I've been away for most of the last ten days, mainly for work reasons, visiting such exotic places as Great Yarmouth, Didcot (low-flying red kites and a big power station on the edge of town that a friend accurately described as looking like the nuclear plant in The Simpsons), Bromley, Woking and Southend. During this time I've had limited access to a computer and the internet, which has meant that my involvement with Nick Southall's
Music Diary Project has been reduced to scrawled jottings on bits of paper carried around in my bag (attempting to write anything more than a couple of sentences using my phone would have been a hellish experience).
So here's my listening experiences from the last seven days...
MondayI'm on my travels with work this week and spend much of the morning working out what I'll be needing and packing my bag (I'm forever attempting to carry too much, and doubtless doing untold damage to my joints). Earlier, I remembered hearing that The Music are splitting up (and the Bluetones too! A seismic few days indeed) and decided to listen to some of theirs while packing: Take the long road and walk it, The dance, Float, Getaway (never liked the slower ones so skipped them). I have fond memories of The Music: I was at Uni in Leeds at the time they were starting out and saw them several times in small venues, including what must have been an important early show full of industry bods. I can't remember exactly why I was there - it wasn't to see the band as I'd not heard of them at that point. Tony Wilson signed my ticket (still got it somewhere, if I remember rightly he wrote "THE MUSIC = THE BEST") and I also spoke with some members of Embrace who I think said they were there as they shared a manager with The Music. I dragged my dad to see them in Manchester not long after as I thought they were great. He wasn't impressed though. I enjoyed listening to these tracks again, particularly 'Take the long road and walk it', which I remember Steve Lamacq playing on the Evening Session for the first time. Brought back many memories of University days. Also, you'd have to look bloody carefully, but I'm somewhere in the video for 'The People' - they put on a free gig in the Dark Arches in Leeds which was filmed for the video. Insider exclusive: at the end they reshot some staged crowdsurfing footage and we had to pretend that the band were still playing.
I spend much of the day either on a train or waiting for one. In doing so, I listen to a couple of radio shows downloaded from the last few days. First, Adam and Joe's show from Saturday. Great to have them back. I listen in bursts, as I also do some reading while on the train and this would be too distracting to have on at the same time. Of the show, I particularly enjoyed hearing 'I come from another planet, baby', by Julian Cope (I do like his pronunciation of 'baby' in the chorus). Of the stuff that I hadn't heard before, I liked something from a Warp remix album, a track by Everything Everything (that I initially guessed might be new TV on the Radio) and a soundtrack piece by Ennio Morricone. The second show I listen to is Ken Bruce's from April 1st. Or more accurately, Rob Brydon impersonating Ken Bruce. I'd heard about the show after the event so didn't have any of the bewilderment that usual listeners probably had, but it was funny nonetheless.
Arriving in Didcot, I need to find somewhere to go for tea. I choose the least-rough looking pub. Music is on in while I'm in there but most of it passes me by. The first to catch my attention is what I assume is the new single by Noah and the Whale. My wife had told me a couple of days earlier that she doesn't like the spelling in the chorus so I know it must be this once they launch into L.I.F.E.G.... or whatever it is. Sounds pleasant enough, and a million times better than '5 years time'. Queen's 'Another one bites the dust' and then La Bamba follow.
Back in my B&B (flimsy definition that...the second 'B' consists of a couple of boxes of cereal (open), 2 scones wrapped in cling film and a box of teabags), I do some reading for work. I usually turn to instrumental soundtrack pieces for this as I like having music on in the background but anything with lyrics tends to be too distracting. So I turn to a couple of regular choices: the soundtracks from Fargo and Barton Fink by Carter Burwell (same album) and follow up with The Man who wasn't there.
TuesdayI didn't listen to anything today until getting the train from Oxford - London late-afternoon. This is unusual for me as I usually have music on at every opportunity. I wonder if the act of logging my listening like this made me too self-conscious and prevented me from picking anything. Still, I get to hear chiffchaffs as I walk through Didcot in the morning.
On the train I'm reading some of the ton of newspaper that I regularly cart around with me (and leave piled around the house, to the endless exasperation of my wife). I go for more instrumental music - something to drown out the noise from other passengers, but nothing too distracting. I go for the two albums by Diskjokke: En fin tid, and Staying in. These see me through my tube journey from Paddington to New Cross.
WednesdayIt's a gorgeous day in South London and for my journey to Bromley I want to enjoy some sunny pop to match the weather. I go for Camera Obscura's 'My maudlin career' but after listening to French Navy, The sweetest thing, and Honey in the sun, I remember that much of the album isn't actually very upbeat. Perhaps distracted by scrolling my ipod, I realise with horror that I'm marooned on the SE rail network and heading in the wrong direction. Listening to music and not paying attention to station/train annoucements probably didn't help.
After doing what's needed at Bromley, I'm at Catford Bridge rail station thinking about what to listen to next. It's indirectly through Embrace that I'm doing this log and I figure that I ought to play something of theirs. The weather's beautiful so, 'A Glorious day' it is. I follow this with 'Lucky Shiner' by Gold Panda. Back in New Cross, I find a lovely cafe for lunch . There's music on while I eat, but the only thing that really grabs me is Johnny Cash's cover of 'Bridge over troubled water'. At one point I'm not sure whether a harmony is a backing vocal on the song or someone singing along in the cafe.
With work done by mid-afternoon I head to the cinema. It feels slightly wrong even contemplating sitting in a dark room on a day like this but I want to see Source Code and am not sure when I'll get the opportunity otherwise. I listen to some Grandaddy en route (Skateboarding saves me twice, Summer here kids, AM180). Hearing their first album always reminds me of a trip to Amsterdam c.1999 where I bought the CD [would have been cheaper to head into Manchester, arf!]. I've always thought that the face on the cover looks like a young Gruff Rhys.
At the same time I bought 'Return of the Rentals' by The Rentals, but that gets far fewer airings - aside from one track ('The love I'm searching for'), I'm not sure I've listened to the album beyond its first play. I heart Grandaddy. They've got beautiful tunes but if I'm feeling melancholy they're likely to tip me over the edge. I don't know if it's Jason Lytle's voice, words, or the music but there's something heartbreaking about many of their songs. Our trashing of the natural world, and a constant sense that things will break down and collapse, be it emotional relationships, or your new computer. Or losing your cat. The one about the band breaking up ('This is how it always starts') is devastating. That said, there's usually a grain of optimism present too: "I may be limping, but I'm coming home". I remember once reading an interview with Hope of the States where the singer was talking about their music being 'sad, but hopeful'. This applies far more to Grandaddy I'd say. Anyway, after all this pondering of melancholic tunes it's time for something more cheery, so I go for some Hal.
On leaving the cinema (Source Code, excellent), I put on Clint Mansell's music from Moon, the previous film by Duncan Jones (son of... etc etc). Things got a bit mindbending when I got outside. I checked Twitter and see that Nick (whose idea was this Diary Project) is in Covent Garden looking for a record shop. I tweet back that there's Fopp on Earlham St and as I'm at Leicester Square I deicde to heard that way and perhaps say hello if I spot him. A few minutes later, I'm in Fopp, with the theme from a sci-fi film in my ears, scanning the faces of customers and regularly refreshing Twitter. Having a few minutes earlier been engrossed in a film that involved looking carefully at a crowd of strangers, I'm finding this a little weird. There's no sign of Nick and I have to get back to New Cross to meet friends so I head off. The experience brings to mind the time that I saw Memento and came home to find my housemates had replaced the curtains in teh front room while I was out. I was stood, bewildered, outside the house, my mind already scrambled by the memory and time flipping film and now totally baffled: the front window didn't look like that when I left. Is this my house?
On the train I fancy hearing something a bit spacey/sci-fi, and go for some Ladytron. 'Deep blue' does the trick, followed by 'Ghosts'. Uh-oh. Another train screw-up. And a biggy this time - I'm on the way to Rochester. If I've learned anything today then it's surely not to listen to music when on unfamiliar train routes. I go for some Michael Nyman to relax me on the ensuing pointless two-hour round trip...
ThursdayI start the day with a song by Electronic in my head. This is due to seeing some post addressed to 'Wing Sin' on the way out of the building. Immediately, I start humming "I don't know where to begin, living Wing Sin....". It's another scorcher outside so I put 'Summer in the City' by the Lovin' Spoonful on.
I'm doing more train travelling today (no more mistakes, please!) and flick around the ipod while on the tube. 'That's how I got to Memphis', by Mt. Analog & Karl Blau. This song reminds me of Danny Baker (get well soon) as I heard it through his radio show. It's similar to Grandaddy I think, in the sense of sadness that pervades it. I don't know enough about music to say whether it is a particular key or whatever. And that just reminds me of Spinal Tap and Nigel Tufnell demonstrating the saddest chord.
Someone on the train to Woking is sniffing. A lot. So in go the earphones again, this time 'Big echo' by the Morning Benders. Which is a terrible name for a band. I see on Twitter later that Right Said Fred were on Daybreak earlier, which inspires a burst of their stone-cold, pop classic debut 'Up'.
While doing some work later I put on the Sea of Bees album. I bought this after reading reviews that mentioned a track called 'Willis'. That alone was enough to make me buy it. Alongside the album 'Come get some' by Willis, that's the sum total of my Willis music playlist. Please let me know if I'm missing anything else.
And I'll have to write up the rest of this tomorrow.
