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 found myself in Lewisham the other day, and I caught the DLR to Stratford on my way home. Perhaps it was because I was in a really good mood, but as I sat on the train, I started musing on London and what a really quite fabulous place it is. It was the diversity of the place that really struck me as a one of the special things about the city. Take the DLR route that I took. Starting off from Lewisham, the train heads north through Deptford, then onto picturesque Greenwich. From then it travels up to the Isle of Dogs, and through the striking modernity of the architecture of the homes and offices there. As the train moves out from Canary Wharf, it heads in to Poplar, which is a proper slice of East End life still thriving in the shadow of Global commerce just as it always has. I nearly stopped off in Chrisp Street market to wander about, but I realised that was just an excuse to get some Pie and Mash. So I carried on up through Bow and on towards Stratford, where I saw the already impressive earth works for the Olympics. And finally I got off at Stratford itself, which is surely heading for great things as a result of those same Olympics.

As I went to catch my bus home, I bought a paper and I read this article. Basically it said that London for a number of reasons is the best city in the world.

And I found myself agreeing. I often joke that I'm not the most travelled person in the world as I let the world come to me here in London. And when I considered this that morning, I don't think it's that far from the truth. But it's not just the diversity of the people, but it's the sheer diversity of the places, the environments and the communities that strikes me. Just look at the list of places that a typical Londoner (ie me) has been to in the last few weeks.

East Ham
Chinatown
Islington
Shepherds Bush
Covent Carden
Woolwich
Richmond
South Bank
Crystal Palace
Epping Forest
Dalston
Hammersmith
Hoxton

You may know all of these places, or only some. But if you know any, have a think about them for a moment. And think about how different they all are to each other. Thats what I'm amazed about. All of this on my doorstep in a relatively small area. And it's not just the areas of London, it's also about the sheer number of things to do, the parks, the cafes, restaurants, pubs, clubs, sporting arenas, museums, galleries, shopping, and business. And all of them are world class. Its unbelievable that there's so much and all so accessible with a very flexible public transport system.

But we all have our gripes about London. Even if we don't live there. There's the crime, the traffic, the cost and even the little things like the crowds and the times when our tube is delayed. But I do really think it's a small price to pay to live in one of the greatest cities in the world.

So, is London truly the capital of the world? I don't know. I haven't visited nearly enough other cities to know. But I do know that when you sit down and think about it, it takes your breath away.

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 was going to write a little diatribe about what I can't stand about Christmas. On the grounds I can't stand all the nonsense and the commercialism. And the hassle. The tinsel. The secret santas. Piped Christmas Carols. Pissed office workers in Santa Hats. Slade. The endless supplies of bad food in the office. And the shopping. Especially the shopping. And..

...and then I had the strangest feeling. I realised despite all of this crap there really is a lot about the season that I love. For instance I'm not going to pretend to anyone that I love the shopping. I despise it. But oddly enough yesterday through the evil that is Christmas shopping, I spoke to my brother, my mum, my dad and my sister in law. All in one day. And the only other day that's likely to happen is on Christmas Day itself.

And between now and then, I'm going to have met up with, written to or emailed some wonderful friends in this country and around the world. Some I haven't seen for quite some time. Some of them are only in the UK for a short visit. And all because of Christmas.

I'm not a religious man. But there is something special about this time of year for most people. And I recall one year telling my Mum I'd want to spend it at home on my own having a quiet one. This year? Despite my grumblings, moans and general grouchiness (or even Grinchiness) I think I wouldn't have it any other way than what I'm doing this year. I think it's good to remember how lucky we are to have loving friends and family around us.

Then again, all this love and joy might just be down to the fact I've finished my Christmas shopping...

I've been bugging some of my friends this week with a bit of a puzzler that's been bothering me lately. It's a question I've been asked a few times by different women* over the last 2 or 3 months. And because the question is the same, but that it comes from different people and in different circumstances, it got me to thinking why I'm being asked the same question.

The question in (ahem) question? "How come you're still single?"

OK. That's a simple question. But I find I have great difficulty answering it. I think the first thing that I find tricky is whether the question itself is a good or a bad question to be asked. I mean, it could be interpreted as something like "Wow. You're pretty amazing. I'm actually staggered that a man like you hasn't been snapped up. What is wrong with the women in the world?". And that of course would be good. On the other hand it could be interpreted as something like "Wow. You're pretty weird. I'm actually staggered that you haven't found a woman yet. What in the world is wrong with you?"

The fact of the matter is I couldn't quite work out all by myself, so off I went to my friends and asked them a very simple question about this. My question was this:

"If a woman asks me 'How come you're still single?', is this on the whole a good or a bad thing?". No context. No names mentioned to protect the innocent. That's all they had to work with.

And the results were pretty interesting. I asked men and women. And all of them said pretty much that the question was on the whole a positive one. However each and every person I have asked has then followed it up by asking me why I was still single. Oh dear. This was getting complicated now. All I wanted to know was if it were a good or a bad thing, not to have the same question back from a few more people.

Which brings us back to the same question. If on the whole it's a postive question, then thats a good start. But that doesn't help me in answering the damn thing. And what do I mean "on the whole" it's a positive question? What are the negative aspects? And are they the root of me having difficulty with the question in the first place? And why's everyone interested in why I'm single? And why the bloody hell am I that bothered I'm writing it on my blog?

Back to the question. What are the potential negative aspects? Whilst I don't think that anyone sees being single as in itself a bad thing, it would appear that remaining single for some time (short term interludes excluded for the sake of this discussion) has potential for raising perhaps a question or two. Does this person actually want to be in a relationship? If not? Why not? If they do, how come they're not actually in one and haven't been in one for a while? What are they doing (or not doing) to find themselves in a relationship?

Wow. That's some pretty heavy stuff there. So I thought I'd meditate on it, which for me is a brisk walk through the woods, and I had a good think about why this question is difficult and what my friends have told me and what I've learnt about myself.

So here goes. Do I want to be in a relationship? Yes. That was easy, but I don't think it's actually occurred to me to say something like that to myself. And I think without saying that to yourself then unless all women are mind readers (and God knows I wish they were) then it's going to be a little tricky to find me the right woman. But I looked back over the past 2 or 3 years, and I think it's fair to say that I haven't always wanted to be in a relationship during that time. In fact, I think rushing in to one or two when I wasn't ready put me off. At what point that situation changed I don't think I know. But it has changed. I'm ready now but what is clear to me is that without recognising exactly what it is I'm looking for, then simply hoping for something to happen is somewhat of a silly thing to be doing.

As I was walking yesterday, some quite simple things came together in my mind. I know what I want. I've known what I've wanted for years. I thought I found it once. But it didn't work out. That doesn't mean you stop trying. It means you try harder the next time. That doesn't mean that you settle for second best. I'm not going to waste mine or anyone else's time being in a relationship that I don't think has some kind of future. Which is great, but when you consider that for two people to find "the one" for them is still fairly difficult, then obviously you've got to make efforts to try and find one another. Or at the very least be a little bit more upfront about what (and who) you want. In fact, thinking about this now, this seems to be a fairly common complaint about men from women. A lot of us men just need to be a bit bolder I think. And, well, stop writing about it on a blog and get out there and find that woman.

So, what will I answer next time I'm asked the question? "I'm still single because I can't answer this damn question". That should sort it.

* This doesn't include my Mum, who asks pretty much the same question whenever I see her, although it usually asked in a way that only a Mother can ask her son

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.

After the previous night's shenanigans a more laid back gig was in order, so off I went to the relaxed congeniality of this small Jazz club on the Kingsland High Street. I'd never been there before. And to be honest I don't go to a lot of Jazz clubs either. So I was expecting it to be cool. Little did I know how cool it would be. Practically Baltic. They seemed to have a problem with the air conditioning, so it was that we all were sitting around in hats coats and scarves.

Now, you may have never heard of the hKippers. Nor had I. I was told that one of the members was in Holby City. Which is nice for him, but I've never seen it so as far as I was concerned he may as well have been a fisherman from Cleethorpes. But it turns out I did know who he was. His name is Paul Bradley. You (and I) will know him as Nigel from Eastenders. But that's actually unimportant.

So who are the hKippers? They describe themselves as progressive folk. Erm. Ok. Not familiar with the folk establishment, but progressive I guess means that I'm going to see some new, maybe experimental stuff right? Well. Yes. You may have never seen anyone play sellotape. Or gaffer tape. But you can if you see the hKippers. And my goodness it works. You'll have to trust me on this.

A lot of the material that the band have is frankly indescribable. It really is quite unique. So I'll try and describe them as a band. They're an 8 piece. Most of the band do vocals, but there's a drummer, a brass section, clarinets (1 or 2 ), a piano, a piccolo, an accordion, a bass and a guitar. And other instruments that take their fancy. And anything will do for an instrument.

Given the comedy and conviviality in the band, you'd be forgiven for thinking they're a bit amateurish at first sight. But they are far far far from that. Oh my goodness. These guys can play. And that's no surprise. One of them plays with the Pogues. One has an Oscar for his musical talent. One's a talented producer. Another's performed with Symphony orchestras. I'm sure they've all done lots lots more. But that's not the point. The point is the performance. And these guys give it their all. And love every second of it.

So what makes it? Well, watchng them tonight I really did have the thought that clearly Bradley isn't the musical one, but like a great front man he holds it all together and adds a touch of genius to it all. Without him you'd hear a band that can play great music. With him you see a band play great music, and you laugh as smile as you do. It doesn't take away from the music, rather it adds to the whole thing. And please don't get me wrong. Paul loves his music clearly and I'm sure his friends in the band wouldn't put up with crap either if he was awful. But I think he brings something that's unique to him. And that's what makes it all work. Each and every member has something to bring. Personalities are brought to the fore. But the music is always, always king.

As to the Progressive folk thing? Well there's obviously folk there, but there's also a lot of trad jazz in there too. And the highlights of the gig are when the band play as only a bunch of friends can play (much as the Arctic Monkeys showed the day before). If you've ever seen New Order play when Bernard Sumner and Hookie weren't getting along you'll know what I mean. So it was good that the venue was so compact and the sound was good. They got the audience going and we all loved them. I will definitely go see them again given the opportunity.

One final thought - I love seeing bands in small venues. I was particularly touched by Paul shaking my hand and saying thank you for me being there as I left. Wow. Imagine if that happened at every gig you went to.

PS - If you want to spread the word about the hKippers then please remember the 'h' is silent. Don't make a fool of yourself when you ask for their album in HMV and pronounce the 'h'. That would be embarassing.

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.