Ah, the 1980's.

 I've been thinking about that decade, today.

Don't get me wrong, I love the 80s as much as the next person, but it does feel like people misunderstand all of the undercurrents of that long, weird decade. It's - well, all the usual suspects: Cocaine, glitz, vapid vacuity, greed and conspicuous consumption. It's jackets with huge shoulder pads - and that's the one that always sticks out (sic) for me: it's an abnormal silhouette of a decade. 

But amongst all of the things we accept, and probably take for granted, I've spent the ensuing years marvelling at what was just under the surface. A sense that the world was fraying, spinning slightly off its axis. I know that I've referenced Philip Glass's "Koyaanisquatsi", and that's particularly apposite - "life out of balance", and the 80s really feel as though that internal gyroscope begins to teeter and sway.

One of the albums that has accompanied me, as 2025 gets underway is "Graceland" - how's that for a sign of the times, then? - and the frustrations and confusions contained in "The Boy In The Bubble" feel like they still call out, even as the days have turned into forty years. Sonically, the song has aged, but lyrically, it's right on point, for the crazy times we live in, now.

Internal Jukebox

 The jukebox is now playing....

Rachmaninov. I'm such a fanboy - that intricate yet romantically direct style is just perfect for me. His music has complexity, but the purity of intention allows it to move you without your brain constantly having to analyse the content. 

Of all the varying musical genres, classical has suffered the most, I think, from algorithmic laziness. You can ask your smart devices to churn out monolithic music blocks specifically tailored to dinner parties. Or doing homework or sleeping. The resulting sounds are there, merely to wash over you. Rachmaninov has that language of romanticism, which fights so hard against all of that. There's a simple power to his work, a piercing intent. 

I'll try and listen to him, to add context to my own life - and isn't that what music is about, always?

I'm back, tentatively.

That was a brutal weekend. It took a while to dig myself out of that hole - and I still feel hollowed out and useless. Life's tough sometimes; it's not easy, it kicks you when you're down, and you don't feel like getting back into it again. But I have to start working. There are so many things at the moment which demand my full attention - there's a tour, a label deal, a publishing contract, voiceover work, and charity work. Ugh, even writing it all down is enough to throw me back down into the hole again.

But overall, I have to regain momentum. The key to that is the same thing it's always been. Self-belief. Once that takes hold, confidence rushes back in. Then, forward momentum is a given.

Turn it up. Make it work. 

 

Life, in timelapse.

 I've loved this song since I first heard it in the early 1980s. It's amazing to think it's been that long: when I first saw the film, its central message seemed to encapsulate a world fraying at the edges. In retrospect, it was actually a golden time compared to the shitshow we're currently living through. Anyway, "The Grid" is the obvious highlight of the record, and its shifting sense of psychedelia has stayed with me ever since. 

Seeing the notation for the song, though, was the moment in which the real importance of the music hit me. It's an unerringly accurate representation of what it feels like inside my mind. Everything is ostinato, and the patterns constantly shift, repeating, jumping, and underlining the power and intensity of the voices within. More than that, the intervals which pulse through those patterns give the impression that the song is moving from half-time to double-time. In reality, of course, the music merely keeps its steady state, moving relentlessly forward. There's a deep sense of wonder to see the shifting components of the song move and fragment - then coalesce once again. It's a dance, and it's the heartbeat of my life. 

Analogue blues

 I don't know where musical urges come from. I'll be gripped by a sudden need to hear something at certain points. The oddest thing, though, is that it doesn't even have to be a particular song. It can just be a genre, a sound, a feeling, or a memory. It's like grasping for something: pulling a solid shape from a shifting background. 

So today is all about sawtooth waves. SH101's. Analogue synthesisers. I feel comfortable when I hear them: I'm not sure why. It has to be nostalgia - but it's less cut and dried than wanting to hear old records. It's tied in with how they were made and the boundaries that were being pushed in their creation. A feeling of hope and possibility. A feeling that now was tomorrow. A fluttering in the stomach and a spring in one's step. Looking out at a world which was brimming with potential. All of it within reach. 

A soundtrack for that planning

Just the perfect piece of music. I love the contemplative, wistful feeling it always evokes. There's a sense of melancholy - for the loss of childhood innocence, with all of its sense of promise and potential. But also, there's the glimmer of hope: that all of this can be remembered and revitalised. 

There's the perfect song for this first week of a brand new year. 

 

I'm not quite sure where forty years went.

 But that's what was filling my ears, forty years ago. It still sounds like the future. It still sounds just out of reach - nebulous. Like you can try and define it, but then it evades your grasp. 

Spinning out of control

 

Well, it might have been a bit of a headcold yesterday, but it REALLY hit me, today. Of course, this means I'm at the "constantly talking about my illness" stage of my illness, so I'm hoping it has peaked. I felt truly horrid this morning, but as the day has passed, I've begun to feel a little better. 

The Chris Cohen album has helped. It's been a day of drift, of time just....passing me by. If you've read any of my posts over the last week or so, you will probably have guessed that is something of a relief. 

I'm going to have some soba noodles, and (hopefully) an early night. That should do it. 

遠くの愛好家

 Or, to be more precise - "Distant Lovers". 

After feeling VERY frazzled yesterday (did you notice?), my mental health seems to have recovered, today. Thank goodness for that. In no small part, it was down to songs like this - from one of the greatest Vaporwave albums, ever.  "Birth Of a New Day", by HKE and Telepath  - or 2 8 1 4. If you've never heard any Vaporwave, or you're predisposed to be cynical of the genre, please, give this a try - it's amazing.

I listened to the entire album, whilst rolling, at considerable speed, down the Passo dell Erbe, in the Dolomites. Hurrah! for Bkool and cycling, generally. Truly, I needed it today.

Bitterly cold, a little stasis.

 

But that's fine, for this time of year, isn't it? This song has been in my ears all day - partly thanks to my good friend Nick. We've had a long-running discord chat going, ever since the beginning of the pandemic. Initially, it was done just to keep in touch; remember that feeling we all had, when COVID hit, like we'd lose everything, and everyone we knew, and we all needed contact? Well, it was that, for a while, but it's grown into a rambling fulmination on life and music. Nada Surf arrived in the chat, and that led me to this. Life is like Pinball sometimes - and you know my predilection for that, don't you?

Stasis today - partly the result of a long Wanyudo CC ride yesterday. 900 metres of elevation, in about 30k, and it was punchy - time-wise. I was going to head up Sa Calobra today, but I'll leave it until tomorrow. For now, I'll sit with Milo while he plays Plants Vs. Zombies, and think about cooking evening meals for everyone.

Is that it?

 For the great outdoors, I mean?

It seems as though it could be. The weather is certainly not set fair, for the next week. Bitterly cold, apparently, with more breezy conditions. So, after a week where I made sure to enjoy cycling the Surreylanes as much as possible, it could be back to the turbo trainer, for a while. That's not necessarily a bad thing: today saw me pelting down AlpeD'Huez, and then heading back up Llanberis pass. I do love the variety of locations it's possible to visit. 

All that - from the comfort of my front room.

Today, apart from the mountains, it's been a day to renew a passport and think about booking flights. A day to ponder future plans. A day to light the fire, sit on the sofa and listen to Thelonius.

 

I need music, today.

Which means I need this. It's my favourite album on Factory Records. My favourite Martin Hannett production. How's that, for some high praise? I can't think of another album that inspires me, and engages me, as much as this one. I have multiple copies (of course), including the now legendary Sandpaper sleeve, but it's this Japanese CD that I play most often. It's an early pressing - 1989 - but the sound is crisp and clear. All it really needs is that textured sleeve, and it would have been perfect. Original first press tracklist too - even though the second press has the extra track, it somehow interrupts the flow of this simple, unassuming masterpiece.

 

It's the little things

 I'm quite amazed at what it takes to make me happy. Specifically - this:

It's a CD player. Remember those? For some time now, I've flitted from streaming service to streaming service. Let's try Tidal! OK, how about Amazon Prime, with HD?

But there was always something missing. I could listen on a laptop, or on my earbuds, but it wasn't quite right. I needed a wider, stereo soundscape. I needed to listen, how I used to listen. I've got vast amounts of CD's, but they've languished, for years.

But yesterday, I just thought - oh, sod it, let's see if I can knock something together. So, an old mini-hi-fi unit, out of the loft. Found the remote, whacked in some batteries. Found a power cable. Got a pair of bookshelf speakers, again - out of the loft. Then it was about 20 minutes of agro, moving cables and devices, in the unit in the lounge. But, miraculously, it all fired up the first time - and straight out of the box, it sounds incredible. I'd forgotten how wonderful CD's can be - how uncluttered, unfussy, and simple. They sound great, and the presence of the music is intoxicating. 

I'll see if I can whack up a photo of the first pile of CD's I cobbled together, to be able to play. It's quite informative.

Can't quite make sense of the idea...

That's I'll be off to Brazil, in three weeks.

Seems so ludicrous. And let's face it, it's been a tortuous journey, to make this show happen - and the plane hasn't even lifted off the ground. One day, I'll tell it all. Anyway - it's on, and I must begin the process of preparation. One way that can be made a lot more enjoyable, is for me to start mentally packing that case, working out the dopp kit, musing on Spotify playlists, etc.
And if I'm doing THAT.....

Then it's odds-on that the new Hania Rani album will be somewhere near the top of the pile. Jeez, it's amazing. Like so much of the other output on the Gondwana label - it's this beautifully downbeat, contemplative Jazz-ambient melange of influences. It's just terrific. There's a Spotify curated playlist of Label tracks, that Hania has done too - I highly recommend it.

As an aside-

This is all I've wanted to hear, today. The sound of my 1980. Everyone I know, I'm wishing you, goodnight.

Cold update

Well, it's still there. Throat is a little better - and I suspect that, by this time tomorrow, I'll just be coughing furiously. Oh well.
Listening to the new Rose Elinor Dougall album. Not quite sure, yet. The same glacially cool vocals - with less of the electro-goth electronics. By rights, that should endear it to me - and yet, it's a little.....slight, at the moment. I need more time. There's something wonderfully Saturday-morning-ish about it, and that's a good thing. I do like the fact I'm a little more circumspect, when it comes to things I love, nowadays. I'm sure it's born out of a certain amount of cynicism, but I'm cool with that.

New Music

I spent most of 2018 a little confused about new music. I tried, with Spotfiy, to find a slew of new things, but always came up short: there just wasn't anything out there which grabbed me. Consequently, I spent most of the year wallowing in old favourites (trans: a lot of Miles Davis).

This year, however - it's a different story. Alongside Weyes Blood. I guess the biggest thrill for me so far is the new Chris Cohen album. It's wonderful, of course  - but it flits with a very fragile beauty. At first listen, it seemed a little out of focus, and I wasn't sure if it worked. There's this glorious moment for me, when listening to things online, that suddenly flips into genius. It always happens about forty seconds into a song: I'm thinking "oh this doesn't work, at all" and my finger hovers over the skip button. Then, there's the slightest hesitation - did I get it wrong? And in that moment, there's a sudden release, and the song unfolds its actual meaning. I love it when that happens, and if definitely happened with the Chris Cohen record. So, give it a go - and wait for that forty second reveal. It's worth it, trust me.

New Obsession

Regular readers to this blog will know, that every once in a while, a new obsession arises. I tend to throw myself into something, headlong, and stay there. I did it with Pink Floyd, a few years ago, and more recently - Miles Davis.
Well, the new obsession appears to be a minor offshoot of the Miles stuff.
It's "Sketches Of Spain".

For a long time, I've not really "got" Sketches - certainly, not to the same extent as other Miles albums. "Bitches Brew" has been a constant companion for the last few years - I'm not kidding when I say I think I've listened to "Pharaoh's Dance" pretty much every day. For me, it's become meditative, an exercise in mindfulness. It keeps me sane, inspired, full of optimism, and hope.

But Sketches was different - I never really appreciated it. Partly, I think, for the geographical specificity. To me, it felt like a Travelogue, or a tourist advert. How wrong I was. There's something about the album that's just.....grabbed me. Partly, this is down to my recent jaunt to Edinburgh - I sat on that plane, and made a conscious decision to zone out, and listen to an album, any album, in full. Preferably something I'd not listened to properly before. And there you have it - I just looked at Sketches in the Spotify menu, and thought "why not?"

It is an absolute masterpiece. It's transcendentally beautiful - almost spiritual in its power. There are moments which are genuinely transformative. This being one of them, Miles's solo, around two thirds of the way through, which rises, and then collapses on itself, in a series of jaw-dropping descending, mournful blasts on the horn - is one of the most astonishing things I've ever heard.

- So, It's been three days now, and I've listened to nothing else. I'll keep you all posted, but I suspect this will continue for quite some time.

Edinburgh.

Well, I'm back from Edinburgh. Had a fantastic time - managed to pack a lot in, over the course of just one day. Left early Saturday, got back home about 6pm on Sunday. Relatively pain-free flights, which is always a bonus; though the take-off from Heathrow was a little hairy. I think it was the remnants of storm Gareth, but we were fishtailing down the runway on take-off, as the winds were so strong, and there was plenty of low-level turbulence too. One we were above the clouds, all was nice and serene. Great to see Jason (Narducey - bass player for Bob Mould), he's been a mate for 30 years.

 Having a drink, post-show. Hotel bar, the Radisson Collection, Edinburgh

 Flights there and back were on BA Airbuses. 321's, and 320's.

Always forget how different the weather can be - there was snow on the Pentland Hills.

Overall, it was a great trip. Best thing, for me, about solo travelling, is the chance to decompress: to organise mind, body, thoughts. To lose yourself in the process. that was my objective, and I think I got there. 

Stormy.

It's blowy, squally, and downright horrid out there. Marnie has her bikeability lesson today, which the school are adamant will NOT be changed, bad weather or not. Sheesh.
I've had a haircut (holiday trim - in time for Edinburgh!) and am not settling down to do some admin.

I'm also listening to a lot of tunes that Hall Blaine played on, as he's just passed away. RIP, to one of the greatest - if not THE greatest, ever. I could listen to him, all day long. This clip really sums up why: the song isn't really that remarkable, at all, but it's Blaine's beautifully poised, swinging beats, that lift it into the realm of sheer magic.