I have just done my weekly trip to what's new on i-tunes, as I do each Tuesday afternoon. I generally look at "music" followed by a scan thru' folk, rock, jazz and country, less often alternative, reggae, world and vocal. Folk, like in HMV, has today disappeared. I think singer-songwriter has appeared in its place, but may just not have noticed that before.
Given it has always seemed quite a well stocked page, certainly compared to rock, which is always very thin on the ground, surprisingly so, I always think. So what's going on?
(Just for the record, did I get anything? Sure, the other 5 decent tracks from Varshons by the Lemonheads, giving another swipe to the curse of the Word coverdisc, which included the first one)
Yup, just checked singer-songwriter. it's the old folk, proving that old chum Trad Arr is still singing away.

Prompted by some of the responses in Steve Turners 5 to see before you (or is it they) die thread, describing gigs turned down, what is your biggest regret, the concert you had tickets to, or the option of, and missed? I still kick myself for declining Elton John, the Beach boys and the Eagles at, I think, Wembley, it being the day before my first A level in 1975. It may not sound much of a line-up, but all of the above were at their creative or visual peak, Elton was still cool, the Boys were looking more like a cross between Mansons family and the Dead, and had just produced their sublime live double LP, still a favourite. And the Eagles were the new kids on the block, still with banjo and Bernie Leadon in much evidence, and were being touted as natural heirs, I kid you not, to C,S,N&Y. I believe they stil played sitting down.
I still kick myself even if I had then flunked physics, but too late now.
Was it even any good, I wonder?
What glories have you all rejected and regretted?

The erstwhile Wilco keyboard player, the one with the exotic hairstyle, has died, following hip surgery. I was not a great fan of Wilco beyond their first album, but I know they have quite a following. I learnt this news from my weekly plough thru' some of the mp3 blogs I like, learning also that he had produced a solo LP available for free downloading from his site. It is a shame I had heard of it only thru' his death, as it is a pleasant listen, laid back country-folk strumming of a sort that I know would appeal to many on this site.
http://rockproper.com/jay-bennett/whatever-happened-i-apologize.html

Prompted by the appearance of one, on one of the less memorable tracks on the coverdisc this month, (I forget which as I bin it after ripping the tracks I like, but I would hazard a guess it will have been) "Playground Hustle", I am asking is there ever a situation where it works well? I don't refer to the yukfests of St Winifreds school choir, but to where random kids are brought in to add "weight" to the song. Whether it's the memory curdle of "Grocer Jack, Grocer jack etc etc" to "We don't need no edu-kashun", it is all unmitigated tosh. Trying to understand the "Great Man" (copyright Collins, A) I yesterday sought out Morrisseys greatest hits, quite good actually, but one track is completely marred by yowling kids, or what sounds like them. Why, why, why? I don't even like the kids at the end of Wizzard at Christmas, but I guess that is the next to nearest acceptable example.
Unless any of you know better?

Is there a tribute album to anyone half decent that Los Lobos won't or don't appear on? I used to think either the Cowboy Junkies or Lucinda Williams might be the most ubiquitous such artists, due to their sheer volume of appearances in the aural support of another artists catalogue, but Los Lobos (or the excellent Los Lobos, as I prefer to call them), seem to be leaving the competition way behind. I learn tonight of a tribute to Doug Sahm that is out or just about to be, featuring LL. As I pan back thru' my shelves alone I note also they can "do" the Dead, Richard Thompson, Bruce Springsteen and Fats Domino. Researching further they are on a Disney album, a Johnny Thunders album and (damn, damn, damn, why did I look?!) a tribute to Queen. And that Dylan film.
And Hidalgo pops off to prop up the last nameds latest that some of you other bloggers keep on going on about.
Plus some of the best original music of their own.
Let's have a celebration:
http://open.spotify.com/track/6OpGj9z2FYbQOz4PPodzRU

I feel I need to get this off my chest. First, let me start by saying, again, that Leonard Cohen live at the NIA last year was one of my lifetime live highs, right across the board from the sound quality, the performance, the musicianship, the choice of songs, hell, the mere fact he was there. So why then is it that I am so underwhelmed by the Live in London CD, a facsimile show? Having listened to this at some depth over the w/e, I am wishing I hadn't, it somehow tainting my memory. It demonstrated for sure the highs of the evening, principally the magisterial brilliance of the band and the wonderful speaking voice of this statesman of living legends. However, sadly and surprisingly, it also reminded of the narrowness of his range and how the recorded versions of many of the songs were actually better, more often also too those versions recorded by others. At times, Sisters of Mercy and In my Secret Life for instance, it worked magnificently, but at other times, Closing Time and, ironically, Hallelujah, I found myself thinking of other singers. This happened not at the time, as I was entranced by the whole package, startstruck in awe by the experience. And I was reminded of a recent posting wherein the i-pod was compared, unfavourably, with the human memory, which has a more limitless ability to evoke emotion, somehow more forgiving than the harsh realities of proof. Is this the curse of the live memento, to endlessly disappoint the rose tinting of time, starkly playing out the lines otherwise lost to soft focus? I have a number of live recordings relating to shows I have been to, like Dylan at Blackbushe and Costello at Glastonbury, putting down the contrast between my enormous enjoyment of the shows and my disappointment in the indelible reality to the poverty of the sound quality, both being boots. However I now wonder, as no such excuse can here be offered, the quality of the recording of Cohen mirroring explicitly the sound at the arena. Too much so, maybe.
I wish I had just kept it all in my mind.....
On the bright side, it did remind me of how impressed I was with Sharon Robinson singing of Boogie Street; I recall a statement being made as to the future appearance of an LP of her singing Cohen (and Cohen/Robinson, to be fair) songs. When?
O, and final bleat: "Give me crack and careless sex"? Surrepticious change of lyric there, Len? Not thinking of sales, were we?

...apart from joy, listen to this http://open.spotify.com/track/0ddSWopFE9q0CykfTrmWaG

I think I was too busy going to Oysterband gigs, possibly Morris Dancing and definitely reading Folk Roots more than Q when it was the thing, so I can honestly say I don't really know or understand "Baggy" or "Madchester", despite having watched 24 Hour Party People once. As such I never really bought into the Stone Roses, the Happy Mondays and whomsoever the cap fits, thinking myself, I'm sure, way too sophisticated for that what I presumed to be nonsense. This summer I have a dilemma, as I am expected to grace a new day festival that my son is one of the promoters of, with the Happy Mondays top of the bill. Quite apart from this being a shameless plug, which I will immediately play down, my question is what should I do to prepare myself for Mr Ryder and Bez? Is there anything I should listen to? What should I wear? Seriously, is this a genre with which I need trouble myself?
http://www.monarchy-live.co.uk/
(I promise not to make a habit of this, Fraser, but it stems from my genuine uncertainty about the "Mondays......)

Hot on the heels of the pieces about peple who really can/cannot sing/play bass etc etc, and the remarks about the sax being the neutered dogs bollocks of instrumentation in rock, I got to think about 2 brandishers of the saxophone whom I have always assumed can't really play for toffee. Come in Mr David Bowie and Mr Van Morrison. It sems that they both emit varyingly irritating parps and squawks rather than music. Am I being fair?

At the risk of alienating the youngsters in their 30s who read this site, may I ask what has happened to the glorious sound of the hammond organ, an essential staple of late 60s and early 70s "hard rock"? There was a time when no self-respecting group of the underground could exist without a flurry of chord driven organic (geddit!) frenzy. The keyboards were king, and the heirs to the throne were such as Keith Emerson, Jon Lord, Vincent Crane, Dave Greenslade (Colosseum rather than his eponymous group) and (shush, yes, for a time, amidst the row of the rest of their stuff)even Ken Hensley. Since those days, give or take the attempt by the Charlatans to revive the sound, sadly at the expense of the life of the player in question, Rob Collins, seldom is that rich tone a frontline sound. Shame, tho' I appreciate that the instrument is no longer made.
Who else, in rock, so I exclude the wonderful Jimmys of jazz, Smith and McGriff, pursued this wonderfully emotive instrument?
(I exclude also Wakeman, as he was too poncey for my tastes)

Prompted by my recent random i-pod selection of Wendy James' "Basement Kiss" from "Now Ain't the Time for Your Tears", 1993's much derided Costello penned solo LP, I sought out the original. I had bought this back then based upon the track mentioned and its appearance, if I am not mistaken, on an early Q (Heppo/Ellen era)coverdisc. I thought it great and still do, but kept my enjoyment of the rest of the LP to myself, as it was roundly castigated and sold few, it seems, promoting Ms James to the ranks of "where are they now?". Listening to it today, I wonder what is not to love. The songs, in early Elvis thesaurotastic style, demonstrating an inside knowledge both of the Penguin Guide to Popular Music and the Geeky Guys Guide to Misogyny, all the more curious sung thru' a woman, and are as least as good as the bulk of "Get Happy". Her singing may well not be technically perfect, but, hey, like Elvis is so good himself, right? Indeed, she follows in a long line of english popstrels from Twinkle to Therese Bazar, where the opera ain't gonna beckon, but a certain charm exudes, nonetheless. And she was hardly unpresentable, well, maybe not to aged aunt Agatha as breeding stock, but nonetheless, careers have sustained on worse. Seek it out. Give it another go.
And, whilst you're at it, what in your collection could stand up and stand proud, damn the knockers etc etc? I don't mean the whole ELO-deemably naff guilty pleasure canon, whwere it is known and accepted to be piss-poor but....., I mean the one you can't understand why nobody else likes it.

I've finally gone mad. On signing back in to an afternoon of intermittent blogging, between work commitments, my computer began to speak to me. In american. I am hearing about the problems in Dylans portaloo with on the spot live reporting. I am expecting to hear LOUD (shouting no doubt) tell me personally about his excursions into the Court of the Crimson King and, more than likely, in due course Archies fractured spoken english talking about, well you know, everything. Is this it? have I finally cracked. It were that bloody Hedgehog Pie what done it.....

or was it Beany? Anyhow, the soothsayer responsible will know, having forewarned of the inevitability of computer failure often enough. Last week it happened, courtesy, be warned, some nasty spyware in a zipfile from one of those deleted record blog sites, residing in a Sandy & the Strawbs LP I suspect. McAfee turned a blind eye as all went awry, with malware rescuing the day and killing off the invader, but unfortunately not before damage to smooth running had ocurred. Error messages aplenty about initialisation failures and jit-debugging scared the bejasus out of me, but in a calm and caffeine fuelled few days, allowing for time at work, I have system restored (failed) and, hand on heart, system recovered. This message is a tribute to my cack handed patience, interweb, printer and all working again, praise be. BUT my elderly podUtil transfer tool, for i-pod back to comp, is not playing the game and I am too nervous to jump off the deep end and risk losing 2 ipod fulls, one with 19k songs, the other with 3.5k. What is the best tool for this job, mes braves, I am shaking here.......

Being an old fella, I am only too conscious of the risk of everdwelling in a twilight land of old musics, where the long forgotten live on forever, perhaps best exemplified by the fact I was listening to Hedgehog Pie on my way into work today..... Anyhow, in an effort to stretch myself out of my comfort zone, I spent saturday night at the Birmingham Academy, a venue I very infrequently frequent, having only ever previously seen the Levellers and the Dandy Warhols there, finding the floor too sticky and the view too poor. I had been brought to see John Legend, someone I had only ever heard of, rather than heard. I knew him to be a soul/r'n'b (new meaning) sort of singer, knowing also that Stevie Wonder approved of him, which can be no faint praise. My first impression was astonishment at the diversity of the demographic, literally all shapes, sizes, colours and creeds, as well as teens to pensioners, all extremely knowledgeable and partisan, seeming to know all the words and all the appropriate moments to loudly cheer their main man. Very impressive: I haven't seen that sheer range of adulation ever before. Was it worth it? Well, I guess I would have to say I probably wouldn't go again. Or buy anything by him. It was a little too polished, perhaps, for me? Something didn't quite ring true, altho' I was clearly alone in my view. What know others as to whether I am being fair to clearly a very talented performer, performr maybe being my problem?
P.S. Despite this less than glowing, may I point you toward the support act, one Laura Izibor, who was terrific. Like a younger Macy Gray, this irish, I learn, singer, has great presence, great songs and a look, even of an attractive Phil Lynott, were he a woman. I believe the word is sassy. Her album, out in May, will be one I will be getting

I appreciate that many of our T shirt wearing days are possibly behind us, but I have a sneaking fancy many of us may have a sneaky stash of such shirts, hidden away in the depths of our wardrobes, somehow managing to escape the culls inflicted upon our couture by our better halves. Whilst our mantra may be, and have to be, that it dosn't suit an older man to be too thin, I wonder whether these Ts are lying dormant, awaiting a call to arms, or whether they, like ticket stubs are part of the anality called Word man. I was called to muse on this earlier today. Mrs Path has taken up jogging in the mornings, something I have so far mysteriously always been too busy to join her with. However, my wardrobe is raided for appropriate garb on occasion, today being a case in point, it being rainy and not a little chilly. A long sleeved T was sought. In deeply protective mode, I recalled I had but one such item surviving the great wardrobe massacres of 2003 and 2005, a Bob Dylan Dignity tour momento, when I had been witness to his dire performance at the Phoenix. I dug it out, proudly suggesting it could be part of my introduction to her of the works of Bob. To my horror and surprise this was roundly rejected: "I'm not wearing that, I'm not that old!", at a stroke reminding me of our relatively small age difference, 7 years, and how long a lifetime that can seem in popular music. Picking myself up off the floor, I appealed to her need to keep her lower arms warm, but she, quite rightly in fact, retaliated by suggestions that there may be certain bands/artists I too would and could not wear.
So, what T shirt, regardless of circumstance, could you never ever wear?