one hundred and thirty-three

A (very almost disgustingly) lovely version of one of my favourite songs.

one hundred and twenty-three

Tom Vek is back!

This makes me very, very happy.

one hundred and sixteen

Another to add to the songs that make you want to pick up a book list:

First love, Emmy the Great

 

in other news, today i look like this:

one hundred and three

This morning, the train to work was so warm I almost fainted. When I found a seat, I cleared the condensation from the windows and realised I was wiping away other people's breath.

Listening to (and pretending to be in the mid-nineties):

one hundred and one

I have started to notice people on my commute, or walking round the market on my lunch break - though I haven't quite reached the smiling-at-attractive-strangers point, yet. It feels good.

Tonight I am listening to The National (late to the party, but how amazing is High Violet?) and writing the letters and emails I have put off for too long (as well as watching Glee. Yes, I know). Is there much better than getting something through the post?

My wonderful friend Jennie sent the biggest bunch of white roses and a fruit (plus yellow pepper and goblet) basket to my office on Valentine's Day; it made the day beautiful. Sometime all the hollywood focus on finding The One makes me forget that friendships are just as crucial. Romance isn't the only thing worth having.

ninety-eight

I've been listening to a lot of Bonnie Prince Billy this evening - why have I not before? Will Oldham writes beautiful lyrics, has a heartbreaking voice and perhaps the best beard in music (why yes, that is crucial and relevant).



A mixed day, today. I am scared that I am not good enough to stop hurt turning into hatred.

ninety-four

I'm a bit late to the party, but I came across this song today, an offering from Beck's Record Club (Beck! I loved you! you turned out to be a scientologist. what is that all about?). The idea of the club is that group of musicians come together, record an album in a day and post the results online.

This is a version of INXS's Never Tear Us Apart, by Liars, Annie Clark and Daniel Hart from St. Vincent, Sergio Dias from Os Mutantes and Brian Lebarton. And it is glorious.



What are you favourite cover songs? Any that you (gasp) prefer to the original?

ninety

I very much like this song by Jesca Hoop (with Guy Garvey! he has one of my favourite voices in the world and writes lovely lyrics, plus he hosts a very good and eclectic show on bbc radio 6. So, all in all, a brilliant man).

 I think this picture sums up some of my recent moods very well.

eighty-nine

Turner, Margate (?), from the Sea

Sarah

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Ben Cranke, Storm riders

Why go home when you'd rather see me?
Feels like all my heart can do now is bleed
We should go down to the sea

eighty-four

This is one of my favourite songs at the moment. I love all the suprising noises (vacuum cleaner!), the drum beat and melody - but it is more than that; it is simple, and beautiful, and her voice is full and real.

Vidivodo.com : micachu - turn me well  Etiket: mıcachu turn_me_well tv

And then the spinning at the end, sound cartwheeling on and on.

And not least, the words.

eighty-one

I was flicking through my ipod recently (I thought I should make an effort to listen to more than four bands) and settled upon an album I like a fair bit years ago, but hadn't had much time for since: Fionn Regan's The End of History.



Somewhere nearish the end of the song above, Fionn mentions a book by Paul Auster, Timbuktu. I read that book because of this song (he also mentions Saul Bellow, but I never quite had the energy to try). And I enjoyed it; it's narrated by a dog, Mr Bones, and follows his life as the pet of a homeless man, Willy G. Christmas.

It got me wondering whether I'd been introduced to any other authors or books in this manner.

In Go Long, Joanna Newsom plays upon the tale of Bluebeard, a terrifying aristocrat who makes his way through several wives, violently murdering each one. The myth follows his newest, young wife and her discovery of the fate of her predecessors. I am in complete awe of the song, and scouted out as much as I could about the myth... which led me to Angela Carter's The Bloody Chamber, a fantastical collection of short stories (the title story being that of Bluebeard).



I think they are the only two that have directly led to me reading a mentioned / connected author; has anyone else found a book because of a song?

And of course, songs that reference books or authors is a whole category in itself; maybe I should make a mixtape.... what could be on it?

seventy-one

The person sitting next to me on the train this morning smelt exactly like him; the drawback of perfumes. God, it made my head spin.

Things that are good:

• I watched a man hoovering the road outside my office. Why? How? No one knows.
• I saw a man standing on a station platform holding one of those spools of wire that look like huge cotton reels. It made him look like he was actually really tiny, a Borrower, and this pleased me.
• I went to a farmers' market yesterday and bought lots of english apples and plums. Even better, my boss has a plum tree and is bringing me in bagfuls of surplus plums. I am going to make a crumble tonight, I think.
• I made the tastiest butternut squash and sage soup; I love autumn food. For anyone interested, the recipe is here.
• I'm suddenly responsible for updating the news section of UK Feminista. It is a good responsibility but I'm worried I'm going to post up something controversial or wrong. Eep.

I am stuck in a music rut. I keep listening the the music I love most, and whilst I am definitely not bored of it, it would be nice to love something new. Does anyone have any suggestions?

sixty-seven

For over a decade, leading cellist Beatrice Harrison dueted with nightingales.

In 1922, she had moved to the Surrey countryside, to an isolated house surrounded by woodland. Practising in the garden one afternoon, she was amazed when a bird joined in with her song: it followed her own trills, staying in tune with the cello.

She persuaded Lord Reith, the director of the BBC, to send a crew to her garden to record this duet. It was to be the very first live outdoor broadcast and Reith - despite his objections of cost - could not resist.

A million people listened to this first recording, and Harrison was almost smothered with fan mail; the duet became an annual event, carrying on for twelve years until Harrison moved house. After that, the broadcasts featured the nightingales alone. The pieces are lovely and ethereal, marrying human music and bird song in a strange partnership.

The transmission from 1942, however, is more chilling: the live broadcast was pulled when duty engineer realised he could hear the hum of approaching aircraft - not what the BBC wanted to be broadcasting in wartime.

And that distant burring of engines records the British airforce on their way to raid Mannheim, part of the 'Thousand Bomber' policy that would see German towns - most notably Cologne - devastated.

Some of the recordings, including the one made in 1942, can be heard here.

twenty

this morning i bought Patti Smith's Horses, and i think i can safely say it's one of the best things i have ever done. i'm not one for buying cds- i tend to download most of my music (TOTALLY LEGALLY OF COURSE, TOTALLY, DEFINITELY, NOT A LAW BREAKER I, NOPE, NO ILLEGAL DOWNLOADS HERE... ahem) but for some albums i'll make an exception. let's start with the amazing cover:



is there anything wrong with this picture at all? her expression, the shirt, her hands, the little pin on her blazer.... wow. surely, surely, you say, no album can live up to the promise of such a superfantasticamazing cover? surely we should just throw the cd out the window and stick the picture on the wall?

a fair assumption but, luckily, as far from the truth as i am from the explanet pluto. i have spent the last ten mintues trying to desricbe just how good this album is, but it's not really possible. Gloria is a wonderful, furious first track, patti smith's voice all thick with sex, and it only gets better. the way smith sings, speaks, growls leaves me speechless. she is so singular. there is noone that sounds like her. all the way through, smith's prowling singing is complemented by this angular, arresting guitardrumpiano.

and, and the words, the articulation.. oh. just, oh. one of my favourites at the moment is from elegie:
'There must be something I can dream tonight,
The air is filled with the moves of you'.

so, she's an amazing poet and musican. her voice is strong and honest, and goes from a purr to a shout to a quiet rhythmic hum, like she's reading you a poem . she's sexual but not dependant on her sexuality to sell her work. is that enough? no. she also happens to be the coolest looking person ever.




i adore the way she dresses: highwaisted, tight jeans, loose boyteeshirts, blazers, stompy boots; all made more perfect with thin chain necklaces, badges, ribbons as bracelets, big rings. and it's not just what she wears but the fact that her whole appearance fits her. she doesn't look like she's trying to play up to anyone else's ideas of what she ought to look like, or what's cool; she looks so utterly at ease, so utterly self possesed. i can't imagine what it would be like to see her live- there is so much power just in these photo snatches of her, in her recorded voice.

and is she any less cool now? is she like fuck.

eighteen

today was opening my bedroom curtains to a courtyard full of mist; buying homemade treats at a random vegan bake sale, as part of my mum's birthday present; a trainride across mintgreen fields; annoying fellow passengers on the london underground (it doesn't take much) with bulky bags; and reading fiction/watching television (oh the luxuries of home).

song of the day: the smiths- london

obvious, yes, but it's not only because it fits literally- this is one of the songs that i could listen to over and over. it does something funny to the space just behind my ribs, makes it tighten a little. the mark of a good song.

sixteen

my morning, as told through the medium of itunes

6.40 am. teenage riot, sonic youth. because i thought i would be less angry at my alarm clock if it played a song i love. this turned out not to be true.

7.15 am. in step, frankmusik. wooo, electropop, THAT will put me in a positive, energised essay-writing mood.

7.19 am. okay so that didn't work.

7.33 am. ICH HIESSE SUPERFANTASTISCH!

7.58 am. why is caleb followill saying potato roller at the end of king of the rodeo?

8.29 am. the red telephone by love has to win an award for best opening lyric ever: 'sitting on a hillsiiiiideeee, watching all the people DIE'. ah, how lovely.

8.35 am onwards. BJORKBJORKBJORKBJORKBJORK. god that woman is amazing.

9.08 am. seriously, is this woman actually real? is she human? how can her music be this good?

9.26 am. a short break from music whilst on the phone and food shopping. ho hum.

9.50 am. kiss with a fist, florence and the machine.

9.55- 11am. ten seems like a good hour for twee-ish, sometimes gloomy, altogether lovely scottish indie pop. hallo, camera obscura. come on in.

11 am. camille, le fil and music hole. best lyric: 'cats and dogs are not our friends, they just pretend... and if it rains again next weekend, it's all because of them'. thank you, camille, for bringing the feline-canine axis of evil to my attention.

11.45 am. david bowie's greatest hits. sometimes i wish i were david bowie. i think this is a common wish.

fifteen

today i love: la roux



synth pop + cameo jewelry + trenchcoat + odd beautiful shoes + that hair? yes please. i have been listening to her music pretty much nonstop for, oh, the last month. i love her voice, the electroness, and the shameless fun of it all. pop should be fun. sigh. LOVE.



so, things i need: oversized pink tshirt, big woolly socks and A SWING IN MY BEDROOM.



it is also nice that she is really hot. just saying.