Picked up a copy of SOME GIRLS in a charity shop - read about it recently (an article along the lines of 'the Stones back on form' etc). I listened to it yesterday and found it to be the following:

- lyrically incomprehensible - Jagger's descent into the dark, drawling depths of the mid-Atlantic is complete. Cliche upon naff rhyme upon sexist sentiment upon humourless pomp. Step forth ye poets of the 6th form...

- musically shambolic - mistimed guitar fills, too-loud drums, grindingly awful 'riffs'. They 'famously' don't start 'work' until the early hours? It shows, by crikey - it bloody shows!

- overlong - gosh! why play a good time rawk en rowl ditty for 3 minutes when you can have Jagger howling along for upwards of 5?

In all, this simply confirms my opinion of post-Jones Stones: lazy, unimaginative, arrogant, over-blown and deeply UN-cool.

I shall be returning aforementioned CD to the shop and deleting the MP3s from my HDD.

Total drivel.

Well, I couldn't help but hear the choked-back tears after Jackie Oates' wonderful performance on the last podcast, so I nipped into my local record shop (!) and picked up Saturnine.

Silly, soft old sod that I am, I teared up after THE TREES THEY ARE SO HIGH (again)...simply wonderful to get lost in the purest melody.

So, what ELSE makes a grown man weep like a hiking blister?

Expecting MORE of a response from the Word community re: Mr John Grant, I ended up going to Bristol on my own (cue: violins) having not had a single response to my call for 'spare tickets!'. I, helpfully, parked 50yds up from the venue on Great George Street and retired to Nandos for some hot chicken livers and some cold comfort.

At the appointed hour, I wandered up to St Georges and caught a quick coffee in the Cafe Bar. It was 'full to murmuring' of pseuds, humous stain-ed Boden waistcoats and inappropriate (for their age) head-gear. I was happy to take my seat for the support act (Sea of Bees), for fear of being absorbed into a conversation about Pinter or Mung Bean Casserole, otherwise.

Here's what I hacked into my phones' text app as the eponymous Mz Bee strummed and screeched for 30 mins:

"Awkward - lovely acoustic tinkles and sprongs. Counts herself (and her imaginary band) in with an airy wave to the gallery. Haircut like my Mother-in-law, dresses like my father-in-law and a voice like Cerys Matthews under attack from a cattle-prod. Stumbling, embarrassed spoken interludes and introductions. Much more expressive/coherent in song rather than conversation.

Says 'like' and 'Ummm' a lot.

Thought a roadie had come on early to tune up for John Grant - turns out to be 'the band' (3rd song in).

Sweet. Best song: Fire"

At this point, I had contacted an old pal via Facebook status updates and realised he was a) in Bristol himself (working away) and b) about 5 mins from the venue! One FREE ticket (and an OJ & lemonade) later, we were settled for the arrival of the main man himself.

As soon as that great, melancholy bear began singing it really showed up the support act for the rather average affair that it was.

Grant was fearsome! Bold and tender! His voice: a mighty cudgel wrapped in those heart-breaking, velvety melodies. Words of loss, nostalgia, anger, need, romance, bitterness and frustration. That bloody Grand piano - what a goddamn sound! Pounding and caressing - sharply cut by the honks and tweets of the synth. No encore (JG felt guilty at the pretension of the off and on again) - we had 90, full-to-bursting minutes of verdant music interspersed with stories and smiles.

At the end of a quite overwhelming 'TC & The Honeybear', I wanted to cry out 'play it again!', as one would do upon discovering a favourite popping up on the iPod. Curse my 'hibitions'!

I may miss out on a few Word podcasts over the next few weeks (at least, delay them) in favour of playing QUEEN OF DENMARK over-and-over...lest I forget such a wonderful evening.

Anyone?

Gizzan e-mail tonyboydell@yahoo.co.uk to arrange pick-up outside venue (I shall be driving down there soon!)

Love,Tony

Folks,

Two spare tickets for JG in Bristol next Monday evening! Anyone interested (price = original face value)?

If so, contact me via:

tonyboydell@yahoo.co.uk

Will exchange tickets 4 money outside venue...

As a student (ahhh, memories) on a sandwich course, my third year (1988-9) was spent 'in work experience' - in this instance with a small software house run by a pal (Steve, keyboards).

He, and his chief salesman Roy, used to be in 80s Ross-on-Wye rock combo '30 Seconds'; Roy was also an incredibly diverse music fan and would be accompanied on National software demonstration runs by a box of mix tapes and 'favourite' albums.

On one such run, Roy introduced me to the following three albums - all of which influenced my exploration into new things and are, themselves, still stapes to be enjoyed regularly:

[1] A WALK ACROSS THE ROOFTOPS - THE BLUE NILE

[2] SWORDFISHTROMBONES - TOM WAITS

[3] STEVE MCQUEEN - PREFAB SPROUT

As for the Sainted "Woolies" - I'm fairly sure my collection would be very 80s centric, and unadventurous, were it not for MID PRICE (4.29) introducing me to Neil Young, The Eagles, Dalis Car, ELO, AC/DC, Classical works, ZZ Top, XTC and so much more. As a butchers 'Saturday boy' earning 12 quid a week, Woolworths provided an essential and affordable source of 'good stuff'.

My question is this: did you have someone who, basically, kick-started your musical appreciation / introduced you to the essentials of audio life?

Thank the Lord for Roy (bass)

Having a lovely discussion in the car on the way to play board games in Hemel Hempstead last night, my pal Richard and myself got to discussing gigs from the past.

There was a little bit of stag-like 'facing off' in terms of 'coolest gig' etc, but in general we were good natured and I was not forced to yank the steering wheel from his hands and drive us into the hedge in frustration and/or jealousy.

The discussion boiled down to one question:

If you could go back as your adult self and re-attend a concert from your musical past, which one would it be?

My own candidates would be:
[1] Tom Waits at the Apollo a few years back - the first British gig in 17 years. I remember sitting slightly forward in my balcony seat for the full two hours drinking in the sound and spectacle of it - I'd de-waxed my ears and polished my glasses (why waste wax?) to ensure I got the full everything of it! Even passing Mr Ellen on the back-stairs on the way out couldn't spoil my most immersive concert experience :-) Of course, as time marches forward, the detail of it wanes...but, oh, to be able to go back and live through it again!

[2] Jellyfish at the Bristol Bierkeller in, ooh, 1992/3? Just after BELLYBUTTON came out, these flowered-up, 10cc-like, Badfinger-ed pop-injays rocked and harmonized and delighted my jaded 'heavy metal' heart like no other band since. When they released SPILT MILK, the album I have probably listened to most in my life (1000 plays+), I was excited to the point of apoplexy to return to Bristol to see them at the Anson Rooms - only to find they'd cancelled the gig in favour of a London-based TV appearances...bastards! So I only got to see them the once...

[3] Robert Plant and pals masquerading as THE SKINNYDIPPERS (not allowed to use the HONEYDRIPPERS name) playing the Rolls Hall, Monmouth in the mid-80s - an evening of old fashioned rock'n rawl in a venue the size of my front-room

[4] Flaming Lips / British Sea Power / Gryf the Power Ranger at Bristol Academy shortly after YOSHIMI came out - all pomp and fun and pop and noise and fizzy joy. The Lips were great, but I have to admit to being delighted by the debut prog rock of 'the Sea Power' and the stuffed seagulls. Gryf playing Billy Joel on a childs casio organ dressed as a Power ranger was immense fun too.

[5] The Ramones at Liverpool University - 1987 I think it was. Bashed my head open on a spring-loaded door on the way to the toilets. Missed the support act while being patched up by the St John's Ambulance folk, then had to leave the mosh pit earlier than I would've liked (I was still alive) because wound re-opened and I kept getting blood in my eyes

Right - which one would it be? It's got to be either Jellyfish or The Ramones...do I have to commit? Really? Can't I do both?

Ok then - Jellyfish it is. God bless their velvet trousers!

So, I've waved my gig-attening knob around in a vain attempt to impress - what are your re-visit/time-machine/regretful options?

Love, as always,

Tony

Just a quick thought:

I love music, I love podcasts, but there is now no time in my busy schedule to listen to both.

Car- and tube-time is now occupied with The Word Podcast, Collings and Herrin, Phill and Phils Perfect 10, The Definitive Word, Trev & Simon, Starbase 66, Adam and Joe, Into the Gamescape, Friday Night BBC Comedy on Radio 4 and Kermode/Mayo Film Reviews (amongst others)

No time in the last few months for anything instrument-based apart from Musee Mechaniques (superb!) and Computer World (Kraftwerk).

The only other albums I have bought in the last TWELVE BLEEDIN' MONTHS are Phenominal Handclap Band and the MOON soundtrack - both excellent, but suffering a severe lack of play.

Home life precludes ANY TIME AT ALL for simple, aural pleasuring...

HELP! What does one do?

Love,

Tony

God am I sick of Jonathan Ross and his schtick.

Sick of the schmoozing and bum-licking.

Sick of the tiresome innuendo.

Sick of the ego nonsense.

It's time to unleash the simple, unadulterated joy of Adam and Joe onto the National (non-digital) airways. They're affectionate, cheeky, witty and inventive (song wars) men.

Who's with me?

Where do I sign?

Love,

Tony

Just enjoyed the record shop ramblings of the 112th podcast and at the mention of Transcription Disks, my ears perked up...

The father of a school-time love used to work at Nimbus records in Monmouth and had a massive collection of BBC Transcription Service discs stacked under his stairs. Amongst this formidable collection were 'in concerts' for U2, Led Zeppelin, Pink Floyd, Steve Hackett and many, many more.

Being a solid sort of chap, he let me have the 'pick' when he redecorated the house - he, of course, kept the complete 'Beatles at the Beeb' and 'Steptoe and Son' recordings, but everything else found its way to my bedroom!

Back in this particular day, I couldn't take the LPs to college with me, so I committed them to C90 and enjoyed them regularly. Then came beer, snooker, rent and comics - all of which presented a drain to my humble grant.

Warning: Terrible, terrible mistake forever regretted forthcoming...

During my final year, when short of ale and billiards money, I would travel to the second hand record shop in Liverpool (centre of town) and off-load my BBC disks - I was paid (in 1989), 100 quid each for the Pink Floyd and Led Zep disks, and a minimum of 50 quid for the lesser items (The Vapors, Rose Tattoo)

With Mr Hepworths comments in mind, had they been just 20 or 30 quids worth, I'd have probably kept the lot - but at 80/90 quid a time, they were just too valuable to retain.

And boy do I regret it now.

All I have are the C90s to remind me...

Driving home from work last week, I happened upon (in my iPod) a copy of the never-released Album by the Wiltshire combo BELARUS.
They managed a single about 2 and half years ago, but political wrangling and all that bollocks prevented the release of the long player.

It is a FANTASTIC album - full of richness, melody; reminiscent of Coldplay when they were good, Bends-era Radiohead ballads and, in places, those soaring Keane notes. Wonderful stuff.

But you won't have heard it, will you?

I also possess the album from a Ross-on-Wye band called 30 Seconds from the mid-80s which is ALSO a fine and luscious item - but, apocryphally, it was shunted aside in favour of a warbling ginger 'holder of China' coz their rep, allegedly, fancied her over four hairy Forest boys (fair 'nuff, I 'spose)

Question 1 - do you lot have access to gem-tastic musical works from bands that never made it, that have never been publically aired, and

Question 2 - can we just post up the MP3s of this stuff because it all deserves a wider audience (bootlegs of established acts excepted)?

Tony

Went to see this magnificent little production on Tuesday night and had a thoroughly brilliant time. The script was evocative and hilarious, and the songs fantastic.

Three down points, though:

[1] Having an imminently-exploding bladder that forced me to the Gents five mins before the bleedin' interval!

[2] 15 quid for two glasses of Pinot Effing Noir

[3] Mr Neil Innes missing out on a quiet sip of something fruity during the interval because of being accosted for the duration by a tipsy, aged Bonzo's fan - what patience! What stoicism! What a gent!

Now to business - can anyone recommend a biog of Ian Dury (plus Blockheads?) for a newly-curious admirer?

Thanks

Listening to the podcast from last week on my way home this evening, I was horrified to hear the 'teams' comments about Strictly Come Dancing - specifically the assertion that its aimed at 4 year old girls, great-grandmothers and gay men...

I am happily immersed in this colourful, funny and innocent spectacle along with the rest of my family (wife plus five kids - to paraphrase Kenny Everett: "That's some cover!") and we treat this is essential "everyone settle down" Saturday night family fayre!

It's a delightful, harmless and joyous programme without the faintest whiff of cynicism...

...I only wish the BBC hadn't commissioned the abortion of an Arthurian legend they deign to label "Merlin" - hogwash and bunkum of the most offensive and risable water...

Tony

P.S. Can we have some more of 'giggling' Mr Ellen too? The podcast from a couple of weeks back was a particular delight!

...which three albums would you want to be the last music you ever hear?

My votes would be:

KIND OF BLUE - Miles Davis
Rich and spicy - close your eyes, breathe in through your nose and out through your mouth. Let the warmth fill you and surround you, and then...

YOSHIMI BATTLES THE PINK ROBOTS - The Flaming Lips
From the off you are thrown into a worling, bleeping, sumptuous percussive feast of melody and riot. A meaty pop-rock fantasy that I need to experience at least once a quarter - just so I feel alive! Of course, in this final scenario, I would be comforted, at last, by Wayne and imagine myself in that balloon...

And finally, before he pull the trigga:

SPIRIT OF EDEN - Talk Talk
An album that has haunted me since it came out late 80s - luscious, soft, thrilling, tentative; a clarion call straight to my soul. Open up those pearly gates, Lord - I'm comin' home...

Hmmm...did anyone else feel a tinge of sadness for the predicament of Mr Kevin Ayers, most wistfully retold in the latest issue? There is a foppish, darkly romantic (poetic?) feel to his gently booze-soaked, amnesiac retirement / exile in the South of France - he seems happy enough, but (oh) I genuinely had to wipe a small tear from my eye...

I was trying to recall some other stars who have extended their lost weekends into decades (a bit like David Essex's Spanish episode in STARDUST - was it Stardust, or am I just confused by the tame Neil Gaiman adaptation of recent months?):

- Syd Barrett's Cambridgeshire hermitage, obviously (toxin free?);

- Viv Stanshall living in something "compact and bijou, Mostin" if, sadly, flammable;

- Peter Green: he wandered off the RADAR, didn't he (and came back)?

Anyone else? Is there someone else who is STILL in absentia? Someone we should all seek out and give a big hug to? After all, we still love them!

Mark Hollis - stand up, for Cliff's sake!

Au reviour,

Tony