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Showing posts from April, 2016


"No one ever told me that grief felt so like fear" - C.S.Lewis, A Grief Observed
 Of course, what you mourn at first, is yourself. Too soon to reassure myself by recounting Prince's importance, or his place in the cannon, too soon to contextualise something that feels like a personal attack, by death, upon your reason. Right now, things are a little too raw because what you recount when you hear this kind of news isn't just the person you never met, who you've lost - you recall the people who you've been with, the nights when he saved you and the mornings he woke you, that first flush of first love when Around The World In A Day tangled you to sleep nightly for a year, the kids you lullabied with those songs, the person you were when those songs first kept you intact and kept you alive. This isn't about adding up marks, checking the legacy, nailing anything - rather you apprehend just how concretely and spectrally someone's art can inhabit your life…


Unlinkable but listened to alot this past week - beautiful stuff from 50ft Wave and Spain. Here's the other things that have been squirrel-ransacking my birdfeeder soul this month.

COMMODO's been making music of massive intrigue and suggestiveness for some time now, culminating with last year's awesome 'Volume 1' on Deep Medi with fellow freaks Gantz & Khan. He's got a new album about to drop called 'How What Time' available on tasty-looking vinyl here and also available on on iTunes here. An essential for late night drives and despair which I've been doing alot of of late.

<a href="">Cult Mountain II by Cult Mountain</a>

Been banging on about CULT MOUNTAIN for a while now, after being hipped to Trellion & Sniff a few years ago and loving last year's debut self-titled tape - they…

It's just pop music dude, get over it Part One. Never Forget. Never Forgive. I Am Just Following Orders.

Firstly, two ground rules. One - just because someone complains about the present doesn't mean they yearn for the past. I remember the past. It was shite. It is why I mistrust myths of progress. Two - I am just following orders. I was asked to write this. It's not good for me, and it's unhealthy, and provides no catharsis but I must undignify myself cos I can't stop. This is my process. Truth and shame.  That said - it's some achievement for The NME to engineer an even shoddier demise than the Melody Maker's. Or should I say, spiritually akin demise - the same moneymen and chuckleheads are behind it all but seriously, looking at the latest issues I think I can say they're now, impossibly, even worse than we ever were, and Jesus, that's going some. The Melody Maker was fucking terrible when it died, went out not with a bang but a whimper of whacky (i.e fucking appalling) feature ideas, free stickers and sex-issues and panicky shit covers and general twatt…