New Mornings

Resuming the aforementioned review and partial cull of my excessive CD collection, I came across a freebie CD entitled New Mornings that was originally cover-mounted on September 2013's Uncut magazine. Like most such CDs, it's a real mixed bag and, as it turns out, doesn't have enough about it to save it from being donated to the charity shop. However, there are a couple of songs notable for artists apparently channelling other artists. For starters, here's Period Piece by Lloyd Cole; it may be an original composition from his 2013 album Standards, but for all the world it sounds like the greatest Bob Dylan song The Byrds never covered. Doesn't it?

And then there's Forgive You, Forgive Me, from Stephen Kellogg's album Blunderstone Rookery. This is the only song by Kellogg I have, or have even heard, but I'd hazard a guess he's a Tom Petty fan... now this isn't the album version, but it's close enough for you to see what I mean.

Anyway, these are the best tracks on the album by a margin, but they're not enough to save it from the "going" pile. Going, going, gone.

Current mood, plucked from the ether

Continuing the aforementioned review and partial cull of my excessive CD collection, I came across an album I fully expected to go: Ether Song by Turin Brakes. I probably bought it at the time, or soon after, on the basis of breakout hit Pain Killer (you know, it had the "Summer rain" chorus). Tur(i)ns out to be quite unrepresentative of the rest of the album though, parts of which head tentatively in a Radiohead direction...

Anyway, it's this track, more than any other, that has saved Ether Song from The Purge, not least because it captures the essence of my current locked-down, post-Brexit, black-dog mood rather well. I would say enjoy, but that's not really the point with this kind of song, is it? At least not lyrically.

Doubling down

Over the Christmas and New Year, I spent a bit of time thinking what I might blog about in 2021. Reader, it was time poorly spent. I had an idea for featuring songs that actually benefit from the much-maligned saxophone, like Echo Beach by Martha & the Muffins, or Will You? by Hazel O'Connor, that kind of thing. The Joy of Sax, I was going to call it. Yeah, I know... luckily, I quickly realised that I would only be featuring songs that we all know and love already, so what would be the point? Then I had an idea of featuring songs that run one into the other, like All Mod Cons/To Be Someone by The Jam, or Weightless/...And Stones by The Blue Aeroplanes, that kind of thing. Segué to Heaven, I was going to call it. Yeah, I know... luckily, I quickly realised, etc...

So, until I can think of a decent idea for a blog post, I'm just going to have to continue the aforementioned review and partial cull of my excessive CD collection. Specifically, I've found a CD that I own two copies of, because I bought it in a charity shop and then, much later, saw it in another charity shop and couldn't remember whether I'd bought it already or not. We've all been there, right? Anyway, that's the only reason I'll be selling a copy of The Seahorses' sole album, Do It Yourself. Here's a track from it that, in a nutshell, encompasses everything that was good (that singing voice, musicianship) and bad (fret-based self-indulgence, lyrics) about the band. Here you go.

Absolved

Continuing the aforementioned review and partial cull of my excessive CD collection, I came across a CD that I fully expected to go, Muse's third album Absolution, from 2003. I've got nothing against Muse, and I know they are, or have been, massive (supermassive, you might say) ... but I always found them a bit too bombastic.

Except, after listening back to Absolution for the first time in at least ten years, if not more, well, I quite like it, actually. It survives The Purge, and here's an example of why, the sentiment of which seems very 2020.

Out of Frames

Continuing the aforementioned review and partial cull of my excessive CD collection, I also stumbled upon The Cost, a 2007 offering from Irish band The Frames. Like Mercury earlier today, it's an album I would have bought to obtain one track, in this case Falling Slowly, which a more emotional, love-blind/love-sick version of me was beguiled by after hearing it in the film Once. Yes, the male lead in Once was Glen Hansard, the same Glen Hansard who fronted The Frames. And yes, female lead Markéta Irglová is the same Markéta Irglová who has a writing credit for Falling Slowly. All these things are true.

But what of the album? Well, it's okay, a little grey, a little whiny in places, a little too earnest, maybe... It's an album that was clearly trying very hard. But it's not an album I need to hear again, I don't think. I doubt I will watch Once again either.

The Purge continues. My Discogs sellers' page continues to fill up. Sales are noticeably absent, but hey. Here's Falling Slowly.

Not taking the Longview

Continuing the aforementioned review and partial cull of my excessive CD collection, I came across Mercury, a 2005 offering from Manc indie kids Longview. It's an album I would have bought to obtain one track, most likely Further, which had been used on a TV programme or advert or something.

It's okay, that track and the album in general, but nothing elevates it. I've been trying to think of the right word to describe it, and all I can come up with is "sludgey", which seems a bit harsh for something that is inoffensive, if unremarkable. I see a sticker on the front of the jewel case boasts of a slew of four- and five-star reviews: "Soaring" said The Times (though beware one-word extracts from reviews); "Should be adored" said Big Issue; "Reminiscent of Joshua Tree-era U2" said Q magazine (though they only gave it three stars). It isn't reminiscent of any era of U2, but Q were right to limit it to three stars. The ingredients might all have been there but somehow they didn't mix quite right...

You can find my copy of Mercury on sale at Discogs, right here. And yes, I appreciate that I'm trying to sell something whilst saying it's not good enough to keep. But anyway... to whet your appetite, here's Further.

I published this at 13/12/2020 12:13. I should get out more, shouldn't I?

Astrid survives...

Continuing the aforementioned review and partial cull of my excessive CD collection, I came across Astrid Williamson yesterday. I saw her live on Halloween in 2007, supporting The Wedding Present in Camden, and was a bit smitten, if truth be told (I know, I know...); imagine someone looking like Rosamund Pike and singing like KT Tunstall, and you're in the right ballpark. On the strength of that one gig performance, I have two of her albums, Boy For You and Day of the Lone Wolf. Both are good, neither is exceptional. Day of the Lone Wolf is a definite keeper, being signed with a personal dedication to me after meeting Astrid at the merchandise stand. But what about Boy For You?

On balance, it just makes the cut - just - after some agonising. It's not something I'm going to play often. But it does have memories attached, and that's important. Or maybe I'm still a bit smitten, who knows (or cares)? Either way, here's a sample track ... and if you want to see what has been purged, the slowly growing list is all for sale, right now, via Discogs (and if anyone wonders why I'm selling this it's because I also have this...).

Some of it has to go

Working from home, as I have for most of this year, has been a mixed blessing. Yes, it has been great to have a bit more time with the family, and to be more flexible with, for want of a better phrase, general life stuff. On the flip side, I have sorely missed cycling to work, and the flapjacks the canteen sells, well I've missed those too, even if my waistline hasn't.

One of the bigget downsides has been that, for the last eight and a half months, I've been working at the dining table, sat on a dining chair, surrounded by clutter. Pretty far from ideal ... but all changed now! We've had a bit of a move around at New Amusements Towers, and have finally changed one of the spare bedrooms into a study. It's a work in progress, for whilst one half of the room now contains a lovely big desk, proper 5-leg swivel chair (that I can even tilt back in) and a filing cabinet (all sourced for bargain prices on Gumtree), the other half of the room is stacked up with boxes and crates of stuff that needs sorting. Fortunately these are all out of shot in Teams calls...

A lot of the crates are full of CDs. My collection is simply too big, literally thousands of CDs. We don't have the space to store them all any more, and some I just wouldn't play any more either, even if they were accessible, rather than packed away in a plastic crate. Some, sadly, have to go. I know it's a purge that I will come to regret but, you know ... life.

So I'm stuck upstairs on my own, in what we previously called "bedroom 2" but now euphemistically call the office (and optimistically call the study), with a laptop in front of me and crate after crate after crate of CDs to my left. Seems like an ideal opportunity to start listening to some of them whilst I work, and sort the wheat from the chaff, with half a plan to sell the chaff on Discogs (anyone got any experience of buying/selling on Discogs, by the way? Any good?)

The first crate I opened starts at the tail-end of the T's, runs through U and V, and into W. There's a hell of a lot of Weller and Wedding Present in there, basically, which is all wheat, by definition. But I've just listened to The Triffids Present The Black Swan. It's fine, but it's not a keeper, for me. Maybe I didn't listen to it enough when I was young, but it has no significance to me, no importance imbued from nostalgia. I think it's going to be chaff. Sadly it is not going to make me rich on Discogs. But if anyone wants to buy a copy in mint condition (only the jewel case has light scuffs), well, you know where to find me.

Here's some Triffids, sadly condemned.

I will, undoubtedly, post other curios from the crates, both wheat and chaff. I'll tag all such posts with "The Purge"...