Tuesday, January 01, 2008
Friday, July 27, 2007
Bollocks
I lost my fucking wallet last night...very annoying...
Anyway...on a happier note a mate of mine has set the words of Human Torch to music...I am going to attempt to upload it..feel free to download it...it's ace...he is a genius.
Click here for the MP3 file of Human Torch
Anyway...on a happier note a mate of mine has set the words of Human Torch to music...I am going to attempt to upload it..feel free to download it...it's ace...he is a genius.
Click here for the MP3 file of Human Torch
Friday, June 01, 2007
When I need your opinion I will give it to you
Here's a review I wrote last night for the forthcoming fanzine from the FATP stable....
Explosions In The Sky,
All of A Sudden I Miss Everyone, Bella Union
Every so often, in fact quite a lot, songs come into your life and they just take over…You can usually tell before they are finished that your life is never going to be the same afterwards…I have a half finished theory that it is all to do with the frequencies in the music resonating with the electrical charges in your body, but that’s one for discussion a few Cobras down the line…and I do mean the lager before anyone calls the Squamata Helpline.
Such a song was First Breath After Coma by this mob of Texans…it lifted me off my feet, cleaned out the back of my brain and then gently settled me back into a comfy chair to soothe me with offers of warm tea and biscuits, before the track that followed it did exactly the same thing but without the biscuits and for longer.
Well, it has been a long time since they released that album, and have scrapped loads of material to get to All of A Sudden, and suffice to say the first track on here does all the same things to me as First Breath did…It starts of with a squall of guitars and what sounds like a bagpipe effects pedal…(no need to mention Big Country here though, just put it out of your mind), before the drums start mimicking heartbeats and the melodies start getting picked out, and the one thing that has remained constant amid all the talk of post-rock dissonance and the like is that these boys always return to a melody no matter where else they take you…this is why I think Mogwai comparisons are like red herrings to a bull, just plain wrong and mixed up.
You get 4 minutes to acclimatise yourself before things pick up and we are off on some sort of glorious romp to the finish line…martial style drums as per usual and what I can only describe as call and response shimmying from the three (count ‘em) guitars.
The biggest change that they appear to have made is that while they have found more space to spread out musically, they have also learnt to keep things concise when needed. Why three tracks even come in at under 6 minutes, with one of them being under 4…positively unheard of in post rock circles. However this is all counterbalanced by the albums centrepiece, It’s Natural To Be Afraid…clocking in at a weighty 13 minutes…It all begins eerie and like a musical expression of what I imagine cold sweat to sound like (but in a good way), but with eight minutes to go the good guys turn up to reassure you that everything is going to be OK, and with about 4 minutes to go it feels like they have taken you away from your cold sweat and you’re running at the speed old Clarke Kent did when he outraced the train at the beginning of Superman.
The highlight of this album, for me, has to be the Catastrophe And The Cure…You enter what can only be described as choppy waters, with guitars and drums like a storm lashing your little rowing boat on the high seas…but panic not…once again EITS to the rescue as calm descends? and you think you are washing up on a beautiful island or just floating in the calm with dolphins jumping around you…But wait, you’ve not had the Cure, and this is where things start to get choppy again, but you’re ready for it…and it’s not choppy really, it’s more like the wind has got up and you are gaining speed to get to the beautiful island….
With previous albums this sprint to the finish would have been the end of it, but this album comes with what feels like a reprise in the form of So Long, Lonesome….a beautiful bit of piano tinkling that never feels like an anti-climax…it’s almost like the waves lapping at your feet as you ignore another rescue boat going by.
Not a bad way to spend 43 minutes, with or without Cobras, biscuits or tea."
Explosions In The Sky,
All of A Sudden I Miss Everyone, Bella Union
Every so often, in fact quite a lot, songs come into your life and they just take over…You can usually tell before they are finished that your life is never going to be the same afterwards…I have a half finished theory that it is all to do with the frequencies in the music resonating with the electrical charges in your body, but that’s one for discussion a few Cobras down the line…and I do mean the lager before anyone calls the Squamata Helpline.
Such a song was First Breath After Coma by this mob of Texans…it lifted me off my feet, cleaned out the back of my brain and then gently settled me back into a comfy chair to soothe me with offers of warm tea and biscuits, before the track that followed it did exactly the same thing but without the biscuits and for longer.
Well, it has been a long time since they released that album, and have scrapped loads of material to get to All of A Sudden, and suffice to say the first track on here does all the same things to me as First Breath did…It starts of with a squall of guitars and what sounds like a bagpipe effects pedal…(no need to mention Big Country here though, just put it out of your mind), before the drums start mimicking heartbeats and the melodies start getting picked out, and the one thing that has remained constant amid all the talk of post-rock dissonance and the like is that these boys always return to a melody no matter where else they take you…this is why I think Mogwai comparisons are like red herrings to a bull, just plain wrong and mixed up.
You get 4 minutes to acclimatise yourself before things pick up and we are off on some sort of glorious romp to the finish line…martial style drums as per usual and what I can only describe as call and response shimmying from the three (count ‘em) guitars.
The biggest change that they appear to have made is that while they have found more space to spread out musically, they have also learnt to keep things concise when needed. Why three tracks even come in at under 6 minutes, with one of them being under 4…positively unheard of in post rock circles. However this is all counterbalanced by the albums centrepiece, It’s Natural To Be Afraid…clocking in at a weighty 13 minutes…It all begins eerie and like a musical expression of what I imagine cold sweat to sound like (but in a good way), but with eight minutes to go the good guys turn up to reassure you that everything is going to be OK, and with about 4 minutes to go it feels like they have taken you away from your cold sweat and you’re running at the speed old Clarke Kent did when he outraced the train at the beginning of Superman.
The highlight of this album, for me, has to be the Catastrophe And The Cure…You enter what can only be described as choppy waters, with guitars and drums like a storm lashing your little rowing boat on the high seas…but panic not…once again EITS to the rescue as calm descends? and you think you are washing up on a beautiful island or just floating in the calm with dolphins jumping around you…But wait, you’ve not had the Cure, and this is where things start to get choppy again, but you’re ready for it…and it’s not choppy really, it’s more like the wind has got up and you are gaining speed to get to the beautiful island….
With previous albums this sprint to the finish would have been the end of it, but this album comes with what feels like a reprise in the form of So Long, Lonesome….a beautiful bit of piano tinkling that never feels like an anti-climax…it’s almost like the waves lapping at your feet as you ignore another rescue boat going by.
Not a bad way to spend 43 minutes, with or without Cobras, biscuits or tea."
Wednesday, March 21, 2007
It's bollocks, but it about as much as I have managed
Pine
Cut down in your prime
to be left outside, abandoned
after services rendered..
warming the presents for the young
Your head pulled from the arse of an angel.
You poor sap, you won’t be burned,
you will be left to your own private autumn
by the front gate.
Stripped of the finery you wore last night
and the night before, and the night before,
and the night before, and the night before,
and the night before, and the night before,
and the night before, and the night before,
and the night before, and the night before,
and the night before.
Now rootless and no chance of coming back in.
You’re so quiet you can hear a needle drop.
This having a baby lark is a bit mind consuming....what was it someone said about the pram in the hallway being a perfect way to stop writing or something like that anyway. Oh well, hopefull this will spur things on a bit...
Still Florence is the best thing ever, she melts every fibre in my body when I see her each night and morning...weekends together are the most precious thing....
On another track, I may have to start talking about music as well and somehow posting music up here...I stumbled across a website called Hype Machine...it's fantastic...put it in your search engine now...oh and check out the burning world blog for top tunes each week...I have heard some blinding stuff every week....
Cut down in your prime
to be left outside, abandoned
after services rendered..
warming the presents for the young
Your head pulled from the arse of an angel.
You poor sap, you won’t be burned,
you will be left to your own private autumn
by the front gate.
Stripped of the finery you wore last night
and the night before, and the night before,
and the night before, and the night before,
and the night before, and the night before,
and the night before, and the night before,
and the night before, and the night before,
and the night before.
Now rootless and no chance of coming back in.
You’re so quiet you can hear a needle drop.
This having a baby lark is a bit mind consuming....what was it someone said about the pram in the hallway being a perfect way to stop writing or something like that anyway. Oh well, hopefull this will spur things on a bit...
Still Florence is the best thing ever, she melts every fibre in my body when I see her each night and morning...weekends together are the most precious thing....
On another track, I may have to start talking about music as well and somehow posting music up here...I stumbled across a website called Hype Machine...it's fantastic...put it in your search engine now...oh and check out the burning world blog for top tunes each week...I have heard some blinding stuff every week....
Thursday, December 21, 2006
Stanley has a new middle name
I am feeling very smug and proud today....
I heard yesterday that wee Stan "the Hands" has an extra middle name...you've guessed it, it's Matthew...Hoorah...makes me feel all warm inside....
I heard yesterday that wee Stan "the Hands" has an extra middle name...you've guessed it, it's Matthew...Hoorah...makes me feel all warm inside....
Friday, December 08, 2006
Fucking Rite On Julian, m'lud
Shamelessly copied and pasted from Julian Cope's Head Heritage Address Drudion Dec 06
There are no Gods but those we create. Some have invented protectors like Jehovah and Allah because – like children’s belief in Santa Claus – the cosy blanket of belief cushions them from the extreme unknowns of Raw Life. Our human power is so intensely strong, however, that merely through inventing Gods, so they take on a life of their own. But life is too short and finite to trouble ourselves with troublesome Gods. One day soon we too shall no longer be here, so do me the favour of taking me for granted while I am here. Accept the books, the records, the Albums of the Month as my evidence to you of Constant Revelation, for there is nothing greater than Sonic Revelation. Rock’n’roll. Yes, those avalanches of sound cascading over and through us inform us more clearly than any berserk invented religion, for they are manifestations of the R I G H T N O W. In order to beat death, Buddhists challenge Time with their day-long rituals. Catholics fill their churches with sumptuous art to separate their God from the everyday drudgery outside. Muslims head bang back’n’forth to approach Otherness as they read their ‘sacred’ Koran. But our Western rock is far greater than all of these things. Greater because it celebrates both our highest and most stratospheric emotions and our low lowest most barbarian senses S I M U L T A N E O U S L Y !!! When I say rock’n’roll celebrates our Inner Moron, it’s because ‘moron’ was once merely an Urban description of a rural type, he who lives upon the moor. Of course, as being a city dweller was the preferred option, a moron soon became a disparaging term. But rock’n’roll is of the moor, and on the moor is where our wildest inner feelings still reside. Take yourselves on to the moor through rock’n’roll and you will have no need to invent Invisible Gods. Dance, shake, pout at your partner, feel them up, point lavishly at the sky and scream ‘Motherfucking yeah!’ Make a God out of your rock’n’roll if you need, but whatever you do remember to let those vital watts of electric sound permeate your body, Babies, we’ve barely begun! Check out the music discussed below and I’m sure you’ll agree that rock’n’roll only gets better and better.
There are no Gods but those we create. Some have invented protectors like Jehovah and Allah because – like children’s belief in Santa Claus – the cosy blanket of belief cushions them from the extreme unknowns of Raw Life. Our human power is so intensely strong, however, that merely through inventing Gods, so they take on a life of their own. But life is too short and finite to trouble ourselves with troublesome Gods. One day soon we too shall no longer be here, so do me the favour of taking me for granted while I am here. Accept the books, the records, the Albums of the Month as my evidence to you of Constant Revelation, for there is nothing greater than Sonic Revelation. Rock’n’roll. Yes, those avalanches of sound cascading over and through us inform us more clearly than any berserk invented religion, for they are manifestations of the R I G H T N O W. In order to beat death, Buddhists challenge Time with their day-long rituals. Catholics fill their churches with sumptuous art to separate their God from the everyday drudgery outside. Muslims head bang back’n’forth to approach Otherness as they read their ‘sacred’ Koran. But our Western rock is far greater than all of these things. Greater because it celebrates both our highest and most stratospheric emotions and our low lowest most barbarian senses S I M U L T A N E O U S L Y !!! When I say rock’n’roll celebrates our Inner Moron, it’s because ‘moron’ was once merely an Urban description of a rural type, he who lives upon the moor. Of course, as being a city dweller was the preferred option, a moron soon became a disparaging term. But rock’n’roll is of the moor, and on the moor is where our wildest inner feelings still reside. Take yourselves on to the moor through rock’n’roll and you will have no need to invent Invisible Gods. Dance, shake, pout at your partner, feel them up, point lavishly at the sky and scream ‘Motherfucking yeah!’ Make a God out of your rock’n’roll if you need, but whatever you do remember to let those vital watts of electric sound permeate your body, Babies, we’ve barely begun! Check out the music discussed below and I’m sure you’ll agree that rock’n’roll only gets better and better.
Wednesday, November 29, 2006
Welcome to the world to Stanley John Rance
Congratulations to Het & Simon for giving birth to half child/half mole Stanley...he has the biggest hands in the world. 8lb 10oz of lovely little baby....
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