup and reconsider before Part 2.
A band that were big in the Melody Maker in the nineties.They weren't really big anywhere else. But this is a gently haunting record. Introverted. Rhythmic and melodic. Hypnotic.
'Walking in the pouring rain. Walking with Jesus and Jane...'
Lloyd Cole & The Commotions moved from Rattlesnakes to Easy Pieces. Brand New Friend and Lost Weekend kept them in The Hit Parade and on Top of the Pops I moved from idyllic gap year experience in Switzerland to idyllic first term at university. Lloyd Cole seemed like a fellow traveller to that experience as well as someone to aspire to.
You didn't really get the sense that he was laughing at himself and the type that he was and that you were. You just yearned for his bookcase and paperback shelf. His record collection. I was in he process of assembling both of mine. This is what I did between 17 and 25. Lloyd Cole & The Commotions were consistently placed to the front of the stacks.They were writing abou me.And the peolpe I knew.
.
Rose City Band provude a gentle, rolling backdrop for household chores or breakfast. A roadtrip perhaps. Their sound strikes me as an update on the early Dire Straits sound with C&W preferenced over Blues. They have a sound that doesn't grate for a moment. Smooth as the open highway.
Latest album Son Y Sombra doesn't tamper with a formula that the band has honed over years and several years. Sunkissed feels an apt description.This is a throwback. Creedence, Riders of the Purple Sage. Harking back to older times and simpler values. The record's a welcome reminder that such things are always possible.
There's not a hint of cynicism or smarter than thou aloofness. Songs are titled Lights On The Way. Open Roads. We're not talking Pavement or Kurt Vile here. I have no end of time for both. But Son Y Sombra takes a simpler route to the same destination. Can Get There From Here.
The last day of January. The sun coming up as my bath runs and I make my way towards my half seven esson with incredible busy medical salespeople and professionals. Always one of my most interesting classes of the week.
I find myself listening to L.S.Dunes new album Violet. On the front cover a skeletal figure stares out from a small wooden boat beset by tempestuous waves. It seems like an apt metaphor for these times.
As for the record. It's not entirely to my liking.L.S.Dunes are a modern band. And they genre hop at will. There are guitar solos that we have not heard since Brian May was in his mid seventies pomp. The band flirt with metal and there are sounds whuch would alarm a mother for the wellbeing of her dearly beloved offspring if she heard them coming out of their bedroom late on a weeknight.
The singer meanwhile howls at the moon like a gelded calf. I gave this my undivided attention for 15 minutes. But now it's time for my bath. I'll pass on this one.
If you have hlf an hour minutes, listen to this. It's an independent record from 1983 that garnered quite a bit of attention at the time of its release and has continued to do so ever since. A collection of impressions and sounds from a day in the British countryside, it's an honest, courageous and moving expression of the feelings we all share just through being alive and experiencing the sensations of nature and time around us. An object of still but thrilling beauty.
The Gentle Spring. 'Let's be 'aving you...' As a slightly paralytic Delia Smith berated the Norwich City crowd at half time on Sky Sports some years back. Precisely Delia. Come on Gentle Spring, 'Let's be 'aving you...' So while waiting for that, and I have to say, as I'm writing it's dark outside and rather cold in here. The Gentle Spring's Looking Back at The World is indeed 'gentle,' unpretenious, and quietly winning product.
The Gentle Spring do what they say they will on the The Gentle Spring tin, This is wistful, sensitive nostalgia from Indie stalwarts. Generic but heartfelt strummed songs. Featuring Michael Hiscock who was a cofounder of Field Mice those much loved Sarah Records dreamers. This is lovely, unpretentious, meaningful product about the passage of time and trying to maintain the 18 year old self.
The Replacements were travelling fast and giving little care to their lungs and their livers. Such was their way. They never stood on ceremony. Unapologetic and they made a fine row. Tim came out in 1985. It was frequently raggedbut always engaging. Kiss them on the bus,
