The immediate reaction to Nintendo’s control methods these days are laughable, generally. 

“It’s a gimmick!”, “It’s the size of a fridge!”, “It’s just a Fisher Price TV remote!”, “It looks uncomfortable!”. 

Now the only one of these I take issue with is the “uncomfortable” one. When was the last time a Nintendo controller could be fairly described as uncomfortable. 

Well, the NES pad had corners on it:

and, after prolonged play, that became quite uncomfortable. But it was a pioneering controller. It gave us the D-Pad, the simplicity of two face buttons and now graces t-shirts because of it’s iconic aesthetic. 

What about this piece of utter perfection?:

Curved, so no more corners. It introduced us to a couple more face buttons and the ingenious shoulder buttons. Much copied, hardly ever bettered. 

Now anyone who looks at a picture or a video of someone using the Wii U controller and immediately remarks that it’ll be uncomfortable should try and put themselves in the shoes of the people who saw THIS for the first time. 

“It’s a spaceship!”, “It looks clunky and horrible!”, “it’s like a Fisher Price Tie Fighter!”, “It looks really uncomfortable!”.

I mean, what the hell, they’ve jammed a joystick on it. Why? 

But anyone who has ever actually used one knows why. Because, despite appearances, it remains a really comfortable piece of machinery to use. The analogue stick, later to be copied by Sony and, yes, pretty much every console make afterwards, revolutionised 3D gaming movement. Suddenly, games were being made around a control method, meaning a much fuller immersive experience, natch. Appearances are not only deceiving, they’re occasionally discouraging. But everyone who played Goldeneye 64, Super Mario 64 and The Legend of Zelda: Ocarina Of Time knew. 

How about this one then? Weird button layout, MASSIVE clicky shoulder buttons, a hidden Z button (yeah that was badly placed, admittedly), back triggers and very curvy and colourful. Ergonomics played a part in making it the most comfortable pad I’ve ever used. The trigger buttons were ace. There’s nothing particularly amazing about this one, though the two analogue sticks were perfectly positioned and the shoulder-placed pressure pads were excellently thought out, and is probably the most conventional controller of the lot for the time. Certainly better than the PS2’s dead-zone addled analogue sticks ported from the Playstation Dual Shock controller and the Dreamcast apeing Xbox controller, which was so hard to use for the Japanese market that they had to shrink them. 

And then of course, this: 

Jeered at for being gimmicky and too much like a tv remote, I have nothing but praise for the control method. Perfectly comfortable, not at all awkward to use and really intuitive, it’s the perfect future controller. It’s so far removed from the button-addled, mis-shapen controllers of yore that anyone felt at ease picking it up. The fact that it felt like a tv remote meant mums, dads, grans, grandads and children all felt at home simply picking it up and joining in with the fun. It moved consoles from family-orientated entertainment for parents and children to family-orientated entertainment for anyone who had ever used a TV and moved their arms, fingers and thumbs. Ace. 

So, how do you feel about the Wii U’s tablet controller now?

First of all, anyone who has either used a tablet for a PC, seen an iPad, used a DS or even picked up a portable gaming device will instantly know how to use the thing. It seems unwieldly on first appearance, the size of it perhaps seeming intimidating for some, but based on previous output I’m quietly confident that Nintendo have designed this with comfort and portability in mind. They have been doing this for a while you see. The ideas already shown are promising and lest we get carried away with talking about untested ground, remember the Gameboy Advance and Gamecube linkup? Similar idea right? Only this time, you don’t need to buy a bunch of Gameboy Advances to play a handful of games. 

Basically, everyone needs to chill out. It’s starting to annoy me that people are happy to cry tears of happiness at Microsoft’s version of the Eyetoy, and praise Sony’s decision to up the ante in touchscreen world with not just one but TWO touchscreens for their next portable. Stealing other people’s ideas are well and good, but unless they are implemented well there’s no point. Regardless of your thoughts about third party support for Nintendo’s consoles, there’s no doubt that they have a record for embracing their own control methods and, as a result, have done some sensational, gameplay changing things. NES: Super Mario Bros. SNES: The Legend of Zelda: A Link To The Past (and also, bloody Streetfighter II of course) N64: Super Mario 64 (and Goldeneye). Gamecube: Metroid Prime. Wii: Wii Sports. 

I can get quite angry thinking that even after hitting up the HD parade and showcasing graphics on par with what’s out there now, they’re getting criticised for the one thing they’ve done better than anyone else ever. I haven’t even mentioned their genius handhelds, with the DS’s initial outcries of touchscreen doubt being kicked out by turning into one of the best selling consoles of all time. Seriously, if Nintendo think the future is in imitating the design of the rather successful iPad, then I think they know what they’re doing. It seems a shame that they’ve clearly seen the future in another company entirely - possibly the first time they’ve felt the need to do that - but they’re out to make gaming fun and to push boundaries for those who enjoy such things. They’ve always done it. Sure, they’ve made mistakes - many of them pretty high profile - but I can’t see this being one of them. The home is already sold on the Wii concept. Now so-called gamers need to stop whining about playing the same old games, while still playing the same old games, and encourage Nintendo in their efforts to help break new ground.  

Also, the stock market continues to be a good indicator of why they’re a bad indicator of true success. Apparently Nintendo’s stock fell 5% to levels before the announcement of the Wii. Ye have little faith. It’s not trying to compete with tablet computers, it’s a fucking games console and it’s going to be affordable and not a lifestyle tool for tools. 

The potential is there and it will be realised by a few. As a really discerning gamer, that’s true of all the consoles. Few really exciting gaming prospects, and a barrage of half-decent, mediocre or appalling rehashes. This is fine. I’m used to this. I’ve grown up with gaming and I expect to find it harder to be impressed. Just like film, literature and music. But I think Wii U has the most potential to make me lose myself in wonderment as I did as a kid and a teenager. 

One tug. Two tugs. Three tugs. Four- The blind ricochets upwards into it’s tight little cylinder. The sun insists on beaming directly into my corneas as if wanting to burrow into my cerebral cortex. Which it promptly does. Squinting against the sudden shock of nuclear fusion thrumming into my face I look out. Through the gap between buildings, where the road lays its tarmac load like a varicose vein on the skin of the planet, I can see water. Not just any old water, and certainly not the churning grey brown sludge of the Thames either. It’s blue. Azure blue. There are boats going along on it and it seems to have a buoyant life of its own. Just to the left I see the famous coathanger stretching across the big blue. It’s a hard life.

What is that? Is that a human baby gargling? Yelling for its mum? Why no. It’s some fucked up bird. The birds here in Sydney are pretty weird. They seem more…human in their movements. Certainly their cries and mating calls are akin to alcohol sodden Brighton town centre on a bank holiday weekend. It’s uncanny. But that’s uncharitable. The birds are far more pleasant than that rabble.

Meow. Meow. Meow. Meow. Meow. Into infinity. What the absolute fuck? It’s the cat again. That tubby globule of ginger fur. The one who’s tail I pulled to stop him running upstairs and who now follows me around if I talk to it. There is a benefit to being Dr Doolittle, in that he’ll gladly go outside because of my kind words and gestures instead of adding eau de catpiss to the ambience of our landing. But no doubt the hilarious (read: fucking not ever hilarious) drunks and gamblers from the Blues Point Hotel – key point, almost all bars, pubs and venues are called ‘something Hotel’ here – will wait a few minutes and delightedly allow the car passage back into the block to begin meowing uselessly again. This is especially fun at midnight when I’m nude and half-asleep and the owners have decided to pretend not to hear their bloody cat. Then things hot up when Victoria lets him run in and, because of her alleged allergies – yeah right, you just hate cats, I’M ON TO YOU – I’m forced to pull on a pair of skimpy – not to mention alluring - pants under the covers of my makeshift sofa bed (now that I think about this a bit more, that’s a decent rouse to get to see me in the next-to-nothing, good work) to grab the surprisingly comfortable cat – mmmm soft orange fur - and toss him back outside. Our neighbourly relations took a dip that night, with Victoria’s sleepy reverie smashed to pieces by annoying ginger cat. Her monosyllables conveyed not much more than disdain. It was justified though.

Stepping outside in the daytime, the sun is warm, the shops and restaurants are pretty and the men and women cater for the elite. Sorry, I may have got them confused. Actually…probably not.

McMahon’s Point is pretty lovely, like a Crouch End-on-sea or something. In my time here I walked across Sydney Harbour Bridge almost every day, and almost got mowed down by superhuman joggers just on their fifth circuit of the continent and looking like they’ve just been laying on a lilo all day. The physical prowess of men and women here is intimidating. I’d imagine my dainty little half-pace would not only be reviled but held up as an example of how not to be a man in Australia.

But no, the enthusiasm for health and fitness – at least in this part of the city – is inspiring. It doesn’t seem forced or half-hearted; it just seems natural and easily slips into everyone’s day. Just across the Harbour bridge is the oldest part of the city – The Rocks. At night it’s alive with the sound of hundreds of cover bands, all of varying quality. During the day, it’s filled with the lively conversation of the coffee and pastry fiends gorging on the produce of the European continent. There’s a French patisserie that’s especially good. There is also, for the beer swilling amongst us, the Lowenbrau – whose moniker is far from a comment on the political culture here – which is actually a Bavarian beerhouse. There’s an exquisite Dunkel bier (or as I insist on calling it, Schwarzbier) here that is something ridiculous like $12 for half a litre. It’s cheaper for about three hours in the evening though. Anyway, it’s beautiful, tastes of chocolate and caramel and gets you drunk faster than you think. I love it. For someone whose experience in East Germany was probably up there with one of the most depressing of his life, I will fondly remember this place whenever I think back to Sydney. Isn’t that contrast just toally bizarre?

There’s plenty more to talk about, and I’m aware a month is a long time not to have written here, but I have to stop at some point. The next updates will be more frequent I hope.

Next we’ll be talking about my new neighbourhood (I wrote a bit of a song about it today – it goes “Kensington, you’re all Asian restaurants and petrol stations”), the entertainment in Sydney so far (good and bad comedy, some Shoreditchy experimental music nights, some proper gigs), the rather scrubber like mainstream Queensland music festival I attended and what it feels like to watch the Eurozone fall apart from afar. Toodles!

Mica Levi is one of the most inspiring people I’ve met. Though fairly reserved, her mind seems filled with conflicting ideas, all fighting to break out through whatever means she decides is suitable for them. Here’s my second interview with her from earlier this year. It’s been published in Playmusic Magazine’s 100th issue, and can be viewed in that edited format here. Following Collapse Board’s reminder of how amazing the song Everything from Chopped & Screwed is, I thought I’d post this up for anyone interested. It’s hampered slightly by the word limits of course. I could probably go deeper into the whole interview, trying to figure out why she’s so negative about this challenging work, but sometimes it’s just best to listen in wonderment instead.

Mis-Shapes, Mistakes & Misfits

Micachu is quite happy taking a break from music after two years touring her debut album. Nevertheless, she’s still challenging herself with avant-garde orchestral performances, album mixtapes done in a day and generally keeping her glorious, wildfire brain occupied.

Before the interview, I’m sitting at a corner booth in the Dalston Superstore cafe, reading the latest issue of a free music newspaper and shaking my head at the state of music journalism; particularly the review of Micachu’s challenging live classical album Chopped & Screwed. I understand it’s a tough work to get your head around, especially if you’re particularly unaware of the breadth of Mica Levi’s genre-hopping, but without the proper preparation – an open mind - you haven’t a chance of interpreting it for yourself.

Representing the first time she’s had the opportunity to work with the London Sinfonietta, it turns out the performance - recorded at King’s Place, London in May 2010 – was as much a challenge for her and her band The Shapes as it is for potential listeners.

“I don’t know how we did it really. The whole thing was so stressful. You know how you have to remove certain memories? It just felt like we weren’t ready to do something that was quite scary to do,” says Mica, taking off her oversized glasses and rubbing her eyes in agitation.

The story goes that the composition was written partially on the road while in America and because of that pesky Icelandic menace, Eyjafjallajökull, they were stranded there as time ticked away before the date of the set performance; no time to rehearse, no time to smooth out any structural problems. Nevertheless, Mica salvages some good from the situation, despite her visible reluctance to reminisce about it.

“It was great. They’re (London Sinfonietta) really great players and really experienced, they can basically do anything,” she says, wide-eyed. “With the lack of our scoring and organisation, it was kind of quite good in the end because it meant everyone had something to worry about. So we were learning some new (homemade) instruments and we’re not as good instrumentally as them, so we were trying to be good at getting our bit right. They (only) had cells of information to work with. I think for that reasoning, they had something that was on the edge security wise, so that kind of made it even or whatever. Everyone was just shitting themselves, I think! That’s how I feel anyway.” This balance of nerves seems to bring an uncomfortable tension to what is already a piece fraught with discordance and unconventional musicality. “I guess so. Seriously, awww man,” Mica says, blowing air from her cheeks. “When we finished the concert we were like, ‘no one’s gonna clap! This has been awful!’. We just winged it I reckon.”

The acerbic, slithering wind instruments, the warped phasing reminiscent of Steve Reich versus In Utero-era Nirvana, the descending discordant chaos of Stravinsky, the minimal spaciousness of Sibellius – these are not usual Playmusic references. Nevertheless, shot through with Mica’s natural speech, occasionally singing the most understated but wonderful melodic ideas (as on Everything, which contains the revealing lyrics “I don’t agree with anything/I dispute everything”), sometimes droning as if one of the instruments, it’s the kind of piece that feathers the nests of bands like Sonic Youth, or the avant garde tendencies of newer bands like Colourmusic, Abe Vigoda or HEALTH. But already this work has been discarded, much like Micachu’s excellent debut Jewellery, which contained a sound which seems now to have been abandoned.

“When you make something you love, then it’s great, but then that’s over,” she says with a hint of mercenary attitude. “When you find a song that you like; the amount of times you listen to it when you rinse it, if you (then) write your own one, you’re also inside of that thing, you’ve got a really narrow perspective of it so it gets even more rinsed and boring. Also, there’s a lot of different types of music that I love so if you’re not in the mood for what you generally do, you just think its lame.” So the electronically-knitted, inventive instrumentals and pop-leaning melodies of Jewellery have been put out to pasture then?

“Yeah I guess so. Yeah. I think it’s pretty healthy to move on or away or whatever. I feel lucky to have put out a record and to have it…well to be honest I didn’t expect anything from it and any comment about it was great. But I haven’t listened to it since we did it, apart from playing it every night on the road for like two years which is totally insane,” she says gazing distantly.

Of course live they would interpret the songs differently, further making Micachu’s astounding – though modestly presented – live shows something never to miss. Coming from most bands, the promise of changing their sound is usually hollow but the indication is that Mica is someone who moves onto new ideas as fast as possible. A perfect example is the downloadable ‘screwed’ mixtape that accompanies the album, hosted by MC Brotha May, with the beats and music recorded by her.

“That’s using exclusively samples from the record and the hip-hop kit from MIDI default. It’s pretty simple. I really enjoyed making that and May’s a really old friend of mine so it was really nice to hook up with him again. We just went into his kitchen and banged it out. We put the tracks in a line, told him a bit about each track and the subject matter then he just did some stuff. For him to do that..it was 20 minutes. He did it live. He was in the zone. He was freestylin’ but what was impressive I found…it was sometimes freestylin’ like normal but he managed to bring some of the subject matter at the same time. Usually you have some stuff you can just reel off, things you know will rhyme, when you talk about your self you have more things to say but the way he was incorporating was pretty good. Yeah he was in the zone, it was great! The whole thing was a really quick process. I wanted to get him to host it, not write to it, so it was live kinda like the record in a way. The beats were made really quickly as well. I made samplers of each track and the drum kit and it was all the same speed and it was really good because I just bashed it out and I think that’s probably how I work best. The whole process of getting it together took a day I guess.”

Here Mica seems more excited about something that took her and her friend a mere day to do than anything else she’s done up to this point. Elements of the album are barely recognisable. It’s a completely different approach to her own music, yet something she’s done before with other artists’ work with a variety of grime mixtapes.

Throughout the interview Mica seems elusive, but never impolite and never less than enthusiastic once she’s engaged. She seems excited by NOT doing music, getting on with life in the gap between touring and the interview taking place. She mentions sport and friends. She mentions the relationship between her and the band, Marc Pell and Raisa Khan, being “obnoxiously sweet”. And then, there are moments when she offers some insight into the swirling, fascinating creative ideas in her brain – both sensitive and intelligent, hidden by modesty, anxiety and self-criticism.

“The real challenge with this record, some of the things I was thinking about, was the two performances. A band is quite carried on the personalities of the people in it, how they look and what they say and a classical orchestra is an army and is there to interpret someone else’s piece. Essentially the piece exists without a personality performing it and that’s a really different thing.” She knows exactly how Micachu and the Shapes comes across, but it seems she may feel as if being a band could be getting in the way of the music. Or perhaps it’s just open to interpretation. 

* I make no defence or excuse for using ‘yacht’ as a verb. Take your angry silence and keep it quiet.

What I never intended was to make this an impromptu travel blog. But hence the use of the word impromptu, that makes a mockery of the ideas of intentions. So here we are. 

In almost bewilderingly silly fashion, I will start with the most recent experience and work backwards because, frankly, I need to spit this out in all it’s glory. 

Sydney Harbour is awash with sails. These dorsal fins of cloth bend alarmingly against a breeze that we can barely feel. What fresh voodoo is this, nature? The gloves I’m tentatively wearing are made for workers hands, and not my diminutive artists hands (you can call them girly if you want, but if you do be prepared to be lectured on the finesse of these slender fingers and the elegant action of these springboard wrists). This is a fact pointed out a few times by various crew members and my fellow traveller Ms Hall. I have been transformed into a hobbit in her eyes. First I argued against Biblo because he’s eleventy one and I’m not nearly that old. Then she pegged herself as Samwise before realising that the semi-homoeroticism between Frodo and Gamgee makes the comparison an uncomfortable one. She goes for the princess we can’t remember the name of. It suits her. 

Meanwhile the crew are dangling their legs upon the sides while we keep our legs firmly on the deck of this 40 odd foot yacht. Yes. Yacht. I want no arguments about this: yachting is awesome and not at all elitist, snobby or any of your pauper, communist rubbish. Why is it awesome? Well, let’s just rush straight into it.

First. Collisions. With approximately 130 vessels of varying sizes and a limited stretch of water it’s like the aviation industry’s worst nightmares but on water. Within a few minutes of setting out on the race proper, we collide with another boat - and yes it was their bloody fault, right - which meant our spinnaker pole got damaged, rendered useless. However, that was not gonna stop the rum and coke and beer (or tea as it is innocuously referred to by the crew) swilling team piloting this ship to certain last place (and certainly not from lack of trying). So after some excellent and endearing Aussie swearing, it’s quickly forgotten and we’re suddenly off with all manner of ships passing us. We get to spy the other seafarers, we get to laugh at those struggling with their mainsail, and we get to run across the short deck from one side to the other, which is called a ‘jive’.

Essentially ‘jiving’ is using bodies for the express purpose of turning the boat or keeping it on course against a stronger wind using their weight. It’s really, really fun scrabbling on hands and knees, scraping scalp against the swinging mainsail and sitting down and soaking the seat of your jeans on the side of the boat that seconds previously skirted the waters. It actually is, though. I’ve not grinned so much in anticipation of something in ages. It must be said though that the first time you realise the deck is at a 70 degree angle to the waves, you cling for dear life, afraid that we all might be pitched into the blackness (well, actually, the very pleasant clear blue, but still). How this aerodynamic piece of fibreglass stays afloat is probably easily explained by science, but to someone willing to remain a little ignorant and childlike about such things, it can only be explained by magic or sorcery. The thrill of things going disastrously soon fades after a while as you come to accept that the impressive human effort of skipper and deck hands is more than enough to tame this giant surfboard, especially on such calm waters. It’s still thrilling though. 

Speaking of which, the most primal pleasures are often the most liberating. Which means abandoning ones civilised façade for a little while, trying to pretend the embarrassment of one’s companion is nothing but pure prudery and accept that when nature calls, you do what everyone else does. We were introduced to “the bucket” at the outset of our watery adventures, a source of much mirth between the crew as me and Ms Hall clearly looked at each other in a way that suggests we may have been pegged as naive and fair sport for a joke. As it turns out, when not jiving all over the place, the best place to relieve one’s self - after a couple of cans of beer and a rum and coke - is over the back of the boat into the water like a fleshy water feature. A surprising exhibitionist when it comes to a small amount of nudity, this came as easily and pleasurably to me as stripping off for bedtime. But enough about me and my disgusting, shameless display. Just trust me that the wind in your hair and standing with legs astride is a posture of utter pride and world-winning enjoyment, especially when your bladder is sighing with relief.

The most remarkable thing for me was the calm of ones thoughts rattling through my head. Not much talking was necessary, or desired, on the three to four hours on the vessel and the combination of the glorious diamonds of sunlight flickering on the water’s surface to the rocky outcrops that run along the shores of Manly meant thinking time was embraced lovingly. Actually, I couldn’t keep a repeating phrase from Bon Iver’s latest album out of my head. So my thoughts would settle upon this musical passage like birds on razor wire, only to be sliced to pieces as the full bloom of the song bellowed in me. But that was kind of pleasant too, if not for the poor thoughts.

When I decided to write this, I really wanted to portray the crew satirically - as alcohol swigging, caution-to-the-wind, wreckless types. But they were self-deprecating enough - “If you want to learn how to sail, this is how not to do it” - and too good natured to lampoon so awkwardly. There was no trappings of wealth. There was no “ra ra ra hooray henry” attitude. This is Australia and here new money is not a term of contempt because, frankly, they’ve worked fucking hard for it. And there was no old money really. I digress. The way we were made to feel welcome - of course by some gentle ribbing and piss-taking - meant we were both extremely pleased and not a little humbled.  

The thing that really impressed itself on me though was the fact that two prominent males in my life have always loved sailing, and have always talked to me about it and I’ve shown not a scrap of real interest, though I always listen intently. Now, I will join them in their eager hobbies. I will expressly enjoy that time with them and I will personally internally slap myself for ever thinking I am somehow not capable of lapping up such an activity. I extend thanks to the ever wonderful Ms Hall, the entire crew of the Enigma, especially Darren and skipper Michael (whose own story is utterly incredible but I’ll leave you with the honest truth that he sounds like the most altruistic and lovely man against a backdrop of unbearably harsh reality).

So I’ve seen the Sydney Harbour in the winter sunshine in a fashion I never would’ve thought I’d have the chance to. That’s a tough one to beat, life. But do your best will you.

DISCLAIMER: I may have mis-heard terms used in boating. I apologise and will correct them if need be, but can I just plead tinnitus please? Thanks everyone. 

To celebrate Frank’s fourth album being available to buy in the UK - and his launch party at the Barfly - I’ve decided to repost the excellent transcripted goings on between Chris T-T and Frank from my archives. NB: Chris sings on Frank’s new album England Keep My Bones - on the excellent song Rivers - while his own album Love Is Not Rescue, and the recently released Words Fail Me EP, is similarly great. 

A while ago - in fact, not long before Frank’s sold out Scala gig in 2008 (I think) - I sat genius Brighton-based singer-songwriter Chris T-T and his good friend Frank Turner down opposite each other and got them to fire questions at each other. One, because I knew they both loved to tease each other over their opposing politics and also because whatever came out was always going to be interesting, insightful and, above all, entertaining. Which it was. I published the article on here back when it was a blogspot, so I feel justified in delivering the entire transcription, but with this disclaimer. I’ve taken the slightly painful decision to lever out the slightly slanderous or libellous stuff as I can’t really justify anyone getting in trouble - even over a joke - for our entertainment. Nevertheless, here it is. Chris and Frank dishing out questions for each other. Fun.

Frank and Chris

F We should do scissor paper stone to see who starts, say 123 and THEN go.

(Frank starts)

F: I’ll start with one of my serious questions. How important is place and I guess to a lesser extent culture and nationality in songwriting to you in reference to, on the one hand Bruce Springsteen and, the other hand, you writing about England.

C: It’s almost everything. I think that one of the things that I’m not able to do is write without that there like I just couldn’t write a song about a physical place I’ve never been unless it’s a totally crazy story. For me, it’s not so much that one writes ‘here’s a palce and I’m gonna write about it’. It’s that every single song, whatever it’s about, has a place in the back of it for me. I’m really trying hard right now to make a bunch of songs that aren’t about anything and aren’t about a place but that doesn’t work. Each song has a sense of place.

F: So being English is important to you?

C: Oh, massively important. I would always call myself English. But that’s the opposite of being tied to a right wing thing because I definitely believe in open borders and the free movement of people. The Maggie Holland songs about England, A Place Called England, a proper gardener, are the ones where it’s Englishness to do with the land, which you do really well on stuff like Nashville Tennessee and To Take You Home, and it’s that that’s where we’re from and yet there’s this massive cultural weight on us as pop musicians to almost try to pretend to be something else. It’s really important that we don’t.

F: I’m satisfied with your answer.

C: You come from a much more punk/alternative background than me. Do you feel, given that your music is now very tuneful and in some places soft, do you miss the punk thing and do you still think that you’re, two words, wither a punk or an anarchist?

F: Good question. Punk infuses everything I do because I learnt how to play music along with that style and it’s the bedrock of my…it was my doorway into music, both listening and playing basically so I’m never gonna stop thinking about it. When I think about heavier sounds I think of them in a punk way, and when I think about melody… It’s just the bedrock of it and that will never cease to be and I don’t want it to cease to be. I think that it’s a great scene and ethos and something that I’m proud to have put a lot of my life int. Particularly more musically. I guess there are days when I miss the pure rage and aggression but the problem is there’s nothing worse than fake rage and aggression which is kinda why bad hardcore bands are worse than bad bands of any other genre because they’re so awful. So to be in a band like that and make it worthwhile and good you have to be pissed off in the right way, 300 days a year. I just can’t.

C: Something that happened on this tour that I hadn’t seen on previous tour that Iw as part of is that you at the end ditched the guitar and went back into the crowd and I think a lot of fans are really overwhelmed by that being, in a way, being back to Million Dead days but also it’s much more uplifting than it would’ve been a few years ago. It’s like a totally joyous moment.

F: I think that’s true. In Million Dead we were to a certain extent trying to fight the audience. Now I’m just trying to hug them! But punk is vastly important to me and also the other thing is people always ask what punk and folk have in common and I think one of the things they have in common is that they describe both an ethos and a sound and that the two aren’t necessarily linked all the time and I think I incorporate elements of all four into what I do. So you know, I have a bit of punk in my sound and a bit of folk in my sound but I have quite a lot of punk in my ethos and folk in my ethos as well. Would I call myself a punk? It depends on who I’m talking to. If I’m talking to the kind of person who wants me to be a singer-songwriter: yes. If I’m talking to the kind of person who’s a punk scenester warrior writing a ‘zine then: no fucking way. I think the point of punk was that it had a degree of contrarianism in it anyway. So I’d call myself a corporate singer songwriter punk rocker. As for anarchist – I know what you’re fishing for and I’ve got my next question lined up – I’m not sure I would describe myself as an anarchist anymore. What I would say is that my essential first principles that got me thinking about the realm of politics, which was an essential distrust of power and human beings organised into hierarchies aimed at hurting other human beings, those things are STILL my first principles. The difference is that I’ve decided I’m more interested in practicality and pragmatism than in high falutin’ – with no G – idealism. So yeah it’ll be wonderful if we could overthrow the state and have non-heirarchical systems and organisations. It’s not gonna happen. I’ll state this as a simple fact: any attempt to try and make it happen will end in pain and death for lots of normal, innocent, ordinary people. What I think we should do instead is concentrate on ways of minimizing the impact on ordinary people’s lives and allow them to get on with their lives and not be bothered by the state. Then you’ve suddenly got a range of things to talk about that ARE achievable. Like everything from not having ID cards and trying to dismantle the surveillance system we’ve put together in this country on the one hand, trying to remove government from peoples lives, social services. Letting people be freer, health and safety, whatever it might be. To me liberty is the highest intellectual achievement of the humnan race. So, no I’m not an anarchist.

C: It’s a great answer.

F It’s my go now. This question was going to be, ‘why are you such a dirty communist?’ But that’s a joke.

C: That could be your question!

F: My real question is this: this both about music and about politics generally. When people say protest, everybody immediately thinks left wing which to me represents a number of things not least an inherent defeatism in the left. You see what I mean? If all your politics amount to protest…whenever anybody thinks of a political singer, they immediately think they’re left wing. Do you think that political music has to be left wing, do you think leftism has to be a protesting form of politics?

C: I think that protest singing is a traditionally left wing form because the 20^th century was dominated by right wing governmental power, in the west at least. The communist regimes in the east, the far east and South America were actually, regardless of whatever media spin was put on it, they were very well contained. The Soviet Union was very contained and popular music as a western artform came out of the United States and slaves coming up from Africa to America and the mixing of European chamber music, blues, country and all that stuff. As such the dominant power at those times, during the development of rock and roll, was right wing so if you had a problem with the power, you were more likely to be left wing. That’s why I think protest singing, particularly out of the 60s folk movement, came up as a left wing rather than a right wing, but to answer your question: protest singing can be in anything. Quite a lot of protest songs that are happening now, particularly the younger generation of songwriters influenced by you, are not left wing remotely. The number of times you hear protest songs about the smoking ban or not being allowed to take cocaine, for instance. Also, before that, in the nineties, Ian Hunter did a brilliant protest album called Rat which is a right-wing protest single. It’s a whole album of too much tax in Britain, I don’t live in Britain any more coz there’s to much tax and there’s too much crime (SNIP! edited despite being humourous). He did that and it was brilliant. But obviously inherently if you’re right wing and a rock musician your music is, by its nature going, to be more within the establishment and you don’t have so much to protest about EXCEPT that now politics itself has all changed. One of the things I’m interested in at the moment is that culture as a whole through the 20^th century tended towards the liberal or the left wing and I don’t think that’s true now and I don’t think the people at the very top of culture – the bosses of culture – have realised yet that the predominant youth culture is now far more where you would place yourself – and I don’t wanna put words in your mouth – socially very libertarian, which is thought of as a left-wing thing but isn’t really, and fiscally quite right of centre and I think that the predominant culture moves from all sorts of music, theatre, comedy. The days of the hard left 80s anti-Thatch thing has just gone.

F: Can I just come back on you on that? I think certainly in America a lot of the things you’re saying holds water but one of my problems, and this is a much broader comment, it’s become crystallised in most peoples mind that when they say right wing they mean establishment and when they say left wing they mean anti-establishment which, actually, has nothing to do with what the terms left and right mean. Right wing means in favour of the individual, left wing means in favour of the collective and on that level I think it’s difficult to argue that the world and the establishment was particularly right wing, particularly in the 50s and 60s. Britain for the Welfare State, Britain verging on becoming a socialist country. America you’ve totally got a point. Certainly in Britain, arguably between 1945 and 1979, our govt is quite left wing. Certainly, economically, Keynesian is a left wing idealogy. I’m not putting any value judgements on it but this kinda goes back to the original thing where I always feel like people on the left relegate themselves to being protest and similarly, this is the thing, people have forgotten what the terms left and right mean. Like I say leftism basically, as far as I understand it, means kind of the collective and the state is an agent of good in life an d society whereas right wing means in favour of the individual and against the influence of the state. I think that people, instead of seeing that and sort of seeing where they fall, sort of see if they’re in favour of the government and then paint themselves as left or right accordingly, which is nonsense. I don’t know…this isn’t my question.

C: It’s interesting though. You’re probably right about British govenments although in terms of time there were more Conservative governments, but left wing governments put in changes that were then impossible…once you’ve built the National Health Service there was no way the next Tory government could have torn it down because the people just wouldn’t have allowed it but I don’t disagree on any of that really. My key problem with the right wing idealogy of individualism is that this world is not ruled by all powerful governments who control people’s lives now, this world is ruled by all-powerful international corporations run by small groups of individuals who rule people’s lives to a far greater extent than governments and have none of the checks and balances.

That is a product of right-wing thinking entirely. So what we have; you are very suspicious of the government, rightfully so, you hate ID cards, rightfully so. One of the things that both excites me and frightens me about Frank is that if Frank turned around and said: “Actually I’m openly for Cameron” (Frank laughs) the amount of authenticity, and I know you’re not a massive star yet but you’re on your way, and you look at that and tie it to what is the single fastest growing youth movement in the country - it’s Conservative Future, the group for young Conservatives and one of the reasons that that is is that they’ve been able to detach themselves from social oppression, from moral bigotry of the old school Tory so they are very socially liberal, they’re into their drugs, drink and shagging each other and they don’t quite mind so much if you’re gay - as long as you’re quiet about it - and they like a few black people - here and there - but at the same time, essentially, the problem with the right wing ideology now is that we’re letting the corporations off scot free. That’s the only problem I have with it. You know I agree with you on ID cards and I agree with you a lot about small power although essentially what happens when you start limiting the welfare state is that people at the bottom drop off because they’re failures and they lose their rights. If you start looking at where we’re at now, we’ve got massive poverty around the world - which we don’t mind because it’s foreigners. In fact, the infrastructure in the United States is dangerously close to collapse, and they’ve all got guns. I don’t even think it matters who becomes President. I wrote a little thing yesterday. I think whoever is president in six days time might be the last president of the united states as we see it. I really think we’re really close – four or eight years from now, the United States could easily be in a state of collapse, with individual states seceding and people shooting each other left right and centre.

F: They’re doing that already.

C: It’s beginning and it’s terrifying. I’m not even really answering your question coz I can’t remember what it is.

F: It’s your go.

C: I was gonna ask a musical thing, but I’ll try and stick on the politics thing. You speak a lot about the anti-govt stuff in a a very powerful, moving way. You’re probably gonna be one of the big spokespeople for the no ID thing if it hits us, though it probably won’t now. If it hits, you’ll be there at the frontline. Do you have the same suspicions and negative feelings about private corporations or do you think the concept of a limited company, limited liability, board of directors, profit motive are all things that build into capitalism. Do you think it’s essentially a benign idea?

F: I wouldn’t go so far to say it’s a benign idea but I’d say that to me the profit motive is something I’m more comfortable with than the power motive and that’s the problem I think. Coz basically what we’re talking about here is the balance between control of the private sector or control of the government. Because the only way to limit the power of private corporations is to increase govt. control and it’s, to a certain extent, within the share of what power is, …the questions is: yes corporations do terrible things but the thing about corporations is their aim for the most part, and I’m not disagreeing with you, corporations do terrible, terrible things that as a society we need to address but if you conside that their aim is to make money - that’s not particularly nice or pleasant aim - but first of all I do think that human beings have the tendency to do that kind of thing and I’d rather attempt to kind of like control and deal with people who just want to get rich than people who specifically want to be in control of other people directly. So for that reason I find Gordon Brown infinitely more terrifying as a human being than the head of Barclays bank. I don’t like the head of Barclays bank very much, I’m not gonna invite him to my birthday party, but his aim is to make money for himself and his shareholders which I am not against.

C: That’s legally what his aim has to be. He hasn’t got any flexibility.

F Right he’s not out to legislate us on whether or not I can smoke in a bar. I seriously doubt he gives a shit and I’d rather deal with that than Gordon Brown who I think is an absolutely terrifying human being because he doesn’t seem to be able to get it into his head that some things aren’t his fucking business.

C: I a hundred percent agree with that.

F: One thing I’m very big on is the concept of liberty and freedom and in a a peculiarly English way, I like the way the English conception of freedom is almost based around people minding their own business and I like that, I think that’s a good way.

C: It’s a very polite freedom.

F Yeah it’s like: You know what I do my shit, you do your shit and lets just fucking forget about it. Something that you were saying earlier, one of the things that’s mystified me both in this country, but more strongly in the US, is this historical alliance between social authoritarians and economic libertarians because its complete madness. If your entire economic philosophy is based on people doing whatever they want and leaving people free, why do you care where people put their dicks? So I don’t like the Conservative party under Cameron any more than under anything else because it’s a political party and I don’t like political parties generally anyway but one of the few positives I’d definitely say about it is that they’re a lot less bothered about social authoritarianism in the new conservative party than they were before. And here’s a completely off the cuff remark. I want politicians who have taken drugs making drugs poicy coz otherwise it’s fucking charlatanism. 

F: Coz it’s like Ann Widdecombe trying to make policies on anything to do with the family when she’s never had sex. Bollocks. It be like me trying to make up laws for families tax breaks for people have children when I don’t have kids.

C: I totally agree.

F: I want politicians who are skagheads! (LAUGHS) Ex-skagheads.

C: One of the traditions of politicians is that they’re alcoholics but they don’t mention it so maybe as the new era comes through we’ll get a generation of drug takers.

F: I want Castlereigh back. He was great. Worked really, really hard then cut his own head off in 10 Downing Street. If only Gordon Brown would do the same thing.

F: It’s my go. I think we should talk about music more. The music that we make, both of us, let’s be blunt about this, is both quite middle class and quite white and probably predominantly male. I remember when I was younger at a particular phase of my development wishing, hoping, I was gay because that would mean I would be part of a minority.

(laughs)

I just really wanted to be gay and it just didn’t work. Personally, at this point of my life, I’ve reached a state of karmic calmness about the fact that I make white boy guitar rock and I don’t give a shit and I’m not bothered about it. Are you bothered about it?

C: No I’ve never ever been bothered about it at all. Sometimes when I’m having a row with my wife one of the things she calls me is middle class. It just really makes me laugh. My parentage on my mum’s side is really working class but my parentage on my dad’s side is really middle class. It makes a whole mockery of the whole thing really. No it doesn’t bother me at all. I don’t think about it so much as you’ve put it into words.

F: Not just the politics but in terms of influences. All my influences are all white boys with guitars. I like listening to Public Enemy, but it has nothing to do with the music I make.

C: My influences are far more pop- not even influences, music I love I go a lot more into the cheesy mainstream than you do and you’ve still maintained a lot of the hardcore stuff, which I love but definitely aren’t my roots.

F: You know Matt our new keyboard player had never heard of Fugazi? I nearly cried. Emily Barker (then tour support) had never heard of Dinosaur Jr.

Really?

F: Yeah I know. I’m starting to hang around with proper…

C: …folk people.

F: They don’t shower and they drink too much.

C: Don’t let them near the cider. It causes problems. I was gonna ask you about songwriting. You said something interesting the other day about lyrics. You definitely, to a greater extent than me, separate lyrics and music in the compositional process. So is it that you write all the lyrics first then go and turn them into songs?

F: No, music always comes first.

C: So you’ve got musical ideas and then..

F: I have phrases that come up and I jot down and I have things I want to write about. One of the funny things is that quite often when I’m coming up with a melody I end up singing something random but that I quite like and I don’t think what on Earth that could possibly relate to in singer-songwriting. I’ve got a new one which is “he cast no shadow in the morning sun” and that’s just how my brain spewed out that melody. (NB: fans will notice this was later tweaked slightly and used in Pass It Along)

C: There’s a new song you introduced last night quite late in the tour that you’ve been soundchecking. You had the music right at the beginning which sounded amazing, but you didn’t have any words. Is that right?

F: Well you see the thing is I had a couple of the lines here and there, anchors. It’s called Live Fast Die Old although my band have started calling it Die Hard With A Vengeance now. It’s definitely a case of lyrics I spend forever on and I kick cases, and tenses and pronouns around ad infinitum.

C: You write almost always about you and very truthfully, I think. Do you ever try writing stories about other things that don’t include you and, if so, do you find that it compromises your truthfulness?

F: I’ll start this by saying you do a lot more of the storytelling which I love and I love it when Springsteen does it and I love that approach to songwriting because I think it’s perfectly possible to tell an emotional and artistic truth through the medium of fiction, I’m just no good at it. I’ve tried and it always turns out a bit shit and, you know, I’m still fucking trying and I’m just not very good. I always feel a bit of a fool singing about stuff that hasn’t really happened. I’m gonna write a concept album sooner or later. I’m gonna write a concept album about me and you.

C: You’ve been a vegetarian for a long time and you’ve recently given up being a vegetarian and gone back to meat. Now that you’ve remembered how great meat is, do you now have a gap of meat you could’ve eaten?

F: No, for a number of reasons. First of all coz I think regrets…look, people say you haven’t got any regrets because you don’t self-examine enough but I’m not gonna waste time wishing I’d done things differently. I’m just gonna change the way I do things now. I think that’s the only sensible way of living life really. Also, I sincerely believed in what I believed at the time. I think one of the things that annoys me in this society is that people aren’t allowed to change their mind especially if they’re any kind of public figure. Not saying I’m a massive public figure but people are still pulling me up on the politics in songs we wrote in Million Dead when I was 19. I’m fucking 26. If you don’t change what you think between 19 and 26 I’d question your higher intelligence. You know what I mean? Fuck, seven years of growing up in the world of course I’m gonna change the way I think about things. In a way I feel quite sorry for Bill Bragg because I think he’s probably sort of slightly hamstring by some shit he said when he was younger as well.

F: My last question for you is a slightly conceptual question which is as statement with a question mark on the end. Sex, drugs and rock and roll?

C: Yes, very much so…please? All three to a very unhealthy degree.

F: Do folk singers have more fun?

C: Folk singers have more fun, because they travel light, they gig more, they play smaller crowds, they do their own merch so they meet everyone after the gig and they often don’t have anywhere to stay. That’s the truth isn’t it, the real trad folk scene that we are kind of a bit suss of is totally full of rabid drug-addled swingers who literally fuck each other at any possible opportunity. I’ve met them I’ve toured with Belllowhead I’m friends with John Bone I know that crowd a little bit from the outside, been a massive fan of real folk music for fifteen years but you just learn that those people aren’t to be messed with. They’re also super-corporate. A folk band of your size Frank, would most definitely have a mobile credit card machine on tour and three merch people or the whole band would come and do merch afterwards coz they know they sell a greater proportion of their stuff on the road than in shops compared with us.

F: I was kinda including us in that description.

C: It’s really interesting, me and you sitting here, coz there are things we can’t say

(laughs)

I’ve only been shit-faced with Frank maybe two or three times in a big way but they’ve always been absolutely awesome. One time, even before we got shit-faced, we saw a moonbow. A genuine moonbow and hardly anyone’s seen one of them. It’s a rainbow on the light of the moon. That’s how inspiring it is to get wasted with Frank.

“And every teenage afternoon spent rifling racks in record stores in search of gold and every compilation tape rewound until it broke on rusted Walkmen heads and every single special song it only took two listens through to learn the words were hours cherished and lessons learned.” Million Dead, ‘It’s A Shit Business’

People have been eloquent about their love for the physical. Wendy Roby of Drowned In Sound singles column fame has done the utter best:  

All I can be is honest.

I despise shopping. It’s a fruitless waste of everybody’s time because it actually involves, generally, a lack of honest human interaction. And, just like driving, the only human interaction you remember is when someone crosses you. Shopping is stressful and hard.  It’s often at odds with what I’d rather be doing with my time ie. other things. Though, really, it’s probably because I’ve always been a horrendously low earner, mostly because of my silly silly choice of work - but that’s an analysis I can do without right now - and therefore I’ve only ever been able to browse and sigh discontentedly at the myriad things I convince myself I really don’t want or need. I DON’T! See. 

Except when it comes to records. Records are different. I couldn’t care less what shape, size, colour or format they come in. I’ve bought 7, 10 and 12 inch vinyl, cassettes, CDs in special limited editions with extra tracks, transparent or colour splattered plastic, cut out sleeves, embossed cases and all for the dual purpose of listening to and staring at in wonderment.

Rifling racks in record stores in search of gold, indeed. How many times have I done this in my little life? I couldn’t tell you. But I can blow it up on widescreen, in technicolour and 3D and HD in my head (I’m clever like that).

Flicking excitedly through the ENORMOUS Sonic Youth section was like prising open a treasure chest full of knowledge - being able to choose one of these mysteries and absorb the contents, become more than you were before. As each one revealed itself I stood there wondering what tunings they’d employ on each one, what noises that I’d never heard before were contained behind this realist painting on the front, or that aggressive black and white sketch by Kim Gordon, or that stuffed animal toy. What’s more, there were HUNDREDS more bands to look through, to imagine what was inside and to be tempted by.

Record shops are just as much about disappointment as success of course. Where’s that Appleseed Cast section? Momentarily I forget that it’s alphabetical and even when I’ve worked out that Appleseed Cast is two p’s and that p comes AFTER r, I’m frantically searching with hands and eyes on tip toes to see if I’ve missed it. It’s here! But inevitably, Mare Vitalis isn’t there. Crushed. Defeated. The search for what would become my favourite record for a decade continued.

I remember finding it, though. That incredible mottled painting of the ocean, the heart in the middle splattered centrally, bringing the themes of the record into sharp focus without ever hearing a note. The concept of playing like the sea while the waves lap at the heartstrings is all expressly signposted by the cover. It was a delight to lay my eyes upon. When bringing the empty case up to the counter, the shop assistant behind the counter grinned. “This is the manager’s favourite record. Our only one. He’s gonna be sad it’s gone. But he’d be pleased you bought it.” That will stay with me forever. Do you understand what I’m saying? NO SHOPPING EXPERIENCE WILL EVER DO THIS AGAIN. Bad, good, average…I can’t see me remembering any shop girl I developed a spontaneous crush on, the dismissive silence of the bored till person or even the extremely friendly, helpful service I receive from a fellow bookworm. There was, and always will be, something inherently different about record shops. The human interaction is somehow stronger. If someone approves of your purchase, you engage in conversation, and that conversation goes beyond the sale into the next person’s sale. Perhaps that next customer joins in and suddenly you have a shop with a lively atmosphere, the records waiting to be bought springing to life, meaning something, becoming something more than mere objects to be bought.

Because music is one thing. I can make music anytime I like. Get my guitar and bellow over the top. It’s easy. Seriously. Try it. You’ll be making tunes within a few hours. BUT to make a record, to sell it, to see people buying it, to see people touching it and discussing it - THAT must be something truly special. Crafting a couple of tunes that are affixed to a circular disc that somehow becomes a sought after object for people to appreciate - as well as to enjoy the undoubtedly excellent music therewithin - and that you purposefully chose or designed the sleeve for, that you worked hard to present your vision upon. That’s when music really can be described as art. And we go and buy it and we have bought art. We have not stored it on a physical device to point a mouse at it, prodding it to life through tinny speakers. We have not dismissed the jpg artwork into a something x something square thumbnail. We have not clicked shuffle so that the work has been messed up into bite size chunks of disposable tunage (although there’s actually nowt wrong with that, just like trashy novels and silly, entertaining films; they are important too - in fact entertainment is paramount, but you can’t help but make the difference between things you love and enjoy, and thinks you merely enjoy). If someone pours heart and soul into something, then they deserve to be able to make it special. Why should they leak it to you, the rabid internet fan, for you to simply parade on that blog where you pretend to be a writer? Why can’t they see it emblazoned in record stores, lying in the rack ready to be scooped up and lovingly cradled? 

The reason I wholeheartedly agree with Ms Roby’s treatise on the physical vs. the digital is that I understand it completely. One of the most touching moments of my life actually happened to someone else. My editor-in-chief at the time brought our five strong team into a local branch of WHSmith. After four years of working upon a free magazine, his grand plan to produce a newsagents version of it - bigger, bolder, a massive gamble and a huge undertaking - had come to fruition. He stood in front of the magazine racks, plucked the impressively-sized tome from its position at the front and, as we stood from afar, he had a faraway smile on his face. The pride, the exhilaration and the impulse to grab the nearest browser by the scruff and scream “LOOK! I MADE THIS! I POURED MY HARD-EARNED HOURS, TIME AND SOUL INTO THIS PLEASEBUYITPLEASE!” must’ve been overwhelming. He kept his cool very well though, simply bringing it to the till and paying for it, essentially paying himself to continue doing what he had been doing for four years.

And this is essentially what we’re taking away by ploughing our capitalist fantasies into digital. We are removing the real sense that something that exists in the real world - far away from the vague realities of monitors and usernames and passwords, far away from the realm of secure identities, and of social sharing as opposed to social interaction - is worth anything anymore. As a fellow journalist suggested on Twitter, what happens when Kindles and other digital reading apparatus becomes the norm? Will we have a Book Store Day? Far more than records, books were once something upon which to judge a society’s civility. The amount of literature in paper - or papyrus - on a bookshelf tended to show a well-read, educated person and - far more importantly - one who wanted to explore life. Because stories and narratives and facts contained in books are poured over, are absorbed, and the physical act of turning a page, of going back to re-read a sentence, to appreciate it and record its meaning and that heavy weight in your hands commands you to dig deep into its core. To tear yourself away from the pages of a book is harder than to look up from a scrolling glass screen. You can smudge the ink of a page - alter the words physically - but you can’t even touch them through glass. You may think that this isn’t important. But then, perhaps the tactile doesn’t intrigue you. Running a finger across the grooves of vinyl or feeling the raised print of a CD label or pulling the magnetic tape back inside the plastic casing by sticking a finger in the reels and turning them are all proof that you’ve lived in these things you’ve bought. A postcard of a painting is nice, but you can’t detect the bump maps of texture. A gallery of beautifully posed photos of a loved one are great memories by it won’t beat the hug or the hand holding. Of course it isn’t necessary to have physical to live inside sound. I currently don’t own Baths’ Cerulean on vinyl (though I plan to rectify this somehow) yet that record has flowed within me for over a year now. I associate so much with those sounds and that has nothing to do with a record shop. But - just as I feel reading ignites a flame to discover and explore in children - I feel my appreciation of music hasnot just been ignited but fanned and spread (to the admitted arson of other things I deem less important) by my experiences browsing and buying and listening to people in record shops. I’ve worked in one. The knowledge and passion I gained from those people can never be replaced or replicated. And all because we could share music with strangers. MY love of words and of sound is down to the physical thing. And while I could never EVER say that those who will miss out on the physical and human interactions won’t ‘feel’ literature or music in the same way - because that would be horrendously elitist and ridiculous and just plain wrong - it has definitely made me who I am, in some ways. Shopping in record shops never feels like shopping - it feels like going to a library and discovering and learning. 

If it’s all about the music, then I’d argue that you doing yourself and musicians a disservice. If you don’t want the human element - the person behind it, their artistic endeavours plain to see on a physical object, the socialising with those who understand you and your love of these otherwise abstract and indefinite notes, the satisfaction of crossing palms with coins in return for plastic and paper - then you’re not likely to invest your whole being into that piece of music. It may become background noise. It will not be the scintillating slippery riff of ‘Fishing The Sky’ which dissolves into a whirlpool of serenity before it bursts out of you with a tidal pull of a vocal line. It won’t be the unexpected scream that emits a contagious chill - one that you savour as if it was delivered by the person next to you. It won’t be the uncontrollable urge to leap around your room imagining all the things in your future in some ramshackle montage. It will merely be “a nice tune”, “good lyrics”, “a great chorus”, “a catchy verse” and “good pop music”. Nothing wrong with any of those things. But they don’t quite beat “an indelible arcane melody”, “words that empathise with savagery in my heart”, “a crescendo that shatters all that has gone before”, “an undulating combination of sounds” or “music that pushes me into territory I’ve never experienced before, and it makes me want to run outside, grab everyone I can and party for three days straight”. 

That’s what records and record shops mean to me. 

If I had £s to spend then I could easily walk away with all of these. I don’t, but I might go ahead and spend and walk away with a couple of them anyway because I’m a total music spod who geeks out unsociably in smelly record shops, ruining the enivronment with my BAD BAD POISONOUS physical formats and not downloading, filling up hard drives with mp3s and occasionally listening to about 50 percent of them on random JUST like real life music fans do *links to THAT NME blog post and writes in CAPITALS A BIT MORE*. Bad Bradley, will you never learn? (no.) 

Bad Brains were unfathomably influential on a whole bunch of incredible bands, most of whom went on to form the basis for the US hardcore genre and even emo and post-hardcore bands. Hell, Dischord Records practically exists because of Bad Brains (may be an exaggeration). This song is great. I want it. 

Deerhoof are exceptional. There’s nary a thing they’ve done that I dislike and Xiu Xiu are disturbing and slightly frightening and that turns me on a bit. The fact that they’re covering each other is a bit too much, but it’ll be worth listening to it. On repeat. In the dark. Until the world ends. A bit. 

It’s the Deftones, one of my favourite bands of all time. Shut up, unbeliever. Sure, I do think Adrenaline was pretty bad but they do alright with their covers. One of my fondest memories is hearing Say It Ain’t So by Weezer sneak into one of their sets. So, this should be pretty good. And if it isn’t, I will be sad. 

Cosmogramma is wonderful. I don’t know what these ‘alternate takes’ involve but if it means I get to hear Cosmogramma again - whether warped, crushed, splattered, dissected, moulded, renovated, smashed, collapsed or whatever - then I’m excited. 

It’s a cassette! But more than that, it has two of my favourite Scottish bands (Frightened Rabbit and The Twilight Sad of course) on it and as we all know, Scottish bands are the best. They have the best accents, the best beards and the best morose outlook on life. But seriously, the origins and birth of two excellent bands ON A CASSETTE has to be good, surely.

Now if it came in an actual record player like the CD artwork suggested, this would be incredible. It’s no EYEWTKAS but it is extremely good and I already have EYEWTKAS on vinyl from the US anyway. So, this would be nice thank you Record Store Day people!

EXCLUSIVE TO THE INCREDIBLE BANQUET RECORDS. One of my favourite early twenties albums ever. I want this so bad. 

It’s got Cloudbusting and Hounds of Love on it. And it’s pink vinyl. I don’t own any pink vinyl. I do own 10 inches though (“LOLZ”). 

Do I want a live album by Mastodon? Probably not really if it’s just the AMAZING Crack the Skye in its entirety live - even though it’s AMAZING - but it has a few extra tracks too. Plus they’re one of the most gargantuan live bands on the planet….I could be convinced. Artwork is lovely too. MMMMmmmm snake things in circles.

I don’t have any Nirvana vinyl, and this has at least three utterly brilliant songs on it. So this is a MUST. 

It’s Quicksand. I don’t even know what’s on it, but it’s Walter and Quicksand. Magical blue vinyl, COME TO ME. 

Rolo Tomassi really came into their own on last year’s Cosmology. A triple, splattered vinyl of their early recordings and unreleased stuff is extremely tempting, especially as it looks totally gorgeous. 

It has Sugar Kane on it and a bunch of other brilliant Sonic Youth noise, but the key thing is that it has one of Kurt Cobain’s drawings on the back of it. A keypoking-fun-at-the-record-industry release by two of rock’s most brilliant pranksters. Lovely. 

I’m a bit sad that The White Stripes are no more, so remembering them with these two early singles will be a nice going away present for them. Man, they were so so good for quite a few years weren’t they?

What’s this? A compilation of the collaborative label formed from the geniuses behind Blood & Biscuits, Big Scary Monsters and Holy Roar labels? A MUST HAVE. Seriously, these guys are listening to bands that haven’t been born yet. Well. Not quite. But almost. And they’re almost always right and fair and just. 

As well as those above, there’s some stuff without artwork so I’m gonna write an un-fun list for those ones…but I’m not missing them out. 

Broken Bells - Meyrin Fields EP : while I wait in vain for The Shins to return, I will be satisfied with this Broken Bells replacement….but not forever.

Esben & The Witch - Chorea: Esben & The Witch remain an intriguing, noisy prospect and this selection of twisted remixes and (I think) a new track should sound brilliant on little vinyl. 

Interpol - Try It On RMX: Wasn’t bothered until I realised it’s remixes by Ikonika, Salem and Banjo & Freakout. I mean, I can’t even comprehend how amazing this COULD be. Edit: it’s out on their internets somewhere for streaming. You can find it yourself though. 

Warpaint - Undertow/Warpaint and Wild Beasts - Albatross: two lovely bands who deserve my lovely money. Wild Beasts win coz Warpaint aren’t Rings (ex-First Nation), but I like Warpaint too. Lovely Warpaint. Lovely Wild Beasts. Lovely me. 

And so ends my Record Store Day object fetishising, new band hating blog. The NME really got my number, I tell ye.