Latitude's Byrne's Night

I wasn't going to go to Latitude this year. The line-up left me ... whelmed. The growth in size, the increased focus on music to the detriment of other arts, and the unavoidable commercialisation in recent years were also reasons not to go. I figured I wouldn't enjoy myself, so why bother? Except then Amusements Minor and two of his mates picked up tickets at the last minute. They were quite chuffed with themselves, until they then looked into the cost of getting there on the Latitude return bus service. Turned out it would be cheaper for me to buy a festival ticket and drive them there, so that's what I did. It was only for a day, the Friday, and that's what swung it for me, as the headliner was the only one of the festival that I had an interest in seeing.

Anyway, in the manner of my festival diaries of yore, here's what I saw...

Friday:

• 
  The Adam Buxton Band : Second Stage. I made sure to have negotiated the traffic and the hike from the car park in time, and to have impressed upon the boys our agreed rendezvous point and time for the end of day, in good time so that I could be under the vast canopy of the Second Stage to see Adam Buxton run through tracks from his album. There was a healthy audience of mainly podcast devotees, so he was preaching to the converted, I guess, but everyone went away happy. The songs are genuinely catchy, with lyrics treading the highwire between comedy and pathos. I ate my lunch in there too, enjoying the shade. And I'll get the apology out of the way early, and say sorry that the photographic abilities of my current phone are so abysmal. Brace yourself for a succession of washed-out, blurry rubbish.
• Robert Llewellyn in conversation : The Apollo Stage. It's a fair old trek from the Second Stage to Apollo, but it was worth it to hear Llewellyn in conversation with Robin Ince and Professor Helen Czerski. The Apollo line-up had a vageuly tech focus, so although there were plenty of reminiscences about Red Dwarf and Scrapheap Challenge, there was also some very interesting discussion about electric vehicles, and the changes that have to happen to how we live our lives. Gave me real and unexpected pause for thought.
• Natalie Wildgoose : The Alcove. A change of pace next, at one of the smaller music stages. Natalie self-describes as a folk eccentric, and the festival programme had likened her vocals to Joan Baez. I was intrigued. Dressed like Laura Ingalls on her way to church, Natalie played piano, and was ably supported by an acoustic guitarist and a backing vocalist. I can see the Baez comparison, but Natalie has her own sound. A shame, then, that it was somewhat drowned out by the sonic thump of a neighbouring stage. This was a problem that would beset The Alcove all day, unfortunately.
• Ellie O'Neill : The Sunrise Arena. I only caught the tail-end of Ellie's set, but immediately wished I had got there earlier. She plays the guitar well, creating a kind of acoustic drone that suited the shady setting well. Her vocals have a aching Irish lilt, and the few lyrics I heard had some heft. I wouldn't absolutely guarantee it but I think O'Neill may be worthy of further investigation.
• 
  Adult DVD : The Sunrise Arena. Come on, lads, think of a band name that can be Googled safely! Adult DVD are a six-piece from Leeds who make a very agreeable, energetic racket, with guitar, bass, drums, synths and samples. Even their soundcheck got a good cheer. Only possible fly in the ointment might be the slightly Marmite vocal style of frontman Harry Hanson, which is somewhere between Shaun Ryder, Mark E. Smith and Damon Albarn. Still, those three all did alright, so what do I know? Whatever, this lot provided quite a contrast to the preceding act, and certainly got the Sunrise Arena crowd bouncing.
• Courttia Newland : The Listening Post. Cup of tea in hand, I arrived early enough for the next act to catch the tail-end of novelist and playwright Newland in conversation in what used to be called the Book Tent. There was some interesting Q&A that focused on how the loss of public space and public services might impact on the artistic output of those that might otherwise struggle. But - full disclosure - I was mainly here to get a good spot for the next act, which was...
• Adam Buxton's BUG: David Byrne Special, featuring Ivo Graham : The Listening Post. If you're familiar with Buxton's BUG shows, you know the deal - he plays clips of the featured artist, talks about their background, gives insight into the creation and production of the music... it's basically a love-in by, and for, fans. Here he was joined by David Byrne superfan, comedian Ivo Graham. Later in the show, they were also joined by comediennes Josie Long and Sara Pascoe, both of whom had earlier graced the Comedy Stage. Both Adam and Ivo wore over-sized, Stop Making Sense-style suits for the duration of the show, no mean feat in the heat of the tent. There was audience participation, giveaways, singalongs, an appearance from members of the Byrne's Night tribute act (which uniquely celebrates both Talking Heads and Robert Burns), and more besides. A brilliant way to spend an hour, and the perfect warm-up for what was to come later.
• Ross Noble : The Comedy Stage. Latitude has maintained a strong comedy line-up over the years, but the flipside of that is that the Comedy Stage is always rammed. It can be very hard to get even a sight-line on the headline act. Still, I found a spot on the edge of the arena where I could just about see Ross. More importantly, I had a great view of his sign language interpreter. Most of the opening of Ross's act revolved around his very obvious and real delight at discovering what various signs were for things he was saying, and it was great watching him go off-piste and freestyle material around this. But no further into the set I got a text from Amusements Minor asking if we could meet up, so I bailed out and went to find the boy. He and his mates were flagging a bit - although AM has been to Latitude before, it was a first festival for the other two, and I don't think either of them had anticipated the size and scale, the temperature, the dustbowl that Henham Park had become in the heat, or the amount of walking. Still, I was able to gee them all up a bit and send them off in the direction of food and water, which seemed to do the trick.
• 
  Ain't - The Alcove. In their own words, Ain't are a "London five-piece channelling the stranger end of ‘90s guitar music", a description that was enough to get me to go along. I don't know about that though - musically, they seem to produce slightly anonymous indie rock, the one distinguishing feature of which seemed to be the shredded vocals of Hanna Baker Darch. I may have been extrapolating on thin evidence, but it looked to me like all the rest of the band fancy her, which is the sort of internal tension that leads bands to implode. Might be wise to investigate further quickly then, if you feel so minded. On balance, I do, just, if only to hear them properly as, once again, The Alcove suffered noise pollution from neighbouring stages.
• 
  Brooki : The Alcove. Noise pollution or not, after a quick diversion for dinner, I was back in The Alcove to see Brooki, an Irish four-piece that I was intrigued to see, on the strength of a programme write-up that name-checked Jeff Buckley and PJ Harvey. Well, at the risk of sounding like a wine critic, I didn't get much Buckley but there were certainly notes of Harvey in the vocals. I can't find her name anywhere but the vocalist also had more than a trace of Chrissise Hynde and even Siouxsie Sioux to her sound, to these old ears at least. She was also quite the beguiling frontwoman, dancing between verses in a t-shirt that proclaimed her to be "Romantic Material". The rest of the band were typical Sleeperblokes, save for the lead guitarist who seemed to have styled his look on the late Darius Danesh. How's that for a topical reference? Whatever. Beguiling frontwoman or not, the poor sound in The Alcove lead me to abort early, and head off for a bit of a sit-down with a cup of tea, which I managed to do at...
• Robin Ince's Nine Lessons for Latitude : The Listening Post. This show was essentially a grab-bag of different artists, invited by Robin to do their thing for five minutes each. Our compere interspersed the "lessons" with readings of his own comic poetry. By his own admission, poetry is a new development for Ince. If I was being unkind I might say it showed. That said, some of the lessons were very good: psychologist Dr Julia Shaw was excellent on the epistemic risks of AI; comedian Toussaint Douglass got genuine belly laughs out of this recalcitrant reviewer; a Geordie singer-songwriter called Sonny someone (I didn't catch it, sorry, and the programme is no help) was also good and charmingly enthusiastic; and more besides (I wish I'd made better notes). I couldn't stay to the end though, because I wanted to secure a half-decent spot for...
• David Byrne : The Obleisk Arena. I hadn't seen Byrne live before, so wasn't entirely sure what to expect. What I hadn't dared to expect was a gig that would mark a new entry in my notional "Top Ten Gigs Ever" list. Precisely on time, and without fanfare, David and his 12-strong ensemble took to the stage, clad head to toe in matching orange. All the musicians carried their instruments, even the percussionists (of which there were four), allowing them all to be mobile, all the time. And if this wasn't enough, the backing singers danced too. In fact, the whole show was choreographed, and I genuinely marvelled at the professionalism, rehearsal and prep that must have gone into co-ordinating the movement and musicianship. To do it for one song would be impressive - to do it for a 90-minute set was nothing short of mind-blowing. And then there was the lighting... or rather, lack of lighting, at least in the conventional gig sense. Instead, the band (troop?) were lit from above and below with different colour lights throughout the show, making their orange jumpsuits stand out dramatically. There were also high-definition panoramic back-projected images to add to the visual impact, most notably the footage of ICE raids in the US as a backdrop to Life During Wartime. Between songs, David was as thoughtful, considered and articulate as you'd want him to be. Singing, he was in terrific voice, indecently good for a man of 74. And the songs... oh, the songs. Aided by his immaculate band, the setlist included Heaven, And She Was, This Must Be The Place, Psycho Killer, Life During Wartime and Once in a Lifetime, before ending with an appropriately incendiary Burning Down The House. Within the 90-minute constraint he was forced to operate I guess something had to give, so I was a little disappointed not to hear David give Road to Nowhere a run out, but honestly that was my only minor quibble for the whole gig. As the band left the stage and the arena lights came up, Brian Eno's Ascent (An Ending) was piped quietly over the PA, providing the perfect coda on which to float away from this stunning set.

And that was pretty much that. I headed back to our pre-arranged rendezvous and found three very-tired looking lads waiting for me. We trudged wearily back to the car and then made our car park exit in record time - no queueing at all. The boys all fell asleep in the car on the way home, and I was tired too, but it was worth it for a day of unexpected fun and a headline act that will live long in the memory.

A footnote: the boys all agreed that the best act they saw all day was Must Be John. Amusements Minor was also quite taken with Overpass. They even conceded that David Byrne was pretty good for an old guy...

Homonyms #7: Run

For the purposes of this blog, homonyms are different songs with the same title. And for the purposes of my sanity, I'm limiting each post to two songs, however many there may be that fit the bill.

Today we lace up our trainers and go for a run.

Our first Run is by New Order, from 1989's Technique. I think that was the last album by them that I bought, other than compilations. It's certainly the last I bought on vinyl. Don't @ me, as the youth might (still?) say. Anyway, it's alright isn't it, but suffers by comparison to other tracks on the album, I think.

Talking of suffering by comparison, here's Snow Patrol's Run. I know this cemented their status as the headline act they've been ever since, and I don't mind it at all, but, as a guitarist, I do sometimes wonder how a band can get so big with such simple songs? What am I missing?

Other Runs I haven't been on include those by Spiritualized, Air, Stephen Fretwell (popularised [a bit] by Gavin & Stacey), Lighthouse Family, Amy Macdonald, and probably loads more, inevitably including that one you know and love that I've somehow overlooked.

So, do these make you want to run towards them, or in the opposite direction?

What is the reason for it?

More than 50 years after Talking Heads started, David Byrne is still doing David Byrne things.

The power of music. The music of power.

I listened to this in the car yesterday. First time I've played it in a long time. And it's 38 years old too. But that didn't stop the hairs standing up on my arms, so much so that I had to keep skipping back and playing it again. Reader, I may have played it four times in a row, singing along louder with every play.

For me this song is indelibly linked with seeing Bill in 1990, my American friend by my side, watching with unadulterated joy as all the support acts joined him on stage for this, the show's finale. I can see it now. I can feel it now.

What a song.

I'm still waiting, mind...

New to NA: Mouth Ulcers

Bandcamp is usually a good source of inspiration when bereft of blogging ideas. Within two minutes of logging in today, I'd found Mouth Ulcers. I'm not sure about the name, but the London four-piece put an intriguing spin on Interpol-lite (so Joy Division-lite-lite, I guess). Check out the Hooky bassline on Silent Pictures.

And then there's the Heart and Soul percussion on Satisfy.

Ones to watch, maybe. Still not sure about the name though...

More than you've ever lost

We listened to the football last night in the car, in the middle of a long, cross-country journey. We went from headlight-flashing joy when Gordon scored to silence when Argentina headed their stoppage-time winner. I wouldn't call it stunned silence though, because we knew it was coming, with all the inevitability of death and taxes.

I was more gutted than Amusements Minor, but then his generation are used to England getting to quarter- and semi-finals at every tournament. I want to tell him it isn't always like that, but why pile misery on misery?

Speaking of Amusements Minor, he really likes this song. I'll be honest, before he got into Blossoms I mostly knew them for being Rick Astley's Smiths. But this track, Pure Pop, has some very fitting lyrics for England's biennial football comedown, not least "More than you've ever lost, we came close..." and "I'm falling, my head and my heart up against the wind, I'm all in, praying for change again...". And then there's the opening line of the chorus which is how everyone I've spoken to today is feeling, even if only figuratively: "Can you believe the rainfall hasn't stopped?"

Also, for a song called Pure Pop, I quite like how the opening guitar motif seems to ape Gimme Gimme Gimme by Abba.

Anyway, strap in now for more heartache at the Euros in 2028 (though since that will be co-hosted by England, Scotland, Wales and the Republic of Ireland we might actually have a home-advantage chance). But until then, with no sense we can dance to some Blossoms.

More than you've ever lost
We came close, pure pop
Are you sure that you've had enough
On your soul to wake it up?

I'm falling
My head and my heart up against the wind
I'm all in
Praying for change again, won't you say something

Can you believe the rainfall hasn't stopped?
All the things that made us happy
With no sense we dance to pure pop

Have I said too much
Of this life you curse?
Close enough to touch
Twist the knife, rumours

I'm trying
But you played love like it was a game
Your silence
Puts in the pain, the strain, the distance in you

Can you believe the rainfall hasn't stopped?
All the things that made us happy
With no sense we dance to pure pop

The days are long
You're hanging on
Let's call it off
Let's call it off
The days are long
You're hanging on
Let's call it off (repeat to fade)

Homonyms #6: Superman

For the purposes of this blog, homonyms are different songs with the same title. And for the purposes of my sanity, I'm limiting each post to two songs, however many there may be that fit the bill.

Today we turn our eyes to Kal-El, last son of Krypton... with thanks to JC, who suggested this title.

Our first Superman is from David Gedge's other band, Cinerama. He might have switched jangly guitars for a string quartet, but the gritty drama of heartache and failed love is all present and correct.

REM's Superman is more upbeat. I suppose I ought to feature the original, since this is a cover of 60's band The Clique, but this is the version I know and love, and my gaff, my rules.

Supermen I have passed over include early Blur, Eminem, Stereophonics, Black Lace, Goldfinger, Tarrus Riley, and loads and loads more. And before you start, the Laurie Anderson song is called O Superman, so strictly speaking doesn't qualify as a homonym...

Do these make you want to leap tall buildings in a single bound? Or should they be banished to the Phantom Zone?

TLAP: Mash Gang Chug IPA

Another inspiration-free day, another alcohol-free ale review. Sigh.

Mash Gang Chug IPA

What's it like? The Mash Gang website describes this IPA as juicy, tropical and zesty. To their credit, it is all of those things. It comes in a funky-looking can with a welcome humorous touch (see how the beer leaks between the skeleton's ribs), is acceptably priced (just about), and has a hipper-than-thou yet ironic name (the irony being you can chug as much of this as you like without falling down). And it tastes genuinely nice, and is quenching. Trouble is, like a lot of other low/no IPAs (Atlantic's Run Wild being a case in point), without the visual reinforcement of seeing it in a glass you'd be hard-pressed to know you were drinking a beer. I'm not sure if this is a problem or not, but it might make you rethink the cost when compared to regular soft drinks.

Would I drink it in a pub? Yes.

Would I drink more than one? Maybe.

Would I drink it all night? Probably not.

Stats: 0.5% ABV. Calories 15 kcal/100ml. Currently £8.99 for 4x 330ml cans, direct from Chug Gang

Stars: ★★★⯪☆

A song to end, as usual. Mash Gang gives "mash", which gives "M*A*S*H", which gives the cover of Theme from M*A*S*H (Suicide Is Painless) by Manic Street Preachers.

Never disappointed

Any time there's a big football tournament on, I run the sweepstake at work. It generates conversation between people who don't normally have much to say to each other, so that's good, I guess.

Anyway, I offered the opinion last week that I thought it unlikely England would beat Mexico in the Azteca. People asked why I was so negative. The answer?

Looks like I posted the original of this, by Sophie's first band The Audience (or theaudience, as they styled themselves) five and a half years ago. Seems I was writing about my hope that Trump was gone from frontline politics, for good. You see, that's where hope gets you. Far better to be a pessimist.

That said, I do hope England can at least overcome Norway and teach someone how to "stay humble"...

Seventeen

This will be the last Counter post I make. I had picture posts for 18, 19 and 20 scheduled, but have deleted them now. These posts don't mark a birthday or a blog anniversary or anything celebratory like that, they are just a personal reminder of something for me. But because they are oblique and provided without context, people always comment with congratulatory messages that I then have to decline, and then everyone just feels awkward. So from now on, I'll just have to remember the date in my head. But for now, and for one last time on here...

Ye gods.

Randcamp: 4th of July

Another month, another Randcamp, and what better inspiration than the transatlantic celebration of freedom from tyrannical British rule. Searching "4th of July" threw up a lot of poor covers, but here are three original songs with that title.

Cassandra Sun are a four-piece from New York, three quarters of whom have beards. In their own words, they create "an eclectic brand of pop-oriented rock incorporating furious, prog-influenced drumming, bass as a counterpoint ... and textured, rhythmic guitar". So there.

The Dig are also a four-piece from New York, though none of them have beards. I've listened to their 4th of July and looked at their profile picture, yet cannot marry vocal and vocalist. Maybe you can.

Everson Pines break all the trends for this post. For a start there are five of them, and then they only come from Seattle. Whatever next? I quite like Pretty High (On the 4th of July), not least for its occasional unironic whoops - the band sound like they're having fun.

So, three tracks for the 4th of July. Which, if any, has you pledging allegiance to the flag? Or which makes you want to spew into the nearest available MAGA hat?

TLAP: St Peter's Without Original

Kickstarting the month with another drab alcohol-free ale review. Sorry.

St Peter's Without Original

What's it like? This comes from the Suffolk-based St Peter's brewery and, like many of their ales, comes in a vaguely medicinal bottle that wouldn't look out of place in a Victorian apothecary. Unfortunately for this reviewer, at least, their alcohol-free "Without Original" offering tasted vaguely medicinal too - it's just so excessively malty. If you like that, good for you, but this felt like a chore to drink. It's also quite sticky on the lips, which suggests a lot of sugar, though the maltiness overpowers the sweetness. They do a "Without Organic Pale Ale" and a "Without Gold" too, and maybe they're nicer, but this "Original" is not for me, sorry.

Would I drink it in a pub? No.

Would I drink more than one? No.

Would I drink it all night? No.

Stats: 0.0% ABV. Calories 26 kcal/100ml (markedly higher than most ales featured in this series). Currently £15.95 for 8x 500ml bottles, direct from St Peter's Brewery

Stars: ★★☆☆☆

A song to end, as usual. I guess it's hard to look much beyond Nilsson and Without You, but we've all heard that a million times. So here's Harry with a slightly different take, that might be new to you.

You can decide what's true

As a kid, taping my older brother's Police albums, I always had a soft spot for those songs written by drummer Stewart Copeland. They generally seemed a little less earnest than Sting compositions, and more exciting than the occasional Andy Summers offering. They were more fun, basically, and that's what you want in the last years of primary school, right? Whether it was the kooky spoken word intro to On Any Other Day, the relatable angst of Contact or the comedy of co-composition Peanuts, I was a fan of Copeland the songwriter almost as much as I was of Copeland the drummer. And boy, can he drum.

Anyway, here's Does Everyone Stare? from the band's second album, 1979's Regatta de Blanc. Copeland himself wrote about the genesis of this song in a 1982 issue of Musician magazine, thus:

"I recorded the demo for that at home. I had a little home studio at the time with wires going everywhere - I think I was running the guitar through the toaster, that sort of thing - and I was playing the piano part while I sang the song, or at least what was supposed to be the lyrics of the song. And just as I finished singing, all the wires in the room acted like a radio and picked up a signal of this opera. It was perfectly in time and perfectly in tune, even the mood and sentiment of the thing were absolutely perfect. So it went straight on tape, exactly in the place that it should have gone. It had to be a message from above that this was the way the song had to go. So we actually used that, my home demo, at the beginning of the studio recording."

Which is nice if true.

Talking of truth, this song gives us a great example of that situation where, if enough people repeat a falsehood, it becomes the accepted, illusory truth or consensus reality. There must be a word for that^☥, but anyway, if you Google the lyrics of this song, every result you find, without exception as far as I can see, includes the lines:

My shots will always misfire

...and...

I'm gonna write you a sonnet but I don't know where to start

But they're not correct, are they? Or have I really been mishearing (and mis-singing) them for 47 years?

Here's the song, and the lyrics as I hear them. You can decide what's true.

I change my clothes ten times before I take you on a date
I'm in a cold sweat, panic makes me late
I know you never asked for this
I know
My shots were always mis-timed
My shots will always miss

Does everyone stare this way at you?
I only look this way at you

I change my clothes ten times before I take you on a date
I get the heebie-jeebies, and my panic makes me late
I break into a cold sweat reaching for the phone
I let it ring twice before I chicken out and decide you're not at home

Does everyone stare the way I do?
I only stare this way at you

I never noticed the size of my feet
Until I kicked you in the shins
Will you ever forgive me
For the shape I'm in
For the shape I'm in

Does everyone stare the way I do?
I only stare this way at you

I wanna write you a sonnet but I don't know where to start
I'm so used to laughing at the things in my heart
Last of all I'm sorry 'cos you never asked for this
I can see I'm not your type and my shot will always miss
Always miss

Does everyone stare the way I do?
I only stare this way at you (repeat to fade)

P.S. In an earlier draft of this post, a typo led me to calling the album Regatta de Bland. Settle down at the back...

^☥ Baudrillardian, perhaps? "In a world of appearance, image, and illusion, Baudrillard suggests, reality disappears although its traces continue to nourish an illusion of the real." Although what Baudrillard would have made of the Internet in general, and lyric websites in particular, is not well documented, as far as I know...

Homonyms #5: Hot Hot Hot (!!!)

For the purposes of this blog, homonyms are different songs with the same title. And for the purposes of my sanity, I'm limiting each post to two songs, however many there may be that fit the bill.

Today's offerings seem very t(r)opical, labouring as we are under freakish June temperatures. Console yourselves with the thought that they won't be freakish in the future...

First up, the disco/party/club staple of our younger days. I have gone for this 80s version by Arrow, because it's the one I remember, rather than the 60s original by The Merrymen (or their hastily re-recorded 80s cash-in). All together now: olé, olé, olé, olé... etc.

And for contrast (who doesn't like contrast?), here are godlike geniuses The Cure, differentiating themselves slightly by adding three exclamation marks to their homonym.

One of these may make you want to embrace the heat. But which, dear reader, which?

Monday Night Nothing

What a lyric Malcolm Middleton wrote here.

On a Monday night I'm nothing
On a Tuesday night I'm nobody
On a Wednesday, Thursday, Friday night I'm sad
Then the weekend comes to haunt me
Of all the places I should be
Reminding me of the best times I ever had

So there's nothing wrong with being alone
No need to call the doctor
Sometimes people need to be by themselves
And there's nothing weird about hating yourself
When you've seen the hours I've spent
Darkness comes and darkness goes, just like my good times went

Old and driving
I'm tired from straying too far
My head won't give me a break
And the rest is making my history
I never seem to make the right decision anytime
I need to crash this piece of shit into a tree that fits

So I don't know how to finish this song
I'm happy now but for how long
I've a sad tune and I'll have to keep the tone
Well it's only a matter of time before I feel like shit again
I'm a happy army marching to defeat

Sunday shorts: You're Pretty Good Looking (For a Girl)

26 years old yesterday. Time, eh?

Blue Friday: You Might Be Happy Someday

I bang on about The Reds, Pinks and Purples (aka Glenn Donaldson) a lot, but make no apology for that.

This little slice of Marr-inflected melancholy is from 2020. I would say enjoy, but that doesn't seem quite the right sentiment.

You might be happy someday
But for now you're a sad mistake
The moon is way too bright
It's the dead of night, you're still awake
Just when you think it's looking up
Maybe you haven't failed enough

They burned your page in the book of love
That's a pain you weren't aware of

You might be someone someday
But for now you're clearly worse
You could always turn their heads around
Now your looks are just a curse

Get yourself to the hospital
Your so-called friends
They don't care at all
They don't care at all
They don't care at all

You might be happy someday
And things are gonna go your way
Go your way

Homonyms #4: In The City

For the purposes of this blog, homonyms are simply different songs with the same title. And for the purposes of my sanity, I'm limiting each post to two songs, however many there may be that fit the bill.

Today, a little something from The Who's proto-concept album A Quick One. Unusually for the band, In The City was written by Keith and John; indeed, only they originally played on it, though Pete added some overdubbed guitar later. A bit Beach-Boys-lite in places, it was originally the B-side to I'm a Boy in 1965, before making it onto the album a year later.

And then there's The Jam's debut single, a song that needs no further introduction. Now I'm not saying Weller is a magpie (I've said that before) but listen carefully to The Who track from around the 1m45 mark, then get into The Jam's opening line... it's just a tiny snippet, but it's note for note. Anyway, forget that - this is still fantastic, nearly 50 years later. Will it ever not be?

Other artists with noteworthy songs called In The City, to name but a few, include: Madness (brilliant), Razorlight (not brilliant), Adamski (not for me), Elastica (not their best) and, er, Hanson (not as bad as you might expect).

Sunrise, sunset

Amusements Minor is growing up fast. As I type this, he's about to sit down for his final GCSE, after which he will leave his current high school. He is celebrating this evening, not with his parents, but by going for a walk with another new development, his girlfriend. Sixth form and a new school awaits. Life awaits. It's all good but, you know...

Now I know that ought to make me think of this...

...but because of my exact age, it makes me think of this. If nothing else, it proves that even soft rock MOR ballsackery can sometimes be okay. Sorry (not sorry) but, as Rol says, sometimes you just have to irk the musos.

Blue Friday: Can't Let Go

This unremarkable cherry tree has been a part of my life as long as I can remember.

When I was young it had two other boughs going off in different directions, and the whole thing was sufficiently big and strong enough to support a treehouse that my father built out of reclaimed wood. The treehouse had a door on the side facing the farmer's field at the end of the garden, and a little hatch on the garden side that you could climb out and from there, grabbing hold of a stub of branch that just happened to be in the perfect place, swing out and drop down to the grass below. It felt massive, that drop, but can't have been much more than six or seven feet. Over time, the skeletal frames of very old and very broken TV sets were acquired from who knows where, and carted up into the treehouse. There, I would occupy myself removing the glass vacuum tubes (for yes, these were pre-transistor), and consider myself quite the scientist or, perhaps, an inventor.

Every summer, we'd get the big ladder out of the shed, unfold it to its maximum length, and clamber up and over the tree (and treehouse), picking cherries, trying to get the best of the crop before the birds did. I can still feel the sun-warmed felt of the treehouse roof under my fingertips, and the sticky spots where birds had deposited cherry stones.

When my dog died after a short illness, I was heartbroken and had the day off school, despite being in what would now be called Year 11. We buried him under the tree that evening. Dad had called in a favour from someone at work, and came home with a small, simple cross made from two pieces of aluminium, riveted together in the middle. It still marks the spot.

As I got older, the treehouse came down and, later, so did two of the boughs, as they became increasingly unstable and precarious in high winds. And no-one has picked cherries from this tree in a very long time now, except maybe the birds. Even they don't get many - it's almost like the tree has no more fruit to give.

The tree still stands though, for now, and still manages a decent show of blossom every year. I marvel at its longevity and, as I mow around it on visits to see my folks, drift back through the years looking at my dog's tarnished silver cross. Inevitably there will come a time, in the not-too-distant future, when this tree is not a part of my life any more, except in memory. But for now, and until then, it still casts spells as well as shadows.

This is Can't Let Go by The Divine Comedy, from last year's album Rainy Sunday Afternoon.

Homonyms #3: One Love

For the purposes of this blog, homonyms are simply different songs with the same title. And for the purposes of my sanity, I'm limiting each post to two songs, however many there may be that fit the bill.

Today, a suggestion from the Blogfather, JC, at the inestimable (New) Vinyl Villain, specifically One Love by Bob Marley & The Wailers (much loved by Amusements Minor) and also One Love by The Stone Roses (much loved by me, not least for its ability to conjure a summer job working in a high street electrical store, where MTV played it every hour on the satellite TV demo set-up).

For completeness, and to do him justice, I should add that JC also noted songs by Massive Attack and Nas of the same name. It's me that's added the two homonym rule.

TLAP: Athletic Run Wild IPA

Here we go with another worthless alcohol-free ale review. God help us all.

Athletic Run Wild IPA

What's it like? I had high hopes for this. After all, the Athletic Brewing Company website is keen to highlight how many awards it has won. And you know what? It's alright. Not stellar, not offensive, but alright. It has a hint of generic citrus to it, but I was expecting a little more hoppiness for what is marketed as an IPA. Maybe I'm just old-fashioned. Biggest problem though is common to a lot of low and alcohol-free beers: would you even know you were drinking an ale, if not for the visual reinforcement of seeing it in a glass? I drank this straight from a can, heathen that I am, and was grateful for the label to tell me what I was having.

Would I drink it in a pub? Yes.

Would I drink more than one? Maybe.

Would I drink it all night? Probably not.

Stats: 0.5% ABV. Calories 17 kcal/100ml. Currently £5 for 4x 330ml cans, from Tesco

Stars: ★★★⯪☆

A song to end, as usual. Should I go with athletic or running wild? How about both? This is Wild Wolves by Athlete and it's quite like the ale: inoffensive, serviceable but a bit anodyne. Sorry.

Randcamp: Junebug

Here we go again, another trio of otherwise unheard but thematically linked songs from the sonic smorgasbord that is Bandcamp. Randcamp, in other words. What would "Junebug" throw up, I wondered? Here are three of the better search results.

The splendidly-named Couples Therapy are a four-piece from Brighton, making what they describe as "melodic punk". I'm not sure I agree with that description, even if I'm also not sure what would be better. Regardless, there are moments in their Junebug that don't make me want to punch myself in the ears, even if it does overstay its welcome.

Paul Sticca is from Massachusetts. His Junebug is a hazy acoustic drone, with a decidedly alt-country vocal delivery and a little bit of plaintive harmonica. Does not overstay its welcome.

Kitner are also from Massachusetts, specifically Boston. There are moments in their take on Junebug that put me slightly me in mind of the Goo-Goo Dolls, at least in some of the power-pop guitar chords. Overstaying a welcome? What welcome?

Which junebug are you pleased to hear buzzing around? And which has you reaching for the fly-swatter?

Homonyms #2: I Can't Help Myself

In linguistics, homonyms are words which are either homographs — words that mean different things but have the same spelling — or homophones — words that mean different things but have the same pronunciation. For the purposes of this blog, however, homonyms are simply different songs with the same title.

To whit, here's a slice of classic Holland-Dozier-Holland Motown from the Four Tops, and a very different but no less classic few minutes of unparalleled 90s indie from Gene, both called I Can't Help Myself. Only one has the subtitle Sugar Pie, Honey Bunch though...

Not the first time I've blogged different versions of the Gene track, but I make no apologies for that. Anyway, which homonym leaves you most unable to help yourself?

TLAP: Theakston Nowt Peculier

Sigh: yet another pointless alcohol-free ale review. Don't worry, there won't be too many more of these.

Theakston Nowt Peculier

What's it like? Aside from winning the prize for best pun name for an alcohol-free version of an established ale, this is actually alright. It's a 0.0% version of the well-established Old Peculier and, unlike some other AF clones of well-loved beers, pulls off the dealcoholising trick without losing the identifiable taste of the source brand. The result is a rich, dark, fruity ale that isn't too sweet and slips down quite nicely. Whisper it quietly but I think I prefer it to Old Peculier.

Would I drink it in a pub? Yes.

Would I drink more than one? Yes.

Would I drink it all night? Possibly.

Stats: 0.0% ABV. Calories 26 kcal/100ml. Currently £2.25 for a 500ml bottle, from Sainsbury's

Stars: ★★★★☆

A song, then, for a rich and peculier brew. Only one choice, I guess, from a band with Yorkshire roots (just like the brewery).

Homonyms #1: Monochrome

In linguistics, Wikipedia tells us, homonyms are words which are either homographs — words that mean different things but have the same spelling — or homophones — words that mean different things but have the same pronunciation.

For the purposes of this blog, homonyms are different songs with the same title, and a shabby excuse for a new occasional series to keep this shambles ticking over.

I was reminded by Strangeways' excellent recent ICA post at The New Vinyl Villain of The Sundays' Monochrome, which in turn brought to mind the more recent Wedding Present track of the same name. So here they both are.

Which most floats your boat? Runaround... now!

What do I know?

"But Dad, it's awful!"

"I think it might do alright. It's very ... Eurovision."

So ran the conversation between Amusements Minor and myself in the run-up to yesterday's contest, discussing the UK's entry, Eins, Zwei, Drei by Look Mum, No Computer, aka Sam Battle.

One point from the judges.

No points from the public.

25th and stone cold last.

What do I know?

The sound of all good things breaking

The comments on the last post about anyone Reform-related being hoist by their own petard made me think of this song. Sometimes it's hard not to just agree with The Decemberists that Everything is Awful.

Everything, everything, everything... everything is awful
Oh everything, everything, everything ... everything is awful
Everything is awful, everything is

What's that crashing sound
That follows us around?
That's the sound of all things good breaking
Put your fears to rest
You know it's for the best
As a choir of angels sings

Everything, everything, everything... everything is awful
Oh everything, everything, everything ... everything is awful
Everything is awful, everything is

I know you've worked so hard
To hoist your own petard
Must be so nice, the point caught in your side
Lay down your heavy head
It's safer hid in bed
And let those voices ring

Everything, everything, everything... everything is awful
Oh everything, everything, everything ... everything is awful
Everything is awful, everything is

La la la la la
La la la la awful
Everything is
La la la la la
La la la la awful
Would you kindly keep it down?
La la la la la
La la la la awful
Just try to get some sleep
La la la la la
La la la la awful
Everything is

Mirrored bubbles

One of many problems with social media and the act of "following" others is that you tend to only follow those that align with your orthodoxy. This leads to the inevitable mirrored bubble, whereby you only see or are exposed to that which you already believe or feel.

It's not much better, for me at least, in the real world. I work in a liberal setting and live in a semi-affluent rural location, close to a small, famously liberal, outward-looking, welcoming city. It's another mirror for me, basically.

So the apparent scale of Reform's success in yesterday's council elections has taken me somewhat by surprise. I was expecting them to do well - I try to get my news from reliable, unbiased sources, and that had prepared me for the batrachoidal one having something to gloat about. But that they would do quite so well? I wasn't really ready for that. Why? Because I, in my mirrored bubble, couldn't believe that that many people could be so blind...

How has it come to this? Reform UK plc (for they are a public limited company - really, follow the money, it's shocking bordering on corrupt) has successfully coralled a disparate bunch of chancers, bigots, failed Tories (all of whom have hitched their wagons to Reform purely to keep their personal gravy trains running) and the blatantly self-interested into a party, financed it fantastically (with lots of questionable donors and donations), hit upon a single issue (not wanting "them" over "here") with which to engage a section of the electorate, and then fabricated a tissue of soundbites, preposterous claims and lies to grow their fan base. And it really is about fandom, and the Farage cult. That, and money (for him and his mates/donors/cronies, but not for you).

Speaking of the massive cult, when, if ever, has such a wealthy, entitled, privately-educated member of the elite (that he claims to deride) ever managed to convince the working (wo)man, so successfully, that he is their guy? To the extent that they are lining up to vote for him and his own self-interest, and contrary to their own needs? Why have an essentially decent person who is basically trying to do the right thing, and accept that this is a long-term project, when you can have a celebrity caricature, promising instant solutions, whose only real interest in politics is what he can get out of it for himself, and to hell with Joe Public? What terrible madness is this?

I just don't get it. At most, the next general election is three years away. We are sleepwalking into a world of PM Nige, and that is a genuinely disturbing prospect. The followers of chaos, out of control indeed...

They're going wild, the call came in
At early morning predawn then
The followers of chaos, out of control
They're numbering the monkeys
The monkeys and the monkeys
The followers of chaos, out of control

The call came in to party central
A meeting of the green and simple
Try to tell us something we don't know

They're meeting at the monument
The call came in, the monument
To liberty and honour under the honour roll
They gathered up the cages
The cages and courageous
The followers of chaos, out of control

The call came in to party central
A meeting of the green and simple
Try to tell us something we don't know

Disturbance at the Heron House
A stampede at the monument
To liberty and honour under the honour roll
Just a gathering of grunts and greens (Just)
The cogs and grunts and hirelings
A meeting of a mean idea to hold

Feeding time has come and gone
They'll lose their heart and head for home
Try to tell us something we don't know
We don't know, everyone allowed
Ooh, everyone allowed
Everyone allowed

TLAP: Bear Island Noughty Bear 0.5% IPA

Sigh: another pointless alcohol-free ale review. Anyway, there I was, in a lovely country pub in my old stomping ground, looking for something light to accompany dinner. Behold!

Bear Island Noughty Bear 0.5% IPA

What's it like? Bear Island is the umbrella name given by esteemed Faversham brewery Shepherd Neame to all their alcohol-free offerings, with Noughty Bear (see what they did there?) being their IPA. I was a little tentative, as I haven't always got on too well with some Shepherd Neame ales, despite being a Man of Kent myself. And I was sort of right to be cautious; whilst the tasting notes claimed "the taste of sweet mangos, hints of passion fruit and tart grapefruit", frankly I struggled to detect too much of them. And it's a very dry ale, if you know what I mean. Don't get me wrong, it was inoffensive, and whilst I clearly liked it enough to have two, that was mostly because I was just very thirsty. It's alright, but it won't win prizes.

Would I drink it in a pub? Yes.

Would I drink more than one? At a push.

Would I drink it all night? No, it's too dry.

Stats: 0.5% ABV. Calories 21 kcal/100ml. Currently £20 for twelve 330ml bottles, direct from Shepherd Neame

Stars: ★★★⯪☆

A song, then, to keep my last half dozen readers coming back. Should I go with "nought" or "bear"? How about Bear by The Antlers? All together now, "We're too old. We're not old, old at all. Just too old..."

At dead of night

Don't worry, I'm not about to launch into another series of Cover Charge (too much work, not in the mood). But here is a cover version: Electric Soft Parade with their interpretation of Jealousy by The Pet Shop Boys. It was released on a 2008 compilation Rewind - The 80's Cover Project (which also includes Northern Portrait covering Cliff Richard, can you believe?)

Anyway, here's ESP adding darkness to PSB's already-dark source material. It's right up my street today.

At dead of night, when strangers roam
The streets in search of anyone who'll take them home
I lie alone, the clock strikes three
And anyone who wanted to could contact me
At dead of night, 'til break of day
Endless thoughts and questions keep me awake
It's much too late

Where've you been? Who've you seen?
You didn't call when you said you would
Do you lie? Do you try
To keep in touch? You know you should
I've tried to see your point of view
But could not hear or see for jealousy

I never knew time passed so slow
I wish I'd never met you, or that I could bear to let you go
At dead of night, 'til break of day
Endless thoughts and questions keep me awake
It's much too late

Where've you been? Who've you seen?
You didn't call when you said you would
Do you lie? Do you try
To keep in touch? You know you could
I've tried to see your point of view
But could not hear or see for jealousy

I never knew 'til I met you

Randcamp: Mayday

Searching Bandcamp for "Mayday" again throws up quite a lot of electronica and techno, most of which I swerved in researching this. But here are three other tracks for your spring festival. I trust you gathered greenery and wildflowers last night, to bring in the May?

Wires & Lights are a Berlin-based four-piece who, I'm willing to bet, listened to a fair amount of Joy Division in their formative years.

I think this is a first for me, featuring an artist from Argentina. Ozimov hail from Buenos Aires, which hasn't stopped them evincing the sounds of peak 80s Jean Michel Jarre on their Mayday.

Off to Toronto next, where High wobble on the tightrope between late 90s indie guitars and distressing soft-rock ballsackery, before falling off on the wrong side. In my view.

Three Randcamp choices for your 1st of May. Which, if any, might you still recall by the end of the Bank Holiday weekend?

What headphones were made for

Eighteen years after Weller at the BBC comes another compilation of Beeb TV and radio recordings by the Modfather, imaginatively entitled Weller at the BBC Volume 2. It's a 3-CD set of 48 tracks spanning that period, and it's mostly excellent, occasionally just good. His cover of Billie Eilish's What Was I Made For?, recorded in 2024 for Jo Whiley's Radio 2 Sofa Sessions, is a real highlight, and perfect for a certain state of mind. See what you think.

As someone who, many years ago and in a former life, used to sell hi-fi, I was quietly pleased to note Paul's headphones in this video. They are Beyerdynamic DT 770 PRO and, if you look really closely, you can see they are the 80 Ohm impedance variant, as you might expect in a studio. Let me tell you, these will sound absolutely fantastic. I used to love Beyerdynamic headphones, and they were an easy sell to customers looking at high-end kit - all you had to do was get them to take a listen, and they'd be getting their wallets out. Not cheap, but worth it.

Of course I've long since moved on from the world of hi-fi staff discount, so have to content myself with more modest kit. I have some very cheap unbranded earpods for commuting, which are okay. I also have some Aftershokz AS600 bone-conduction headphones for cycling, but don't use those very often, excellent though they are. For more serious wire-free listening, I have a pair of Sony WH-CH720N Bluetooth cans, which perform some pretty amazing noise-cancelling wizardry whilst also delivering proper sound. Best of all, if I'm at New Amusement Towers and don't mind being tethered, I have a pair of cabled Sony MDR-10RC which, though getting on a bit now, might be the best headphones I've ever had, even if they lack the 720N's out-and-about real-world abilities.

What about you, what are your headphone weapons of choice?

TLAP: Big Drop Brewing Co. Pine Trail Pale Ale

Sorry, I've got naff-all else to write, so here's another alcohol-free ale review. You know how the story starts, of course. Me, in a boutique hotel bar, asking more in hope than expectation if they have any low- or no-alcohol bitter. They had two, one of which I'd had before, so I ordered the other one, which was...

Big Drop Brewing Co. Pine Trail Pale Ale

What's it like? I've featured Big Drop's AF IPA before, and rated it highly, only bemoaning the fact that I sort of forgot I was having a beer. It's the same with this pale ale. It goes down very easily indeed, and has a hint of lime that made it doubly refreshing for the weary cyclist. If you're looking for a strong bitter taste, you might need to look elsewhere. Ditto if you're cash-strapped, as I was charged £5.75 for a 330ml bottle (but then that might have been down to my pretentious surroundings). That said, this ticks plenty of boxes, and I can easily envisage quaffing several on a hot summer's evening.

Would I drink it in a pub? Yes.

Would I drink more than one? Yes.

Would I drink it all night? Possibly (in a cheaper pub).

Stats: 0.5% ABV. Calories 18.5 kcal/100ml. Currently £24.99 for a dozen at Big Drop Brewing Co.'s Amazon store

Stars: ★★★★☆

There's only one song to feature for a pale ale, right? Trouble is, I couldn't decide whether to go for the Velvet Underground original or REM's cover. Bollocks to it, have both.

If I could only keep one of those, I'd take REM's version. I know that's probably heresy, but I don't care.

TLAP: Doom Bar Zero

You know the drill by know: a beer was required to accompany a Friday night pizza. Alcohol was not required. Hence...

Doom Bar Zero

What's it like? This hits the spot pretty well, an amber ale that looks, smells and tastes right. I've talked on here before about the risks of trying to neuter an existing beer but Sharp's have done a good job, replicating the taste of their very successful Doom Bar, whilst removing the headache factor. What of the taste then? The brewery website describes it as "subtle yet complex" so make of that what you will. All I can tell you is that it's a bit fruity, quite moreish and, if you like Doom Bar, this is close enough for you to like too.

Would I drink it in a pub? Yes.

Would I drink more than one? Yes.

Would I drink it all night? Probably.

Stats: 0.0% ABV. Calories 13 kcal/100ml. Currently £2.25 a pop at Sainsbury's

Stars: ★★★★☆

A song, then. Obviously it's going to be Gay Bar by Electric Six, for the child's play rewording that would enable you to sing "Doom Bar" should you feel so inclined. Plus it has a typically barking video, so win-win.

Halfway Home

I've sort of run out of things to blog about. In fact, I'm having one of those periodic losses of mojo that have befallen me a lot in the last few years. What's the point?

Time, then, to fall back on the good ol' YouTube Watch Later list, to see what I might have left there for just such an occasion.

Not much, as it turns out. Seems I have been to the well a few times too many. I mean, I'm loathe to say I'm scraping the barrel, because this is better than that, but it's a handy metaphor for what is probably the last time, for now at least, that I can fall back on the Watch Later list. Henceforth, the cupboard is bare. We're going out with a good'un though, for this is Halfway Home by TV On The Radio, from 2008. It strikes me that this is what Peter Gabriel would sound like in some parallel universe where he was born in 1975 and went to school in Brooklyn instead of Charterhouse.

Blue Friday: No Feeling

I heard No Feeling by American Football (featuring Brendan Yates) on 6 Music the other night. I knew nothing about the Midwest four-piece or the featured guest vocalist, on loan from Turnstile apparently, but the song stopped me in my tracks. Not literally, fortunately, as I was driving, but metaphorically. It's quite something, I think, to write or sing or create something beautiful, poignant and, perhaps, hopeful from such bleak thoughts and feelings.

Whatever; this might not be one to listen to too often, but it is one to listen to. The band are touring their imminent new album LP4, from whence this comes, in the summer and have a smattering of UK dates if you're interested.

There’s nothing new to say or do
There’s nothing new to crave
Tell the doctors I’m done
The kids, “Adieu”
And Mother, “Désolé”
One last goodbye and one last kiss
One last dance with the Goddess Nyx

No feeling
No pain
No one to blame
Forever awaits
It’s just an eternal blank page

Some bones stand on their own
Some bones are carried
Mine are either, neither, or both -
They just ache to be buried

Help me dig a hole!
I’m already cold!
(I honestly never planned on getting old…)

I know you’re waiting for some sign of life but the pain is too much to endure
Goodnight…

One last goodbye and one last wish
One last slow dance with the Goddess Nyx

No feeling
No pain
No one’s to blame
Forever awaits
It’s just an eternal blank page

Look who volunteered to play the fool

This is I Played The Fool by Michael Stipe and Andrew Watt. It's the theme tune to a new Steve Carell-powered comedy series called Rooster which looks intriguing but you need to subscribe to HBO Max to watch it, so who knows? But we get a new Stipe song out of it, so... it's not his finest work, but it is nice to hear his familiar voice singing something new. And the lyrics are resonating with me.

Anyone seen Rooster and know whether it's worth a subscription?

Oh, I
Oh, I
I played the fool

A good guy, bad guy
Punchline, frown
The joke fell flat
I′ll come around
Look who volunteered to play the fool

A sea change came
It knocked me down
I'm setting up
The punchline now
Look who tried too hard to play it cool

Oh, I
Oh, I
Oh, I
Oh, I
Oh, I
Oh, I
I played the fool

Laugh at me
I′m trying, trying
Falling sometimes
Sometimes flying
Cry me an ocean
Of one liners
Cruel, cruel, cruel

Sticks and stones
You know the rhyme
You know it landed
Hard this time
Look who tried too hard to play it cool

We laugh and move on
With our lives
I'm bootstrap pained
But nеvermind
I'll find a way
To rewrite our bеginnings

Oh, I
Oh, I
Oh, I
Oh, I
Oh, I
Oh, I
I played the fool

Laugh at me
I′m trying, trying
Falling sometimes
Sometimes flying
Cry me an ocean
Of one liners
Cry me an ocean
Of one liners
Cry me an ocean
Of one liners
Cruel, cruel, cruel

Use a clothes dryer as a hiding place

I saw this PIF on social media this morning. Dumb Ways to Die was an Australian public awareness campaign made by Metro Trains in Melbourne back in the halcyon year of 2012. It's novel and silly and memorable ... all the things you want from a PIF.

It's also very ear-wormy, with its finger-picking guitar, lo-fi alt vocal and happy slacker vibe. I've been lah-lahing it all day. Now, by the gift of aural infection, I pass it on to you.

Blue Friday: Pain Perdu

Literally, Pain Perdu translates as "lost bread", but it's actually what the French call French toast, I think. Maybe Mr Gedge is trying some semi-clever Franglais to make a pun on "pain". Regardless, despite what the video caption says, this is uncensored as far as I can tell.

I wonder if you still see people that we used to know
I wonder if you still go to places that we used to go
I wonder if you still listen to the bands we used to see
I wonder if you still watch the same TV shows as me

I’d like to know (don’t ask me why I do)
It’s a lifetime ago but I can’t forget you

I wonder if you still lie when somebody asks your age
I wonder if you still spoil stories by reading the last page

I’d like to know (don’t ask me why I do)
It’s a lifetime ago but I can’t forget you

And in all of the years since then and, this is such a dumb thing
I just can’t help it, I think about you every day
And in all of the years when I thought I was looking for something
I already had it and then I threw it all away

I wonder if you still cry when you read some soppy book
I wonder if you still laugh when your grandmother says: “Fuck”

I’d like to know (don’t ask me why I do)
It’s a lifetime ago but I can’t forget you

And in all of the years since then and, this is such a dumb thing
I just can’t help it, I think about you every day
And in all of the years when I thought I was looking for something
I already had it and then I threw it all away

In session tonight...

In the comments after a recent post about the weather, Adam from the inestimably brilliant Bagging Area made the observation that "Dew Point would be a good name for a band or project - something ambient maybe." C from the always-wonderful Sun-Dried Sparrows added that she would "give Weather Underground a listen too." I added the usual jokes required whenever something sounds vaguely like an obscure band name, talking about imagined Peel Sessions, and fantasy signings for Rough Trade. I probably patted myself on the back too.

Anyway, it all reminded me of the time I tweeted about seeing Abundance Mindset open for The Fall, on the strength of this cartoon...

Lots has changed since then. I don't use Twitter/X any more, simply because Elon and his audience raise too many antibodies in me. Dilbert cartoons like the one above are much harder to find online now too, since the cancellation of cartoonist Scott Adams. He died as well, of course, which probably doesn't help matters. What hasn't changed, since I work in the world of higher education, is that my salary still doesn't keep up with inflation, and that I'm still peddling the same simple jokes to a readership I can probably count on my fingers. Christ!

A song, then. Here's the actual Fall, in session for John Peel, a mere 46 years ago. This is Container Drivers, for no other reason than it makes me smile more than my own predictable jokes.