I heard you stop outside the door

Certain songs are guaranteed to get me dancing on a night out.

'Babies' by Pulp is one of them.

It's a certified indie disco classic. That teasing guitar intro ringing like a bell to Pavlov's dogs. I may not salivate as such but there's definately some conditioning at work. A subconcious signal that urges me to throw some angular, faux Cocker (mis)shapes. It's undoubtably amongst the best Pulp songs. A sort of shorthand reference point for many of the band's themes. Lust, desire, sexual frustration and an awkward situation all rear their heads, shot through with a heavy dose of dry northern wit and pure pop perfection.

This version however, is not for dancing to. The original studio version could be seen as of the moment. The story unfolding in real time as it happens. The energy and beat reflecting the panic, explanation and reasoning of the narrator caught in the act. Not so this version. It's slower. Softer. Soberer. The narrator older, possibly wiser. As though he's grown up and caught himself in a moment of reminiscing. No longer the awkward teenager controlled by his hormones, here he's a sombre adult, reflecting on the one that got away.

In many ways, the way he performs it here is a great example of where Jarvis finds himself these days. Or rather, where the characters he writes about find themselves. Where once they were full of youth, partying hard and sorted for e's and whizz, now they're older. The party's over, the drugs didn't work and they're the aged that need helping. They're the ones whose dreams never came true. The failures. Those caught in failed marriages or in the midst of a mid life crisis. Ageing lotharios reduced to hanging round libraries to pick up girls ('Leftovers') or men protesting too much against claims they claimed more than they were ('I Never Said I Was Deep'). Jarvis continues to sift through the seedier side of life but unlike his protagonists, he's aware how foolish he would be if he was still singing about the follies of youth. So he takes his characters into the mid life that they're failing to delay. Highlighting their misgivings, exposing their hypocrisies and detailing every raw detail as they continue to age disgracefully.

Jarvis Cocker - babies (live acoustic session version) original version available on 'His N Hers'

mp3 / music / pulp

I just threw my blues away

Today, it’s exactly 15 years since I first heard the debut album by dEUS.

Now, you may be wondering how I can be so precise on the timing, so I’ll explain.

‘Worst Case Scenario’ was one of the CD shaped presents I ripped the wrapping off on my 17th birthday. Today is 15 years since my 17th birthday. Hence it’s also 15 years since I heard that record. All of which is my completely unsubtle way of saying that today is my birthday. Hurrah for me. There is however an ulterior motive for me telling you this beyond the shameless attention seeking mention of my birthday.

On the 4th of December, dEUS will re-issue the album in a deluxe edition with an extra CD of of B-sides, unreleased live tracks and demos, as well as a DVD with a documentary and various live performances. If you’ve never heard of dEUS or this record, I can’t recommend it highly enough. It finds the band at their most experimental and is almost impossible to pigeonhole. The press tended to term them as ‘Beefheartian’ due to their penchant for genre melding weirdness in the manner of the Captain. Alt rock sits alongside jazz which mixes into prog and folk, the band skewing familiar song structures into whatever shape and form they want them to take. All of which might make it sound a tad po-faced and a bit of a hard listen. That couldn’t be farther from the truth. ‘Worst Case Scenario’ is brimming with great songs, catchy hooks and skewed pop. 15 years on, it remains one of my favourite records.

All of which makes for a pretty damn good excuse to post these two session tracks recorded all the way back in 1994 when they were first promoting it. First up is an immense 7 minute version of ‘Hotellounge’, one of my favourite tracks off the record. Beginning with a simple 3 note guitar line that repeats throughout, it builds and grows into a song of contrasting textures. Light and dark. A calm bookshelving the storm. Guitars alternate between chiming and exploding, a violin wails around the edges, drums move from a light jazzy beat to crashing cacophony. The whole thing coming together as a brooding beast of a track. Alongside that, is ‘My Wife Jan’, an early session version of a track that was eventually released as a b-side to the ‘Little Arithmetics’ single. A frenetic, unhinged track that sees the band flitting between tempos and indulging in an all out alt-rock assault.

dEUS - hotellounge (live session version) original version available on 'Worst Case Scenario'

dEUS - my wife jan (live session version)

mp3 / music / dEUS

Lapping lakes like leary loons

I'm feeling lazy today.

So I thought I'd just use this post to answer the question that Sheena left in the comments of my last post.

She wondered what the second album that defined 2008 for me was. Well the answer shouldn't come as a surprise to, well, anyone really. Not only did I gush about it pretty frequently on here but Bon Iver's 'For Emma, Forever Ago' came near the top of almost every end of year list. I won't write much more because I can't imagine there are many people who haven't heard it and fallen instantly in love with it and frankly I've nothing fresh to add to it. Other than to say that well over a year after it's release, it is still a record that continues to stun and surprise me with it's emotional beauty and delicate power. So here's a couple of tracks for you. One from that record, one cover and one from the sister EP that followed a little later.

Bon Iver - flume (live acoustic session version) original version available on 'For Emma, Forever Ago'

Bon Iver - the park (Feist cover live acoustic session version) original version available on 'The Reminder'

Bon Iver - blood bank (live acoustic session version) original version available on 'Blood Bank'

mp3 / music / bon iver

Dip a toe in the ocean

The problem with an album you absolutely adore, is that the band in question has to follow it up.

Which probably sounds like a stupid statement to make.

Obviously they have to follow it up. The problem isn't the logistics involved in following for the band, it's the fear of disappointment that comes with it for you. When a record connects with you so vividly, so fundamentally, so viscerally on every emotional and sensory level, what comes next can't help but be a let down. A record that really says something about your life is a wonderful but rare thing. It's about more than just the music and lyrics on the record. It's about a moment in time. A connection. A perfect synching of what's happening on record with what's happening in your life. It may not be the band's most successful record nor their most critically acclaimed but it's the one that really matters to you. The one that takes over your life and your listening habits. Records that affecting don't come along all that often and the chances of that same band striking gold again and releasing another record that connects with you in such a personal way is near impossible. Chances are the band has almost certainly reached their peak for you and you'll therefore see the rest of their career as either an attempt to recapture that magic or desperately running scared from it. This is the situation I face with Frightened Rabbit.

In 2008, 'The Midnight Organ Fight' came out of nowhere and completely blew me away. It became one of two records that defined that year for me. An emotionally fraught, musically perfect album of broken hearts, fumbled relationships and raw reflection. Anthemic without ever being overblown or manipulative or emotionally empty. Throughout 2008 and on into this year, it has remained a constant source of pleasure and solace, rarely leaving my iPod playlist and soundtracking at least some part of almost every day. The problem is that they now have to follow it up.

The first signs are mixed. Released as a single on Monday, 'Swim Until You Can't See Land' picks up where the previous record left off. So much so that it almost like an off cut from the record. Certainly there's no mistaking the work of the band. The chiming guitars. The shuffling percussion. The instantly familiar voice of Scott Hutchison that manages to be both vulnerable and stoic. Some subtle string work bolsters the melody showing some development in musical scope and the subject matter is certainly more positive than on the last record. Where 'The Midnight Organ Fight' focused on things ending and falling apart, this song offers a more affirmative outlook. One of escaping something or someone and the hope and freedom that it can bring. As a preview to the new record it is both promising and worrying. Don't get me wrong, it shows that the band haven't lost their knack for a great tune and it grows on me with every listen, but I can't shake my initial reaction that it was a little too Frightened Rabbit by numbers.

It is of course too early to tell. One single does not a whole album make. Like many lead singles, it may well prove to be a bridging song. Something to lead us from a familiar path into new territory. Only time will tell. My fingers are crossed and I hope to be proved wrong. I certainly don't wish to dismiss a record before it's even been released. The problem really lies with me. I'm aware that my expectations are already too high and that's never a good place to start from. No matter how good the record may or may not be, I doubt it will have the same emotional impact and personal connection that I felt with 'The Midnight Organ Fight'.

Frightened Rabbit - swim until you can't see land (live acoustic session version) original studio version available to buy here

mp3 / music / frightened rabbit

Never ever whisper when it's time to shout

When I reviewed the last Seasick Steve album, I said it worked best ‘when Seasick Steve is left to his own devices’.

It appears I might not have been the only one who felt that way.

On his fourth record Steve has gone back to basics. Where ‘I Started Out With Nothing’ suffered from an overloaded cast of, well, several, his latest takes quite the opposite tack. ‘Man From Another Time’ strips away the extra personnel, reducing his music back to the bare bones of his voice, guitars and ever trusty drummer Dan. As decisions go, it’s fair to say this hobo has hopped onto the right train. Where the guest appearances seemed slightly forced, out of place and kind of unnecessary, ‘Man From Another Time’ finds Steve sounding far more comfortable in the simplicity of his sound.

That however is probably the only difference between this record and well, any of his others. Chances are, if you haven’t bought into Seasick Steve by now, ‘Man From Another Time’ isn’t going to change your mind. There’s no wild reinvention in sound. His lyrics don’t particularly cover any new ground. And if you see the amiable hobo shtick as nothing more than a corny marketing trick, well, it’s probably best you don’t bother reading any further. But if you’ve fallen under the spell of his previous records or his live show, then you’ll find plenty to enjoy here.

Kicking off with ‘Diddley Bo’, a raucous song telling you how to construct the instrument of it’s title, Seasick Steve delivers twelve songs of boogie blues, rollicking rhythms and tender introspection. Delving deep into his back story, the songs cover the well worn roads of his life. From the incarcerated protagonist dreaming of the day he’s free in the stomping ‘That’s All’, to the hobo that’s just ‘Happy (To Have A Job)’, it seems there’s still plenty of angles for his persona to mine. Seasick Steve’s greatest trick isn’t that he’s sold us this character; it’s that he’s able to continue selling it to us. It may be his fourth record about hobo life, railroad life and prison life but it hasn’t tired yet. He’s the everyman that’s lived the extraordinary life. Sure it’s an exaggerated, romanticised, potentially fabricated life but he presents it with such energy and self deprecation, that you can’t help be entertained. ‘Seasick Boogie’ is pretty self explanatory, a big old dumb riff and drum clatter designed to get your feet moving. ‘Never Go West’ is a rollicking, hollering warning blast, albeit a little tame compared to it’s live incarnation. Only on ‘Big, Green And Yeller’, a tale about buying a John Deere tractor, does the joke misfire and descend into a corny parody. The cartoon writ large.

The best moments however are where the record steps out of character, leaving Steve free to tackle more universal subjects. From the title track’s musings on ageing, to ‘Dark’s pale introspection on death and solitude, to the gentle romance of ‘My Home (Blue Eyes)’ explaining why you don’t have to say those three little words where you’re in love. The emotion and heart in these songs is real, honest and shows that as fun as his well spun stories are, Seasick Steve is more than just a great creation. On these songs, the real Steve comes through. The genuine, engaging bluesman.

Seasick Steve - never go west (live session version) original version available on 'Man From Another Time'

mp3 / music / seasick steve

It's starting to all make sense

Nostalgia has always played a part in the music of Luke Haines.

Scattershot references to the people, places and events that informed his childhood litter his work.

From Auteurs lyrics that detail the minutiae of British ‘culture’, through the explicit use of the Baader Meinhof name, on to the subtle use of imagery such as Lord Lucan in his band’s artwork, the 1970s are nearly always present in one form or another. Although not necessarily in a positive way. Where Ray Davies detailed the quirky aspects of British life and Morrissey glamorises an imagined England that probably never really existed, Luke Haines is far more cynical, barbed and realistic. Maybe an altogether truer embodiment of what it is to be British.

If he ever owned some rose tinted specs, they lost their lustre a long time ago. He doesn’t hark back to a glory time. Never kids himself that the old days were better. Rather, his references deconstruct that very British ideal. They get under the skin of the façade. Offer a sneary dismissal of the minutiae that fills our island. The ridiculous, hypocritical nature of the stiff upper lip. The superiority complex. The little island syndrome. The empty passing fads. The oh-so-important tabloid press and their duplicitous nature. The hush-hush-brush-it-under-the-carpet-hope-it-goes-away mentality. He scratches the itch. Picks away at the scabs. If it’s been built up, he’s more than willing to knock it down. All of which sounds very bleak, pessimistic and not a great deal of fun to listen to.

Thankfully, Luke Haines is in possession of two things that stop him falling into that particular hole. Firstly, that most British of things, the dry wit. While it’s easy to paint him as the one dimensional grouch the way the press regularly does, it’s not an accurate portrayal. There’s an intelligent humour in his writing that often gets missed or misinterpreted. He pokes fun, mocks and highlights absurdities without ever resorting to cruel, unnecessary jibes. The fact that he doesn’t live up to the clichés of rock excess, dumb down or tow the line is, I think, probably the reason for the perception of him as being awkward and an eternal misery. At least that’s how he can come across in the print media. On the few occasions I’ve heard him interviewed he always comes across as a personable, funny and yes, cynical person. He’s also a great songwriter. The second of his saving graces.

Now, if you’ve hung around here for a while, you’ll know I’m a pretty big fan of The Auteurs and indeed, I’ve posted a few bits by a few of his bands trying to get people to listen to what he’s done before. But today, I’m posting something new. An acoustic version of the title track from his new album. More than any song that’s come before it, ‘21st Century Man’ is an honest, straight forward, autobiographical song detailing the events of his life. From his birth to the preset day, it’s the story of his life and how it mixed and mingled with the headlines, politics, people and events of the day. Bowie, Thatcher and the Green Cross Code Man are all name checked as that familiar to some semi whispered voice reflects on where he came from and maybe where he seems himself in the new century. The dawning realisation that his cultural reference points are all in the past finds Luke Haines not exactly happy with his lot, but certainly more aware of his place in the world. ‘I travelled all my life, but never got away’ he once wrote on Black Box Recorder’s ‘England Made Me’. Here he seems to have finally stopped moving, accepting his place as ‘an exile in a foreign land’. Feeling out of touch with the modern world he may be, but on the basis of this song there’s still some life in him yet.

Luke Haines - 21st century man (live session version) original version available on '21st Century Man'

mp3 / music / luke haines

All things have memories

If I had to choose one word to describe the new Idlewild album, I'd go with reliable.

Or maybe dependable.

Two words which, if I was talking about a new car could be deemed as positive. But in the context of an album review? Well that's a different matter. Or at least, I guess it depends on what you want from music. In this case it also depends a little on how you feel about Idlewild. 'Post Electric Blues' is the sound of a band being comfortable in their own skin. Nothing more, nothing less. If you've heard their last two albums then you'll have a pretty good idea of how this one sounds. There are no wild new directions. No side steps into dubstep. No heart stopping anarchic electro punk moments. What you get is a steady mix of mature indie rock with gentle acoustic bits, harder rocking bits, the occasional folky violin thrown in and a couple of questionable key changes. Business as usual in other words. And probably a pretty good explanation of why this record doesn't seem to have picked up much press attention. I mean, who wants to review a record that you've kind of heard before when there are exciting, genre defying, barrier breaking, era defining, ultra hip records to write about?

Well, me for one. Part of that comes from Idlewild being one of those bands that I hold a special place for. Whose music meant a lot to me growing up and who frankly have never let me down. Idlewild are a band I’ve got a lot of time for and so regardless of what, when or how they release their music, I’m pretty sure I’ll always be willing to at least give them a listen. Which so far sounds like the undying loyalty of a blinkered fan unwilling to accept the truth. But trust me, this is more than that. You see, the other reason I’m writing about ‘Post Electric Blues’ is that despite what my words in the opening paragraph may have implied, this album contains some great songs. Sure there may be no great surprises, no massive sonic leap forwards but don’t let that fool you into thinking this is a tired band parodying themselves. Far from it. Over the last few albums Idlewild have grown up. Their music has matured. Mellowed. The edges have been smoothed off but ultimately, the songs are still good. They may have lost some of the youthful abandon that once marked their albums apart but rather that, than some embarrassing half arsed attempt to recapture the sound of their younger selves.

In truth, ‘Post Electric Blues’ finds Idlewild honing their talents, their musicianship and their songwriting. Crafting eleven songs with some of the most striking melodies of their career. Album opener ‘Younger Than America’ is as bold and anthemic as anything the band have recorded before. ‘Readers & Writers’ is their most deliciously obvious attempt at writing a hit single since ‘You Held The World In Your Arms’ and you can’t help but think that recorded by a new band, it would have been all over the radio like a rash. ‘Take Me Back To The Islands’ is a direct link to Roddy’s solo work, a beautiful folk tinged semi-ballad that stakes it place at the heart of this record. And where once the band rattled through their songs with barely a pause for breath, here they close off the record with a blur of songs that, while never moving above mid pace, reward you with a delightful rush of soaring choruses and catchy hooks. ‘Post Electric Blues’ may not set the charts on fire and chances are it won’t win them any new fans, but it’s a solid record from one of the most consistent bands of the last ten years.

Idlewild - city hall (live session version) original version avaialble on 'Post Electric Blues'

Idlewild - readers & writers (live session version) original version avaialble on 'Post Electric Blues'

mp3 / music / idlewild