Where gravity is dead

Laura Veirs, Where Gravity Is Dead

Here comes de backlash: CRASH!

'We live in de world that time BeGATT
Time to check de data debris an change de format
All de way from de frontline here comes de backlash
Bad news outnational announcing de crash!'
(Asian Dub Foundation: Crash)

An 'Impossible Invention'...but oh-so beautiful.

Bach, Invention 1

Just be thankful

"Though you may not drive a great big cadillac,
Gangster whitewalls tv antenna in the back.
You may not have a car at all,
But just remember brothers and sisters
You can still stand tall:
Just be thankful for what you've got..."

Be Thankful For What You've Got, Massive Attack/William DeVaughn 

"Waiting for Pete Doherty to die..." (The Indelicates)

Forget the Arena hagiography, this song by The Indelicates says it all.

A Buckley fan can't believe that Jeff is actually dead (having seen him the night before on YouTube).

Jeff live(s)! 

"Only wish that you were here, you know I'm seeing it so clear, I've been afraid." (David Gray)

Babylon, David Gray


For IF. 

Dresden Dolls at The Roundhouse (Camden) November 4th

Your Ghost (Kristin Hersh)

"So I pad through the dark
And call you on the phone
Push your old numbers
And let your house ring
Till I wake your ghost...."



Your Ghost, Kristin Hersh 

Falling Slowly (The Frames)

So the Guardian wants to know about our undiscovered musical treasures. If I told you that the missing link between the current batch of pan-ethnic troubadours (Bonnie Prince Billy, Damien Rice, Sufjan Stevens) and the epic noisemeisters of the 90s (Pixies, Nirvana, Flaming Lips) was an Irish band whose lead-singer played Outspan Foster in Alan Parker’s ‘The Commitments’ and had Jeff Buckley pitching in as his roadie, you’d tell me to feck off back to Shamrocksville.

But Glen Hansard and The Frames are this band, and ‘For The Birds’ is this album. Their new one, 'The Cost', ain't half bad either.

I’m not Irish, I’m certainly no Bonophile, and I don’t need obscurities as an external validation of cool. I just know that if this album doesn’t make your secret weapons list, we may as well remove the word ‘ecstasy’ from the dictionary and replace it with ‘critical consensus’.

Falling Slowly, The Frames [LISTEN]

"She was smitten from the first by a curious fellow, she said I love the way you talk." (Elvis Costello)

"And if you want
We'll make it good
Before my mood swings."



My Mood Swings, Elvis Costello

Quiet, I am sleeping, in here, need a little hope. (Smashing Pumpkins)

"Be ashamed
Of the mess you've made."

Quiet, Smashing Pumpkins

"You sit there in your heartache, waiting on some beautiful boy to save you from your old ways, you play forgiveness, watch it now, here he comes..."

"I'm over the ocean, over the hills, over the dell, over the fireline." (Low)

You can't get much quieter than a Low song. Not sonically quiet, because Mimi Parker is whacking that snare drum laconically but fairly insistently. But quiet in a slow-down, quell the monkey mind's insistent chatter manner.

I used to go to sleep listening to lullaby-Low, I'm sure we all have. It's music that encapsulates that moment when you're just about to drop off and bed is the best place to be: cosy and quiet and agreeably empty. Like the grave.

Over The Ocean, Low

Let's Make Love and Listen to Death From Above (Cansei Ser Sexy)

For Ben.

Music sounds better on grass

Don't Be Afraid, You Have Just Got Your Eyes Closed

Don't Be Afraid, Mum

"They tell us "autumn's a-comin', and soon everything around us will die..." (The Flaming Lips)

My Cosmic Autumn Rebellion, The Flaming Lips



For Josh.

"How bad, how good does it need to get?"



Change, Tracy Chapman

For IF.

"If you knew that you would die today, saw the face of love and God, would you change?" (Tracy Chapman)

"How bad, how good does it need to get?"



Change, Tracy Chapman

For IF.

"Punks in the beerlight, two burnouts in love." (Silver Jews)

"Ain't you heard the news?
Adam and Eve were jews."



Punks In The Beerlight, Silver Jews

For Karl.

Diventa Blu (Arizona)

Diventa Blu, Arizona (LISTEN)

For IGIF.

"I like you mostly late at night" (Life Without Buildings)

Super Shine (Boredoms)

My shine
My shine




His shine
His shine

Super Shine, Boredoms (LISTEN)

For Mark.

"What a drag it is, the shape I'm in" (Razorlight)

"I'm not happy when I try to fake it." (Lionel Richie/Faith No More)

Easy, Lionel Richie/Faith No More



For Rebekah

"You're on the bottom." (Bob Dylan)

Idiot Wind, Bob Dylan
Listen

For Andrew.

"Nothing's gonna change this painted frown." (The Magnetic Fields)

"Nobody wants you
When you're a circus clown.
I should know
I looked all over town."

I Looked All Over Town, Magnetic Fields.



For Ken.

"People say she looks like a cow. Let them laugh, you're a real cowboy." (Jocari)

"Love is an animal of the farm,
If you don't fear it.
If you feed it,
Love will do you no harm."



Love Is An Animal of The Farm, Jocari

For Fabien and IF.

"Can you treat it like an oil-well when it's underground, out of sight?" (Pavement)

"And if the sight is just a whore sign
Can it make enough sense to me? "

In The Mouth A Desert, Pavement



"Hard to choose from all the riches of the Slanted and Enchanted album. Am a massive believer in all of it though. I believe in a voice that squeaks for a generation of fragile and pissed-off flaneurs. I believe in cheap, scuzzy, squiggly guitars zipping around like pollocky streaks of strop. I believe in false starts (cf. 'Loretta's Scars'). I believe in the falsetto gibberish of a melodic bonbon: all those lovely woo-woo-woos ('In The Mouth A Desert') and sha-la-la-las ('Trigger Cut'). I believe in snazzy tunes that grow on you after the third (or fourth, or fifth) listen. But I also believe in a certain amount of deranged howling (cf. 'Conduit For Sale', and the neurotic 'Chesley's Little Wrists'). I believe in titles that have (seemingly) nothing to do with the songs they're appended to. I believe in dippy, fleshwound lyrics that make more sense than senescence. I believe in the lackadaisical (at least as an idea). I believe in the effortless, induplicate coil of fiddle-faddle. I believe in drummers who are more interested in standing on their heads and serving french toast to their fans than snapping their snares (cf. Gary Young). I believe in combining West Coast serenity with East Coast sarcasm: 'I'm the only one who laughs/At your jokes when they are so bad/And your jokes are always bad...' I believe in the soul as part of the whole megillah, off the cuff, but swift as a kissing bug: 'I've got one-only life to live/I've got one-only life to give.' I believe in beginnings that that are also endings and vice-versa ('Everything's ending here', sings Malkmus on the ninth track, when in fact, if rumours are to be believed, three albums later, everything's ending here. Wherever that is. ) I believe in cool Italians. Not cool as in de rigueur Rigid-Cool (all Armani shades and slicked back pubes), but cool as in Claudio Galuzzi Cool, my first Musical Guru, who in 1992 who sold me this album from his little shop in Casalpusterlengo saying it would 'shake my cack, kedgeree constellations' (you lose something in translation). And it did. It made me a believer. Believe me."

For Steve (29 and 3/4 years old).