Thursday 29 October 2009

Krautrock: The Rebirth of Germany


It may only be up on the BBC i-player for a few more days, I don't know, but if you are interested in alternative music or are inspired by cultural revolution, I'd urge you to watch 'Krautrock: The Rebirth of Germany'.

Through charting the rise of bands such as Neu!, Can, Faust and of course Kraftwerk, the show really conveys how the creative vibe for social change inspired Germans to reinvent themselves in the latter half of the last century.

Having been to Germany and Berlin in particular a couple of times, it certainly made its mark on me (and yes, that is a pun).

Friday 16 October 2009

Album Review: Ignore The Ignorant - The Cribs


****
'Ignore the Ignorant' is another generous helping of Lancashire guitar driven indie, packed full of songs that will force their way instantly into the indie-kid's affections.

'Cheat On Me' with its vintage Marr contribution is one of my favourite singles of the year and opener 'We Were Aborted' is crafted into a striking comment on fidelity and exploitation - "Mid-shelf masturbation/Leaves a smear on half the nation".

More importantly however, The Cribs have evolved from producing strings of catchy hits to writing songs that are really something beautiful to behold. In particular this is true of 'We Share the Same Skies' and 'Last Year's Snow', the latter rejoicing in the line, "Yesterday's bouquet/Looks a little sad today." I love the sentiment evoked here, truly poetic.

I'm also in thrall to 'Save Your Secrets' which initially reminds me of 'Revolver' era Beatles with its high melody and blissful harmonies over lyrics that are wonderfully melancholic, "You are far more likely/To be devoured than empowered/By your sense of romance." However, then the mood changes altogether with the chorus rolling in like Kurt Cobain in a wheelchair, "Save your secrets/For those who deserve it." - marvellous.

'Victim of Mass Production' and 'Ignore the Ignorant' are further gems and although the album's not without its questionable moments (I'm not really sure about 'Emasculate Me' for example) as a whole, it truly is evidence of how The Cribs have become a band to reckon with, capable not only of rebel rousing anthems, but also of delivering on a greater artistic level with delicacy and poignancy.

Wednesday 14 October 2009

Year Zero's

With my mind in a permanently addled and sleep deprived state recently, many strange thoughts have occurred to me. They mainly enter the old brain box during the course of the morning commute, often triggered by a random newspaper headline glimpsed over the shoulder of a stranger, before passing out again and into the ether.

One such thought however, has stuck with me for a couple of days - it's maddening. I hope by writing about it I will dispel the thought from my conscience as if it were some kind of ancient curse in need of exorcising - "I need an old priest and a young priest, and failing that get me a blog upon which I can post nonsense".

Why, when we refer to the current calendar year of our Lord, do we say 'two thousand and nine'? Not 'twenty nine' nor 'twenty hundred and nine' but specifically 'two thousand and nine'?

By next year we will undoubtedly be saying 'twenty ten' rather than 'two thousand and ten' and we're already preparing for the 'twenty twelve Olympics'! The equivalent decade of the last century is always 'nineteen 'o' nine' or 'nineteen hundred and nine' So why change now?!

I wonder what choice was made even further back at the turn of the last millennium? Did 'King Ethelred the Unready' refer to his reign over England as spanning the year 'One thousand', and if so, why precisely was he 'unready'?

Did he, when signing off his Christmas speech, wish everyone a "very, happy and peaceful one thousand and one" unaware that every other upstanding citizen was saying 'ten hundred and one' and therefore suffering a lifetime of humiliation at the hands of his loyal subjects for not conducting the proper research?

You can bet your bottom dollar that by the turn of the next millennium it will change again. Perhaps, we'll refer to the date as 'three, triple zero' or maybe we'll be done with the whole thing and just settle for giving the year in binary, and don't even get me started on whether we refer to the current decade as the 'noughties'.

I think I'm slowly losing my mind....

Monday 12 October 2009

Album Review: Humbug - Arctic Monkeys


****
"Bah humbug", Ebenezer Scrooge once spat. The modern day equivalent has probably been emanating forth from many a 'Monkeys' fan in recent weeks fuelled I suspect by the bands departure from anthemic, booze infused ode's to nights on the razz in favour of a more considered approach.

Considered approach or not, they still can't get album covers right. 'Favourite Worse Nightmare' had an absolute stinker but 'Humbug's' is as bland as John Craven reading the shipping forecast after an overdose on Night Nurse.

At first, the music appears to have little more pep. 'Crying Lightning' didn't exactly take the world by storm on release but, perfectly exemplifying this album, it is, to use a well worn term, 'a grower'.

Gradually, 'Humbug' reveals its considerable charms, layered as it is with hidden wonders, and although it is hard to pick out tracks with real 'single' potential, you find that all play their part in bringing a little extra sass to the 'Arctic Monkeys' repertoire, perhaps too much in opener 'My Propeller', hardly a subtle euphemism for Alex Turner's manhood.

'Fire and the Thud' flickers with a new found intensity whilst 'Dance Little Liar' growls and snarls, an infectious base riff rolling around your ear drums. 'Cornerstone', evokes an image of Jimmy Stewart in the film 'Vertigo', desperately seeking the woman he once loved, whilst 'Secret Door' purs with an assured air.

Despite the inevitable criticism this album will receive, in reality it is extremely hard to fault and although gone are Turner's whimsical ditties, he's managed to replace them with shadowy glimpses which in many ways suggest so much more, "You can never get it spotless when there's dirt beneath the dirt" - Mysterious, sinister and superb!

Friday 2 October 2009

I'm the Daddy!


It's been a while since I last blogged (as far back as September 1st) and, as most of you (maybe all of you) who read this will know, it's as a result of the biggest event of my life taking place at 22:25 on September 13th.

It almost seems impossible to write about new fatherhood without sounding cliched, gushing and self-important, yet by trying to avoid these traps you only end up sounding trite, flippant or downright uncaring.

In a way though, this paradox is as good a metaphor as any for explaining the wondrous, dream like state that ensues after the birth of your child. It feels like both everything and nothing all at the same time.

I should explain. Often, the question posed to a new father more than any other is, "So how does it feel to be a Dad?" This is never answered truthfully of course but I expect for many, as in my case, it actually feels no different at all to when you were a 'non-Dad'.

I'm still the same relatively irresponsible young man, with the same cultural likes, dislikes, character flaws and foibles, and it certainly hasn't changed my outlook on the world overnight. I'm no more or less conscious of global warming, street crime or the state of education even though I probably should be.

My new 'father' status is instead defined by individual moments, gradually enlightening me to the life that lies ahead. For example, when I worried the first time I saw my baby sneeze or the warm affection I felt when he first gurgled contentment as I rocked him to sleep in my arms.

Perhaps most strikingly, one morning at 3 o'clock, when having tried for hours to settle a baby who just simply wouldn't stop crying, despite being fed, changed and burped, my thoughts weren't of how terrible a night I was having but simply of wishing I could put right whatever it was that was wrong.

Of course, it would be churlish of me to say that it wasn't stressful, that I wasn't aware of how much I just wanted to get some sleep. However, therein lies my point.

So far, being a father has been both elating and depressing, both worrying and carefree, both fun and excrutiating, both everything and nothing. Yet despite the whirlwind I currently find myself in, what I can say with absolute certainty is that I love him.

It's as simple as that, and when all is said and done, for me and my boy, my Georgie boy, that really is everything I need to know right now.