The Beat And The Pulse

Get Lucky

Serendipity. There isn’t a better word in the dictionary to describe the feeling that sometimes things just fall into place. Sometimes we get lucky. We lose ourselves to dance and we fall. This time when we fall, we don’t hurt ourselves. We bounce. 

My last blog as ever referenced the fog, it’s something I think I was born with, something that will always be a part of me but for the first time in years I have had an uninterrupted period of being me. My smile is genuine, my laugh isn’t forced. When it rains, I see beyond the clouds. I’m freewheelin’ 

Past experiences always stay with you, time dulls them but they never really go away. It’s easy to say to someone to forget about it, but you never should. Always remember. It’s learning from them and forging new memories that make you so happy you can’t believe your luck. It’s like listening to an album by an old favourite and everything just clicks. The beat kicks in at the right point, the lyrics are in perfect sync with the music. It’s effortless. Much like the new albums by Daft Punk and The National. 

Random Access Memories is an absolute delight, despite the criticism I really enjoyed Human After All but this is a whole new bag baby. It’s disco-fantastique. I haven’t heard a track to close an album as phenomenal as Contact before. It’s a fully loaded album and you should be as excited for its release as I am.

The same goes for Trouble Will Find You. Somehow Matt’s voice has dropped even deeper, it growls but its so filled with emotion that it cuts right into you. Music that makes you feel is always worth your time. It’s not music for heading out, it’s poetry more than anything, it’s music to reflect upon and savour. Man, I have to stop waxing about The National, you might almost think I work PR for them. Anyway. Go listen.

We’ve come too far to give up who we are
So let’s raise the bar and our cups to the stars

Don’t Swallow The Cap

Apparently this is my 50th post. I do have a couple of sneaky, lazy linked videos and the odd quote but this is still a milestone. I’m not a machine for writing, the vestiges of my book are floating away in my head somewhere. I’m a huge procrastinator so to actually carry on writing these blogs is somewhat of an achievement. Yay.

My love for The National has been well documented, I constantly tell friends about them, I tell strangers to listen to them, I’m a walking, talking National publicity machine. I should be on their payroll. I think the main reason I hold them in such high esteem is because like Interpol, Cat Power, Beirut, The National have a strong personal link, there are songs that are irrevocably linked to my past, present and future. They have songs that I listen to when I am stuck inside the fog, a fog which always seems to regroup. They have songs that keep me going, like an engine that somehow has another thousand miles left in it. 

Their new album is out in May and with two songs already previewed, Don’t Swallow The Cap left me in tears. It just hit home. It reminds me of people I know, people I used to know. The heart might be a strong as hell muscle but its emotional connotations are much more fragile, it can shatter into a thousand pieces on the basis of a word said, or a word not said. It’s that simple. Some people can’t be repaired, some don’t recover. I’m not sure if I’m one of those people. I see the odd glimmer of sunshine and I can almost reach it. That fog can just be a little too thick though.

It’s a really fucking good song. 

I’m tired, I’m freezing, I’m dumb
When it gets so late I forget everyone.
I need somewhere to stay.
Don’t think anybody I know is awake.
Calm down, it’s alright,
Keep my arms the rest of the night.
When they ask what do I see,
I see a bright white beautiful heaven hangin’ over me.

Brennisteinn

It’s safe to say this is the longest I have gone without writing anything for myself. When the muse does not strike, she avoids you like you were a plague (a particularly unpleasant one, I’d imagine)

I have written quite a few album/ep reviews, which can be viewed on my other blog should you so desire. They are different though. It’s a pretty perfect description of the difference between something you want and something you have to do. Sometimes they are bedfellows, most of the time they aren’t. Getting what you want is difficult when you still don’t know what that is. 

I do know that I love music and the amount of new music coming this way is just a delight. New Bowie, new Daft Punk, new Austra, new Sigur Ros to name a few. The creative output is staggering. A maze in which I will gladly get lost.

I shall cast your minds back to the previous paragraph. HELLO OLD FRIEND. The other day I discovered a new song by Sigur Ros, its incredible. Considerably more heavy than what we are used to, yet, it still has an endearing, heart breaking delicacy to it. Sigur Ros make me cry, something about their music tears into me and sticks. Perhaps it’s connected to my chemistry much they way I seem inexplicably linked to Interpol and The National. 

Their music is the most beautiful love story, the most picturesque area of natural beauty. It’s music that breaks you down to your base components and reveals you as every bit as intricate as a watch. A thousand pieces, a thousand details.

I’m going to see them in November, and maybe I’ll be the only soul in the building bawling his eyes out but I don’t think that will be the case. I’m not religious but the concept of a soul is something I hold on to. It’s music that Sigur Ros makes that convince me there is something better, something more.

Full of Fire

Hello anonymous followers, it’s been a while. I know I always say I should write more frequently but if you don’t have anything worthwhile to say, just be quiet. Silence is good. Enjoy it. Go ask Depeche Mode.

Recently I have been remarkably well, my head feels clear, asides from a blip that happened when someone long from my past made an unexpected visit but that’s unimportant. What matters is that even though my knee is at breaking point (again) I’m still outstandingly satisfied. 

I went to Stockholm recently and I fell in love with the place. Completely and utterly smitten. I have had the pleasure and opportunity to take a few trips and Stockholm was the first place I truly felt at home, at peace. I have already started looking into moving over. The logistics are a little tricky but the joys of living in Europe is that it’s not anywhere near as difficult as a move a little farther away.

It may be a pipe dream but for now I’m happy to knuckle down, save as much money as I can without being a reclusive monster (well, a bigger one) and see where I am in a month or two. It might be simple old work like being an au pair or working in a bar, who knows I might even get a chance to do some Dj’ing about the place. Their music scene is marvellous and to be a part of that would be a real blessing.

Any opportunity I got I asked if people knew The Knife. The results weren’t as good as I had hoped. Perhaps they are just more well known in Gothenburg :S, anyways, The Knife  are insane, electro and techno manipulation all over the place with synths, distorted vocals from the brother/sister combination of Karin and Olof creating some magnificent soundscapes that take your breath away. It’s been a while since Silent Shout was Released and the newest, Shaking the Habitual is out very soon and I for one am very excited. Even Lucy, my spaniel is shaking with anticipation. Cindy isn’t she’s asleep but then again, she is old. 

Anyway Shaking the Habitual is out in April. Maybe I’ll be a few miles closer to where the Knife are based but only time will tell.

When you’re full of fire,
what’s the object of your desire?

Impossible Soul (2)

What day is today? Today is my birthday. Another year older, another year (not entirely) wasted. Parentheses are great.

I need to make a move, I turned down a fabulous opportunity due to a spectacular bout of nerves and disastrous logistics. I wonder if that will ever come around again. Probably not. I’m a wasted soul with too much to give, too much to still learn and then impart. I may have the most generic name known to western civilisation but I will not be the most generic person to grace this earth.

I have a clean bill of health for the first time in years! Actual years. Six, seven perhaps? I wonder if people see a difference? I guess its difficult for people to see you on the times when you do struggle, you mould yourself into an ideal so that people don’t ask you those questions, that give you that condescending, all-knowing look that says “I understand, just keep that head up”. You create a person that simply exists, no more than a wraith. It’s unpleasant, especially when at those times all you want is to stop existing, to have never been around at all so that when you’re gone, nobody realised you were there in the first place.

It’s nice to smile at someone and know in your heart that it’s genuine. 

There is no real purpose to this post; it’s been far too long since I written anything meaningful or productive. Which is hilarious as its the thing I do best. There’s my first resolution. To stop wasting so much time on irrelevance, to write even if I only have a few thoughts bustling around. My discipline is appalling and it will be addressed and corrected. I am committing that cardinal politician sin of promising so much. I will deliver.

I’m still here. I wont destroy myself. I will endure. 

Also go listen to Sufjan. He’s just lovely.

It’s a long life, better pinch yourself, 
Put your face together, better get it right
It’s a long life, better hit yourself 
Put your face together, better stand up straight
It’s a long life, only one last chance 
Couldn’t get much better, do you wanna dance?
It’s a long life, better pinch yourself 

Pale Flesh

There seems to be a rather similar pattern to my blogs. It is probably six weeks since I last wrote anything of worth.  A few reviews in between but still not even nearly enough. I’m insanely busy doing something I hate and doing nothing with regards to something I love. Seems an easy solution don’t you think? I need an escape.

I write in riddles. There’s no questions about that. It’s a strange situation. I’m struggling to articulate anything coherent. Normally I can just wax lyrical, something sets me off and away I go. Not recently. The amount of times I create a new text post and nothing happens is insane, apathy is infuriating. Getting trapped in a loop worse than JGL is maddening. This Glenlivet is lovely though. Scotchy scotch scotch. 

For some reason Crystal Castles new album was prematurely available on itunes. Either that or I have somehow figured out timetravel and my concept of what day it is no longer applies. Or maybe I’m just drunk. I love that every time a CC album is released they dispense with a title, just a number suffices. This time we are on three. Three is a magic number don’t you know? This album has just the right amount of sparkle to it. It fits with the other two so well, it doesn’t have the initial shock and awe that 1 provided but that was such a remarkable debut its not a surprise. What they have done is perfected their M.O. Songs hit you like an artillery shell like Plague, Sad Eyes and Insulin then soothe you with hypnotically relaxed tracks like Transgender, Violent Youth and Child I will Hurt You. Its a perfect mix tape exhibiting what makes Kath and Glass such an incredible team.

Also any artist that samples Salem deserves a humungous pat on the back (Pale Flesh: see King Night)

There we go. That wasn’t so difficult now was it? 

Package them like a cheap gift
You’re nesting under the corridor

The Impossible Dream

I think I might have been sixteen when I first heard Andy Williams, it was the time when I was properly discovering music, I may have been head over heels in love with Emily Haines and Metric at the time but it was Andy Williams that taught me the value and strength of a single voice.

Who was this man? I must have heard this voice a thousand times before but I never associated a face or name to the voice. The second I found out who it was I was straight to Amazon and ordered The Very Best of Andy Williams, fifty, yes fifty tracks of smooth, classic crooning. I  loved every minute of it and I still do. He will never be known for being an original musician as many many tracks were covers or songs written for him. Thats the thing. Songs were tailor made to his voice such was its quality. Franki Valli may have written Can’t take my eyes off you’ but when I watch The Deer Hunter, its Andy I hear along with De Niro and Walken. ‘Can’t help falling in love’ I don’t hear Elvis, I’ll always hear Andy.

This is me, 60 years younger than a man born in a different time, a different world and some of those songs will stick with me forever. I relate to this musician as much as any modern artist. As much as Interpol or Nine Inch Nails strike close to home, so does this man. These tracks bookmark a part of my life where I was not particularly happy but I can remember hearing the Impossible Dream in that amazing Honda advert and just feeling so much more at ease. Two and a half minutes of a song so simplistic in its lyrics and execution and right now it brings tears to my eyes.

I don’t really know how to write a memorial, all I know was that the day that cd arrived in the post, it was like christmas, songs that I repeated over and over and never tired. I listened to someone my Grandparents would have listened to in their heyday and I feel no embarrassment in saying that. Music is made to be enjoyed, to be appreciated regardless of when it was made and who by. 

Rest well my Huckleberry friend.

And the world will be better for this
That one man, scorned and covered with scars
Still strove with his last ounce of courage
To reach the unreachable star

Not In Love

You will be pleased to learn that this blog is not about The National. I know, can you believe it? I am displaying a versatility never before seen. Don’t worry, it’ll subside. LET THE GAMES BEGIN. I am still obsessed with Bane, or more accurately Tom Hardy. *Sighs*

Tonight its more about lovely experimental, lo-fi-y electronic-al wonderment. Yeah, I think I just hyphenated far too many words there. Oh well, when you don’t scribble for a while, your ability to construct cohesive sentences goes down the drain, and I have an album to review in a day or two. I LIKE A CHALLENGE.

I’m just going to say it. I love Crystal Castles, I adore Alice Glass, even if she is completely and utterly bat-shit insane. Hey, if you break your foot and still jump around the stage in a whopping great protective boot. You’re alright. 

The first track I ever heard by the dynamic duo of Ethan and Alice was Courtship Dating. I have yet to hear anything else like it. It is reminiscent of Swedish legends The Knife but never copies. Its bouncy, its jarring, it beats with the regularity of a heart (OBVIOUS KNIFE REFERENCE) Alice has a voice that really can grate but when you get used to it, it becomes vital to the music, Love and Caring or Doe Deer would not work without her. Although listen to Tell me what to swallow or Celestica and there is a sweetness and clarity to her voice. I always hope to see more of it. Maybe with the new record.

As with all music that I tend to write about references a specific moment or person. Crystal Castles are no different and as I think back, I can remember about a dozen events, discovering new places, messing around with friends, spectacularly imploding relationships. It’s a mixture of hilarious disaster  and serendipitous masterstrokes. Music really is the soundtrack to my life, I barely function well enough with it, can you imagine me without it? 

Also if you have yet to hear Not In love featuring Robert Smith. What are you still doing here? 

and we were lovers
now we can’t be friends
fascination ends
here we go again
cause it’s cold outside, when you coming home
cause it’s hot inside, isn’t that enough?

I’m not in love
we are not in love

City Middle

My writing has slipped back into intermittent inconsistency.  

Three cursed weeks without an entry. Yet I have itchy fingers, an aching to write something. It’s out there, I can feel it. I could write a blog everyday if I really wanted. I have the first sentence of something written and saved and I think I even have the last sentence too. Now just to fit in several thousand words in between. Then we will have a nice literary sandwich. Im hungry. Metaphorically and literally. 

I try to be diverse when I pick the artists that tend to be the subject of these blogs but I always find myself hovering between two. Interpol and The National. Tonight is the turn of The National. God, I love the National. You should too.

Recently I realised that I am the one that does the searching, the research, the hard graft. I’m damned good at it. Henry Walton Jones Jnr good at it but at the same time you figure out that nobody ever searches you out. You are alone in a crowded room. It’s the little details that you pick up over time that punch you the hardest when you come face to face. 

The past few days one track has been in my head, I listen to it when I’m going to work, when I’m coming home from work, when I’m reading up on anything and everything. City Middle never really stood out to me until recently. It’s not as catchy as Bloodbuzz Ohio, Mr November and Apartment Story for example. It’s more complex, lyrically it’s marvellous, its a ballad. When it comes to the main chorus there is delicacy that somehow it reminds me of people, events to the extent that I have tears in my eyes and I don’t know why the hell why. This is why good music exists. Music that makes you feel. It inspires me and reassures me that I can produce something as progressive.

It is just taking a little longer than one would hope.

I have weird memories of you

Parking your car, you said, I’m overwhelmed
You were thinking out loud, you said, I’m overwhelmed
You were parking your car, you said, I’m overwhelmed
You were thinking out loud, you said, I’m overwhelmed
You said, I think I’m like Tennessee Williams
I wait for the click
I wait, but it doesn’t kick in