The end seemed nigh for our intrepid reporter and yet once again he’s leaving the concert, the sense of déjà vu providing a welcome relief from the spirit-crushing ennui. Apparently this is the ideal place for Stephen to gather his thoughts before setting off into the wet grey yonder in search of the magic bus to Didsbury.
Continue reading “Fear and Loving in Heaton Park: Part Eight – Intermission”
How Not to Be In a Band – Reality Bites Back
As my hero Les McQueen, former rhythm guitarist with Crème Brulée, says: ‘It’s a shit business; I’m glad I’m out of it.’
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Eleanor Friedberger – Personal Record
This is no clever tribute record mind, or accomplished addition to an already impressive back catalogue; this is a bona fide classic.
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William Basinski – Nocturnes
The opener Nocturnes – weighing in at over 40 minutes – got me through my shirts and the girlfriend’s dresses. The second track, The Trail of Tears, saw me finish off the other nicks and nacks and gave me time to put the ironing board away.
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Death Row Radio – Yummy
I think this lot hail from Newcastle, a Roman city with a defined and often celebrated Northern work ethic.
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Creative City Project – Hands On Universe
Even the act’s name, Creative City Project, does reek of hooking your laptop up in a coffee bar, or buying a tuna wrap and moseying down to the skateboard park.
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Guided by Voices – Little English League / Glue on Bicycle
I always enjoyed the play off between Tobin Sprout and Captain Bob; Sprout’s gentle and witty Byrds/Beatles-isms doing battle with the “Roky fronts the Who” schlock that Pollard promotes.
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Kid Congo and the Pink Monkey Birds – Haunted Head
This is the stuff that’s been round the block so many times it doesn’t matter anymore whether you think you’ll get brownie points for digging it or seeing it as a vital part of the zeitgeist (or some other nonsense.)
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William Tyler – Impossible Truth
But regardless of who, why or how; the main thing is that Impossible Truth is one of the records of the year, one of those surprises that no-one saw coming.
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Anna Von Hausswolff – Ceremony
This is Sturm und Drang writ large, Hausswolff preening herself like a harpy high above the metallic clashes and stentorian parps and blurts. It’s fucking brilliant and no I really don’t fancy meeting her.
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