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.