Every breath that is in your lungs is a tiny little gift to me

Talk about deconstructing a song.

Here Cat Power takes the raw, urgent and primal simplicity of The White Stripes and strips it back even further.

Where once Jack and Meg bashed out ‘Dead Leaves And The Dirty Ground’ as a noisy blast of garage punk, here it is presented as a barely there, simply strummed heart breaking ode. It oozes melancholy. Seems soaked in sadness. You can just about make out the remnants of the melody but really it’s been almost completely re-imagined. Like almost every cover Cat Power records. It’s an old trick of hers. Take away the song’s original structure, rip it down until you can see its bare bones and pulsing heart, then recreate it in the sparsest of arrangements. Yet no matter how many times she does it, you can’t help but marvel at the power and emotion she can infuse into seemingly, any song.

Cat Power - dead leaves and the dirty ground (White Stripes cover live session version) original version available on 'White Blood Cells'

mp3 / music / cat power

Latitude Festival - Day Three 19/07/09

Sunday morning and we’re up early for Thom Yorke. Billed as the special guest and due on stage at noon, we’re treated to an early preview of just how special his performance might just be. Bacon sandwich in hand, we sit listening to fragments of songs and half sung vocals as Thom’s soundcheck floats over from the currently closed main arena. An hour and a half later and we’re standing near the front of an crowd that’s getting increasingly busy. By the time Thom ambles onstage it feel as though everyone on site has their eyes on him. Dressed in a casual jacket and jeans combo, he looks relaxed and in good spirits. He sits centre stage at a large black grand piano and opens his set with a stunning version of ‘The Eraser’s title track. From there we get an hour of solo songs, Radiohead tracks and a few that have either been left on the shelf. Flitting from piano to keyboard to guitar, Thom plays the role of superstar one man band. Controlling pre-recorded beats with the flick of a switch and looping his guitar and voice to back himself, the sound and stage appear fuller than they actually are. Throughout it all he’s playful with the songs, playfully awkward with his banter and clearly having a whale of a time. A satisfied smile breaking across his face on several occasions. The crowd in turn reply with a reverential silence throughout each song, huge applause between them. We’re treated to a new song, a gentle acoustic number whose destiny is never revealed. Whether set for a solo or Radiohead release, it is quite, quite beautiful, Thom repeating a fragile ‘you am lost’, before suddenly ending to rapturous applause. Called back for an encore we get a stripped back ‘There, There’ and a heartbreaking ‘True Love Waits’. It is the most perfect end to a set that more than lived up to it's ‘special’ billing. You can’t help wonder how the rest of the day can possibly live up to the standard Thom has set so early in the day.


The truth is, it can’t. Not really. Much of the day is spent flitting from place to place. We meet up with friends. We hide in our tent from the torrential deluge of rain to pass. We wander past people dressed as sheep simulating livestock loving. We eat. We drink. And not until late afternoon do we take in any more music in the shape and sound of The Vaselines. Playing to a reasonably full Uncut Tent, they fill their set with short sharp songs that sound tougher than their twee reputation but no less melodic. A kind of fuzzy, jangling guitar sound that more than confirms the legendary status that Kurt Cobain bestowed on them. The summery vibe spreads form the stage to the sky and the grey clouds finally give way to the sun that had blessed the first two days.

Over at the Comedy Tent, American Tom Stade amuses us with talk of Wolverhampton while Jo Brand transports us back in time to whenever she first started making jokes about being fat and not liking exercise. Yes, she’s funny and draws a huge crowd that spills out the tent sides, but you can’t wonderhow she’s managed to draw out a career based on one routine.

The laughter over, we head back outside for some serious post punk from Editors. Now I’ll be honest, they’re a band that have hitherto failed to impress me and frankly, they do nothing to challenge that. They’re not particularly bad, they just don’t engage me much. Personally, the singer’s voice seems too affected to take seriously. I mean, the songs aren’t bad and they pass the time well enough, but honestly, it’s little more than background music to conversation and the wait for Nick Cave & the Bad Seeds.

A wait brought to an end by the foreboding rumble of bass that signals the beginning of ‘Tupelo’ and the start of a performance that batter’s any sign of Sunday weariness into submission. Clearing picking his better known songs for the festival audience, Nick and the Seeds play an aggressive set, heavy, wild and unruly. None of the middle aged complacency for this band. Nick plays fast and loose with his lyrics. He alters lines, changes the intonation and timing and makes this feel like a completely unique performance to any other he’s given. And the band match his every move. Despite or perhaps because of Mick Harvey’s departure, the Bad Seeds seem more evenly balanced now. Warren Ellis still a focal point but no longer as a detriment to the rest of the band. New guitarist Ed Kuepper a steady, solid foil to Ellis’s wild man. ‘The Ship Song’ offers a brief respite from the onslaught of heavy hitters, it’s stark beauty emphasised by it’s juxtaposed place within the rest of the set. ‘We Call Upon The Author’ is astonishingly fierce. ‘There She Goes My Beautiful World’ pounds along brutally. ‘The Weeping Song’ magnificent despite it’s fluffed intro. The only minor quibble being Nick’s insistence on playing guitar which seems to anchor him slightly and despite scissor kicking his way between chords, his performance is muted slightly by his instrument. Only when freed of his guitar does Nick’s full finger jabbing, body spasming, bile spewing preacher of doom and destruction come to life. Like I say, it’s nitpicking on a tremendous festival main stage closing performance. Finishing with the now traditional sonic slaughter funk of ‘Stagger Lee’, the band depart, depriving the crowd of a much called for encore but leaving no-one disappointed.

We catch the final three songs of the Gossip’s headline set in the sweaty, crammed confines of the Uncut Tent. Once more unable to see a thing on stage, we stick to the outskirts and having missed the build up of Beth Ditto’s performance, it all seems a bit of a damp squib compared to Nick Cave. Undoubtedly a hit with the crowd, we’re just that bit too late to get into the groove and get any real sense of their set. And that’s it. The Latitude Festival 2009 is done. Over. Complete.

We didn’t expect to be there but we’re glad we were. As festivals go it was undeniably great. Not as big as some festivals. Not as essential a line up as others. But it did offer a far more consistent enjoyment. Not once did we feel lethargic or have those inevitable down moments that occur at most festivals. Each morning we woke feeling ready for the day ahead. Ready to explore and investigate. No signs of weariness. And for the most part we were blessed with good weather. All in all , the atmosphere, the imagination, the spirit, the camping, the site, the setting, the performances, hell, even the toilets and facilities were on a level above and beyond any festival I’ve been to before. Better than V, better than Leeds and dare I say it, better than Glastonbury, Latitude Festival 2009 is the new benchmark by which future festivals will be judged.

Thom Yorke - harrowdown hill (live at Latitude Festival 2009) original version available on 'The Eraser'

Editors - smokers outside the hospital doors (live at Latitude Festival 2009) original version available on 'An End Has A Start'

mp3 / music / latitude festival 2009 / thom yorke / the vaselines / editors / nick cave and the bad seeds / gossip

Latitude Festival - Day Two 18/07/09

Day two begins the way every Saturday at a festival should. Dry, sunny and with a huge bacon sandwich. Suitably fed and watered, we see the festival site in daylight for the first. Leaving the campsite, we enter into the picturesque woods. Trees decorated with lights and artwork loom above us, shards of daylight slicing through a canopy of green. With 2 small stages amongst the trees and greenery, the woods offers a unique setting for the smaller bands and cabaret acts, doubling up for DJs to keep the music going deep into the night.

We emerge onto the bank of a river, the main festival site visible on the other side. A lone piano sits randomly along the path, resting briefly between impromptu performances from passers by. Floating on the river is another stage, home for the weekend to a procession of dance, classical and artistic performers. We cross the bridge, entering the site between the Poetry and Literary Stages, slowly taking in the atmosphere. An atmosphere that can only be described as friendly, warm and inviting. This may be th politest festival ever. Undoubtedly the most middle class. There are benches to take the weight off your feet. A clever drinks deposit system to reduce the litter count. Besides which there are bins and recycling points everywhere you look. Talk about a civilised festival. What strikes you is that Latitude seems to be a festival for everyone. Couples mingle with families who mix with teenagers who blend with small children who play amongst your more mature festival goer. Each enjoying their own festival their own way. There’s not a whiff of trouble all weekend. No stories of thefts. No negatives to speak of. With no (visible) corporate influence, what Latitude lacks in money, it more than makes up for with imagination and ideas. From the art scattered around the site to little stages you stumble upon to the painted sheep grazing in a world of their own to the light displays in water to the sheer variety of performers, there’s so much to soak up and indulge every one of your senses in. Starting with Aidan Moffat in the Poetry tent.


Or not, as it turns out. Struck down by swine flu, Aidan has been forced to cancel. We stick around for a bit, half watching a dry Northern poet called Tim Turnbull but soon decide to move on and continue to explore what’s on offer. In the comedy tent we watch three new performers battle to win a prestigious full slot the following day. Back outside we kill time walking to the far end of the site, past a tree with luggae tags tied on bearing people’s lost thoughts, ideas and inner feelings. Past people learning to jive and swing. Past an art bus, past a theatre tent, past the kids play area and into the BBC’s corner to discover, not much. It’s a break between shows and as we learn you needed to have pre-booked a place to see anything anyway. So turning on our heels, we head back in the direction of the Uncut Tent for my girlfriend’s choice of Mika.

Inside a heaving tent Mika puts on a crowd pleasing performance. Mostly acoustic but no less subdued, he’s a ball of energy whipping the crowd up into a frenzy. Opening with ‘Grace Kelly’ nearly tears the tent off it’s pegs, the crowd singing and clapping along furiously. The confines of the tent seem to make this a far more intimate gig than a main stage appearance could ever have been and a series of catchy, singalong pop hits guarantees a happy, satisfied crowd. Surrounded by young children who know the words by heart, girls who scream as though they’re being attacked and pop lovers, I feel like the lone grump who can’t be doing with this sort of thing. There’s no denying that Mika can work a crowd and put in an impressive performance, but as someone who can’t stand his songs or shriek of a voice, it’s wasted on me.


Next we move to the Literary Arena to bag an early place for Vivienne Westwood’s appearance. Unfortunately we’re not the only ones. We get there to find the tent heaving with people trying to get in and no-one planning on leaving. Twenty minutes of slow shuffling and adjusting of body parts and we make it to the very back edge of the tent. Billed as a challenging and thought-provoking manifesto of 'Active Resistance to Propaganda', what we actually get is Vivienne, a handful of people in pyjamas and around 50 minutes of obvious statements about art and culture disguised as something far more intelligent than it actually is. Boiling down to little more than ‘art is a mirror of reality’ and ‘you get out what you put in’, the content is highly questionable and mildly insulting. Good points are hidden amongst an unnecessarily convoluted performance art piece in which the history is used to question what art is and what it should be. At least I think that's what was going on. While her comments on climate change are interesting and important, they seem more like an afterthought to the main point of her appearance. A point that isn’t clear enough and results in a near constant trail of people leaving, resulting in an irritated outburst by Vivienne. The whole thing smacks of an older person raging about the modern world. The equivalent of your dad saying this modern music’s not like it used to be, it seems that Vivienne has become as out of touch as the generation that once she railed against. It’s not so much pointless, as without a point.

A couple of hours pass by meeting up with friends. We hear strains of White Lies blow across the site but don’t return to a stage until Doves. Now a few years ago, Doves seemed like a great live band. An exciting prospect. But here and now, the songs almost blur into one long mid tempo anthem. ‘Pounding’ stands out through the sheer bludgeoning nature of it’s thumping drums but it’s not until set closer ‘The Fear’ that they invoke anything more than mild interest. Having said that, they seem to draw a big crowd with a positive response from most. It just seems to have been mostly obvious and dare I say, a tad boring.

Not something you could say of Grace Jones. With the stage shrouded in darkness, a degree of mystery hangs behind the large black curtain that separates the crowd from whatever is behind it. Most people seem to be there purely to see what Grace Jones live is actually all about. For a star renowned for being slightly bonkers, the only thing anyone is expecting, is the unexpected. The curtain drops revealing Grace lit up in mid air on some kind of elevated stage looking every bit like a devilish ringmaster. She opens with what can only be described as a minimal electro reggae cover of Iggy Pop’s ‘Nightclubbing’ and its as peculiar as it is good. Her voice deeply dramatic. Delivering every word like a cartoon character from the darkest, strangest dream you’d never want to have. ‘Welcome to my hurricane’ she shouts as the next songs begins. And no sooner have the words left her mouth than the heavens open and an almighty downpour ensues. People leave in droves, some because of the weather, others because of the music. For us it's the rain, so we head to the shelter of Spiritualized’s headline set in the Uncut Tent.

Now heaving with people seeking cover, the tent is being subjected to a storm of it’s own. A blistering psychedelic garage gospel blast of guitars and drums over which Jason Pierce’s cracked and fragile voice hovers. Every song sounds heavier and more devastating than ever before. Each song hitting you full in the face. Loud, intense and brutal. ‘Think I’m In Love’ and ‘Come Together’ stand out as particular highpoints. The former drawn out from a slow, deliberate start into a whirlwind of forceful drama, the latter full of urgent garage rock menace. By the time they finish, the rain has all but given up, so we head back to the main stage to be greeted by the site of a near naked Grace Jones riding on the shoulders of a security man. A thong covering her modesty, she high fives the front of the crowd to the strains of ‘Pull Up To The Bumper’ and possibly straining the back of the man she rides atop. It is without a doubt, one of the surrealist things I’ve ever seen in my life and not wanting to sleep with that image fresh in our heads, we go in search of more alcohol and end the night dancing to cheesy 80s pop songs.

Doves - pounding (live at Latitude Festival 2009) original version available on 'The Last Broadcast'

Grace Jones - slave to the rhythm (live at Latitude Festival 2009) original version available on 'Slave To The Rhythm'

mp3 / music / latitude festival 2009 / mika / vivienne westwood / spiritualized / doves / grace jones

Latitude Festival - Day One 17/07/09

After 7 hours driving, the first drink goes straight to your head.

The second drink makes the endless rain on the dullest roads a distant memory.

And by the time Bat For Lashes finish the exquisite opener ‘Glass’, you’ve almost forgotten that you’ve missed pretty much all of the first day of the Latitude Festival. Even the fact that the Uncut Tent is pitched on widely uneven ground fails to annoy you. Sure your view is nothing but a sea of heads and the lighting rig above the stage but it doesn’t matter. Not when you’re busy being thrilled by a wondrous performance. It helps that the sound is amongst the best of any festival. Natasha Khan’s vocals seeming stronger, more passionate than you’d have thought possible. They strike you with a richness and force beyond their recorded versions. And somehow, it almost seems right that you can’t see her. As though a visual presence would somehow detract and distract from the beguiling sound. Old songs mix in with new perfectly. Seamlessly. The step forward from albums less obvious. The band eschewing the fragility of the albums, in favour of heavier beats and a more intense delivery. After what seems like no time at all they finish with a rousing version of ‘Daniel’, sending us out to take in the festival site for the first time.

Not that there’s much chance of getting your bearings in the black of the night. We’re surrounded by tents and stages but the strained neon glow of food vans, bars and stalls isn’t enough to judge detail and distance. We make out that Comedy is in front. Poetry and Literature to our right. While to the left, the vaguely familiar pop sounds of Pet Shop Boys draws us in, getting clearer and louder as we head toward the main Obelisk Arena.


We arrive in time for the final song. The familiar bass of ‘West Ends Girls’ pricks a nostalgic recognition. The song emerging from a macarena style keyboard intro into full bloom, updated but with the heart, soul and Neil Tennant’s mockingly dry delivery still in tact. Eighties pop meeting modern dance with the shadow of the Flight Of The Conchords looming over it. From the crowd’s reaction, you can only surmise that the rest of their set was equally this good. Smiles cover faces as the crowd disperses.

We grab some Chinese food before retracing our steps off the main site, across the river, up through the woods and back to our camp site, hoping the tent that refused to pitch without a fight would still be standing. And there we collapse. A myriad of festival sounds fighting for our attention through flimsy canvas. Laughter mixes with thumping beats with feet shuffling with dulled but familiar indie hits with the baas of painted sheep, but the urge to sleep is stronger than the noise and Friday fades into nothing.

Pet Shop Boys - west end girls (live at Latitude Festival 2009) original version available on 'PopArt'

mp3 / music / latitude festival 2009 / bat for lashes / pet shop boys

Now for sleep

So it seems I spoke too soon.

After complaining that I wasn't going to any festivals this year, I've just got back from the Latitude Festival.

Which means you either can't believe a word I ever say ... or I was lucky enough to get some free guest tickets. Either way, I went, I had a fabtastic time and when I've had time to assemble my thoughts and experiences, I'll write a proper review and give you a taste of a wonderful weekend.

In the meantime, I think this song sums up how I'm feeling after two long drives and 3 days of painted sheep, arty woods, Grace Jones' bare backside, Thom Yorke smiling, Nick Cave growling, sheep sex, comedy, poetry, dance, late night dancing, Vivian Westwood throwing her prams out of the trolley, clean toilets, dirty wellies, vodka and cokes, bacon sandwiches, light displays on water, minimal sleep and lots and lots of fun.

Explosions In The Sky - with tired eyes, tired minds, tired souls, we slept (live session version) original version available on 'Those Who Tell The Truth

mp3 / music / explosions in the sky

I'll be falling round the room

Well, seeing as my last post was about the Mercury Music Prize, it seems only appropriate to follow it up with something from last year's winners.

But this isn't from The Seldom Seen Kid' or indeed any of their albums.

This is something much, much older. Back in the days when Elbow were in the first phase of being. All fresh faced and optimistic. Not that Elbow have ever struck me as being a young band. Something about them has always felt old. No, strike that. Not old, older. Experienced. Lived in. World weary. As though they skipped adolescence and just went straight to being wizened and wryly cynical. I think it's something to do with Guy Garvey's husky falsetto and northern self deprecation that does it. I can't really describe what I mean. So I won't witter on attempting to. Instead, I'll just give you the music.

This is a live version of a song that originally appeared as a b-side on their impossibly rare first single, "The Noisebox EP". It was subsequently re-released, again as a b-side, on the third single, 'Any Day Now'. This version however was recorded in concert in 2001 and listening to it, it's easy to hear why it's a firm fan favourite. A lost classic amongst the band's myriad collection of songs. A suitably epic song in a manner that Elbow have managed to make their own. Albeit back when they were a bit rougher around the edges. Beginning with a distorted church organ, it thunders into life, blusteringly intense yet strangely intimate. Guy's vocals the calm at the centre of the storm that the band are creating around him. A reflection of the song's protagonist whose life seems to be dissolving around him. At the end of his tether. The band's backing vocals seem to act as the voices in his head or maybe the devil on his shoulder. Taunting him. Telling him to give in. To give it up. His strength seems to be failing him. His resilience is cracking under the pressure. He tells himself he's more than this, but you sense he's giving in, and ultimately can't help concluding that enough is enough.

Elbow - george lassoes the moon (live version)

mp3 / music / elbow

Now i'll sign my fate away

I don’t really care much for award ceremonies.

Not in music anyway.

For me, music is too subjective to judge in such a manner. To decide that one record is better than a bunch of others based on a series of tangible criteria seems churlish. Music just doesn’t work like that. You can describe it for sure. You can use similies and metaphors all you like, but I don't think it's ever possible to fully put into words why music has the power to move you. It depends on so many changeable factors. Time, place, mood being just a few influences. That's before you've even got to the differing styles and genres.

Besides the fact that you’ll never please everyone with the result, how do you even begin to decide what to base your judgement on? Do you base it on sheer enjoyment of the record? On how it affects you emotionally? On lyrical content? On technical proficiency? On artistry? In truth, it seems the only fair criteria you really use to can compare records is sales. That at least has some indisputable facts attached to it. Not that it takes quality into account. You only have to look at the Brits to see what a mockery that makes of the whole thing. Does anybody really believe that Duffy’s album was the best record released last year? But then again, like I said, it’s all subjective isn’t it?

Having said all of that, of the myriad award ceremonies that exist, the one I do at least pay more than a passing attention to is the Mercury Music Prize. I’m not saying it’s the best music award, the most reliable or even the most accurate. Sure, you can criticise it for the elitist, high brow, chin stroking muso attitude. You can knock the fact that it tries too hard to please everyone with token nods to marginal genres that are never likely to win. You can even complain that it’s as much a personal, finger in the air type decision. But it does at least seem to base it’s decision on some sort of critical appraisal of the music and it does seem to have a positive effect on the career’s of deserving, up and coming, left field bands. As opposed to the feeling of self congratulatory back slapping for the same old established bands that most awards ceremonies consist of. Or maybe I’m just justifying the Mercury Music Prize because it regularly recognises bands that I like. Who knows?

What I do know is that the shortlist of nominees is announced next Tuesday and without wanting to second guess the judges, that’s exactly what I’m about to do. So here are some records that I think might get a nomination. Now bear in mind, that my opinion is as subjective as anyone else’s, so I’m not saying these are the best British records. They are merely British records released between 15 July 2008 and 13 July 2009 that I think deserve to be nominated or that I think are likely to be nominated. I can’t see them all being nominated. Infact, the number in brackets that follows each album is my opinion out of 10 of how likely it is the judges will actually pick them. Also worth bearing in mind is the fact that I don’t listen to much avant-garde jazz, dubstep, dance, classical or any other token genre that the Mercury’s normally recognise. And when I say ‘much’, I mean ‘any’. So obviously, my list is by no means complete. It is however, my list. So without any further ado and with no more caveats, here’s my personal guess list of very deserving potential nominees, presented in no particular order.

Aidan Moffat & The Best Ofs – How To Get To Heaven From Scotland (3)
PJ Harvey & John Parish – A Woman A Man Walked By (5)
Bat For Lashes – Two Suns (8)
Florence & The Machine – Lungs (9)
The Horrors – Primary Colours (6)
Morrissey – Years Of Refusal (0)
Jarvis Cocker – Further Complications (1)
Noah & The Whale – Peaceful, The World Lays Me Down (6)
Manic Street Preachers – Journal For Plague Lovers (6)
Graham Coxon - The Spinning Top (3)

And despite not being personally enthused by Doves 'Kingdom Of Rust' nor have I heard the albums by La Roux or White Lies but it wouldn't surprise me in the least if they made the short list. They seem to me to tick some of the assumed boxes that the Mercury judges look for. But only time will tell. One week in fact. So next Tuesday, if you want to get the latest details on the Mercury Music Prize, head on over to the official site here or check out the BBC microsite, here.

The Horrors - scarlet fields (live session version) original version available on 'Primary Colours'

PJ Harvey & John Parish - pashionless, pointless (live session version) original version available on 'A Woman A Man Walked By'

Bat For Lashes - glass (live session version) original version available on 'Two Suns'

Noah & The Whale - rocks and daggers (live session version) original version available on 'Peaceful The World Lays Me Down'

Aidan Moffat & The Best Ofs - that's just love (live session version) original version available on 'How To Get To Heaven From Scotland'

mp3 / music / mercury music prize

I wish you would leave me

I've written about the Longpigs before.

And there's not really much I can add to that previous post.

Nothing's changed. They still released a debut album that I consider one of the best from the Britpop period. They still followed it up with an unbelievably disappointing second album. And they still split in 2000. Not much more for me to say really. But I do have some songs that I've not posted before. Three songs from a live session recorded way back in the mid 90s. Three songs that still sound great today.

At the time I was totally obsessed with 'On And On'. It seemed to strike a particular chord with the hormonal wallflower teenager with bad hair and glasses that I was. I guess not much has changed. Older. Less hair. But still loving the song. There's something powerful about the way Crispin Hunt injects what could be considered quite a sweet love song, with such an unhinged vocal performance. There's something about his voice that always suggested to me that he was on the verge of losing it slightly. A quality that suggests the unrequited love he's singing of is pushing him over the edge. Causing him more harm than if the object of his affection were to leave him.

'She Said' is probably the bands most famous song. I could be wrong but I'd hazard a guess that it was certainly their most successful. And it's a song that carries that unhinged feeling on. As though Crispin is channeling the desperation and self loathing of the character and spitting the words out before they eat away at him. He captures the way people can try in vain to disguise themselves with the trappings of consumerism perfectly. To cover up their insecurities with expensive, material goods. To paper over the cracks in the hope that it will fill whatever personal void threatens to consume them. In some ways, you could almost see it as a critiquing the modern day cult of celebrity. Of people so shallow that they need fame or infamy and the adulation that goes with it, to give their life some meaning. Or I guess you could just enjoy it as a damn good song.

Which leads us to 'All Hype'. A song that could be seen to carry on that same theme. Someone wandering aimlessly through life having all the pointless things of their life stripped away to reveal them as nothing. Dipping their toe in religion and in love but never finding something to satisfy them leaving them just as empty and vulnerable. I's a song I've always thought to be quite skewed and awkward in it's sound. As though it's searching for a catchy hook but just can't quite find it. Or just avoids it maybe. The song's carried along on this strangely hypnotising, yet oddly discomforting picked lullaby guitar that suddenly explodes into a nightmarish chorus. I never got to see them perform live but based on these session versions, I can only imagine it to be quite an intense exhilarating experience.

Longpigs - on & on (live session version) original version available on 'The Sun Is Often Out'

Longpigs - she said (live session version) original version available on 'The Sun Is Often Out'

Longpigs - all hype (live session version) original version available on 'The Sun Is Often Out'

mp3 / music / longpigs

This is no mouth-watering proposition

This credit crunch is playing havoc without my music buying.

No longer can I buy new records on the day of release.

I’m having to budget myself. Restrain myself. Resist temptation to just stock up on any and every record I fancy. My Monday routine of walking into HMV, rifling through the new releases and then walking to the till with a handful of CDs has been rudely interrupted by a severe lack of cash. Which means my ability to review new releases has been seriously restricted. My list of records I want but can’t afford is now into double figures. Growing bigger with every passing week. And don’t even get me started on the gigs I want to go to but can’t afford. That list just plain depresses me.

But don’t worry, I’m not after a handout. I don’t want your spare change. Or your sympathy. I’m just explaining the reason I’m about 4 weeks behind the rest of the internet with my review of the new Jarvis Cocker album. Not that I’m going to actually review it. By now I’m sure you’ve read all you need to read and more than likely heard at least one track. I’m under no illusions that my words will shed any new light on it. I’m pretty certain there are no new angles to be taken with it. No hidden subtexts that haven’t been uncovered. No insights that haven’t already been offered. Pretty much the only thing that hasn’t been said, is how much I like this record.

I mean really like. ‘Further Complications’ may well be the most enjoyable record I’ve heard so far this year. It’s certainly more enjoyable than his self titled debut. As much as I liked that album, it was missing something. There was no spark. It never really got going and seemed to suffer from a fair bit of filler. Not something you could accuse ‘Further Complications’ of.

This album is everything I want from Jarvis. Everything I expect from him. It’s catchy, witty, intelligent, dumb, geeky and just incredibly good fun. It sounds like Jarvis is having the time of his life. Lyrically back on his game, this album contains some classic Cocker moments. Wonderful lines delivered with the deadpan dryness that first made Jarvis so loveable. And this time round the music has some real life to it too. Some much needed oomph that was curiously absent from it’s predecessor but very much in evidence when touring that album. While Steve Albini may not have been responsible for the muscle behind this record, he certainly did his job in capturing it. ‘Further Complications’ is louder and harder than almost anything Jarvis has put his name to previously. You wouldn’t expect such a spindly man in brown tweeds to be able to rock quite as hard as Jarvis does here. Swaggering into your ears, all 70s glam garage confidence. Your favourite geography teacher reborn as Iggy Pop.

Not that ‘Further Complications’ is a one speed, one trick pony. Jarvis spreads his wings wide. Dips his toes in a range of styles. He opens with a one-two sucker punch of riffs on the title track and lead single ‘Angela’. Slows the tempo with the wonderfully pun heavy, lust filled ‘Leftovers’ and follows it up with the ‘I Never Said I Was Deep’, a devastatingly accurate depiction of what goes on in the male mind. Seriously girls, combine that song with Aiden Moffat’s ‘Oh Men’, and you’ve got a pretty accurate depiction of how men think. Or not, as the case may be.

From there on, the album mixes up stomping rockers like ‘Homewrecker!’ and ‘Fuckingsong’ with slower numbers like ‘Hold Still’ and ‘Slush’ via the innocent school lesson recorder intro of 'Caucasian Blues', before ending with the mirrorball seventies soul disco of ‘You’re In My Eyes (Discosong)’. Jarvis playing with his persona perfectly. Half sleazy loser coming on to you, half wise uncle dispensing nuggets of advice. The end of his marriage has clearly had an influence on this record. The album’s subject matter may never wander too far from that of an older man’s awkward attempts, inept failings and inadequate fumblings with the opposite sex, but it’s never self indulgent or morose. Jarvis is far too intelligent and aware of himself and his audience for that. Too northern, cynical and intelligent to wallow. And while it may be something of a cliché to suggest that an artist’s personal problems result in a renewed creativity, Jarvis certainly does seem to have found a new lease of life. ‘Further Complications’ is more than enough proof of that.

Jarvis Cocker - leftovers (live acoustic session version) original version available on 'Further Complications'

Jarvis Cocker - further complications (live session version) original version available on 'Further Complications'

Jarvis Cocker - caucasian blues (live session version) original version available on 'Further Complications'

mp3 / music / jarvis cocker

No one will take me down

I'm always reticent to describe a band as a singles band.

It's seems like a bit of backhanded compliment.

A veiled insult. Sure you can knock out the odd good song, but you're not very consistent are you? Yet occasionally, it's the most apt thing to say. Some bands really do have quality control issues and Ash seem to be a perfect example. For me at least. They've never released a truly satisfying record. Not since their debut EP, 'Trailer'. That record was the ultimate teenage release. An urgent, pop punk classic that did what it had to do and didn't hang around or overstay it's welcome. And if I'm honest, it's a trick the band haven't come close to repeating. Not in terms of energy or songs. Sure, they've released some great songs. Songs that I could use to navigate my path through my formative years. But their albums as a whole mean pretty much nothing to me. If that Ep was meant as a preview of what was to come from the band, then sadly it suffered from that old Hollywood cliche. They put the best bits in the trailer.

Ash were always a band I felt some kinship too. Unlike all the other bands I was getting into at the time, they were roughly the same age as me. Like me, they'd grown up on Star Wars. They did their A Levels at the same time as me and would have got their results on the same day as me. It's weird the things that tie you to bands when you're younger but they were a band I could relate to. Though there was of course the odd difference. If memory serves me correctly, the night I was getting ready ready to hit the town and celebrate my exam results, Ash were on Top Of The Pops playing their latest single. Their debut EP was a record I played endlessly and after 'Girl From Mars' came out, my expectations for their debut album were sky high. In hindsight, disappointment was inevitable. Few bands can live up to that. Yet nothing could have prepared me for my reaction to it.

'1977' was a letdown on a grand scale. A record that left me wondering what had happened. The reviews were great. Everyone seemed to go mental for it. But not me. I just didn't get it. Couldn't get into it. I remember being terribly disappointed by the whole thing. It didn't even sound like the same band. Not really. Sure there were undoubtedly some great songs but the whole thing was too heavy and sludgy. Too lumpen and serious. Where was the fun? Or the vitality? Why couldn't I hear what everyone else was hearing? It was unfocused. It seemed as though they'd suddenly lost their youthful vigor and were attempting to disguise it, by turning the volume up and going heavy. The songs lacked the punchy innocence that had made the debut EP seem so amazing. That record tainted the band in my eyes and sadly every record since has been blighted by similar problem. Great singles, shame about the album.

So it's kind of interesting to see that Ash have decided to become a singles only band. Sure, it's a move based on the current musical landscape. A reaction to the way people consume music these days. The cynic in me would say it's a reaction to their own drop in record sales. A way of lowering overheads and not having to rely on a record label to fund them. Maybe allowing the band to have more control over how and when they release their material. To get songs out quicker, straight to their fans. Only time will tell if it works and if anyone really cares enough about Ash these days to follow their new strategy. Part of me hopes the band stick around and that their new business strategy succeeds. But another part wonders how bothered I'd be if they split up tomorrow.

Anyway, I thought, I'd take you back to the time when Ash could do no wrong in my eyes. Before '1977' tainted them for me. This session features two songs from that debut EP and two b-sides. 'Petrol' and 'Season' are amongst the best songs Ash ever recorded. Two blasts of fast, fuzzy cartoon punk. The perfect blueprints for their career. 'Jazz 59' on the other hand, is little more than a jokey, throwaway tune. Clearly the band are enjoying themselves but it's not a track you'll be desperate to hear again. Unlike 'Silver Surfer' which is just a great song. A lost Ash classic, crazily hidden away as a b-side.

Ash - petrol (live session version) original version available on 'Trailer'

Ash - season (live session version) original version available on 'Trailer'

Ash - jazz 59 (live session version)

Ash - silver surfer (live session version)

mp3 / music / ash

I heard the news today oh boy

So Glastonbury is over for another year.

And I've removed myself from in front of the TV.

All things considered, it seems that this year was a glowing success. The weather held for the most part. The atmosphere was positive and all the reviews I've reads have had nothing but good things to sat about the headliners. And I'm not really in any position to say otherwise. It's always hard to comment about a festival you've watched on TV because there's no way of properly getting into it. You can't get carried away by the communal atmosphere that makes a huge part of any festival performance. What can seem amazing on TV may be not be when stood in a field and vice versa. So I'll keep it short.

For me Neil Young flickered between amazing and utterly tedious. Especially the nine hundred false endings to 'Rockin In The Free World'. Bruce Springsteen did nothing for me but then, I just don't get his music at all. In any way, shape or form. Blur were amazing, if not quite as good as a few nights earlier in Wolverhampton. Franz Ferdinand were good but did nothing special. Florence & The Machine looked and sounded fantastic. While Bon Iver was simply wonderful and felt like somthing very special happened on stage.

If you were there, let us know how it all went down. Who was good, who was bad and who was indifferent? What were your Glastonbury moments? Were there any surprises? And will you be going again next year? I know I will.

Blur - beetlebum (live at Glastonbury Festival 2009) original version available on 'Blur'

Neil Young - a day in the life (The Beatles cover live at Glastonbury Festival 2009)

Gaslight Anthem & Bruce Springsteen - the '59 sound (live at Glastonbury Festival 2009) original version available on 'The '59 Sound'

Florence And The Machine - you've got the love (The Source & Candi Staton cover live at Glastonbury Festival 2009) original version available on 'Lungs'

Bon Iver - wolves (live at Glastonbury Festival 2009) original version available on 'For Emma, Forever Ago'

mp3 / music / glastonbury festival / blur / neil young / gaslight anthem / bruce springsteen / florence and the machine / bon iver