having complained about the price of Michael Moore's 'Dude - Where's My Country' earlier, I've just bought it in Oxfam for £2.49. One in the eye for global capitalism... do you think Mike would approve??? Hmm.
Back to the gig, briefly... On after us, the Strings didn't do much for me; it was very professional, piano-led rock somewhere between Steely Dan and Starsailor, without the former's wit or the latter's yawning earnestness. Their songs were OK and they went down quite well. Girlinky were much more my kind of thing, and played a snappy, seething set which easily topped their performance at the Pressure Point last year. By this time we'd most of us repaired to the bar and were feeling pleased with ourselves and a bit triumphant. Playing in London feels very different to Brighton, but perhaps that is just playing-outside-yr-home-town syndrome. Either way, we were surprised and pleased with the way it went, delighted to see everyone and keen to play again soon. We're going to try to get some demos recorded next, time permitting, and then hopefully work on some new songs; I've got a couple I'm keen to try and we can start to use the keyboards a bit more creatively now that we're using Reason.
In the meantime, I've been talking to Andrew a lot about how his project, The Bedsit Bomber, is going to progress into doing some live performances. Thus far he's been hamstrung by using just his computer and the ubiquitous Reason, neither of which really lend themselves to spontaneous performance. But he's just bought himself a Yamaha AN200, which is a very cool desktop analog-modelling synth; and should mean that playing 'live' is now possible. All the same, the many complications of MIDI and the logistics of setting up a stage show is befuddling both of us. Either way, his recent songs are excellent, so when he does play live it'll be a treat. We spent a bit of time before Xmas putting together a collaborative set of tracks which we never finalised, provisionally entitled 'Hedgehog Ash / That Got Twisted Out of Reach', so now that he's working on his live set I might try to get my side of that EP completed, and we'll make it available when we're done. Not holding my breath for an immediate turnaround though - busy.
Went to see the urbane and prickly Will Self read from his new novella (Dr Mukti) last night, and really enjoyed it. Not so much the reading itself (though it was good) as the question and answer session afterwards. Asking him questions was a bit like offering to go in goal while Alan Shearer takes penalties, or firing gentle lobs up for Andre Agassi to smash past you. Some of the questions were bad ("why don't you like piercings?"), some were good (the man who talked about his sense of sadness about his children not reading), some predictable ("Which writers inspired you?") and some were bizarre (the German woman who asked about any of his 'indiscretions' with philosophy'). All were treated in much the same manner, as cues for him to spin a soliloquy out of, whether it concerned psychiatry, the boundaries between Brighton and Hove (which intersected his aunt and uncle's home when he was younger, and which prompted the jokes "shall we take the next course in Hove?", or "I think we shall have dessert in Brighton"), his love of words or strange, absurd riffs (one of which concerned his becoming upset by critics - which he says he isn't - and crying and crying onto his bed until the water filled the room, and then he would go for a swim, round and round, until he met a mouse, and then they would climb out to the bed, where they would hold a caucus... you get the picture). Like his books, his talks are triumphs of style; yet there is content there too; it's not just the way he says it, but what he says, too.
I'll get on to describing the rest of the night in a bit, but in the meantime there's a fair and balanced (copyright Fox News) report of the evening's events on Andrew's excellent Bedsit Bomber blog. I also noticed that he links to a report of the Southampton - Leeds game on Saturday. Reading through it the following sentence jumped out at me:
"Phillips then wasted a chance to make it 3-1, shooting himself as Ormerod was left waiting for a pass that never came."
Seems like the seven caps, no goals, has-he-got-a-moustache,-hasn't-he striker is being a bit hard on himself there :-)
Saturday night's gig was our best so far, by a long way. We all met up at Brighton station at about 4 o'clock, lugging our instruments behind us (with not too much difficulty, actually - me and Pete bought light gig-bags last week, and AS's laptop and controller keyboard combo are incomparably easier to transport than her old synth) and feeling slightly apprehensive about playing outside Brighton. The venue itself was surprisingly central; bang next to the Palace Theatre and its endless cycle of Les Mis in Cambridge Circus; kind of the epicentre of the West End. And when we arrived, the downstairs bar, where the gig would take place, was full of late afternoon and early-evening drinkers, and not ready for us to soundcheck.
We went upstairs and had a pint, and were joined by others (aside from the band, Vic and Sam travelled with us, closely followed by Andrew, Mark and Emma from Brighton and lots of people from London - my cousin Jess and her friend Tristan, Martin and Ali, lots of Anne-So's work colleagues, Chris, Stuart and Shanida - neither of whom I'd seen for years - an unexpected and lovely Matt, and even Rob, I think someone said, whom I haven't seen for years and still didn't, as he left early, if indeed he was there).
People noted before the soundcheck that I looked nervous, but I wasn't at all - just impatient to do the soundcheck; in the past I've always felt completely calm after that; but beforehand full of kind of unfocused energy. I want to get going. By the time we did soundcheck, the venue was filling up and - frankly - I was in a bit of a flap. Soundchecking in front of people is odd, not least because you can't get it out of your head that they'll be sitting there thinking 'this is the real thing', not realising that it's not deliberate the way the mics don't work, or the songs cut mysteriously mid-song. Connecting up the laptop was a bit difficult at first, but we got there OK, and it sounded lovely through the PA. By the time we'd half done a couple of songs and got the better of the set-up, we had about twenty minutes 'til we went on.
By this time the place was disconcertingly full, and people started saying things about punters being turned away. The main section in front of the stage was full of milling customers and the bar was busy too. The sheer number of people meant that first-band-on-trauma-no.-1 (audience standing so far back from the stage that they are mere glints in the distance) was necessarily avoided. We started with It's Alright and I CAN'T REMEMBER ANYTHING. Not then - now, I mean.
I think I got the opening chords right - the solo went alright - it all seemed to be going alright. We waited for it to fall apart; it didn't. In fact, it went really really well - and it just kept on going well. You Should Know was great; by this time I had settled in and started picking out people in the crowd, and noticing that people really seemed to be enjoying it. The sound on stage was excellent for once, although Andy later said he couldn't hear much bass (although I could, standing a bit further ahead of him), and - buoyed - I found myself moving about unselfconsciously (perhaps for the first time), although the suspicion hangs that I just bobbed up and down like one of those sad, mad polar bears in London Zoo.
Sorry, unpleasant imagery, not quite sure where that came from.
The song closed to cheers, clapping, people enjoying themselves. We went into Easy to Leave and started to hit our stride, although I felt my voice wobbling on the held notes; ah well. The song has a groovy buoyancy. I got to the ending and missed a few notes on the outro. Ha ha. No-one Need Ever Know came next, sounding kinda full and breezy - we sound like a band. Pete's guitar cuts out a bit and I play the verse right through the chorus. Hurrah - no one seems to notice! It doesn't matter. Vine to Vine is the best song yet - AS on lead vocals, me out on the side and singing along so loud I suspect I'm just about audible off-mic. By the time we get to the end we're getting a really good reception and I'm really hot, really full of energy, really enjoying myself. And excited at the fact that we've saved the best song to last. Engines and Anvils sounds incredible, Andy's 303 and Pete's guitar swirling around the room; it sounds vicious. Now I'm suffering from serious delusions of grandeur and milking the applause at the end. Oh dear - I'm sure I look like a fool. A happy one, though. I get drunk.
Very surprised to see this. I'm not a fan of the Prodigy, at least, not since a few songs off the first album, but I'm intrigued by this; apparently Liam Howlett has written and recorded the new Prodigy album almost entirely using Reason - it's interesting to hear that it's use extends into the professional side of music production. I look forward to hearing his new stuff, in that case.
A good rehearsal on Sunday. Having struggled with the weight of Anne-Sophie's keyboard (not to mention its cheerful prediliction for adding echo to everything) we went out on Saturday and weighed up options for replacing it. There are some beautiful synthesisers out there - the Novation K Station, the MicroKorg - but they were all dear and short on octaves. Thinking about it, we wondered if it wasn't possible to just use a laptop, Reason (a remarkable software studio much loved by me and the Bedsit Blogger - sorry - Bomber) and a Midi keyboard. We repaired back to my place and loaded it up on AS's laptop and found - to our surprise - that it works very well, with no discernible latency issues at all. So - after an initial crisis of confidence - we used the new set up at the rehearsal and found that it was effective; the organ settings, in particular, are richer and more resonant than the ones we'd had to use previously. So AS went out yesterday and bought herself a keyboard - the Evolution MK-449c which, to my chagrin, includes knobs and sliders unlike mine (grrr) and looks, frankly, absolutely brilliant. And as of next Saturday... that's what we'll be using.
Set list for Saturday:
1. It's Alright
2. You Should Know
3. Easy to Leave
4. No-one Need Ever Know
5. Vine to Vine
6. Engines and Anvils.
Kick
* - 2 - 3 - 4 - * - 6 - 7 - 8 - * - 10 - 11 - 12 - * - 14 - 15 - 16
Snare
1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - * - 6 - 7 - 8 - 9 - 10 - 11 - 12 - * - 14 - 15 - 16
Toms
* - 2 - 3 - * - 5 - 6 - * - 8 - 9 - 10 - 11 - 12 - 13 - 14 - * - 16
Shaker
* - 2 - 3 - 4 - * - 6 - 7 - 8 - * - 10 - 11 - 12 - * - 14 - 15 - 16
Hi-Hat
1 - * - 3 - 4 - 5 - 6 - 7 - * - 9 - 10 - 11 - 12 - 13 - 14 - 15 - *
Hi-Hat 2
1 - 2 - * - 4 - 5 - 6 - * - 8 - 9 - 10 - * - 12 - 13 - 14 - * - *
ooh - this is my new toy, by the way.... It's a Yamaha QY10 - a tiny wee synthesiser and sequencer which makes tinny beats and bleeps when I tell it too. Fab - fits in a video box, don'tcha know.
Christmas listening XI:
1. Wiley - everything (monumental - can't wait for the album)
2. Postal Service - Nothing Better (best track on 'Give Up' - brilliant)
3. Damon Albarn - American Welfare Poem (amazing melodies - terrible name)
4. Ornette Coleman - Free Jazz (insane music - music that will drive you insane)
5. NY No Wave LP (Lydia Lunch's voice!)
6. Kraftwerk - Trans Europe Express LP (perfect)
7. The French - The Wu Tang Clan (better than Hefner)
8. Fiery Furnaces - Gallowsbird's Bark LP (really brilliant - they deserve to be huge in 2004)
9. Assistant - You Should Know (live at Pressure Point - and sounding really good)
10. The Raincoats - Adventures Close to Home (always)
11. John Cale - Magritte (from his brilliant new album)
(subs)
12. Robert Wyatt - Cuckooland (old head on the bench)
13. Public Image Ltd - Poptones
14. Dizzee Rascal - I Luv U (song of 2003)
15. Bedsit Bomber / Jonathan of Assistant - Hedgehog Ash / That got twisted out of Reach (songs in progress)
16. Freddi Kanoute (hat trick in the week so he gets a mention).
A wee piece on Wiley , amongst others, in the Guardian today;
"Bow is England's equivalent of Harlem," announces producer and rapper Wylie (agh - excruciating name error - j) confidently. "Everything's coming out of there, Plaistow, all that area of east London. All the artists are there, we all feed off each other. We've networked and that's made it move."
He has a point. In the last year, some of Britain's most exciting music has emanated from the council estates of east London: a lurching, experimental sound pitched somewhere between garage, hip-hop and ragga. Dizzee Rascal is its most famous exponent, but the style is so new that no one has thought of a name for it. "No one really knows what it's called, but I call it eski beat - the eskimo sound," says Wiley, who appeared on Dizzee Rascal's Mercury prize-winning debut album, Boy in da Corner, and was part of the same garage collective, Roll Deep Crew. His records sound marginally less like the total breakdown of civilisation than those of Dizzee Rascal, but are equally innovative and thrilling, driven by spasmodic beats, orchestral flourishes and noisy bursts of electronics. "The garage people never liked it; they tried to push it to one side because they felt it was negative. Then the garage scene went a bit dead because they kicked us out of it, so we made our own scene."
Wiley's dissatisfaction with the waning garage scene is dealt with on What Do U Call It?, a track from his forthcoming debut album, which lists his grievances at some length, before testily concluding: "I don't give a monkey's." Today, however, he claims to have other things on his mind. His latest innovations include starting a clothing label and making tracks without any bass or beats, apparently influenced by the reggae his father played. "It works," he enthuses. "It fucked up the rave! The youth are open-minded; they're following what's being done. It's like a blueprint right now. A child who lives in Bow, on the same estate as Dizzee, they know that they can do it now, because they've seen him do it."
First photos from the Pressure Point gig are now up on the Assistant website! The gig went really well; we got an MD recording of the first two songs which I'll try to make available soon. Our next gig is at the Spice of Life in Soho on January 17th, supporting Girlinky (who, supporting us at the PP, were great) - there's some further information here,
j
Thursday's gig at the Pavilion Tavern went well. We were beset by technical problems, unfortunately - we couldn't get the 303 working so we had to drop 'Engines and Anvils', and the first couple of songs were affected by Pete's guitar amp cutting out, which was a bit of a shock at the time, but we kind of got on with it without too many problems. The set seemed to lag a bit in the middle so we skipped 'A Century too'. I don't know, for some reason I felt I was missing confidence this time; but all the same - I think we were good, and people were very nice afterwards. The set was
1. Get Away
2. You Should Know
3. Easy to Leave
4. John Wyndham
5. Vine to Vine
6. It's Alright
7. Freaks
And, on a couple of occasions (Easy to Leave, Vine to Vine and Freaks) I thought we sounded really great; but we need to do more gigs, I think - the other bands, Everything Crash and Feline Dream had much more in the way of self-assurance than us. Nevertheless, some things we did on Thursday we did better than ever before. It was great having the keyboards, great playing Easy to Leave, and I thought I perhaps came across better; I tried to actually talk to the audience every now and again, and that helped. We gave away quite a few CDs too, and spoke to some lovely people afterwards. And got quite drunk :-)
Had a nice weekend afterwards; I had Friday off so I spent most of it playing bits of music, listening to Momus, Bedsit Bomber, Aesop Rock and Van Der Graaf Generator and looking forward to Vic coming home. We went to the pub on Saturday with Anne-So, Sam, Pete, Mark and one of Pete's old friends, and Sam (who had started earlier than the rest of us) fell asleep, meaning that we could poke him, insult him, pour beer down his nose etc without him minding, which was nice. Went back to theirs afterwards and drank revolting schnapps and watched 'The Daytrippers' and dozed. When we left, about twoish, Vic just hared away from the front door and ran down the street. I tried to follow, running up on the high grass verge, and tripped, doing a tremendous drunken semi-somersault. Pete says the last he saw I was lying on my back on the wet grass laughing. Left my glasses where I lay, too, but rescued them the next morning. Phew.
Hangover on Sunday, which meant painful visit to Waitrose with a sore head and later, Love Actually at the Odeon. I may be tempted to go into this in some detail later, but for now suffice it to say that, even to a seasoned champion of Notting Hill and About a Boy, it was the most transparently manipulative, cynical, misogynistic and offensive film I ever seen. Utterly stunningly bad. Ah well. Charles II, a bit later on the BBC, was fine, but I couldn't help thinking it was Freddie Mercury.
j
Brighton is, I'm told, buzzing with excitement with Radio 1 down to stay for the week. Apart from a noticeable increase in young men with feathered hair in the Station on Monday night, I've not seen much evidence. Last night's Careless Talk Costs Lives gig at the Albert was nominally a radio 1 event, but there was little to denote the fact except a banner behind the stage. It was the Everett True show, really - he compered, DJed and - as his alter ego The Legend! - played the second set of the night.
I've wanted to see La Momo for ages, having admired their website and influences previously, and they were no dissapointment, better than the first band on stage has right to be. Doing that hyperactive space-rock thing with a clattery drum machine and a bit of gusto, they were occasionally brilliant - when the singer added a tom drum to the mix they invariably sounded twice as good, just as they did when their odd and stretching backing vocals added peculiar harmonies. I really enjoyed their set - they made me think of The Residents 'Hello Skinny', which was fine.
The Legend! did a good job, it must be recorded, of emptying the room. One wonders whether their set (beer and poetry over taped piano and a squalling guitar) would be tolerated if it was anyone other than Everett True centre stage. Probably not. Nevertheless, I'm not being deliberately provocative when I say that I enjoyed the set through my furrowed brow, and - alone it seems - never once willed it to end until the final few minutes when it was, perhaps, going on a bit. All the same, it was a kind of hotch-potch of Simon Munnery, avant-mode Sonic Youth and - best of all - Gavin Bryers' unequalled 'Jesus Blood Never Failed Me Yet'. It was laugh-loud funny in places and I could have danced to it if I wasn't so inhibited. Nevertheless, should anyone tell me it was self-indulgent, over-long and embarrassing, I wouldn't be able to argue. Still, see them once, do.
Miss Pain know how to dance. Or at least, their singer (confusingly also named Miss Pain) does. Miss Pain (collective) are an elegantly conceptualised synth pop act with dashings of punk guitar - Goldfrapp and Huggy Bear in air-hostess uniform. I envied them their lovely keyboards and their bravery. They dispensed Mills and Boon novels, circulated a mirror to be kissed, sang through a megaphone and fell over lots. Their songs were called things like 'Campari and Sex', but I saw them having crafty swigs of Grolsch between songs. It kind of gave them away. They were great.
Lots of off-topic posting recently. Just to remind you why I'm here....
do visit the assistant website and sign our guestbook
I always tended to write Billy Bragg off on account of his stullifying earnestness, and I certainly don't recommend too much listening to his music. In isolation, however, some of his songs are stunning, and - all round - it's pretty hard to resist the general feeling of geniality towards him.
Went to Waterstones at lunch and read some of Michael Moore's new book, the brilliantly named 'Dude, Where's My Country' and noticed ruefully that the book is priced at £17.99. Whose side are you on Mike?! I can't remember Billy Bragg, an equally direct if rarely as funny kind of activist, ever pricing himself so out of the market. Indeed, his new triple CD (though a retrospective) is only eleven pounds. I know this because, after going to Waterstones (or the pub), going to MVC to see what dross is on their listening post is my wasting-my-lunch hour-method of choice. The choice is usually pretty crap, and the only good record on there recently (the new album from the intriguingly un-starry Siobhan Donaghy) I've already heard. But the Billy Bragg record was on there today and I thought I'd listen back to some of those early songs which, despite their earnestness, bear repeated listening (I suggest three years apart, or every time Tony Blair does something right, whichever comes soonest).
Between The Wars still raises hairs, crackling on the nape of my neck. But how naive it sounds now - and how far away his sentiments seem. It's the kind of song that makes you want to belong. But how? Can I really claim that my England is 'the green field and the factory floor'? Or hanker after England 'Between the Wars' And what do you when that history hasn't been passed down to you, or is as unfamiliar as an overheard conversation? You stand in MVC until your lunch hour ends and walk back to work wondering whether you can pay £17.99, or £11.99, for someone else's heritage - Flint, Michigan or Barking.
Lots of reading recently; the Guardian is going through a purple patch at the moment, with great recent articles by Jon Ronson and Michael Moore, an interview with Rod Liddle and more besides. The new Martin Amis novel - Yellow Dog - is deliciously Amisian, as was the following exchange, reported in the Guardian
On Friday's Night Waves (Radio 3), Martin Amis talked movingly about getting older, writing, and smoking. He was brittle and brilliant on the subject of hostile reviews from younger writers. "The Matts, the Nats, and Theos and Jeds... I only have to see these Christian names to know I'm going to get a stinking review. If they're called Brett or Toby, I've had it. They're Christian names and I'm a surname in the most horribly resonant way."
And still enjoying, though still perplexed by the musical references, Blissblog.
I sometimes think I would rather read about music than listen to it - there are many bands who I have read about and felt transfixed by the idea of, who in reality have in some way failed to meet the expectation I had; have not matched up to the hyperbole of their reviews. I don't mean rubbish like The Libertines or The White Stripes who are talked up and never deliver, but the kind of bands whose description summons up oblique and unfamiliar concepts which are out of the realm my experience.
So when I read about the icy robotic future-funk of Kraftwerk I imagined something very different to what I heard (and liked) later on. Later still I heard a little known group called Clatterbox who sounded exactly as I expected Kraftwerk to sound. That doesn't happen very often. You can't get their record now but I'll copy it for you if you ask. Still - imagined music can be more real that the real thing, and the real thing a disappointment - witness The Residents, Van der Graaf Generator, Lee Scratch Perry, Pole, 'Sandanista' by the Clash, early Detroit Techno, OutKast, Syd Barrett, Aaliyah.
That's not to say that those artists aren't (sometimes) brilliant, but they sounded better when I was just imagining their 'electronic dub / pyschadelia / pre-punk prog / progressive hip hop etc. Anyway. Looking again at Blissblog I notice that Simon Reynolds says of a piece of writing...
Course I'd much rather prefer to read this description than actually listen to a Dillinja record these days
So it's not just me. Anyway, spent much of last night listening to Dizzee Rascal and the convoluted point to all this is.... that his record is every bit as magnificent as the writing of Reynolds and Alexis Petridis led me to expect.
We had a fun rehearsal on Saturday; Pete was in Oxford and, though it's never as good when one of us can't make it, it usually gives us an opportunity to spin off in a different direction. We rehearsed a few new songs - Easy to Leave, which is coming together around it's 303 spine, and Vine to Vine, which Anne-Sophie sang, and which sounded much better for it. The rhythm of the song is misleading and I always struggled to play the (easy) guitar line and sing the chorus simultaneously, so this way I could play the guitar with a bit more vim, and Anne-So's got a better voice than me anyway.
Then we worked on a new song of mine, 'Engines and Anvils' and completely deconstructed it. After a bit of tinkering, it begins with a loping piano riff, adding drums, a weird guitar riff (which we eventually disposed of - Pete can resurrect it perhaps) and an evil sounding synth line on the 303 which threatens to drown all the prettiness of the piano with glitches and bursts of distortion. It builds up and then suddenly breaks back down to another, two chord piano riff and a first appearance of my much-maligned melodica before building up again in a long instrumental passage. I thought it sounded great, probably my second favourite thing we've done in the last few months (after Easy To Leave) and I can't wait to get back to it. So that was good.
Later that day I finally dispensed with my much-and-totally-fairly-maligned computer, thank god. Andrew has just bought a new G5 so he donated his previous Mac to me; am more excited than I should be. iTunes, in particular, is an incentive to sit listening to music all day and night. Hmm - perhaps an incentive I can do without. Nevertheless, it's fab.
Went to The Juggler on Western Rd on Sunday and noticed that everyone had a fashionable t-shirt on except me. Then I remembered I had one on myself (under my jumper), and felt much better subsequently.
sporadic pos(t)er though I am, a couple of blogs have caught my eye recently. Blissblog is maintained by Simon Reynolds, who used to write for the Melody Maker when - for a few years in the early 90s - it combined great music with great writing in a way that's increasingly rare. Reading Blissblog is quite similar to reading MM actually - there's that same feeling that you've stumbled across something rare and exclusive which, if you work at, you might be permitted to share in. It's the opposite philosophy of the modern NME, which editor Conor McNicholas speaks of now as a "club [which is] a hell of a lot easier to join". That's as maybe, but the quality of the journalism is shocking. Blissblog covers 8step and Dizzee Rascal in depth, but the last few week's postings find plenty of opportunities to mention the residents, bleep'n'bass, the byrds, jungle and an intriguing debate about London as the UK's centre of musical innovation.
One blogger who hasn't said anything in the last couple of weeks when half the web has been alight with gossip about the seven players rumoured to be at the centre of the rather horrific rape case in the news, is the author of footblog. Hardly surprising. He is, apparently, a player in a top English team intent, like the wonderful Aki Riihilahti, on demystifying the world of English football. I've got no idea if this is for real, but it's compelling reading regardless. Whether he will address the behaviour of his fellow (cough, cough) professionals, I don't know.
And although everyone seems to know the names of those (apparently) involved, it's hard to see anything but harm coming out of their (surely inevitable) unmasking - another prejudiced trial, though with DNA tests involved this should be a bit less cut and dry. The players involved should be sacked from their clubs if it's proven and their registration's held so they can't pick up their career elsewhere. It'll be interesting to see how ITV deals with the matches involving their teams on Saturday - there's bound to be uproar from the crowd if the players are picked, and if there are chants or banners then ITV risk a libel case themselves. I suppose they will have to edit the sound. Anyway.
Went to see British Sea Power and the Tenderfoot last night with Vic, Pete, Anne-So and Sam. The Old Market in Hove is a nice venue; somehow reminiscent of a school hall, but with a nice sound and a good atmosphere. The Tenderfoot sounded lovely; they're a very delicate band, very deliberate and precise with faint, pretty tunes and a good line in between-song banter. All the same, they lacked muscle; they reminded me of Tindersticks, a group that never really took their sound anywhere, just down a blind alley - but all the same, you won't hear a better song this year than 'Still Holding My Stomach In'.
BSP, on the other hand, are all taut aggression and drama. Opening with footage from David Lean's 'Great Expectations' and playing an album-heavy set to a lively reception, they were good but short of convincing; the odd song - Lately, and Carrion, particularly - sounded superb, and welded the two extremes of their style (early 80s gloom-rock and sub-N.O.U chaos) well; at other times they were self-indulgent and dull. When I last saw them I didn't know any of the songs and they seemed bright and chaotic - seeing them playing the songs I now know I felt disappointed that they weren't as eccentric as I first thought.
Towards the end of Lately, however, when they dispensed with caution and launched themselves up a gear, they mimicked Pavement's glorious 'Filmore Jive' so accurately that they were briefly transformed. And - conversely - at one point during the flabby encore the singer's 'It's time to get some sleep' refrain echoed the same song's gorgeous 'I need to sleep - why won't you let me?'. But by that point they'd been playing the same two songs relentlessly for the best part of an hour, and it was a question I felt like asking too.
But there's something about them that is endearing; maybe just the fact that they are doing something different, and as a visual spectacle they're still brilliant. It was a good evening - Vic even bought me a t-shirt, which is really nice. It says 'Bravery Already Exists'. Hmm. I suppose it's fairly brave to play a 15 minute instrumental coda at the end of your encore...
All sorts of shifts and changes in the Assistant world lately - me and Vic have been away and moved house, Pete has (currently) about 10 minutes left of his job before he moves to pastures new (well, just down the road), Anne-Sophie came back from Luxembourg, then darted off to Egypt for a holiday, and is coming back this weekend before (gasp) moving house next week. Andy and Ali remain, thankfully, as solid as a rock and the model for any rhythm section. Somewhere in the midst of all this Assistant have tentatively begun to reconvene.
But, true to form, even we've been shifting - so, awkward and hopeful as ever, expect our new stuff to sound newly twitchy and awkward with the return of the keyboards and a new Roland 303, and a bit of Gallic phrasing on the vocals. Still, it's many months since we all played together - hopefully in 8 days we will have. So there's something to look forward to.
Tired and hungover today; out with James and Becky last night which was nice - James's job is going well and he gets to bring home stuffed animals, and Becky has a cool new haircut. We went to Triple Trax at the Belle Vue which seemed to consist of lots of different DJs playing the same record (a notable exception for the chap with a very small head - not much bigger than an acorn - who played Bad by Michael Jackson).
Spending much of this weekend packing, I think, though hopefully I'll find some time for a bit of recording. Have written a few new songs in the last month or two and am slowly piecing them together using Reason. They're generally pretty good, kind of frail, spidery songs with tuff bass lines and metronomic drum-beats. They're nice, half-songs with half-tunes and half-lyrics. But using Reason is a long process; drawing in the notes slowly, my computer crashing, not having enough time. I can't remember the last time I strummed my guitar.
Here the weather has been abysmal but it's just brightening up. Please give me a weekend.
Ah, a really busy day at work today. Last night we went over to see Andrew and wish him a happy birthday; ended up drinking champagne and playing with his new midi keyboard, sparking off a happy, fresh new obsession. Well, considering the parlous state of my finances, not too happy.
A splendid article on Idi Amin in the Guardian today by Giles Foden. The cover of his book, The Last King of Scotland, has transfixed me periodically in bookshops over the years. Perhaps I shall read it now.
Meanwhile, Assistant re-convene on the 5th August. It's official.
Seeing as Assistant are on something of a summer holiday, I thought I'd use this as something more of a personal blog for a few weeks; it's a nice summer but pretty much all I'm doing is flat hunting and preparing to move. Well, actually, am pretty much there now, but it's a busy few months. No Assistant activity for a while, but I have a few new songs and we're getting ready to go again.
There was a good article in the Guardian today; an interview with the wonderful terry hall - his new album sounds interesting; with Mushtaq from Fundamental he's produced a pop album which blends (apparently) hebrew with arabic vocals. Somehow Hall manages to be both earnest and near-mute without sacrificing his amazing charisma. Anything he does, I will always be interested.
Meanwhile, the new album from recent Warp signings !!! (pronounced chk chk chk) is amazing, and XTC are still, emphatically still, the greatest band there has ever been.
back into the studio last night! or rather, back into the rehearsal room with Ali's 8 track. He recorded the drums to six songs a month or so ago and we've been sitting on them ever since waiting for an opportunity to add to them. Last night we put guitars and bass on four of them - sleepwalk, tonight, john wyndham and it's alright. recording stuff is about striking a balance that you can only master once you've had a bit of experience - the novice is drawn to one of two camps; being wilfully neglectful and not clearing up mistakes, or being really anal and wanting to do everything 50 times. I guess I come down towards the neglectful side, only because I err towards thinking everything we do sounds great, and because I love so many records that are in some way flawed (there's a great song on Pavement's 'Watery Domestic' EP with a few dropped drum beats which I wouldn't have smartened up for all the tea in Sussex). Plus I read that XTC biography (Chalkhills and Children) and saw how Andy Partridge's perfectionism and pedantry made every single album a trauma and seem a compromise. Not that I compare last night with a month in a garden shed being terrorised by Todd Rundgren. Anyway, so we recorded quickly again, fixing the odd mistake but not worrying unduly. It gives you quite a sense of satisfaction, making these loud noises and then just letting them be; far better (I reckon) then getting obsessional. We'll do two more next week, and vocals.
Two bits of news to be going on with...
1. The Assistant website can now be found at the flash sounding http://www.assistant.org.uk, or here, if you wanna go there right now. There's a new message board, too
2. We're (probably) playing the Pav Tav again on June 12th. Keep an eye on our news page for details.
Last night's gig at the Pavilion Tavern was a success in just about every way I think. Having played the first gig without really relaxing I kind of wondered if you ever did, when you were on stage in front of people. But at this one we were confident and relaxed, really enjoying the experience. The Pav Tav, despite what you might think, is a really good place for a gig (at least the wooden decor complete with crests upon the windows and earthenware pots on shelves behind the stage tickled my imagination) and the set we played was a definite improvement. Her Own Escape, who we supported, were very good, sweeping, overwrought and dramatic and featuring some fine guitar playing (apart from the solos, which were probably good but I think solos are generally pretty horrible unless it's me or Pete playing them). They were young and dedicated and impressive. Vic said that when we played we were very different; grinning and laughing and drinking - but I don't think that matters. I'm neither studious nor detached, and, furthermore, I rather think I am a fool. I looked up lots more during this gig and, I have to say, I liked the attention. Couldn't stop grinning like an idiot though. It was a good show.
four fifths of Assistant will be playing at the Pavilion Tavern on the 1st May. Click here for further details.
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