Curiosity Corner: Terry Hall and Ian Broudie (and, er, Craig Gannon)

In 1993, Terry Hall and The Lightning Seeds co-headlined a tour. To promote it, they appeared on The Beat, a TV show hosted by Gary Crowley, remember him? In this clip, Gary suggests there is also some "guitar magic" from ex-Smith Craig Gannon but that's over-egging it a bit, he's just there on rhythm duties. Even calling him an ex-Smith is something of a stretch, I'd say, but still, here the three of them are, making Sense and Lucky You sound better than the familiar Lightning Seeds versions.

Terry Hall still much missed at Amusements Central.

Sunovision results

So Austria's JJ, a counter-tenor at the Vienna State Opera no less, pipped Israel at last knockings to win Eurovision, courtesy of a massive public vote share. The awkwardness of an Israel win in the current geopolitical climate was thus avoided, and JJ has since returned to Austria to a hero's welcome. The UK did reasonably well in the judges' vote but again got absolutely nothing from the public, and finished 19th out of 26. My hat remains uneaten.

More importantly though, there was a winner in the Sunovision Song Contest. This was also close, with the win being secured by the last vote. Without further ado, I can reveal the results were as follows:

6th. Alone Together by The Verdant Sigil, representing Virelia
5th. Lonely Shadows by L'Orée d'Or, representing Elystène
4th. In the Quiet of the Night by Solène Morra, representing Caldovaria
3rd. Terminverzug by Frostwake, representing Drevona
2nd. Symphony of Collapse by Elias Vergrave, representing Ormandia
1st. Dancing Kitty by Silver Vatra, representing Thesskora

What does this tell us? Well, the most bland, most anodyne, most MOR pap occupied the bottom two places. First and second were close, and a good margin ahead of third (though Frostwake's heaviness won them a lot of votes). As for those top two, well, Symphony of Collapse is the one I personally like most, musically and lyrically ... but Dancing Kitty is about a dancing cat, and is slightly earwormy, so what's the world to do?

Conclusions? AI is scary and Eurovision is largely pap. There. I'm glad it took two blog posts to work that out.

Let's close with a real song by a real band, to cleanse the palate. The Rat by The Walkmen came on the radio at the weekend, and I was quietly delighted to see Amusements Minor enjoying it as much as me. "Who's this?", he asked. A song that's older than he is, still gaining his attention, and later added to his Spotify playlist. Dancing Kitty won't be doing that in twenty years' time.

Douze points for The Walkmen from me.

The Sunovision Song Contest

Does anyone actually care about Eurovision anymore, in any way that doesn't involve irony or drinking games? Turns out that none of the Amusemenents clan had even heard the UK's entry in the build-up to this year's competition, so some deliberate YouTubing took us to What The Hell Just Happened? by Remember Monday. For my money, it's pretty terrible, features one of the worst first lines in pop music history ("Someone lost a shoe"), and can't seem to decide which of three different types of song it wants to be. If it's in the top half of the table at the close of Eurovision proceedings... well, I don't wear a hat but if I did I'd be seasoning it and finding some cutlery.

But anyway, you've read the title of this post and are possibly wondering what the Sunovision Song Contest is? Let me explain.

Last Sunday night I sat alone, nursing a lovely pint, in an unfamiliar pub in an unfamiliar small market town. At the next table, a loud woman with a dog was pontificating about all manner of things, to the rapt attention of three very different men, all of whom seemed to be falling over themselves to pay atttention to her every word, apparently for the sole reason that she was borderline visually attractive. I may be oversimplifying but that's how it seemed to me, over the rim of my glasses. And trust me, I didn't want to listen in, but couldn't help it as she was quite loud in a otherwise quiet pub. After listening to how she would redesign one of the bloke's website for 50 grand, and how her dog was barking at another dog, she finally got onto Suno. "Have you heard of Suno?" she asked her three devotees, "It's incredible, look." And then she proceeded to demonstrate the Suno AI tool that enables users to provide a text prompt and have a song spat back at them. Yep. A fully fledged, multi-instrument, verse/chorus/middle eight/break/fade song with original lyrics, churned out by Suno's AI engine in a matter of seconds. Honestly, it took longer to type the prompt than it took Suno to generate the song... a song that borderline woman proceeded to play loudly from her phone, shattering the peace of the pub even more than her voice and barking dog already had.

God, I sound like a cantankerous old sod, don't I?

Of course, the acolytes all cooed, "That's amazing," or similar. And in a way, it is. Technically, as a programming and computing achievement, it is astonishing, even. But musically? Borderline woman's Suno-song was crap. Anodyne, generic, pointless, meaningless, forgettable... just awful.

And then it occurred to me, after listening to the UK's Eurovision entry yesterday and accidentally sitting through a few minutes of one of the Eurovision semi-finals, that all those words could probably be applied to a lot of the songs that will get churned out in Basel on Saturday night too. And an idea formed.

So here we have the inaugural Sunovision Song Contest. Yes, I used Suno to create the songs, and in keeping with that I used ChatGPT to create fictional countries and their representative artists. But listen up! You have to cast your vote at the end, so strap in and let's take this semi-seriously...

First up, representing Elystène, is L'Orée d'Or ("The Golden Edge") and their track Lonely Shadows. The island nation of Elystène is known for its high art, fashion, and diplomacy, apparently. L'Orée d'Or describe their style as dream power pop, and are known for their ethereal soundscapes, poetic lyrics, and avant-garde fashion.

L'Orée d'Or · Lonely Shadows

Next up is Symphony of Collapse by Elias Vergrave, representing Ormandia. Elias is classically trained, would you believe? Of course you would, he's from Ormandia after all, a central European duchy with misty hills, medieval castles, and a strong literary culture.

Elias Vergrave · Symphony of Collapse

Getting exciting now, isn't it? Silver Vatra describe themselves as politically charged dance punks mixing traditional sounds with modern beats. No surprise as they're representing Thesskora, a Balkan state with a turbulent history and rich musical tradition. But there's no rebellion in Dancing Kitty, an unabashed Europop anthem!

Silver Vatra · Dancing Kitty

The Verdant Sigil are from Virelia, and are known for blending traditional forest instruments with modern rock, evoking the mysticism of Virelia’s deep woods and mountain temples. Not that you'd know it from their entry, the cryptic power ballad Alone Together.

The Verdant Sigil · Alone Together

Next up, the beautiful Solène Morra, representing the warm, Mediterranean nation of Caldovaria, where Roman ruins and Moorish architecture mix. Solène is a sultry and dynamic solo artist who blends classic Mediterranean rhythms with contemporary pop and Latin guitar in her entry, In the Quiet of the Night.

Solène Morra · In the Quiet of the Night

And finally, the bookies' favourite, Frostwake, representing Drevona, a northern land of fjords and pine forests, with a strong seafaring and folklore heritage. Frostwake combine droning harmonies with ancient Drevonan runic chants and heavy instrumentation on their lively entry, Terminverzug.

Frostwake · Terminverzug

So bienvenue and wilkommen, members of the Blogosphere jury, now it's down to you. Who gets your douze points? And who gets the dreaded nul points? You must give every song a score, and you can only give each score value once. Vote now!

As ever, I'm playing with all the AI stuff so you don't have to. And let's be clear, the six tracks produced here are all pretty awful by any objective measure. Laughably so, in places. But really, are they that much worse than some of the pap that will get served up at Eurovision in Basel? Possibly not. And here's the other thing. All the AI work, the Suno track generation, the Chat GPT fictional countries, bands and bios, took less than ten minutes all told. Writing this post took me nearly an hour, what with uploading MP3s to Soundcloud, drafting my devastating prose, formatting it all and pressing "Publish". And therein lies the rub. If you want originality and quality, you might be prepared to wait (and pay for) carbon-based creatives. But increasingly customers are just going to want something cheap and quick. AI is coming for us.

Come back soon to see which track won Sunovision 2025, and what prompt I used to create it...

Before we're bones

Does this sound 45 years old? Probably, but I don't care. Black Sea is on the EHSHO masterlist for a reason.

There is no language in our lungs
To tell the world what's in our hearts
No, no, no, no, no, we're leaving nothing behind
Just chiselled stones
No chance to speak before we're bones

Sunday shorts: Lead Me Home

Another track that surfaced from introducing The Walking Dead to Amusements Minor (series 3, episode 12, fact fans).

I don't know much about Jamie N. Commons but I can tell you that, for all his bluesy Americana, he was born in Bristol, before moving across the pond whilst still in single digits. Oh, and I can tell you that I quite like this.

Blue Friday: 1984

Whenever I run out of things to blog about (which is often, after twenty years of this digital guff) I take a look at my YouTube Watch Later list and see what I've saved for future consideration. Which is how I come to be blogging today about 1984 by Anaïs Mitchell.

I'll be honest, I don't know anything about Anaïs that can't be gleaned from her Wikipedia page. I don't know any other songs by her either, except the one that Billy Bragg covered. Blimey, I can't even remember what led me to this song, much less why I saved it in my Watch Later list. I wondered at first if I had heard it as background music in some television show or other but the always-excellent Tunefind tells me it hasn't been used anywhere I'd have heard it, so who knows? What I do know, though, is that (a) I rather like this, and (b) it has some well-crafted dystopian lyrics that seem very "now". There's a real kicker in the last verse too.

Anyway, however it found its way to my ears, here is 1984, from the 2017 album Hymns for the Exiled (the mere title of which is enough to pique my interest). And if all this floats your boat, you can find out more at anaismitchell.com.

Down at headquarters there's a big database
With black and white photos of the side of your beautiful face
And your library records and all your test scores
And an invitation to party like it's 1984

Baby don't look so nervous, they just want the facts
And it's all written out in the USA Patriot Act
'Cause we don't take no chances in a nation at war
So tonight we're gonna party like it's 1984

Oh baby what did I tell you about the house being bugged
They can hear us making breakfast, they can hear us making love
Excuse me a minute, Big Brother's at the door
And he's ready to party like it's 1984

You know you're my one and only, you always have been
Sure is gonna be lonely after I turn you in
So I'll wait 'til tomorrow to file my report
And tonight we can party, oh, tonight we're gonna party
Yeah, tonight we can party like it's 1984

The truth is in what you see...

If you read last Friday's post you'll know that The Man Of Cheese and I went to see From The Jam, down in The Smoke. And that, more specifically, we had wrangled our calendars to fit this in, so we could see Bruce Foxton live one last time, before he retired at the end of May.

When the band announced that the current run of dates would be Foxton's last, the official line was that he was retiring to focus on his health. This comes after Bruce was admitted to hospital for an "immediate procedure" last August. He's had other health issues too, not least knee problems, tinnitus and cataracts. Nothing that unusual there though, not for someone who turns 70 in September.

But on Friday night... well, it's the right time for him to retire, let's put it that way. When the band came on at the O2 Indigo, Russell Hastings announced that "Mr Foxton is in the building" ... but he wasn't on stage. Some bloke from the backing band was stage-right, playing Bruce's basslines and singing his vocal parts. Hastings kept intimating that Bruce would join us soon ... but when FTJ played Smithers-Jones and Foxton was still nowhere to be seen, I was starting to wonder.

Bruce finally came on-stage half-way through the set. He played his bass perfectly, of course, and his backing vocals sounded okay too ... but the energy of yesteryear was gone. I wasn't expecting the leaps of old (knee issues, remember?) but honestly, he barely moved on stage. And when he introduced Hastings to the audience, his voice and words were croaky and weak.

The net effect of all this was to leave me feeling sad. Yes, of course everyone gets old and yes, of course, eventually all those wonderful skills and abilities erode away with age. It happens to everyone, even the best of us, even to our heroes. But I still felt sad. I wrote last Friday that FTJ are "as close as you are going to get to seeing The Jam live" because of Foxton ... but that didn't feel true last week. Admittedly not helped by what both TMOC and I felt was poor sound, Friday's performance could really just have been any half-decent Jam tribute band. And that made me sad too.

As he heads towards retirement it is undoubtedly better to remember Bruce like this, with his other songwriting highpoint. Yeah, Mock The Week may have made us blasé about News of the World, but it remains an absolute cracker. With bonus 70s Battersea Power Station content too. How did this only reach #27?

So cheers Bruce - before last week's gig I was sad you were retiring but now I'm sort of glad, going on your own terms whilst you can still raise a bassist's thumb to the crowd at the end of the set. Happy retirement!

A-G...A-I-N

I've somehow avoided featuring this for six years, but it's time... A-G...A-I-N. Somehow even faster than the already-frantic album version.

Sounds great, but I'm not sure I approve of the over-processed video in this clip...

May the fourth be with you ... always

I'm very aware of my somewhat sombre tone of late (what do you mean, "of late"?), so maybe some levity is in order. We're not going to push any musical boundaries with this, or change any lives, but genuinely here is a song that, once heard, is never forgotten. And never not funny ("That log had a child!"), as long as you have at least a basic knowledge of Star Wars... which everyone does, right?

Altogether now, "Hmm-ha, hmm hmm-hmm ha ..."

All of which, of course, explains this:

And if you, ahem, "enjoyed" this bad lip reading, you might also like this, from The Last Jedi. With added bacon references.

A new meaning to life

All things being equal, The Man Of Cheese and I will be off to see From The Jam this evening, in that there London. Songkick tells me it will be the tenth time I've seen them. Now critics will say they are nothing but a glorified covers band which, despite some new material, is hard to argue with, especially since the late Rick Buckler quit the band in 2009. On the other hand, proponents will say this is as close as you are going to get to seeing The Jam live. And that's not because of Russell Hastings' attention to detail as a surrogate Weller, however good or otherwise he may be. No, it's because Bruce Foxton is there; he might not spring up into the air quite so much any more, knees not being what they once were, but his unmistakable basslines are all present and correct.

Not for much longer though. As I mentioned when Rick died, Bruce is retiring after the current run of FTJ dates, so you've only got until the end of May to see him. TMOC and I have wrangled our schedules to fit this in, one final Foxton pilgrimage. We'll see FTJ again in the future, no doubt, but it won't be the same without Bruce.

To celebrate then, here are four versions of what was, arguably¹, Foxton's finest songwriting contribution to The Jam, Smithers-Jones, the lyrics to which were inspired by Bruce's dad being made redundant. We'll start with the regular band version, from the B-side of When You're Young, then have the orchestral reworking from Settings Sons, then a delicate live TV performance by Foxton & Hastings, and finally the full-on FTJ live performance that I expect to see tonight. Which is your favourite?

Thanks for everything, Bruce - enjoy a long, happy and healthy retirement.

1. It's either this or News of the World, surely?

You must've thought I didn't exist

The National frontman Matt Berninger is soon to release a solo album, Get Sunk. Now I have nothing against The National (who are still going, by the way, it's not like Matt's solo album is post-breakup), but nor am I a fan particularly. I certainly don't own any records by them and, truth be told, I am unlikely to race out and buy Berninger's new effort. Having said all that, I did hear lead-out single Bonnet of Pins on the radio at the weekend, and rather liked it. And now, having sought out the video, find that it has some interesting lyrics.

All in all, it might be a grower or it might be one of those songs that sneakily grabs your attention with a turn of phrase before it gradually becomes apparent that it's actually a bit ordinary musically and the attraction wears off. We shall see.

What do you think?

Sunday shorts: The Thing

Pixies first thing on a Sunday, you say? No problem. Here's The Thing, originally a B-side to Velouria.

Naturally

Coincidentally, both Rol and Swiss Adam have posted songs today about being alone. Reading those excellent posts back to back put me in mind of Alone Again, Naturally by Gilbert O'Sullivan. And from there it was only a short mental hop to a song that is almost exactly the same age as me, Nothing Rhymed.

Personally, I could live without the strings on this, but notwithstanding that it's hard to hear these lyrics and not think how well suited they are to our black-mirror-obsessed, social-media-saturated, polarised, desensitised times:

And if while in the course of my duty
I perform an unfortunate take
Would you punish me so
Unbelievably so
Never again will I make that mistake

This feeling inside me could never deny me
The right to be wrong if I choose
And this pleasure I get
From say winning a bet
Is to lose

When I'm drinking my Bonaparte shandy1
Eating more than enough apple pies
Will I glance at my screen
And see real human beings
Starve to death right in front of my eyes

And to think, I might never have heard this song if not for acquiring SPM's cover on a bootleg.

1. Bonaparte shandy = brandy.

Gone but not forgotten

I had cause to reach out to a former colleague and old friend this afternoon. I hadn't seen him in the flesh for more than twenty years, but we'd stayed in touch on and off, not least because of our shared interest in creative writing. We proof-read and critiqued each other's work, sometimes. Anyway, I hadn't heard from him since the summer of 2022 when, in reply to an email I'd sent him about blog radio silence, he mentioned that he wasn't writing and wasn't having the greatest year either. To my shame and regret, I didn't follow up on that.

When I struggled to get in touch with him today, I headed over to his Flickr stream - photography was always his most prolific outlet - and found that whilst his account is still there, it's now labelled "In Memoriam".

Now he was a doggedly private person, whose online presence was kept to the minimum necessary to pursue his interests, so it was no surprise that Googling turned up no details of his demise. Only by searching probate records was I able to discover that he'd died in December 2022, just six months after our last email conversation. So I don't know the circumstances of his death, although I have ideas that I won't go into here.

What I will say is that there was a time, a quarter of a century ago, when I considered him a good friend, an outsider-ally in the corporate circus we briefly inhabited. Since we both left that place, he grew into a better writer of fiction than I will ever be, and an accomplished wildlife and astronomy photographer. He also had an excellent, dark sense of humour, though he had his share of demons too. Most of all, he was always a thoroughly decent bloke.

There was a fair degree of overlap in our musical Venn diagram - something else to bond over - but a key difference was that he considered The Rolling Stones to be the greatest band ever to have walked the planet. Now I don't mind them at all, but he knew their work inside out and revered them, in the same way that I laud The Jam or Gene. So it seems only appropriate to belatedly mark my friend's sad passing with something by Mick and the lads. From Let It Bleed, this is Monkey Man.

Rest in peace, Mark.

Songs for tomorrow: This Time Tomorrow

You know I've run out of blogging ideas when I start trying to resuscitate old series.

Completely unrelated to that, here's a new post for the Songs For Tomorrow theme.

From 1970's The Kinks versus Powerman and The Moneyground, Part One, this finds Mr Davies in familiar territory, mourning the loss of Albion, railing against apparent progress and feeling separated from normality. We've all been there, Ray.

This time tomorrow
What will we see
Fields full of houses
Endless rows of crowded streets
I don't know where I'm going
I don't want to see
I feel the world below me
Looking up at me

There's a nice bit of what I thought was rough and ready banjo in there too, though Wikipedia tells me it was, in fact, a National Steel resonator guitar. So what do I know?

There, that was alright, wasn't it?

In other news, I might have an original idea for a post sometime soon (but don't hold your breath). Until then, I'll just keep treading water with more of the same pointless ballsackery.

Flirt a little, maybe

A couple of weeks ago Rol posted Ash's excellent cover of Jump In The Line. At the time, it reminded me that Ash had previously covered Abba, of all people, and that the result was half worth a listen. I must blog about that some day soon, I thought. Well, today is that day (mainly because I have naff-all else to post).

Tim Wheeler and co's fairly straight playing of Does Your Mother Know? saw the light of day on the 2008 collector's edition of their remastered debut album 1977. Here it is.

And for comparison, the original, with a rare lead vocal for Bjorn.

Far from their best work but somehow this has still clocked nearly 52 million views on YouTube. Imagine.

It's like the Nineties never ended

First, Gene announce a 30th anniversary show (and, subsequently, a low-key warm-up show that seems to have sold out its pre-sale allocation in just two minutes*), then Pulp announce a new album. Called More, it will be released on the 6th of June, as far as I can tell. There's also a single, Spike Island, which sounds like this:

Apparently Jarvis used AI to create that video, specifically to animate and insert the "cardboard cut-out" figures that appear on the cover of Different Class into modern footage. As one of the captions points out, Jarv needs to get better with his AI prompts - I particularly "enjoyed" the four-armed bride in the closing scene.

Anyway, no AI was involved in making the track, at least. It is immediately recognisably Pulp, right down to a short spoken middle eight, and I think it might be a grower, if not a track to trouble the Champions League places of the Pulp Premier League.

Honestly, it's like the Nineties never ... etc.

* Please contact me in the unlikely event that you have a Gene warm-up gig ticket going spare... thanks.

What you like, not what you are like

It's an unbelievable 25 years since the cinema release of High Fidelity.

Directed by Stephen Frears and starring John Cusack as Rob, it remains an object lesson in how to adapt and change a successful book into an equally successful film. Nick Hornby didn't have a problem with the story relocating to Chicago, after all, so why should we? And it has a brilliant soundtrack (as a film set around a record shop should) and quotable dialogue (example left) by the mile.

Most of all, the film endures so well because of how it speaks to Generation X men. No, not Billy Idol. Blokes like you and me, born between 1965 and 1980 (Wikipedia confidently asserts), blokes now properly into their fifties, getting on a bit yet still waiting for that moment when they figure it out... it being life. Life is complicated. In the film, Rob excruciatingly re-examines his romantic history, trying to understand what went right and (mostly) wrong. No spoilers (not that you haven't seen it already) but he mostly works it all out, with a little help. Of course it is a fiction - if only real life were that simple.

Maybe it's because of that complexity that the quote on the left resonates - people are complicated but you can tell a lot from a person's likes and dislikes - the books, records and films that float their boat. That is why these things matter, at least to our generation. I wonder if the same will be true for Generation Z and later, now that books are electronic, records are all played through a phone's tinny, tiny speakers one track at a time ("What's an album?") and your choice of films is dictated by which streaming service you sign up to. But for us - for me - these things still matter.

You'll note, of course, that I haven't included Rob's next line of dialogue in the screenshot, in which he admits this assertion is "fucking shallow".

Anyway, we never get to find out, in the film, what Rob's Top 5 records are, though there is a clue: in his apartment, he has these records on the wall, hung in frames:

• Maggot Brain by Funkadelic
• Tonight's the Night by Neil Young
• Wild Honey by The Beach Boys
• Goo by Sonic Youth
• Double Nickels on the Dime by Minutemen

I don't know whose choices these were - Frears', Cusack's, Hornby's... some set designer's. Who knows? But it's an excuse for some songs, and hence a blog post - see what you think. High Fidelity is having a limited cinematic re-release to celebrate its birthday; why not go along? I think I might.

And the impossible question: what's your Top 5?

Public service book announcement

No, this is not an April Fool.

Slade House by David Mitchell (not that one, the other one) is currently only 99p if you have a Kindle or the Kindle app, but only for a limited time. It's bloody brilliant, you should definitely read it. It was my book of the year in 2016, when I lauded its "seductive prose and remorseless sense of the uncanny". So there.

And no, it's nothing to do with Noddy and Dave (or Cup-a-Soups).

This week, I have mostly been listening to...

...Bowerbirds and Blue Things, the new album from Brighton's Jetstream Pony. And it's an excellent slab of, in their words, "schrammelig post punk and indie-pop". Depending on which online translation service you use, schrammelig seems to mean either scruffy, smudged or "strummy", all of which seem to fit. Go on, lend it your ears.

There's a video too, if visuals are your thing.

That's alright, isn't it? Honestly, most of what I listen to is old, but occasionally something new pops up that I can get behind, and this is one such. Although there's nothing new really is there, at least not in my tastes. Because this is where I throw in that Jetstream Pony's guitarist Shaun Charman was in the George Best-era iteration of The Wedding Present.

What do you stand for?

You might have seen in the news yesterday that two RAF engineers were sentenced for vandalising a fibreglass statue of Paddington Bear, after one too many sherbets. For reference, on the right is a photo I took this morning to show the kind of statue we're talking about - they're currently dotted around all over the country.

Anyway, here's the thing. In summing up, the judge presiding over the vandalism case described Paddington as a "beloved cultural icon [who] represents kindness, tolerance and promotes integration and acceptance in our society." He went on to describe the vandals' actions as "the antithesis of everything Paddington stands for." And this is where it gets interesting.

Reaction to the judge's words has been cautiously mixed. Can a fictional, anthropomorphised talking bear really stand for anything, asks a section of society that could probably find better things to do with its time. Another, slightly more clickbaited response to that has been to observe that of course fictional characters can stand for something - people have been investing in the morality of gods for millenia, after all. And for there it all gets unseemly and petty and divisive - the antithesis indeed.

I was thinking about this yesterday, after reading the story, and then read 199 Song's excellent post which reminded me of Morgan Freeman's closing voiceover to Se7en, specifically:

Ernest Hemmingway once wrote, "The world is a fine place, and worth fighting for." I agree with the second part.

I know what I stand for. And I agree with the second part too.

Some songs.

Want to know what Cuyahoga is about?

...they're never gonna make you stand in line...

...I am a moth who just wants to share your light...

...All of these people who want us to fail, I won't let that happen now...

New to NA: Sad Sells

Sad Sells are a six-piece band from Manchester about whom I know very little. I heard a version of Don't Feel Sad on 6 Music at the weekend, and something chimed with me - perhaps the "I don't feel much, but I don't feel sad" refrain - so I investigated a little deeper. They have a YouTube channel, Soundcloud and other stuff, of course. Guy Garvey was quick to make Smiths comparisons but I think that's lazy on his part - just because they have an M postcode and some jangly guitar sounds. But aside from the fact that they are not the sons and heirs of Morrissey and Marr, I think they are making a half-decent noise. See what you think.

Heaven knows I've tried

I don't say this often, but there's a good chance this will be the best song you hear all day.

The Amusements clan has been working its way through Ted Lasso - it's mostly feelgood, mostly family-friendly, mostly funny television that we all get something out of (though the something in question probably varies somewhat amongst the clan).

The title theme is by Marcus Mumford, of Mumford and Sons, and serial soundtrack specialist Tom Lowe; it's an upbeat, positive, happy sounding two and a bit minutes that ably gets you in the mood for what is to come next. It's catchy, it's la-la-alongable, it's everything a good theme tune for a light entertainment programme should be.

And then there's Jeff Tweedy's version.

The sometime Wilco frontman's beautiful acoustic rendition is also used in the show (episode nine of series two, fact fans), specifically to soundtrack a scene following AFC Richmond's FA Cup semi-final thrashing by Manchester City, when coach Beard takes the tube back from Wembley alone. And it is wonderful. Jeff's delicate, finger-picking guitar lets the lyric come much more to the fore, and the upbeat postivity is suddenly replaced by resignation, sadness and, ultimately, acceptance. It's fantastic, I think, and, to repeat myself, is probably the best thing you'll hear today. Here it is.

Yeah, it might be all that you get
Yeah, I guess this might well be it

If you slow down for a second, take your time
You know I'm yours if you remember that you're mine
And when everybody's telling me I have no time 
I prove 'em wrong again

Yeah, it might be all that you get
Yeah, I guess this might well be it
Well, heaven knows I've tried

No, my hands won't be tied down
And I will not lay them down 
'Cause I can finally see the truth
So simple but so clear
Accepting an ocean's depths were out of reach for me and you

If you're coming up for air breathing in
You know I'll be there when you first begin
And when everybody's telling us we have no time 
We'll prove 'em wrong again

'Cause, yeah, it might be all that you get
Yeah, I guess this might well be it
But heaven knows I've tried

How long can you wait?

Despite Martin's 2012 statement "I’m sure now would be a very apt time to reform Gene, but I would rather eat my own penis. Fried. With shallots.", and the tension that sprung up around his performing Gene songs at a solo farewell concert without the rest of the band, this is happening. I guess time heals all wounds (and seasons shallots).

From the band's statement this morning:

Today marks an incredible 30 years since the release of our debut album Olympian. It feels like only yesterday we released these songs and we’re endlessly grateful for the love and support you've shown us over the years. To celebrate, we are beyond excited to announce that we will be reuniting for a very special show at the legendary Eventim Apollo in Hammersmith this October.

And there's a shiny new website to go with it all too, plus an official page on Bacefook and the 'gram.

I know October is a while off, and there's many a slip 'twixt cup and lip, but for now, this looks like it really is happening. I will be there, come hell or high water. Until then... from 30 years ago, here's the band's TV debut on The Late Show. Great time-capsule TV intro too.

P.S. Only by looking at the directorship of the newly formed Gene Touring Limited on the Companies House website did this lifelong Gene fan discover that Martin's middle name is Charles. So there you go.

P.P.S. The Rozzer has been interviewed by the NME. There may be warm-up gigs! There may be dates in 2026!

Back in town

Much as I like, and have very specific mental associations with, the Thin Lizzy original, I do love a cover version that tries to do something a bit different. The Cardigans slow it down a bit, add some sort of tinkling keyboard line in the middle eight and, as always, deploy their trump card in the shape of Nina Persson's vocals. Any excuse, etc.

For comparison, the Thin Lizzy original.

What are your favourite cover versions that "do different"?

Hush

I'm tired of people talking loudly during gigs. If you want to have a chat with your mate, go to the bar. Other gig-goers should not have to struggle to hear the music over the sound of you and yours having a catch-up.

I'm so tired of it that, after a particularly noise-disrupted gig (Suede in 2023), I considered trying to start a campaign to make talking loudly during gigs socially unacceptable. HUSH, I was going to call it, thinking myself clever. Of course I went nowhere with the idea, because I can count the number of people in the world who give a toss what I think on my fingers, so what would be the point? All I did was get as far as roughing up a campaign logo, which I present here for anyone to use however they see fit. You can click any of these for a full-size version.

I did get as far as making this available as a T-shirt though, and a baseball cap, and a mug, and a sticker, and all the rest. Knock yourselves out. Spread the word... quietly... Until then, here's an obvious song that you can listen to without anyone talking over it: Kula Shaker's cover of Hush.

Blue Friday: Ciao!

What do you get if take a peak-Miki Lush, add a dollop of Jarvis, a dash of melodica (I think?) and a cutting, bittersweet break-up lyric? Well, Ciao!, of course. It tries so hard to be upbeat about the turn of events, but the song doth protest too much, I think. From their last album, 1996's Lovelife, here it is.

I've been so happy since I walked away
I never thought that I could feel as great as I do today
'Cause you were nothing but a big mistake
And life is wonderful, now that I'm rid of you

Oh I must've been crazy to have stayed with you
I can't believe I thought I was in love with you
But now the scales have fallen I can really see
And I say go to hell, 'cause thats where you took me

Well, I've felt better since I slammed that door
You always cramped my style, I never noticed before
It's been a non-stop party since I flew the coop
I can't believe I fell for such a loser like you

And is it any wonder that I felt so blue
When I was always having to put up with you
Oh, here we go again, just lay the blame on me
Don't say another word, 'cause sweetheart, you're history

I know that you miss me really
Bet you wish that you still had me
You'll never find someone like me but
I've got no regrets at all

'Cause I've met this girl and she's so good to me
She's really beautiful, fantastic company
Oh, when I'm with her I realize what love can be
Because she's fifty times the person you will ever be

Good luck, mister, do you think I care?
Since you've been gone the offers have been everywhere
I've got a million guys just lining up for me
I've turned a corner, boy, my life is ecstasy

Well, I've been in heaven since I walked away
I never thought that I could feel as great as I do today
'Cause you were nothing but a waste of space
And life is wonderful now that I'm over you

And lo...

...a generation of introverted indie boys fell for Zooey Deschanel, just like that. Obligatory sigh, etc.

For completeness, here's the parody she and Joseph Gordon-Levitt gamely did for some Josh Horowitz show or other. "You like The Shat?"

Joy

Struggling to find the joy in anything at the moment, least of all the staples - reading, writing, listening to music, playing the guitar, cycling - that usually provide it with ease. Only one song for it then.

Oh, Harriet (obligatory sigh).

Revival of a revival

Well, it's the 1st of March, and this is from third album Marchin' Already. You can see what I did there.

Lots of people don't have much time for Ocean Colour Scene, but I always quite liked them. I'm seeing them live in the summer, supporting Roger Daltrey, can you believe?

This is a fine old song too. Guitarist and Weller-wingman Steve Cradock, in particular, is giving it the full mod revival revival, and is all the better for it, in my book.

Hell of a driving song too.

Enough with the RIPs

Seems like barely a day goes by at the moment without someone dying that gives pause for thought. As I write this, the circumstances of Gene Hackman's death are unclear, beyond that he, his wife and their dog were all found dead together at their home.

For some, Gene will forever be Popeye Doyle. For others, he may be the definitive big-screen Lex Luthor. But for me, he will always be Little Bill Daggett, the role that garnered him a second Oscar. Unforgiven is a rare thing, just about a perfect movie, something that I always watch whenever it is on, regardless of how often I have seen it and despite also owning it on DVD. All the principals in it are superb, but none more so than Gene.

And I haven't even mentioned The Conversation.

RIP Gene and Betsy.

Good man yourself

The news yesterday that Henry Kelly has died made me sad, as much for that long-lost time in my late teens as for anything else. For me, Henry was Going For Gold, simple as that - the show aimed to identify the quiz champion of Europe, and had contestants from 15 countries ... though all the questions were in English, so the home nations always did well.

Beyond the excellent theme music, Henry's quirky and idiomatic phrasing was another feature of the show, and led to a number of new terms entering my teenage lexicon, notably: "Good man yourself", "You're playing catch-up" and adding "proper" onto the end of everything (as in "You're through to the first round proper" after getting through the actual first round). Different times.

Here's the grand final of the first series, from all the way back in Spring 1988. Beyond the theme tune, the cake (!) ten minutes in, and Henry being Henry, note the winner, Daphne. If she looks familiar, well, she went on to be a member of the in-house pro team on another quiz, Eggheads.

I love everything about this video - it's time-capsule TV and perfectly encapsulates a simpler time, when people clapped each other rather than themselves. How we used to live, eh?

Rest in peace, Henry - you were a good man yourself.

Resurrecting Wordless Wednesday

Score

As The Man Of Cheese astutely pointed out on this blog's birthday last year, you're not nineteen forever, so here are The Courteeners to remind us of that fact.

In other words, yes, this blog is 20 today: a score, two decades. Incredible, really. Thanks for being here, still reading the drivel. It might not sound like it, but I do appreciate it.

Right then, where's the cake?

The world is mine yours

This is The World Is Mine, a 2019 single by UK R&B artist Samm Henshaw. No, it's not my usual bag*, but I do very much like it. I could almost imagine it being a 21st Century Bond theme ... and maybe I'm not alone in thinking that, because it did get picked up for the excellent TV adaptation of Anthony Horowitz's teen spy series Alex Rider. That's where I first heard it, courtesy of Amusements Minor, so today seems a good day, the best day, to post it. The world is yours, my son.

Great video too.

* My usual bag, such as it is, will no doubt resume next time.

Beat, surrendered

To say the news that Rick Buckler died yesterday caught me out would be an understatement; I hadn't even known he'd been unwell. And Christ, 69 is no age to be dying, is it? Surely this couldn't be true?

But then came the messages from Paul and Bruce, and coverage on BBC News. It was undeniably true. I WhatsApped The Man Of Cheese with the awful news.

I'm not going to write much about The Jam, today. If you're reading this, you already know all about them and probably have an idea how much they meant to me. Mean to me, still. I will post music though, celebrating a sound that has stood the test of time since it was made four and a half decades ago. For example, here is, to the best of my knowledge, the only Jam single on which Rick had a co-writing credit.

Fantastic, isn't it? And Rick's rattling tom-toms and driving snare propelled it forward with such energy and urgency, typical of the dynamism he brought to the band as one half of a crack rhythm section.

It wasn't all plain sailing, of course. Rick could never really get his head around Paul calling time on The Jam, a decision he regarded as crazy. He felt that both he and Bruce could have gone in the different musical directions Paul was keen to follow, and maybe he was right, technically. Hard to imagine Rick being happy on Confessions of a Pop Group though.

After The Jam, Rick formed Time UK, but didn't really trouble the charts. His book That's Entertainment: My Life in The Jam (a birthday gift from The Man Of Cheese, and thoroughly recommended) covers this post-Jam period well - I might be misremembering, but I seem to recall Rick shared an agent with Schnorbitz, Bernie Winters' St Bernard sidekick ... but Schnorbitz was getting more bookings. No surprise, then, that Rick fell into a new art - carpentry and furniture restoration. He opened a shop selling upcycled and distressed furniture back in Woking, and that might have been that were it not for a chance meeting with Russell Hastings that led to their forming The Gift. And when Bruce joined a little later, they renamed themselves From The Jam. The picture on the right was taken by me on a rubbish camera phone, all the way back in December 2007, Rick looking the epitome of cool behind his trademark oversized white tom-toms. I'd first seen FTJ live in May of that year, after which I wrote "Rick's drumming was mind-boggling at times - quite how he could drum so quickly and powerfully with apparently so little effort (seeming to barely touch each drum-skin and cymbal) was beyond me." I stand by that - Rick's drumming was all about controlled power, timing and precision. He made it seem effortless... and cool. But even FTJ wasn't to last for Rick - he left in 2009. I often wondered if it was a coincidence that this was around the time Bruce reconciled with Paul. No-one ever said as much, least of all Rick, but I have sometimes wondered if he saw this as a betrayal? I guess we'll never know.

Outside of music, Rick was a devoted family man, honest and passionate according to all those that knew him. He was willingly involved in, and showed up for, many Jam retrospectives, not least About The Young Idea. And he still managed to use his music business experience, working in artist management and promotion.

Rick's obit mentions that he had recently been forced to cancel a spoken-word tour of UK venues because of health problems, and that his death followed a short illness. This news comes not long after Bruce announced that the current run of From The Jam dates will be his last with the band, as he retires to focus on his health. Our heroes are getting old. Inevitable, I know, but sad nonetheless. At least they know, when their time comes, that they have left a mark, made something that endures. Oh, to be that lucky.

I'll end with two more songs, and a photograph. I love the video for Absolute Beginners, not least because it features a lot of running, and Rick is clearly the most up for it. In this, he looks like he would run through a wall for the band. By contrast, Paul looks like he has smoked way too much (and/or is hungover). Plus, Rick's jumper is cool as.

And then there's their cover of So Sad About Us, which The Jam recorded in tribute to the untimely passing of another drummer, a certain Keith Moon. Here's a live rendition by From The Jam.

As for the picture, it's a relatively recent shot in which Rick recreated the 7" picture sleeve of Down In The Tube Station At Midnight. He looks dignified in it, I think. Dignified, and still cool.

RIP Rick, and thanks for everything.

Blue Friday: Slide

Jake Bugg burst into the public consciousness around 2012 when his song Lightning Bolt dovetailed serendipitously with Usain's brilliance at the London Olympics - the song was everywhere, and Jake seemed to be a hip, post-Millennial hybrid of Bob Dylan and Lonnie Donnegan, at least to listeners of a certain age. But there's a lot more to him than that, and Slide is a great example of what.

Lyrics are great for today too, for all those who don't subscribe to the hearts and flowers nonsense of February 14th. "Is love just suffering?" Jake wonders. Good question. Let's not forget, Saint Valentine was beaten with clubs, beheaded and buried under cover of darkness, before being disinterred by his followers... but give a card with that on it and I doubt you'll get laid.

UFO spotting

An email from Bandcamp just landed in my inbox at lunchtime. Now you don't need me to tell you about Andy Bell but you may be unaware, as I was until the email arrived, that he has just released a new track entitled Apple Green UFO. And it's rather excellent, much of the time sounding like it's arrived here straight from 1989. Imagine a lost Stone Roses track if Ian Brown could sing and, unlikely admittedly, they'd added a brass motif to the chorus. Simple but effective ear-wormy bassline as well.

There are two versions: a four minute-ish edit for the video (below) and an eight minute-ish extended take on Bandcamp (below below).

Good, isn't it?

D'you want a bag on your head?

Way back when, before my so-called career (ha!), I used to work in a hi-fi shop. It wasn't quite like this, though there were occasions when the customer's lack of technical knowledge could be advantageous. Upselling, I'd guess you'd call it these days. Don't judge me, it was a very low paid job with a commission element. Anyway, what I can say is that it was easy to sell expensive kit as long as it was demonstrably better. As long as I could demo a Sony CCD-TR805 camcorder I would sell it, more often than not, even though it was hideously expensive at £1,099.99, just because it was obviously so much better than everything else. Ditto the brilliant TCK-611S cassette deck, again expensive at £299.99 but an easy sell once demonstrated. Likewise the WM-DD33 Walkman (£99.99).

I was a good salesman, I think, because I made sure I knew my stuff, and used that knowledge to find something that matched the customer's needs. I enjoyed the job too, more often that not, and met a good mate there in the form of Tim, a friendship that endures to this day, despite rarely seeing each other.

I was interested in it all too, which is why I still knew those models numbers and prices instantly off the top of my head, despite my time there being more than 30 years ago. The brain's a funny thing, I guess. For the record, the 805 was a better camcorder because it had an optical image stabiliser (basically a clear gel between two lenses that acted as a dynamic prism) rather than the digital efforts of other brands, which tended to give grainy, pixelated results because they just didn't have the necessary processing power back then. And the 611S brought Dolby-S noise reduction to the domestic market, so much better than B and C; with a good quality blank tape (Sony Metal-XR, for example) the 611S would be the best way of recording CDs until MiniDisc and CD-Rs came along. As for the WM-DD33, well, DD stood for direct drive - no drive belts to stretch over time - plus it had heft! A sign of quality components, back then. Terry Hall had a WM-DD33, fact fans (and so did I).

I'll end with a track from a CD we used for demos, mostly because it was a DDD recording - digital recording equipment, digital mastering, digital media (rare then). With a good amp and decent speakers you could really appreciate the sound quality however much you liked the music ... and Sting irked the musos, even then. Here's the closing track from Ten Summoner's Tales, in all its 21st Century, compressed, low-bitrate, embedded YouTube misery. Does anyone care about sound quality any more?

That's a very Beatlesy outro there, isn't it?

Sunday shorts: Commercial Break

Start playing the video now and it could be over around the time you finish reading...

Parklife may be the album that sold pajillions, and the brilliant 13 may be their creative highpoint, but I maintain Blur's best album is Modern Life Is Rubbish. Rarely has the sound of a band reinventing itself - saving itself, arguably - sounded so good. An album that was so strong they could afford to leave manifesto single Popscene off it. Okay, so maybe it was also the last Blur album not to top the UK chart, but what do we care for charts here at Amusement Towers?

Part of what made the album feel so vital, in the 'alive' sense rather than in the 'must have' sense, is that it felt like the band were packing everything in, just in case they didn't get another go at it. Each side concludes with a quick instumental workout, the sort that sound like the band were just playing with ideas in the studio and committed some to tape. Side One ends with the appropriately titled Intermission, tacked onto the end of Chemical World. Side Two notionally concludes with the decidedly downbeat Resigned but maybe someone, somewhere, felt it wasn't such a good idea to end on a low (they'd do that on the next album, of course) and so this jaunty little thrash was tacked on the end. I see the title as optimistic too - Commercial Break implies the band still felt, or at least hoped, there was more to come, even if some of those around them at the time were doubtful. Maybe, then, this is the sound of Britpop hoving into view... but we shouldn't hold that against it, right?

Blue Friday: It's A Wonderful Life

You might expect a song entitled It's A Wonderful Life to be an upbeat ditty but it's anything but. "I'm a bog of poison frogs," intones Sparklehorse frontman and songwriter Mark Linkous, on this 1999 track from the album of the same name. "I'm the dog that ate your birthday cake." And he'd know, I guess. A couple of years earlier, a valium/alcohol/heroin combo very nearly killed him. Even though he survived, he was in a wheelchair for six months and needed dialysis for kidney failure. Don't do drugs, kids.

Whatever demons were eating at Linkous, no amount of critical acclaim sated them. Neither did the respect of his musical peers, as collaborations with the likes of PJ Harvey, Cracker, Tom Waits and Nina Persson were a constant in the life of Sparklehorse. In 2009, the band teamed up with Danger Mouse and the late David Lynch on the album Dark Night of the Soul; it turned out to be one of the last things Linkous did, as he took his own life in March of the following year.

I am the only one
Can ride that horse, th'yonder
I'm full of bees who died at sea

It's a wonderful life, it's a wonderful life

I wore a rooster's blood
When it flew like doves
I'm a bog of poison frogs

It's a wonderful life, it's a wonderful life

I'm the dog that ate your birthday cake

It's a wonderful life, it's a wonderful life

On the dark side of the road

I went to see Dylan biopic A Complete Unknown last night, and very much enjoyed it. Other bloggers with more Bob-knowledge than I have written about it already (I'd especially recommend Swiss Adam's post at Bagging Area) so I won't do a full review. I will say I think the cast are uniformly excellent. Timothée Chalamet (or Tomato Chalamuffin, as Amusements Minor calls him) inhabits his role, and will be hoovering up nominations come awards season, I have no doubt of that. Edward Norton's supporting role as Pete Seeger is also noteworthy. But beyond the performances, both acting and musical, part of this film's strength is the authentic recreation of early 60s New York. Obviously I wasn't there, of course, but it feels very right, somehow. Watching felt like time travel.

Of course it's not flawless - what is? I'm no Bob expert, we've established that already, but even I know the infamous cry of "Judas" came at the Manchester Free Trade Hall in '66, not the '65 Newport Folk Festival. There's a whole slew of such creative variations but that's fair enough; after all, this is a dramatic retelling, not a documentary statement, and a little licence adds to the story. So even though Suze Rotolo didn't go to Newport in 1965, we get to see Sylvie Russo (an undisguised avatar for Suze) attend with Bob, and finally realise she can't be with him, because it serves the film's narrative arc. And that's okay - it's a story based on truth, not the absolute truth, after all.

Other issues? Well, Toshi Seeger's character is ornamental throughout, almost to the point that you wonder why she was even in the film. Her sole dramatic moment is to stop husband Pete hijacking Bob's electric performance. Critics have been quick to point out that there was a hell of a lot more to Toshi than this... but this is a film about Bob, not the Seegers. The lack of depth in her character was noticeable but not, for me, detrimental.

Anyway, where was I? The film is very good, go and see it if you haven't already. Chalamet is exceptional (see Adam's later Bagging Area post for videos of Timothée performing Dylan songs live on Saturday Night Live, both electric and acoustic), and the whole thing will have you scurrying to revisit your Dylan collection.

Speaking of which... one track I have always loved got a brief, subtle airing in the film, around the halfway mark. Bob and Sylvie's relationship is starting to unravel, there is tension in the air. Whilst they skirt around having a full-blown argument, Bob starts finger-picking the intro to Don't Think Twice, It's All Right. He doesn't sing it, just plays the intro. It's a neat bit of foreshadowing, of course, for Don't Think Twice... is a next-level break-up song. "I give her my heart but she wanted my soul" indeed. From 1963's Freewheelin' Bob Dylan, here it is.

Well, it ain't no use to sit and wonder why, babe
If'n you don't know by now
And it ain't no use to sit and wonder why, babe
It'll never do somehow
When your rooster crows at the break of dawn
Look out your window and I'll be gone
You're the reason I'm a-travelling on
But don't think twice, it's all right

And it ain't no use in a-turning on your light, babe
The light I never knowed
And it ain't no use in turning on your light, babe
I'm on the dark side of the road
But I wish there was something you would do or say
To try and make me change my mind and stay
But we never did too much talking anyway
But don't think twice, it's all right

So it ain't no use in calling out my name, gal
Like you never done before
And it ain't no use in calling out my name, gal
I can't hear you anymore
I'm a-thinking and a-wondering, walking down the road
I once loved a woman, a child, I'm told
I give her my heart but she wanted my soul
But don't think twice, it's all right

So long, honey babe
Where I'm bound, I can't tell
Goodbye's too good a word, babe
So I'll just say, "Fare thee well"
I ain't a-saying you treated me unkind
You could've done better, but I don't mind
You just kinda wasted my precious time
But don't think twice, it's all right

Postscript 1: guitarists, learn how to play the song - though it's not quite as easy as this guy makes it seem.

Postscript 2: Adam at Bagging Area makes the excellent suggestion of watching Scorsese's No Direction Home on iPlayer, after the Chalamet movie. I intend on doing that, tonight. Might I also suggest watching the Coen brothers' brilliant Inside Llewyn Davis before the Dylan biopic too? It's total fiction but will get you in a 1961 Greenwich Village mood from the outset.

Speak!

What do you think about podcasts? Do you listen to them? Do you subscribe? Any that you'd recommend?

I don't listen to many - most of my offline listening is downloaded radio shows from BBC Sounds, and that's not quite the same thing. But I do try to keep up with the usual suspects (Adam Buxton and Louis Theroux, for example). I've also stumbled across the odd gem - The Old Fools, featuring David Quantick and Ian Martin, is a joyous, if occasionally sweary, gem. But then maybe I like that so much because I am, increasingly, an old fool myself. I am the target market. I am the demographic.

Have you ever tried podcasting yourself? If so, what platforms or technologies have you used? How did you find the experience? Would you recommend it? Do it again? Are you still doing it?

And if all this makes you think, oh god, isn't it enough that he already writes a blog that barely anyone reads, now he wants to launch a podcast that ever fewer people will listen to, well ... the thought has crossed my mind. It probably won't happen - it's a lot more effort than just typing a couple of paragraphs, adding the odd hyperlink and then embedding a YouTube video, after all. And I'm not so great with effort, these days. So, rest easy...

Speaking of embedding a YouTube video, I should probably end with one. What is this blog without a bit of appropriate music, after all? (That's a rhetorical question, though the answer would probably be "Not very much.") Anyway, if the only song you're aware of by Sultans of Ping F.C. is the brilliance of Where's Me Jumper? then I'm about to double your knowledge. You can thank me later.

Just one more thing: having asked for your recommendations it seems only fair to reciprocate. I use AntennaPod to consume anything that I don't already get from BBC Sounds. It's brilliant, free, open source, has no ads and, best of all, doesn't require you to create an account. I don't know if something similar exists in the Apple ecosystem but you can get AntennaPod at Google Play and you should because it's a proper piece of software. Although I appreciate that when I say "...and you should" I sound like Patrick Bateman imploring people to listen to Huey Lewis's lyrics.