Bromley-by-Bow station is an odd place to find yourself at a quarter to twelve half scared out of your wits but at the same time glad to be there, and even more so glad of the company of fellow gig goers who turn up five minutes later on the once deserted platform.

"Well that was shit", said the guy who turned up. Despite my best attempts at looking like I'd not been to the Radiohead gig and got a bit lost on the way home, just like him and his friends, he'd clocked me. A fellow indie "kid" at the wrong end of town. I have to say I was a bit disappointed that he'd figured out I wasn't a local. But I gave myself a quick once over and it was a bit obvious to be honest. Khaki isn't exactly a street look around these parts.

"I quite liked it", I gamely replied. I didn't want to admit I was glad of the company. Someone like me. Fuck. Life's changed. Tonight of all nights. What a time to realise. Even as I'm listening to "Reckoner" as I write this, it's obvious that I'm a stranger in a strange town. It's not going to change, not now.

"They didn't play any hits", came the reply from my new found companion. OK, it wasn't an MTV tribute that's for sure. I didn't even know the last song they played if I'm being honest. But they did play "Reckoner", which was fantastic. I love the song, the way it grabs me and soothes me and scares me all at once. It's a song that seems to speak to me in a way that I can't describe, but I know for sure I'm not the only one who feels the textures, the longing, the feeling of something missed. I looked around me. I recognised the look in their eyes as I looked at the crowd around me.

"That's why you love them". I'm not sure if that was profound or just me being an arse. But I followed it up with an impressive sounding insight: "I bet you've seen them before. I bet you were surprised then. Perhaps they played all the hits. Perhaps they didn't. But what surprised you most was that they played it by their own rules". I paused. Just to take in my own magnificence. But then I remembered where I was. Just a drunk white bloke on a tube sounding like a twat. Just to be sure I looked around the tube. No one was listening or at least they were polite enough to pretend that they weren't.

"My little lad wanted to come", said the guy who I had just worked out looked a bit like Justin Lee Collins off of the Friday Night Project. Only he had shorter hair and was a bit more pissed on a tube than any media savvy celebrity would ever be.

"How old is he?", I asked. "Eight". There was a pause. I was half expecting him to say "and a quarter". But he told me he had two younger girls after I asked him why he didn't bring the lad along. But it was clear that something wasn't right. I didn't feel right. I'm not sure he did either, but for two very different reasons.

His life had changed in a tangible way. He told me how he was gutted that they were the only band who could get away with what they did tonight. What he meant was that every night out, let alone a 50 quid one, is something to be cherished. He knew his music as it turned out. Perhaps he can't afford the time to listen to something new or challenging anymore. But that's what we both agreed was the reason why we went. We had no idea what they might do. A stadium act, a global phenomenon, at once the most personal thing in the world to all who came, and at the same time, if they let us, a karaoke soundtrack for the varied lives that we all lead.

I reflected on the night. I'd spent it with friends. I'd had a good time and I'd left to go home. In my usual foolish way I went home without planning where I was going. Hackney isn't the best place to get lost in at night. I knew that, but tonight I knew my life has changed. No longer the innocent, I walked along Roman Road trying not to look as scared as I was. I knew it was written all over me. I've never felt that way before and I hated it.

"I can't listen to Kid A", said the man as we approached East Ham. "Nor can I," I replied, adding "one day, I'm sure I will.". It came on tonight as I put the stereo on. I couldn't listen to it. Too much for me. I wanted comfort and familiarity. I put "In Rainbows" on instead. I felt better as I listened to it.

There's not a band on earth who can evoke such a range of emotions from all who listen. Love. Hate. Sadness. Joy. Pain and pleasure. It's all there. It was there at Victoria Park and never mind what my travelling companion thought about the set list, he knew, as did all of us who went, that what we saw and heard tonight was a thing of frail, flawed beauty; a living work of art in these, our troubled times.

Stag and Dagger is a Camden Crawl for the East End. With more galleries. Sort of.

OK, OK, I admit it. I didn't actually see much of it. I could make excuses, but it largely boiled down to being lazy. So out of the 15 odd venues covering all sorts of genres of music and the arts, how many did I visit? Erm... two. And one of them only briefly. But I was scarred last year by the Camden Crawl. Yes, it was in Camden. And we crawled from one venue to the other trying to get in. We couldn't. And it was crap. So, I tried a whole new methodology with Stag and Dagger. I looked at the venue list and I pretty much didn't know any bands on the list apart from two. So, trying to sound knowledgeable, I picked one of the venues with a band that I recognised, and off me and a friend toddled.

We ended up in the Macbeth. From the moment we walked in it was inevitable we weren't leaving. Bar? Check. Music? Check. Sofa? There was a sofa. It was unoccupied. Not for long. Drinks bought, we settled down to listen to the music. And you know what? I don't regret for one moment not moving much from that sofa.

First up (for us at least) were Dead Kids. I'm not sure if I've seen a band so hardcore as this, stuffed into such a tiny stage in a packed pub. The front man, was a nutter. Demonic but intelligent, with the intensity of Henry Rollins. There was a great point in the set when he jumped on the stage and cajoled the crowd. Then tried to pour himself a drink as if the barman was distracted by the mayhem. He wasn't. A tug of war started over a frothy pint of stella. The barman relented, and the singer smiled. I'm going to check this band out again.

A word on the venue. It was a pub. With lots of people in. The toilets were at the opposite end of the pub by the stage. There were lots of people between the sofa and the toilet. Most were lovely. One wasn't. I don't often come across someone I'd describe as pompous, sanctimonious and jumped up in the middle of a crowd at a gig. But there I was being lectured about how I should get through an over full venue by someone who's day job is obviously a housing officer in a South London council. I thanked him for his advice. It was the least I could do.

Next up were Example. Hip hop. Sort of. To tell the truth, I'm not that much of a fan. But the crowd seemed to dig them. Best I can say is check their myspace page. Anyway, I was pleased when the next band came on. Operator Please changed the pace from Example. In such a small venue, with such an excitable crowd, they seemed to know what to do. They had fun. The crowd had fun. But there's not much more to say about them that I haven't already said about this band in previous entries.

Last up were The Mike Strutter Group. By the time they'd started, then I have to say that sofa had become just too comfortable. I was having a good time, just not really paying much attention to the music. It started, then it stopped. I don't remember it being bad. But I don't have a clear recollection of it either. I blame the lager. Mind you, I always blame the lager.

So there it was. 15 venues. I saw two. It was all good though. I'd heard stories similar to the Camden Crawl about the crowds. I think I got the right idea though. Stick in one venue. Go along with some great company. Make sure there's a sofa. And then stay there. I know it defeats the whole object of these type of events, but maybe, just maybe, they don't actually work too well.

Still, I had a good time. Topped off by a fantastic Brick Lane salt beef bagel. Yum yum

http://www.myspace.com/youaredeadkids
http://www.myspace.com/leadingbyexample
http://www.myspace.com/operatorplease
http://www.myspace.com/mikestrutter

There are times when I really truly wonder why I bother buying tickets to see gigs. This was one of them. When I booked these tickets I'd read something nice about Lightspeed Champion, probably in an NME. They were raving about him. And what with him being involved with the now defunct Test Icicles, how could I resist?

Quite apart from the fact I'd never heard the Test Icicles, and therefore had absolutely no idea what I was letting myself in for, I'd completely forgotten to check the diary and missed that it was immediately after a bank holiday weekend. Now, that's not so bad, all things considered. I'd spent the previous day on a nice walk in the sunshine. I was so enthused about the sunshine I called my mate to enjoy it with me. So we had a beer to celebrate. Thing is, it was really sunny, so we really celebrated long into the night.

I wasn't much for celebrating the next day. I looked at the tickets at work, not enthusiastic. I struck on a good idea. I'm sure I mentioned these tickets to my pal. I emailed him and asked him if he wanted them. "Sure", he replied, "what time shall we meet?".

Bugger. Wasn't getting out of this was I? So, reluctantly, off I headed to Camden. It wasn't so bad, the sun was still shining and I enjoyed my walk through the park. In Camden, I nearly crashed into a strange looking fellow with a tremendous looking hat. Quite out of the ordinary, even for Camden. The oddest thing was I was sure I recognised the chap. Couldn't quite put my finger on it though.

After a quick pint in the tup, we headed off to the venue. I like Koko. It's improved a lot since the old Palace days. At least your feet don't stick to the carpet anymore. Well, to be fair, they wisely took the carpet up and replaced it with shiny wooden floors. But it's a great venue.

It was also loud. Or more to the point, the first band were. Bloody, gratingly, annoyingly loud. And quite honestly awful. And I'm glad I saw them as a support act, because I nearly bought a ticket to see them top of the bill once to see what the fuss was about. Ox. Eagle. Lion. Man. are not my cup of tea. My mate pointed out that their words were probably quite poetic and meaningful. It's just that you can't bear to listen to them because the music really doesn't encourage you to try.

I was pleasantly surprised to see the next band get on stage. It was Operator Please. I'd seen them earlier in the year in Wimbledon. And they played pretty much the same set tonight. I thought that they're beginning to find their feet in the UK, as they sounded tighter, more focussed and, well, way more fun than they did in Wimbledon. I really think they're going to peak during the festivals, so if you get a chance, go see them.

As Operator Please left the stage, I could honestly say that I could have gone home happy, but the main event was to come. After a short while, an old friend came on. No, hang on, it was that bloke I'd bumped into on the high street. Lightspeed Champion. Man of the people. In a hat.

It's at this point I struggle with a review. I'm hopeless at describing music. How can I describe it? Don't know. Er... Acoustic.. ish.. Pop... ish... Indie... ish.. I liked it though. I liked it a lot to say I want to see him again. The band was superb, which greatly adds to the Dev's voice which is outstanding. Talking of outstanding voices, he was joined on stage by Emmy the Great, who added vocals and strings. I wasn't expecting that, and it only added to my enjoyment of some fabulous songs, played by a great band.

Not a lot more to say really - I loved the gig. Apparently there was a big celebrity following there as well. I've never heard of Alexa Cheung. Perhaps you have. She's famous apparently. She was there. So was Kelly Osbourne. Whoever they are, they've got great taste in music, obviously. Great gig. Great night. It only goes to show, sometimes all the signs of it being a really crap evening count for nothing.

http://www.myspace.com/oxeaglelionman
http://www.myspace.com/operatorplease
http://www.myspace.com/lightspeedchampion

It's been a little while since I've seen ¡Forward Russia!. I'd seen them three times when they were touring their most excellent first album Give Me a Wall. In particular, the gig in the Garage in searingly hot temperatures in July 2006 stands out for me as one of my all time favourite gigs, not least because of my awful drunken attempts to start a conversation with the band in the bar afterwards.

Since then, the band have gone back to the studio to record their (tricky) second album, Life Processes. I only bought it a few days before the gig, but played it enough times to be familiar with the new material by the time I arrived at KCSU. I like the venue - it's the only one that gives you the chance to meet the artists on the lift on the way up to the stage which is on the 4th floor of a very utilitarian building just off the strand. It's a great size, and being a student venue, the staff are pretty friendly.

Anyway - back to the band. Or rather, back to the band before the band. We'd caught one of the support band's entire set. They weren't bad. But weren't especially good either to be honest. Their material was a bit akin to a Mogwai tribute. But without the talent. Sorry chaps, I couldn't be bothered to find out your name. It's not that the performance was bad - it was just plain boring. And that's a shame because the band they were supporting are anything but.

It came as quite a relief then when ¡Forward Russia! did come on, and they came on in their now familiar rather cool looking band T-Shirts. They're a four piece. They're a strange looking bunch. The lead singer Tom is thin and wiry, with straggly hair, and the guitarist is a beardy type (who I think is called Whiskas - well one of them is and it seems to fit him best) and a rather cute drummer, Katie. Oh and the other one's called Rob. They started with a track called "Spring is a Condition" from the new album "Life Processes". It was a good start. From then on in, the band played a mixture of new and old, but with the clear emphasis on the new material. Tom introduced the first of the older stuff in a rather disadainful manner, acknowledging that we perhaps liked the older stuff more than the new. And to be honest, when they can be compared one against the other like they could when played live it's fairly obvious to me that the newer songs don't stand up to the older ones.

That's a real pity - as part of the charm of the band is the frenetic nature both of the music and the dancing of Tom. It's quite obvious that the new songs are at once more deliberate, more insisting that you take them a bit more seriously. But it really doesn't work as well. Even when performing the stand out song of the new album "Gravity and Heat", the band don't seem to perform with the same level of, well, madness. And like I said, that's a pity. Second albums are always difficult and I think the second album for them is just an example of this well known phenomena in music making.

They finished with the last two songs on the new album "A Shadow is a Shadow is a Shadow" and "Spanish Triangles". The former was pretty good, but I'm not a fan of the second as it's clearly a end of album/gig fadeout song. Way way too cliched for my liking.

Still, I went home happy. Perhaps I'll wait for a third album before I see them again. It's not that I don't like the newer songs, it's more that the band seem deternined that we should prefer them to the older ones. No chance, Tom. Sorry.

http://www.forwardrussia.com/

If you want to see dance music played live you can do far worse than checking out Crazy Penis (or Crazy P as they've now rebranded themselves). House music played live. Superb. If you've never seen them, and you love live music, you'll love this band. But if you want something dirty, something a little more, shall we say down to earth, a more visceral experience, you need Holy Fuck.

They're a four piece from Toronto, and their music is a little difficult to nail down. They do live electronica. But that's not helping. So, imagine two lads each with a table full of electronic equipment in front of them (keyboards, synths, effects, and weirdly a 35mm film sequencer). Add a bass. And some drums. And watch them perform.

Which brings me neatly to my point about the audience. There were lots of Geek boys there. And a few geek girls as well. The geek boy next to me stared at every unit and effect the lads set up. Studied them to see what they were, making a mental note of everything. And I don't think that's such a bad thing to do, because if he came close to some of the sounds that these boys produced I'd be impressed. They play anything from Dub influenced beats to electro, to acid techno. But nothing sticks to a formula. And the live bass and the drums just adds a fantastic edge to the performance that just wouldn't be there without them.

They built up quite a head of steam. I looked around at the crowd. There was lots of dancing and strangely some dry humping to the music. It wasn't pretty to watch. But everyone was having a good time. Geek boy next to me suddenly had an upturn in his evening as not one, but two geek girls decided it would be fun to go over to him and give him a snog right out of the blue. Poor lad didn't seem to know what hit him. He was probably still trying to concentrate on what the effects boxes were.

What did I think of them? Well, this was the second time I'd seen them. I saw them last summer at Glastonbury and to be honest I thought they were much better then. They're the sort of band I think you have to be in exactly the right state of mind to truly appreciate. If you catch my drift. But I'd still say they're a band to go and see if you can. I'm sure that won't be difficult. It's a pretty safe bet they've got a few festivals booked this summer.

http://www.myspace.com/holyfuck

"Well, this is a bit of a shithole"

Quite an opening line from our Malcy. And to be fair, I think I did well to understand him, such is the way that he mumbles in between songs. And that's a shame, because the man has such a fierce wit that when you do hear what he's saying it's invariably incredibly funny.

But anyway, back to the comment. He was being somewhat ironic. To be entirely honest, half the reason I bought the tickets in the first place was because I so wanted to actually see what the venue was like. I wasn't disappointed. My jaw dropped even as I walked through the door. The Union Chapel is a working church, arts centre and homeless project in the heart of Islington. As a music venue it's superb. The pews are arranged in a semi circle around the stage. And there's not a bad seat in the house. The lighting is simply superb as well, making best use of the interior of the building and the windows.

So, as I stared in wonder around the place, Malcolm and his band (I say band, but it was a chap on a double bass, and the fabulous Jenny Reeve on violin and vocals) came on. He started with a rendition of We're All Going to Die, his Christmas single. It was much flatter than the recording, and I thought that this gig might be a little disappointing from the sound of the song. There wasn't much wrong with it, but I'm not sure I wanted to listen to a whole set of his songs sung in such a down beat manner.

I wasn't disappointed however. I had nothing to worry about. The songs are so well written, so well performed that there was no chance that this was going to be a disappointment. Not a chance. I've not got his latest album yet, and he played a lot of material that was unfamiliar to me. But all of them, yes, all of them were electric.

I did catch a little bit of his between songs banter. He said he was quite disappointed that there was no heckling. I think there was a reason for that. I think we were all so enthralled by the quality of the performance and the beauty of the venue that was the last thing on our mind.

http://www.malcolmmiddleton.co.uk/

I was first played this track as a first year in University in 1990, by a flat mate who's name, I seem to remember, was Neil. As with a lot of people who go away for the first time, I arrived at my new residence a bit wet behind the ears. Neil, however, was cool. He had a guitar. He smoked Marlboro Lights. And he liked Galaxie 500.

Fourth of July is from the Album "This is Our Music", which was released in 1990. It's the first track, and I can still vividly remember the effect that the song had on me the first time I heard it. I was mesmerised. I'd never heard music like this before, although to be fair I wasn't exactly listening to cutting edge music at the time. Queen, Led Zeppelin and Deep Purple formed the backbone of my music collection, so I guess it was going to be fairly likely that this music would sound a bit, well exotic, to the boy that I was at the time. I remember commenting to Neil that all the tracks sounded the same (they don't). He tugged on his cigarette, slowly blew out the smoke as was his way, then sagely replied "Exactly". I'm not sure what that exactly means, but hey, he was cool and I wasn't. So I took it as read that this was good.

I didn't know at the time that this would turn into one of my favourite albums of all time. But it has. It's an album I turn to at various times in my life. It's the sort of album that's the perfect match for episodes in my life where I've been melancholy. Not happy, not depressed, not angry, not upset. Just, well, a bit flat. As regular readers may have read, I'm feeling a bit melancholy at the moment and this track (well, the entire album) is taking a bit of a battering right now.

Galaxie 500 were a three piece who split in 1991 after releasing three albums, of which this one is the last. Their music stands out for itself, but their lyrics are also quite interesting. They range from somewhat bizarre, to tragicomic as is the case with Fourth of July. The song opens with this:

I wrote a poem on a dog biscuit
And even your dog refused to look at it

I was about to say something along the lines of well, we've all been there, but quite clearly we haven't, not literally. But I like the allegory. Later on, this line is trumped by my favourite:

I stayed at home on the Fourth of July
And I pulled the shades so I didn't have to see the sky
And I decided to have a bed in
But I forgot to invite anybody


Even if you've never heard the track before, you can guess it's not an uplifting type of song. On the other hand it's not depressing either. The music has almost dream like quality to it. The mood of the music neither lightens or darkens throughout the song, although the lyrics do hint at mood swings that aren't reflected by the flow of the song:

Maybe I should just change my style
But I feel alright when you smile


Looking back to my first thoughts about the song all those years ago, it's not the case that all the songs sound the same. Rather for me, the songs do share a certain enigmatic quality. Read into them as much or as little into them as you like. I'm sure it means something different every time I listen to it. And because of that, there's no way this song could ever sound the same way twice.

Its been one of the strangest weekends I'd had for quite a while. A weekend of drinking and debauchery, a weekend of loving and laughing, a weekend when I'd surprised myself with the sizes of clothes I could buy in the shops, but also a weekend when I'd fallen off the wagon quite spectacularly. And yet it had also been filled with a tinge of sadness that for the life of me I really didn't need right now.

So it was no surprise that, for the first time in the three times that I'd seen her this year, I was quite taken by the other side of her performance - the songs of sadness, anger, lust and of longing. It's quite apparent that this girl lives life as it's meant to be lived. She writes it as she feels it. And does she feel it. I listened to the words a bit more this time around. And although they're never going to win any prizes for poetry, like the music, the honesty and simplicity of them says much more to me about her than any clever words could.

"Drive away my heart" is such an incredibly personal song for her, written seemingly when she was at her lowest ebb, feeling lonely and unloved. She writes about someone she falls in love with at the time who stole her heart. In "Queen of the World" she sings that she's "free this month, lonely this year, lonely for ever". It's a fantastically worked song, quite reminiscent of some of the Smiths best moments with Marr-esque guitar playing. It plays that brilliant trick of being simulataneously hopeless but hopeful. If you don't believe me, then listen for yourself

The real joy of her music is that its almost a documentary of her life. You see her happy. You see her sexy. And you see her sad. I was glad I'd come with my friend who "discovered" Ida before me. She'd not been to see her before. Not for want of trying though. We'd talked about which of the three we should go to together. It wasn't this one, and I certainly didn't think I'd see all three. But it's a funny old world. Some things are just meant to be.

As we began to make our way out, I asked my friend what she thought. After some thought, she glanced back at the stage before delivering her verdict.

"Fuck Girls Aloud", she said, "She's a real role model for women".

Quite.

What happens when you take the angst ridden mincing of Chris Martin, add a dash of Marti Pellow's inane grinning, paint it all on the face of Toby Anstis and project it on a huge screen? For me the end result was pure comedy as I laughed at Tom Smith's theatrics through the first few songs of Editor's set last night. I've got to say in his defence it wasn't his fault that where I was stood, I couldn't see much of the stage, so I was compelled to watch the big screens. But, this being the 4th time I've seen the band, this was the closest look I'd given him. I wish I hadn't.

The first time I saw Editors was in Brixton a year or two ago. I remember I'd heard that they'd built up quite a reputation as a live act. They'd released their first album "The Back Room", but I purposely hadn't bought it before I saw them. And I've got to say I loved the gig. So much I remember commenting at the time that they were "my new favourite band". I bought the album the next day, put it on and loved it. But, as with so many albums that I love the first time I listen to them, I thought that the instant accessibility of the music is traded for longevity. So much so, I rarely listen to it much at all these days. I haven't bought the second album either, which does have plenty of catchy tunes on it, but is pretty much the same sort of thing.

Why have I seen them four times you may well ask? The second time I saw them was at V, and I remember I enjoyed it, but not quite so much. I'm wasn't sure why, so I saw them again at Glastonbury. I don't think the experience was any better, as I have no clear recollection of seeing them at all there. But there might be other (cough) reasons for that. And last night I hadn't planned to go, but there was a spare ticket, so being a sucker for the live music experience I went along.

Half way though the gig, I decided I could no longer take looking at Tom's effete performance on the big screen, so I moved over to the side but a lot nearer the front of the stage. This was much better as I no longer had to look at the big screen. I don't really appreciate big gigs much, so I'm not a fan of watching a big screen at all; the new viewing position was much better, and I think I appreciated the band much more.

That's not to say that I've changed my mind about them though. I don't think I'd pay to see them again if I'm being honest. And it's not because they're a bad band. They do what they do really well. Tom's vocals are absolutely phenomenal, and the screaming guitar playing of Chris Urbanowicz marks the band's now unique sound. The songs are all (apart from the dreaded ballad) well written, all of them catchy. The thing is, they're all of them pop songs. And that's at the heart of the matter for me.

When I first heard the band play, the distinctive sound was moody, dark and brooding. The lyrics that I caught seemed to have something to say. But the problem is that they don't have much to say at all. One of the guys described the resulting sound as "Joy Division Light". I'm sure the phrase wasn't his invention, but you can well understand it. Editors write songs about pain and loss almost voyeuristically. I don't feel connected to their songs, largely because they don't either. They don't feel the pain or the anger. They just write about it. Joy Division didn't simply reflect these emotions, they lived them. And there's a huge gulf between these two bands.

It's sometimes not easy to listen to Joy Division, but it's never a chore to listen to Editors. Take your pick. Which band matters most? Editors I'm sure will continue to entertain with their unique sounding niche of indie/rock/pop/what have you. I'm sure I'll put their album on again once in a while. It will probably cheer me up as I tap my feet to the tunes. But their music won't ever touch my heart the way I'd hoped it would when I first heard them.

As the champagne trickled down my face and into my mouth, I casually wondered if I'd failed in my promise to lay of the drink for Lent. I quickly forgot that thought as I bounded back skywards, my fist punching the air with a big grin on my face. I wasn't the only one. The place was going crazy. It seems that this is just a typical night with Imperial Leisure.

I've seen them before some months ago. It was at Madame Jo Jo's. I can't lie about the night. I was drunk. Pissed. Hammered. I remember the hangover almost as much as the night itself. I think we'd gone to see a band called Union of Knives. But it was Imperial Leisure who were on after that I remembered most. I'd never heard of them before. But I certainly never forgot them. Loads of guys packed on to a tiny stage going mental. Driving the crowd mental. And we all danced and sang and drank and fell about laughing it was so good.

But I had a sneaky suspicion that the lagers had chemically enhanced the experience somewhat. Surely the weren't that good? The two mates who were with me that night certainly seem to remember they were good. But you just never know. So this was going to be a test to see how good they really are. As usual, 2 tickets were bought, but my pal couldn't make it. I couldn't persuade anybody to go with me, so I was going on my own. And I really didn't fancy it. I was tired and I had to hang around in work for quite a while. I very nearly went home.

So I arrived tired, irritable and unenthusiastic. And I was going to stay sober. Nice. I bought a drink, then found a nice spot right in front of the stage while one of the supports, The Bookhouse Boys, finished their set. They were pretty good I thought. Nice shoes as well. I had a little sway to them. I wouldn't call it a dance though. I was far too grumpy for that.

Imperial Leisure came on, and because this time I wasn't sozzled, I counted them. My memory of how many there were on stage on that drunken night was a little hazy. My calculation was anywhere between 25 and 90. There are in fact 10 of them. They're all friends from North London. There's a brass section, a DJ, guitar, bass, keyboards, bass, 2 MC's and a singer. They play a mix of hip hop, ska, and rock. But that doesn't quite capture the sheer infectiousness of the band. The energy. Boundless energy.

I moved a bit more for their first song. My arms started to swing during the second. My feet were moving by the third. I leapt in the air for the fourth. I was having a full on party by the end. In between, I'd been grabbed by the lapels by the singer, ducked out of the way of a enthusiastic trombone player and been showered with champagne. And the quality of the songs all through was fantastic. All of them without exception are sing along classics. "Landlords Daughter", "The beast" "Man on the Street", and their new single "In a letter" all stand testament to their sense of fun. And just to cap it all some superb lyrics if you can catch them.

Quite why I struggle to find people to go with me leaves me at a loss. Just listen to their recorded material. Then imagine seeing them do it live about 2 inches from your face. And think how much fun it would be. It's ten times more fun than that. I certainly am not going to worry about going to see them on my own again. I'll tell people how good they are. I'll tell them what they're missing. It's the best I can do. But if I can't make the case for them, I'll simply go see them again and let them state their own case on stage. Loud and clear. Right where they belong.

I saw a girl at the bus stop who'd been there. I'd seen her jumping up and down. I'd seen her laughing, shouting, singing. She was still smiling waiting for her bus. That says it all really.

http://www.myspace.com/imperialleisure

I don't often buy albums as soon as they're released, much less pre order them, but I did with this one. It's been 3 years since his last release "Body of Song", and it's not that I'm bored of any of his records, but its a case of I was sure that this one wasn't going to disappoint and it doesn't.

Bob Mould isn't exactly a household name, but in his 25 years of making music, he's had a tremendous influence on the music world. He came to prominence with the 80's Punk band Husker Du, who's influences still resonate in music past and present. He quit the band in 1987, and set off on his solo career, with two very raw albums Workbook and Black Sheets of Rain. He then formed a band, Sugar, with which he had a great deal of success most notably with the album "Copper Blue", before the band split and he returned to making solo music.

Since the Sugar years, Mould has diversified his life, running a club night in Washington DC (where he lives now) called Blowoff. He's even written wrestling scripts. But it's his music that he returns to over and over again. Most often loud and visceral, always thoughtful, melodic and most importantly often experimental. He has not been content to stick with the same sound, and this culminated in his album Modulate released in 2002, where he experimented (i think fairly unsuccessfully as it happens) with dance beats.

At 47, this is his 7th solo album, and I think it's one of his best. It's an album borne of his life in DC over the last 5 years, the ups and downs, and reflecting on growing older. This doesn't make it any less a Bob Mould album than any other, as it still has the essential ingredients that has made his work so good over the years; great song writing, thoughtful lyrics, loud guitars and his very unique voice.

As always, he writes about loves and losses in his life, and on this album, "Again and Again" tells the story of another "ugly fall from grace" in his words. It tells a story much like his song "Moving Trucks" on his album "The Last Dog and Pony Show", and as a song for me it's as good if not better than this favourite of mine.

The single off the album "The Silence Between Us" is quite the opposite, even though the title seems to promise a similar story. It's a song of love and of time spent together. A beautiful song and a fantastically catchy tune.

The silence between us is the time when
I can hear the thoughts on your mind

But it's also a reflection of his place in the world, and his growing feeling of finding himself and being comfortable with where and who he is. In "Old Highs, New Lows", he reflects on this new calmness in accepting all that life throws at him good and bad. And then just for good measure in "Return to Dust", he gives us this little gem as if to underline the point.

Growing old, it's hard to be the angry young man.
Turn away. Turn and walk away.

This is an album of great depth and breadth, a real return to form. Having been a fan of his work for years myself, I'm glad to find he's finding his peace but not losing his edge. I hope there's a lot more to come in the next 25 years.

RING RING
Come on. Answer the phone you bastards
RING RING
Bastards
RING RING
Bloody office should still be open
RING RING
CAN ANYONE GET ME AN OPERATOR PLEASE?

Thus began the most annoying, most expensive, most frustrating trip to a gig I can think of. It had started so well. I'd had a nice relaxing morning, perhaps a little too relaxed, as I left a little too late for my walk. I usually walk from my house and get public transport back, but London transport seems to do it's best to put you in to a car at the weekend, as for the second time running the central line was down from Leytonstone to Stratford. So for the second week in a row I parked up in Leytonstone and walked from there.

It was a beautiful day again in the forest. But I was running late, so I pretty much had to leg it through, all the time calculating how I was going to get to Wimbledon for the gig. The plan was to get there by about 8, and I'd planned to drive and pick up a pal on the way. I was probably getting to Epping station by 4.30, getting to Leytonstone at 5.00, home by 5.30, eat and shower and out by 6.30.

Everything was going to plan I arrived at Leytonstone station bang on time. Only my car was missing. It didn't take me long to realise what had happened. I'd inadvertently parked it in a disabled bay. I didn't mean to. I had no idea I had until I got back. It didn't matter. The car had been towed.

I got hold of the number and dialled it and waited. And waited and waited. Eventually some nice chap answered. He was talking to someone in his office at the same time as me. He eventually found the time to confirm my car had been told then told me it would cost 250 quid to get it back. From Edmonton. Nice. Very nice. Did I mention that they're bastards?

Anyhow. I got a taxi back then just had time for a shower and then with nothing to eat headed for the tube again to get to Wimbledon. I did in fact get there for eight, so it wasn't a total disaster. We had to wait half hour for the band to come on, so retreated to the bar, which was strictly patrolled by bouncers. No drinks allowed outside into the youth club, I mean, venue.

Yes, it was one of those "young" gigs. There were a few brave souls there over the age of 25, but I think maybe 3 or 4 over 30. The rest, well shall we say were probably escaping their homework for the evening. Not that there's anything wrong with that, because us oldies weren't only the odd ones out on the floor, but also on the stage, as this band is young. They age between 17 and 20 and quite honestly they look it, just to make me feel middle aged. They're from Gold Coast in Queensland, and have been together as a band a couple of years. They're a five piece consisting of Amandah on vocals and guitar, a keyboardist, violin, bass and drums.

The first thing you notice about the band is Amandah's amazing voice. Powerful, strong, and a good range. As with a lot of female vocalists, the maturity of her voice belies her age. And she also looks the part. She reminded me of Beth Ditto as the band launched into their first song "Get what you want", which is a stunning song to announce the bands arrival. A real showcase.

They've been doing rather well in their native Australia, having been nominated for a couple of Arias, and played the Big Day Out festivals. So it must have been a bit odd for them to find themselves in this small venue in Wimbledon in the middle of Winter having just left the summer sun at home. The crowd was small and actually quite conservative. I'm not sure Watershed's the greatest of places to see a band though. XFM obviously think so, as it was them that hosted it, but I was seriously unimpressed with the sound. It was far too compressed, and it meant that the band really had to struggle to get over their infectious energy. In particular, the rather delightful violin playing by Taylor was often drowned out by the rest of the band.

The sound problems unfortunately meant that so much of the character had been lost when they played their single "Leave it Alone". Not a problem as the perfomance of "Just a song about Ping Pong" made up for it. It's a song so corny and I don't mean that in a bad way. But not many bands could make it that much fun. Well done to them. They finished with "Zero Zero", which I'd not heard, but it was a cracking little finale.

I've got a feeling we'll here a lot more from this band of energetic Australian yoofs. They're booked for Leeds and Reading festivals. And I think its in the summer sun (or rain as the case may be) that they'll make it. Something wasn't quite right tonight though. Maybe they missed the outdoors. Maybe they missed the sun. Or maybe they missed home. I don't know, but the gig never really came to life as much as I'd hoped.

I wish them all the best though. I hope to catch them this summer with a beer in my hand catching some rays. Just how they're meant to be heard.

Now back to reality. Anyone seen my chequebook?

I don't think I enjoyed the gig on Thursday. But my review was slightly misleading. I had in fact seen Justice before. They were at Field Day last summer. Now, that might have been the case and I can confirm I was there. But I don't remember seeing them at all. Largely because:

a) The organisation there was so poor that they hadn't laid on enough bars. Hence I ordered 8 beers when I got served (like everyone else). I didn't intend to drink most of them, but I think I did. That's not my fault is it? I couldn't give them away and they bloody well weren't going to drink themselves.
b) The sound was so poor that you really couldn't hear much yards from the stage. This was of course exacerbated by the fact I was slightly squiffy and probably on the floor at the time, due to (a). I also cannot remember if I actually was on the floor, also due to (a)
c) Justice are very dull, so I can't be blamed for forgetting I had seen them. I bet they played that song over and over again though.

But one thing I am annoyed about is that I didn't see Late of the Pier who were supporting. Knowing me, someone will probably tell me I've seen them before as well. Oh well, at least if I keep blogging who I've seen I'm not going to forget again.

Ah. Valentine's day. A day to look forward to. Love is in the air. And according to my free lifestyle magazine "The Newham Mag" that the council sends me in return for my council tax, a day to romance your loved one. In Newham. Seriously. They had an article on it, which was unsurprisingly small. Much as I'd have loved to take up their top tips, I had a few problems:

a) Who in their right mind would want to romance their loved one in Newham?
b) Why wait till Valentine's day to romance your loved one? and;
c) I, er, don't have a loved one to romance in the first place.

Obviously Newham was out of the question. I had plans anyway. I was going to see a free gig at the 100 Club, where Bombay Bicycle Club were playing. Now, lack of a loved one not withstanding, I was looking a bit short of mates to go there with, so I was facing up to the possibility of being out on my own on one of the crappest nights to do so on. I might be pretty cynical about the Valentine's malarkey, but having said that, the west end is full of snogging couples on the night, and at the very least it can put you off your diet coke and at the worst send you off on the kind of voyage into introspection that I've been carefully avoiding for the last few months (well, apart from in my blog, but that's a different story).

It was therefore perfect timing when I got a call from a friend in the afternoon to ask me what I was up to that evening. So, obviously there was no need to ask him whether he'd got back together with that bird he'd been chasing. I optimistically asked him if he fancied going to the 100 club, but it turned out he had tickets to Justice, going along with another couple of losers without a date other mates. Sure. What the hell. Never heard of them though. He told me they sounded like Daft Punk. Can't be that bad then I suppose if they're similar to them.

It turns out the only similarity with Daft Punk is that they're also French. But I don't think I remember Daft Punk being as predictable and, frankly uninteresting as Justice were. We arrived just in time to see the whole set. Which at the time seemed like a good thing. Bizarrely we were told that we could only put bags in the cloakroom on accounts that we'd "arrived late". "Sure thing, mate", I replied, " It's got nothing at all to do with the fact you've not got enough capacity to handle people coming through the doors all wearing coats in mid winter". This didn't appear to go down too well, so we disappeared into the venue.

It was indeed full when we got in, and the band were just coming on as we'd arrived. I say band, but they're actually 2 guys. And they just bob up and down like "live" electronic acts do. Not especially interesting. Thats why Orbital and the Chemicals put on lights for you to look at. These guys managed to put an illuminated Cross on the front of the stage, and after that the lighting was at best described as minimal. One of my mates said it was so bad it was a hair's breadth away from those traffic light mobile disco lights. And he was pretty spot on.

Justice, (well actually Justice vs Simian) are best known for "We are your friends", which to be fair is a stonking tune. A fantastic electro masterpiece loved by many. And boy did they milk it. Over and over again. We heard that damn line throughout, and the kids lapped it up every time. It's a pity that the quality of the music in that track wasn't really reflected thoroughout. The sound they play (if they do actually play - what the hell do they do behind the desk?) I'd describe as big beat. Very loud. Very unsubtle. And very dull after a while.

Initially it was all pretty good, but it didn't really progress. Just the same sounds, the same beats and the same samples played in a different order. And that bloody "We are your friends" chucked in for good measure to remind us all who they were. I think it's fair to say that they played to their audience who would have been pleased if they'd have just put their album on and sat around on deckchairs for an hour. They went wild over an electric guitar sample for goodness sake. It wasn't even a good one. And then they played "We are your friends" over it. Again.

I'm glad it ended when it did. We all were to be honest. We couldn't help it though. That tune is so catchy we ended up singing it as we left. We made a few slight adjustments to it though.

"We've... got.... one song.
It.... goes... on and on."

Repeat. For ever. You get the picture.

It had been less than a week since I'd seen Ida at the 229. She'd been so good then I'd got tickets for this gig the same night, which was fortunate as, unlike the 229 gig, this one looked like a sellout.

The Borderline is a fantastic venue for someone like Ida. It's small, and gloriously sweaty and cramped. It creates a fantastic atmosphere and it was a treat to be there. I'd gone along with a friend this time, and it was a real surprise that we bumped into another one of our mates there who had gone by himself. So the three of us went down the stairs to wait for the band to come on.

I looked around, and I remembered a few faces from the previous Thursday. I wondered if they recognised me (and I hope they noticed that I actually had some friends!). We managed to find a spot right in front of the stage, and thankfully without the confounded pillar in the way, although we had to split up as space really was limited. it wasn't a worry, as the band soon came on.

She was wearing the same hat, but this time she wore a rather funky green dress. And she looked good enough to eat. I think I'm already developing a teenage crush on the woman. It doesn't help that every song seemingly is about sex, as she delightedly informed us. I'm not sure the set was the same as the last time, but although it wasn't quite as loud, the sound was much better.

"Did you see us on Jools Holland?", Ida enquired. She giggled before answering her own question "We looked cool". And if they gave as good a performance as they did tonight, I'm sure they did. She then poured a bottle of water over her face, and swung round towards the audience, showering the ones closest to her with the water and her sweat. She looked the part as she launched into "I like you better when you naked" which once again was heaps of fun. But it was "Oh My God" once again that was the highlight. Unbelievably, it was better, more exciting, more passionate and so bloody good, I couldn't believe my own ears.

Thankfully, tonight the crowd managed to get her to come back for an encore. She sang "We're all going to hell", which is a beautiful number, and we all were encouraged to sing along as the music faded away. We all went to Heaven for a moment. Perfect.

Oh My God. This was very good.

I'd been looking forward to seeing her for some time, after being introduced to her music by a good friend of mine. Unfortunately she couldn't make it tonight, so I turned up tonight on my own to a venue that I wasn't particularly keen on. I'd been there once before to see Archie Bronson Outfit. It wasn't the most successful night as I'd turned up worse for wear with two friends in worse states. And we ended up getting there late, so we missed most of the gig. But I really didn't like the venue much, so I wasn't expecting a great place to get to see her. But, what I didn't know is that there are actually 2 venues there - one much more intimate than the other. Luckily this gig was in the smaller venue, which is lovely and compact with low ceilings, sofas and a relaxed friendly atmosphere.

I arrived just as the support band was starting. And the first thing I noticed as I walked past the stage was that it was loud. Ear damagingly loud. The poor barmaid couldn't actually understand a word anyone was saying and we all resorted to pointing. So, non alcoholic drink in hand, I focussed my attention to the support band, Cage The Elephant. I'd never heard of them or their music before. But I quickly took to them. I don't think I often refer to a band as "tight", but these guys really were fantastically well rehearsed. Hailing from Kentucky, the 5 piece play a sort of funky, blues influenced rock, and (I'm not good at this sort of stuff) they at times sounded a bit like the Black Crowes. But then again I haven't listened to the Crowes for years so the comparison might not be good. But I'd definitely see them again if I had the chance. I'm glad I saw their set.

It was a half hour wait for the main event. This gave me time to have a look around the room and see the people who were there. And it was a pretty interesting mix. Age range was about 18 - 60 which is pretty impressive. There was no obvious "type" of fan there. But there was the worlds most loved up couple there snogging the whole time they were there. And there was the smelly crusty who decided to stand next to me. And he reeked. But mostly people there seemed all up for a good time.

Ida and the band came on, and the first thing you noticed is her striking looks. She's got fantastic piercing eyes, and a brilliantly dramatic dress sense, coming on stage in hoopy tights, and a rather lovely looking hat. "This is my Wonka hat", she explained, "Or rather my wanker hat. Ha ha". Well, I think it looked pretty cool. The guitarist reminded me of John Lord out of Deep Purple such was the magnificence of his moustache. She's from Sweden or Norway. I'm not sure what the arrangement is there but she performs all the songs in English. Which is terrific news for me as I'm not particularly talented in Nordic languages (I didn't speak a word of Swedish other than "Takk" when I was in Stockholm).

Ida and the band have released only one single so far, but I'm familiar with a fair bit of the music from her MySpace page and various podcasts and radio plays. Her MySpace page describes her music as Indie/Punk/Rock, which I suppose just about covers it, but it doesn't prepare you for the energy and excitement she puts into the performance. It helps that the songs are all pretty good as well.

The set was short (about half hour) but of exceptional quality throughout. The obvious highlights were "Stella", "Oh My God", and "Better When You're Naked". The latter is something special - musically nothing out of the ordinary, but so much fun. It's now officially for me the most sexy song in the world. I never knew you could have so much fun singing along with the words of the song

"I like you so much better when you're naked
I like me so much better when you're naked"

over and over again.

She finished with "Oh My God", the stand out song from the set. To hear it live was truly breathtaking. That's why I've found tickets for her gig next week.

I think this is the third time I've seen Art Brut and I was wondering how come they've not had more success in their 5 years together as a band. Don't get me wrong - they're not doing bad, but with 2 really good albums to their name and what with them being a highly amusing and entertaining live act, it seems to me that all their hard work isn't producing the success that I really think they deserve. Especially since they seem to work so hard at what they do, with what looks like a punishing tour schedule.

We arrived just as the band had started, which was impeccable timing as we'd stayed in the pub watching the dull-fest that an England friendly is. But at least Nigel the landlord at The Stag laid on some food which is always gratefully received.

Whilst the band is pretty good, the live experience really is all about the singer Eddie Argos and his performance. I think in another age, he could be described as zany, and he certainly has a style all of his own. His vocal style is more rhythmic than melodic, as he tells stories of ex girlfriends, days in bed, fighting and what ever seems to be on his mind. The performances of the songs live don't actually differ much from their recordings, so there's not a lot really to say about them, other than the quality of the songs are fantastic, and each and every song is so much fun to listen to and watch the band.

I said at the start I'd seen the band 3 times. Would I see them again? You bet I would. Always a pleasure - and what's more they leave me each time with the biggest grin on my face. I hope they get the success that must come their way soon. They deserve it. They deserve to be Top of the Pops. Go see them whenever you can.

Art Brut - Top of the Pops

Ralph McTell is best known for his song "Streets of London", which had chart success and won him an Ivor Novello award. But there's a lot more to him than just one song, far more than I know about in fact. A singer/song writer of considerable talent, his styles vary from folk to blues, from love songs to psychedelia.

"Kew Gardens" can be described as a whimsical folk song, but that belies the sensitivity of the song, the performance and the lyrics. At the time it was written, McTell had never been to Kew, but the song was written after a friend of his visited and described it to him. It tells the story of of a shy man and woman as they spend a day in the gardens. I love the pattern and pace of the lyrics as he describes the pair as they spend their afternoon on a summers day. In particular I adore the words describing the moment the man sees the lady as she enjoys the pleasant surroundings of the gardens:

He saw her linger
And With her finger open up a rose,
Standing on tip toes

As the story continues, the rain starts to fall and they innocently spend some time together, chatting until the sun comes out once again, obviously enjoying one another's company and losing themselves in each other. And then they part, never to see each other again at the end of the day.

And one of the griffins cried

For me, this song really does really appeal to the romantic side of me. I love the thought of meeting the love of your life in such a way - but what I really like about the song is that although it's obviously a gloriously rose tinted view of love amongst the lily ponds and pagodas it's actually a story of love lost, or perhaps more poignantly love never found.

I first came across this song through buying my Dad a birthday present. He's always loved the song "Those Were the Days" by Mary Hopkin. which incidentally was produced by Paul McCartney and is the most well known of her songs. She recorded a number of Ralph McTell songs, and Kew Gardens was one of them.

I loved the CD I bought for my Dad so much, I bought a copy myself and I always loved "Kew Gardens" on it. And from this CD, I then decided to listen to more of Ralph McTell. It's a tough one deciding which version I like best. McTell's own version is by far the most interesting, as the arrangement of both the instrumentation and the vocals is much more varied and complex than Hopkin's. But for me, the purity and innocence of her voice and the simplicity of the recording compliments the innocence and simplicity of this rather sad tale. And I love it every time I hear it.

Right. Let's get this straight - I'm gong to go off piste with this entry. It's true I went to see King Creosote in Islington tonight. I'll even go so far as to say I enjoyed myself. But I'm not going to stick to the point. So bail out now while you still can.

Having just deleted the word 'So' as the start of a paragraph, on the grounds I feel I start too many sentences with this word, I feel I now I owe it to you to make it worth your while to keep reading. So I'll start at the beginning (and for the observant amongst you I did use the word 'So' there once more - I only promise to not use it at the start of a paragraph (and trust me that's hard enough). I only found out about this gig about 3 or 4 days ago. Little did I know that the tickets had been on sale for 2 or 3 months. So like a fool I asked if anyone wanted to go. Lucky enough one of my friends wanted to go, but as it turned out they couldn't make it. So I had a ticket if I wanted it. Which was cool.

I'm not good at getting up in the morning. I don't think that's ever going to change. On Tuesday I'd overslept a little so I turned up at work at 1pm. A little embarrasing even for me. But today I had to be in for a 9 o'clock meeting. So it was I turned up at 8.30. Not so early for most. But early enough for me. I took in a change of clothes just in case I went to the gig tonight, although I kind of suspected that I wouldn't go. I managed to stay at work till 7. By then I was so tired that I'd had enough. I phoned my friend to tell him I couldn't be bothered going on my own (he couldn't make it apparently). But it turned out he could make it after all. Which was a surprise.

We arrived at the venue at about 9pm. It turned out neither of us had been there before. Which was pretty amazing as we both go to a lot of gigs. As venues go it's just the right size and the sound was pretty good. We'd stationed ourselves in what he called the "'Gay Zone". This was in close proximity to the bar with the weird looking fan boys. Not sure they were gay, but it was close to the bar. So we stayed there. I'd not had a drink for a little while so it was good to have a few with a good mate. It was made all the more fun as he's from Fife as is King Creosote. Apparently, he plays on his Scottishness. But from my point of view don't they all?

I should say a few words about King Creosote. The band was good. He was good. His songs are good. He's good. It was good. But for some reason I didn't think the whole thing was good. Maybe I expected it was going to be better than the last time I saw him. But that's an unrealistic expactation. I think perhaps reflecting on it my original decision to go home tonight was what I really wanted to do and no matter what he did on stage tonight it wouldn't be good enough. That was probably it - as he was good. Very very good. But I still didn't feel the same about it all as I did the other times I'd seen him. Perhaps I want him to do another album? The truth of the matter is I don't know.

But as I left the venue tonight, what was apparent was that sometimes it's not the music but the company that you're with. I'd not seen my mate for a couple of months. I'm sure if he reads his he's say I was gay for saying it, but tonight was much more about friends than the music. Don't get me wrong - Kenny plays a pretty decent soundtrack to that - but it has to be said I was on my way home until he said he could make it. It's not that I don't go to gigs on my own, but tonight wasn't that night.

And then having had a really good night, I listenend to Handel's Solomon (or at least a third of it) on the way home. And it struck me how much I love this music. I'd love to sing again. It doesn't mean you have to believe any of the religious content. Far from it. As I walked home listening to the sheer magic of this music I remembered the men in the choir I was so proud to sing in in Ramsgate. I knew they weren't religious. But I couldn't understand why they wanted to come along. But tonight as I listened to the drama and excitement of this work, I finally undestood why they came. They loved the music. Quite why it's taken me this long to understand that I don't know. But tonight I had one of those Road to Damascus moments. It really doesn't matter if you believe in any of the religious content, but enjoy the music for what it is. I've no doubt that the vast majority of religious art (either audio or visual) was created by non believers - it simply was the practice at the time to find a rich patron who would write the expenditure off "to the glory of God" in the hope of saving his (and let's face it girls it was always a chap) rich arse. But that meant that that the Handels Mozarts and the Michelangelos of the world could express themselves.

And thank God for that.

I've never seen the Pixies play live. Much to my regret I didn't get around to seeing them when they reformed the last time, especially when I hear how good they were. I think at the time I was being sniffy about not seeing bands that had reformed after splitting up. But if I didn't see them the first time around that hardly makes sense does it? Ho hum.

Anyway - on to the track in question. It's the last song from the second album Doolittle. It's a superb album and there really isn't a bad song on it. For a lot of people, the stand out song on the album has to be "Debaser" which is truly a fantastic song, but for me the highlight has to be "Gouge Away". This song always sets the hairs on the back of my neck on end when ever I hear it. It's the most distilled, stripped down piece of rock I have ever heard. For me, what makes it stand alone is the bass and the drums, played so well by Kim Deal and David Lovering. The sound is taut and on edge. When you add the discordant guitars and singing of Frank Black, the song truly becomes a unique sounding piece of music.

But the most interesting thing about it is that because the production of it is so special, it simply gets better and better the louder you listen to it. You really begin to feel the excitement and dynamism of the band. Power and control. It's because of this I auditioned my hifi on it last time I went shopping. I remember the poor assistant's pained expression as I put it up louder and louder. It's not that he didn't understand, I just don't think he liked the music. It takes some seriously good equipment to bring this song out perfectly. I once played this on my flat mates set up. He had the biggest bass bin imaginable. But it wasn't hifi (the bloke in the shop told him that at the time as I recall). When turned up to "11", it really really lost the plot. It was loud, but the whole emotion of the song was lost.

I'll audition hifi with it again. And then one day, I'll be able to live in a house where I can play this as loud as it's meant to be played.

I've been thinking about doing a little thing once a week on a single track that I've been listening to during the previous week, why I like it and what (if anything) it means to me. It seems appropriate therefore to kick off with this one.

You may have heard about this one. Malcolm Middleton is one half of the much missed Arab Strap. His solo career is one that I have followed, and in many ways has overtaken my love of Arab Strap's Material. Anyway - he's decided to see if he can get the Christmas Number one to try and take back the slot for real music.

Taken from his last album, Malcolm says its actually a cheerful song (and for him I suppose it is). It's about, er, well in Malcolm's own words:

"I wrote ‘We’re All Going to Die’ to comfort someone, but I kind of failed. It is saying we’re all in the same boat. It’s going to happen to all of us, so we have to make sure that we do the best we can in our life, so that when we die that we can handle it."

Anyway - it's a splendid idea. Buy the single. Take back the charts.

http://www.wereallgoingtodie.co.uk/

I've got a weird relationship with My Life Story. In my record collection I only own one single of theirs. Its the King of Kissingdom. And I don't like that too much if I'm being honest. But I love the B-Side to this single, "I love you like Gala". They were always one of those bands that somehow got forgotten on my record buying trips. I don't know why. But I've not forgotten them - they were a memorable live act.

So I think this is the third time I've seen them. With probably a 10ish year gap since the last time. And things have changed since then. For them, for me and for every one of their fans. We've all grown up - jobs, kids, mortgages etc. But what did we like about them at the time? Well it helps to know a little about the band. They were (and are) a big band. A string quartet, a brass section and guitars, keyboards and drums. And the irrepressible Jake Shillingford leading (and writing) it all. Whatever they did - they did it big. They split in 2000, and pretty much were forgotten about by most people but were fondly remembered by those who saw them in the mid 90s when it really looked like they might just conquer the world.

Last year they had a reunion tour and I missed out, so I was grateful to get the tickets for tonight. Trouble is I forgot to enthuse anyone else about them, so didn't find anyone else to come with me, so feeling pretty tired and frankly not that enthusiastic, I arrived in the bush just in time for Jake doing some of his post MLS solo stuff. And it was all very low key. And dull. I don't think I was alone in that thought. What applause there was was of the polite variety.

So - that was done with, and the band arrived. And something really wasn't working for me from the outset. It took me a while to figure it out. But the sound was so muddled where I was I couldn't really make out much of what makes the band such a joy to listen to. I couldn't hear the strings. And I'm listening to them as I type this and loving them far more than I did when they were playing live which is quite sad. But I heard the lyrics. I forgot how poor some of them were "She’s down on her make-up, She’s a storm in a C cup" and the aforementioned King of Kissingdom. Oh well. Just forget the lyrics. They are that awful.

At one point Jake looked out to the adoring crowd and said "This is the sound of maturity". And I think I understood what that meant. This was music of its time. The opportunity was missed. Move on. Nothing to see. At some stage in all our lives, this music was a bit special. A bit of a well kept secret. But somehow 10 years later it seemed to me a bit desperate. Jake seemed to try too hard. Some of the crowd seemed to try too hard to remember it all how it was and went a little too crazy. Still, there was time for two well received encores.

Or maybe it's me. Maybe I just wasn't in the right mood. But there ultimately was nothing in the performance that really drew me in. I hope that really isn't the sound of maturity.

Footnote: I haven't listened to "I love you like Gala" for a few years. It's playing now. For the record I still love this song. How I wish they'd played it tonight.

I didn't quite make it to see the Monkeys at Glastonbury. The trouble was that they were playing on the Pyramid, and what with my aversion to big venues (and they don't come much bigger than the Pyramid really) together with the reports of the poor sound I went elsewhere. Probably with a bottle or 2 of wine. But that's a different story.

But somehow I ended up on a wet Saturday evening tramping up the hill to Alexandra palace to see a band I really don't know much about. Which is quite a feat really considering that they're so popular. I really didn't set out not to listen to them, I just haven't OK? Mind you I do particularly enjoy the looks on my gig going friends when I ask what song is playing when they're on. How could I not know that?

So first things first. The venue. Like I said I don't like big venues so I have never been. I didn't go to Arcade Fire because I didn't fancy the venue. But you know what? I actually think its pretty good. It didn't feel like it was a big gig at all. There was plenty of room where we were, and we were quite close to the band. The sound was good and the beer wasn't a problem to get. In fact (don't tell anyone this) but it was an altogether more civilised experience than most gig venues. So chalk that one up as an unexpectedly happy experience.

So on to the gig. Well, I turned round to one of my companions and commented that it was an experience more akin to a football match than a gig. Which is really down to the band, the music and the fans that love it. Now, obviously I'm a football fan as well, so I should be happy right? Not entirely. You see, football songs are football songs for a reason. They're easy to sing, and they cater to our basest instincts to sing and chant together. Which is fine if thats what you want to do. Which I generally don't when I go to a gig, but am more than happy to at football. But that's just me. In particular (and I think I'm going to sound like a middle aged gig goer here but there you go) the songs did in fact sound much the same. Now, "I bet you look good on the dance floor" is a great tune. I'll even admit to that. But the essential pattern of this song was repeated over and over again. And I just don't dig the vocalist's voice enough to get into the brand of chav rock he was delivering.

But it's not that I hated the gig - far from it. I loved the music when the band just played and got on with making music. What made it work was seeing them play together as mates having a laugh, but really really doing the business. Fantastic. But then front man would sing and ruin it for me.

In fairness, I appeared to be the only one (well one of the lads with me sort of agreed) who found this to be the case, but I just couldn't connect with the band or the kids who love them, I couldn't connect with their music, their language, their clothes, their style or much else.

Still, all the football singing got the better of all of us, as we wended our way back down the hill. In the excitement, people started singing "there's only one Ricky Hatton" and so we decided that seeing the fight was the thing to do. Thank god we'd all come to our senses by the bottom of the hill. I was sound asleep as the Hitman took a sound beating.

I got one of those Royal Mail "sorry we missed you" things through the post on Friday. I got a bit excited then remembered I'd bought those Archie Bronson Outfit tickets. So I thought. But when I got to the post office I opened the envelope and discovered it was Emmy the Great. Now I knew that she was playing tonight. And I knew there was a QPR home game against Coventry. I hadn't planned on going. So I'm only guessing I must have been pissed when I booked them. Dammit.

So - after I picked up the tickets off I went to football to see us win 2 nil against Hull. We were so excited about it I huffed and I puffed about whether to go to the coventry game. I decided eventually not to. But when I discussed this with a hammers fan and a music fan at work he couldn't understand. I explained I had tickets for Palace on Saturday and that 3 times in a week to see my team play might be a bit excessive. It didn't compute with him. Not one bit.

I digress. I went to the gig. I arrived early. And I so regret doing so. Last time I say Emmy the Great play it was at the Boardwalk. I went on my own but that wasn't a problem. I got there for all the support acts, and frankly it all seemed very friendly and close. Everyone on stage knew each other. And Emmy played up to it all very well. Her between song chit chat just added to the warmth of the whole gig. Even her mum turned up.

But tonight, was not so great. I'm not going to waste too much time with the support acts. Other than the first band was tedious and frankly forgettable. And the second, well at least they had balls. Which was strange for a band of women. But not enough for me. I fantasised about Polly Harvey jumping on the stage and socking the lead singers jaw and showing her how it should be done.

So anyway on to the main act. But no we weren't. Where was she? Someone else came on who wasn't bad to be fair. But by now it was coming up 10. And my friend needed to get home at some point. And we were all getting impatient, so when Emmy did actually show up I and my friend (and I suspect a reasonable number of the audience) were a little fed up. And then she announced that she'd have to play a shorter set.

Now - don't get me wrong. I love Emmy. A lot. But come on girl. I payed for my ticket. At least show up on time.

So she started playing, and I'm not sure if it was me being jaded or not, but she seemed just a little tired. And maybe a bit fed up with the material. I don't know. Because there was nothing obviously wrong with the performance by her or her band. She sang well. She played well. The band sang and played well. But the atmosphere was so so flat. But this is a woman who's talent can really cut through this sort of problem, and at times she did. I quite lost myself in the magic of her voice and her song writing at times. And what magic she weaves. I was first attracted to the sheer beauty of her music and her voice, but there's a deeper acerbic note to a some of her songs:

"They pulled a human from my waist, it had your mouth, it had your face, I would have kept it if I'd stayed."

This caught me quite off guard. The hairs stood up on the back of my neck. And then. And then... it was time to go. I missed the encore. I hope it was good. I want to see Emmy again. I hope it's better. Because even on a poor night she's pretty good. Which is quite an act to pull off.

Oh and in case you were wondering. QPR lost tonight 1-2 against Coventry to a last minute goal. We'll win at Palace. For sure.

It's a bit of an obsession of mine at the moment, listening to Bombshell, but what the hell. It's my blog and I can do with it whatever I like (apparently not - I can't libel of slander someone, or commit any criminal offence online but I'm just being pedantic now).

Anyway, back on the subject. Lyrics are important to me when I listen to music. Often they can just be filler, but I really think it enhances the music when the words are as beautiful as the music itself. The words to "And the Racket they Made" by King Creosote are I think words of real beauty. Poetry. For me at least. You decide for yourself.


And your words chased round and round in my head last night
they chased their own tails
and your words jigged round my mind all night
to look at me now I'm quiet as sand
and the tide shrinks back into it's womb
and I hope the empty shells and bones of your stories
will litter and clutter the shore
and I hope that when I find them
I'll remember how they danced
and the racket they made
when they were alive

(c) King Creosote 2007

In fairness, I always new that I'd be hanging out with the kids tonight as Hadouken! are a bit of a favourite with the kids. But boy oh boy was I in for a surprise when we turned up to find that they'd shut the downstairs bar completely as the average age was considerably less than 18.

But hell - i came to see the band, and it doesn't matter how old you are right? But we headed dutifully up the stairs to the "adult" area - ie - it had a bar that was open. Still, there was a veritable flurry of passports and driving licenses up there as well. So with our surprisingly quickly served drinks we headed upstairs. I've never been up there. It's pretty good - as you can actually stand. And the view's pretty good as well. So we settled down with some drinks and waited for the show to begin.

And so The Whip started. I've seen them at the Astoria before, and to be honest they're not really my thing but I really enjoyed it. And the kids and their glow sticks loved them too. They ended up with Trash as they always do, a fine song with robotic rhythms and grinding synths. Bouncy bouncy kids at the front yelled their support. We all thought that in fairness they should have been after the next band - Late of the Pier. But they pulled off some rather resounding performances of their songs. Great fun to watch - especially in their more shambolic moments. I was particularly impressed with their use of planks of wood as instruments.

And then on to Hadouken! Are they grime? Are they indie? Are they Grindie? Who cares? Well - I do to be honest. They were fantasticly energetic when James was doing the grime thing, but less convinicing when he was doing the indie thing. There's something almost punk about the way he delivers songs with his short stabbing vocals that can be suprisingly serious:

"here's a story about a girl named Kate
got wasted and got date raped
when they told the doctors she'd sued
the found no chemicals was in her bloodstream
''well nothing malicious, but the alcohol levels were suspicious!''
when asked who had hurt her
poor old Kate couldn't remember.

our liquid lives this is how we all survive
and my heads in pain, next weekend lets do it again"

Quite inciteful for a band so young - and you get the feeling that this maybe is a better way to deliver a message to the kids than any government leaflet ever could.

But in the end for me it was all about "That Boy That Girl". The crowd bounced and jumped like they'd not done before. I commented to my pals that I'd love to be down there, but suddenly felt old and from a different generation. Which of course I am. It's nice that they let me come and watch though. Even though I was 30ft above them feeling like a parent at a school disco. But that's not going to stop me seeing them again. .

I wasn't actually planning on seeing the Mondays when my friends got tickets, but I saw them at V this year and I have to say I thought they were superb, so I bought tickets to see them on my return. It wasn't a choice I regretted, although it has to be said it was a bit of a strange evening.

The ticket said that it would go on until 2am, but I kind of assumed that would mean they'd be a DJ set for a couple of hours. And in any case, I really wanted to see The Sunshine Underground again. So I turned up at about 8.30. My friends weren't there, so I popped into the stalls. And it was almost completely empty. Which was a bit strange I have to say. Well, the Sunshine Underground came on at about 10ish I think. And the place wasn't really full then. But SU were up to their usual standards, with Craig the frontman giving it his all with his cowbells which are becoming somewhat of a trademark. But I do think they were let down by the traditional dodgy sound that the support bands have to put up with. But a great rip roaring set it was, with the band playing about 50/50 new and old stuff from Commercial breakdown.

Well, then there was a wait for about an hour for the Mondays to arrive. It's well known that Shaun Ryder doesn't like playing all the old favourites as he thinks it's just Karaoke, but they were there with Hallelujah, Step On and Kinky Afro all present and correct. There was also a sing along rendition of Reverend Black Grape. Bez did, well, what Bez does. And the crowd lapped it up. And then the set just kind of ended. There was an encore, but it wasn't exactly heart felt, and by this time (1 am) the venue was only half full anyway as a lot of people headed for the last tubes out of Brixton.

So was it fun? Hell yeah! But I've still got a strange nagging thought at the back of my mind it could have been just a little bit better. Maybe it was just me, but it actually did sound a bit like Karaoke from where I was standing. Could it be that Shaun Ryder talks a bit of sense?

Well, since I've been playing this pretty much continuously since I bought it so I thought I'd write up a review of it.

I'm actually quite new to King Creosote (aka Kenny Anderson). I was taken along to a gig by a friend without knowing much about him in Hoxton. And what a gig it was. My friend pretty much knew this was going to be up my stree