I was saying in the pub recently that it’s been a while since I’ve heard anything new that’s really grabbed me, so this was a very welcome discovery as I browsed the sites on my blogroll. The Cotton Jones Basket Ride is the new project of former Page France singer Michael Nau, and if I recall, that band fell from grace somewhat once their overly Christian lyrics became obvious.

I find Nick Cave’s somewhat distorted religious subject matter a little tricky at times, so I can see how this sort of thing could be a problem. I’d have a problem listening to a song whose lyrices advocated the dismantling of nationalised healthcare or neutering spastics as well, so it’s silly to pretend that this sort of thing doesn’t matter.

Consequently when I listen to the Cotton Jones Basket Ride I find myself trying to maintain just a little bit of ignorance as to exactly what they might be singing about. The music is a beautiful mixture of folk, soul and gospel and I don’t want my enjoyment of it to be ruined by religious messages which, frankly, I find tiresome and annoying.

Musically there is so much to enjoy, however, that this line of thought is rendered pretty superfluous. The gently whispered female backing vocal, the easy confidence of the rhythm section – it’s all brilliantly executed, and wonderfully satisfying. It soothes and calms at the same time as it cheers, like an unexpectedly sunny evening.

They’re in the middle of releasing a series of EPs with Quite Scientific Records, the latest of which can be purchased here, and the next of which appears to be slated for release in early 2009.  As soon as I get paid, I am going to be there with bells on.

The Cotton Jones Basket Ride – Had Not a Body
The Cotton Jones Basket Ride – Once Again, She’s a Window Hog

I really have made you wait for this haven’t I. Ah well, no matter. So, another year, another End of the Road Festival. We drove down again, specifically renting a hippy VW camper for the journey, and Christ almighty what a fucking death-trap that thing was. As I wrote in the intro to the podcast about this festival, the thing steered like a bathtub full of water. Honestly, if you ever needed to react to anything unexpected turning the steering wheel was like trying haul a bucket of water out of a well. Throw in the rubbish high beams and the teeny-tiny windscreen wipers and we can count ourselves lucky we got there at all.

But get there we did, to be welcomed by pissing rain. Splendid. I’ve led a charmed life so far, as far as festivals are concerned, having encountered no more that the slightest of sprinkles in the five or six I’ve attended so far. Spoiled, you might say. Well no such luck here. I had the interview lined up with Micah P. Hinson and it was pissing down and they wouldn’t even let us into the photography pit at the front, as had been promised beforehand. I was struggling just a little to stay cheerful. Anyhow, Micah’s set was outstanding – his recorded music may be quite beautiful at times, but when he plays live he puts some real snarl into it.

The lineup is pretty basic – Micah on guitar supported by Nick on drums who plays occasional banjo, and Ashley, his wife, on keyboards – but they manage to dredge some racket out of it when they want to. During the set the sun finally broke through, and the rain stopped falling, and suddenly everything was good. Hinson’s slower songs get a bare and lovely outing with just a guitar, and his sightly abrasive on-stage manner never seems to strike a dubious chord with the audience. The interview went well, and will be posted here shortly, but safe to say that this gig seemed to be the turning point of the End of the Road Festival as far as I am concerned. Read the rest of this entry »

Having been neatly scolded for my snobbery after mocking neds last week, with no mention of their prejudice for threatening to chib me for sounding a bit posh and somewhat English, I am going to steer clear of sweeping generalisations this time around for fear of being stabbed by the weasels on one side and berated as I bleed to death by the tut-tutters on the other.

Wee Half China does make some very good points in that post actually, and whilst it is easy enough to point out that mocking neds for being shitey little bastards is no different to mocking posh yahs for being unspeakable cunts, or indeed the balsamic vinegar classes for being stomach-churningly pretentious, it must be noted that being stereotyped as an unspeakably posh twat never stopped anyone getting ahead in life, so point taken.

That doesn’t have much to do with this week’s exhibits at the Edinburgh live circus though, does it. Apart from perhaps noting the continuing status of indie as some sort of white, middle class, largely male musical ghetto. But, erm, sorry, I’ll try to stay on topic. This week for your quiversome musical pleasure I have found the following:

Wednesday 24th September 2008: Eliza Carthy at the Voodoo Rooms.
For someone who I’ve always associated with gentle folk, I must say that the picture of Eliza Carthy (above) is looking surprisingly babelicious. Listening to the stuff on her MySpace page it all becomes a little clearer – I simply had some slightly skewed pre-conceptions. She still seems loosely based in folk, but there’s a lot more going on there than that so it might be worth popping along here for some, er… glam-folk, can I call it?
Eliza Carthy – Two Tears

Thursday 25th September 2008: Morgan Orion & Withered Hand at the Collective Gallery.
Withered Hand are bloody marvellous. That is all you need to know. About Morgan Orion I know very little, although even a cursory MySpace listen will tell you that there’s something very worth investigating here. It’s basic low-fi singer-songwriter stuff, but the low-key balance between the rough and the smooth is judged nicely, making the sound rather intriguing, if you ask me.
Morgan Orion – Something to Sing Through

Thursday 25th September 2008: Small Town Boredom, Eagleowl & Paul Goodwin at the Wee Red Bar.
This is rather tragically the Gentle Invasion retirement party. It must be said that Bart has retired before, but I am assured that this time he really, really means it. Really means it. Honest. So head along to Henry’s Cellar Bar for an evening of very low key, gentle folk-pop and watch Bart try and persuade himself that he can go cold turkey. He can’t. I guarantee it.
Small Town Boredom – Apologies For Apathy

Thursday 25th Spetember 2008: Jesus H. Foxx & Be A Familiar play Limbo at the Voodoo Rooms.
It’s all very bounce pop this week at Limbo, so it should be great fun. I am not all that familiar with Be A Familiar, but Jesus H. Foxx have some great tunes at their disposal, so fire through for the £2 bottled beers and plenty of boppery.
Jesus H. Foxx – I’m Half the Man You Were

Saturday 27th September – Benbecula Records Showcase at the Voodoo Rooms.
Benbecula are a very well-respected record label in these parts about whom I know very little indeed. They tend to focus on electronica, often quite experimental. Given my general ignorance I think a showcase like this would be the perfect time to get a taster of what the label is really about.

Yes, another podcast dedicated entirely to the End of the Road Festival. I did the very same last year because I do rather love this festival, and the sheer quality of the lineup easily merits a podcast to itself.

Unlike last year, Mrs. Toad actually came with me this time around. We drove this stupid old 1960s VW camper van down there, and Christ knows how we didn’t die in the process. The fucking thing steered like a bathtub full of water, there were no brakes at all and the only crumple zone was us. The other disconcerting thing is the fact that VW campers are something of a community, so everyone who passed us in one would flash their lights and wave with the sort of sincere enthusiasm that made us mortally ashamed to be mere renters – mere passengers in a club full of such obviously devoted members, Christ we felt like charlatans.

Anyway, ignore our guilt and enjoy the podcast. There’s some fucking great music on this one. And why is it called the Deathcast? Because that blasted camper van we drove down in was an absolute death trap. Honestly, want to die in a nasty accident? Try driving a 60s VW camper van around the English countryside in the middle of the night in the pissing rain.

Toadcast #38 – The Deathcast

Audio clip: Adobe Flash Player (version 9 or above) is required to play this audio clip. Download the latest version here. You also need to have JavaScript enabled in your browser.

01. Micah P. Hinson – Patience (03.17)
02. Nick Cave & the Dirty Three – Time Jesum Transeuntum Et Non Riverentum (09.41)
03. The Young Republic – Shiloh (20.19)
04. Over the Wall – Thurso (23.22)
05. British Sea Power – Carrion (29.40)
06. The Pictish Trail – All I Own (36.50)
07. Shearwater – Levithan, Bound (41.31)
08. Jeffrey Lewis – Do They Owe (45.50)
09. The Wave Pictures – Leave That Scene Behind (50.39)
10. Richard Hawley – Coming Home (53.21)
11. Calexico – Minas de Cobre (For Better Metal) (59.55)

It’s fucking Friday, three hours from Beer O’Clock, bloody marvellous! Mrs. Toad is away for over a week in Australia, which is quite frankly disastrous news. I’ll have a wanking hand like a fucking Fiddler Crab by the end of the week. Still, on the plus side I will have loads of time to do worky things. Not Proper Job worky things obviously, no, Toady worky things like getting promo copies of the first couple of Toad releases off to the music magazines, writing up interviews and editing the video, and publishing the Sparrow & the Workshop Toad Session.

So it’s another week in my underpants, glued to a computer screen and eating gherkins out of the jar for me I’m afraid.  Think of that while you’re out leading your exciting, exotic lives, snorting coke and banging hot babes.  Yeah, yeah, it’s fine for you lot you bunch of fly-by-night flibbertigibbets, but just you mind who puts in the real work around here.

This week’s splendid Five for Friday is as follows, and as usual please do take this opportunity to come out of the closet and spit your penny’s worth into the communal bucket.

1. A band none of us have mentioned but who we really should love (MySpace link might help).
2. Book that most reminds you of your childhood.
3. Worst thing you’ve ever said about an ex (no names, obviously).
4. Percentage of your day not spent doing what you are being paid to do.
5. Percentage of your internet usage that would qualify as being too porny to comfortably share with your other half.  If you have no shame about sharing that sort of thing with your other half, then pretend you do for the purposes of this list.

The Raincoats – Balloonacy
Jake Flowers & the Carol-Anne Showband – Rosalie
Eva Cassidy – Kathy’s Song Is there a more heartbreakingly lovely line in all of music than “There but for the grace of you go I”?
My Teenage Stride – The But for the Grace of You Go I
Art Brut – Emily Kane

One of the worst things in modern music is the lack of craftsmanship, so it’s refreshing to see a band take the time required to really do things properly. The fourteen years since the last New Kids album has been very much put to good use, with this dazzling return to form justifying their insistence on time and craftsmanship.

No other group I can think of show such musical sophistication as New Kids, with their ability to move seemlessly between genres, all the while digesting and exploring, second to none. This new album shows genuine musical innovation as they incorporate elements of classic R&B, punchier new hip hop flavours – or ‘flavaz’! – mixed intriguingly with the angsty dance atmospheres of the Pet Shop Boys and, of course, classic disco.

This new maturity extends to the narrative sculpting of the album as well. A thoughful, more sophisticated approach to their lyrical output results in a nuanced emotional trajectory for the record that is as subtly and carefully constructed as any great novel. They lead us from the solitary self-doubt of Single, touching on themes such as the alienating effects of modern society and the resulting quest for approval in places which will never satisfy, to the more pressing political topics of the day with swaggering confidence. Lyrics such as ‘damn you look so good it hurts me, the design of your body is perfect, I don’t deserve you girl’ simultaneously explore the self doubt in American society, its effects on her citizens and some of the root causes of this crisis in a nation’s identity, namely the suppression of Intelligent Design in a new era of politicised public discourse.

The capacity to blend this sort of intelligent, subversive content with a musical paradigm that can move from the poignant to the pumping in a matter of moments make this one of the most complete records of the year so far, one that is as happy to ironically reference popular culture, such as the deliciously post-modern Dirty Dancing, as it is to tackle the serious issues, such as the dangers of the objectification of women in a culture so fixated with all things sexual. Because at the end of the day, all you need is New Kids and you can bring the sexy all day and all night long.

It’s been a long wait for this album, one which has seen lesser contemporaries such as Boyz II Men fall by the wayside, but with this blistering return to form New Kids have drawn a line in the sand which few current pop bands will be capable of even approaching.

New Kids on the Block- Dirty Dancing
New Kids on the Block- Sexify My Love

Website | More mp3s | Buy from Amazon

Let’s get the crap out of the way first, shall we. At its worst, this album is merely bland – a pastiche of work that Bjork did almost ten years ago. That, just occasionally, is the territory which The Mummers flirt with on Tell to Tale.

That sounds horrible, but if you don’t get into this album then that is what you will probably hear, I would have thought. Personally, though, I think it’s just a bit brilliant. Nicole Atkins has already test-driven the drama queen off broadway on drugs in a dive bar aesthetic this year, with great success. This is a little more Alice in Wonderland than that, but the preposterous, romantic grandeur is similar.

The sound is quite odd actually. It really reminds me of that mid-nineties period I alluded to earlier. It’s not just Bjork, there are elements of Saint Etienne and Dubstar to be heard – a lot of that high, fragile female vocal that was very popular at that point. When The Mummers calm it all down and explore the mistier side of their repertoire they even dance briefly into The Real Tuesday Weld territory, albeit without the dusty vinyl crackles Mr. Coates so loves.

I wouldn’t leap up and down and declare that every last moment on this album is a giddy success, but there are some absolute gems to be found here. When it really clicks it is exuberantly fun to listen to, and that happens a lot. There are a couple where they don’t quite unshackle the magic and the song never quite gets going, but for the most part this is great stuff.

The Mummers – Wonderland
The Mummers – Nightbus

MySpace | Buy from Rough Trade

I’ve been on Blogfresh Radio a few times in the past, and always enjoyed the experience. I used to chat to Bill Pearis, which was always fun, but he’s moved on now. These days when I talk to them it’s with a chap called Dev Sherlock who has proved to be just as much fun to chat to as Bill. A little too much fun actually – it seems to be traditional that when I talk to Blogfresh I prattle on endlessly for fucking ages, and then they face the unenviable task of trying to cut it down to a concise minute or so. Poor bastards – still, someone’s got to make them work for their money.

Anyhow, in addition to the more usual approach where a blogger chats a little bit to introduce a song they’re really enjoying at the moment, Blogfresh have very kindly done a profile on Song, by Toad on their latest show. There’s inevitably vanity at play here, of course there is, but I am nonetheless really chuffed that they decided to feature this blog on their recent show. It’s nice because I like what they’re doing, and they’re nice people. So go an listen and make a point of listening regularly. Their shows are short and sweet, unlike my rambling dispatches, and give you a really good taster of what’s going on on the blogs that week. It’s weird to hear a blogger’s actual voice, because sometimes I’d imagined something entirely different, but rather cool nonetheless.

In other news, I am back on Fresh Air Radio (click on the Listen Live thingy) this weekend. I have two shows, Saturday 12-2pm and Sunday 2-4pm both this weekend and next.  So if you want to hear me successfully managing to not swear – no seriously, it happens – tune in.  It’s Freshers Week at the uni as well so I might concentrate on a bit of an introduction to the Edinburgh music scene, and also play some songs from my own time as a first year student. That’ll give the game away something chronic about just how bloody old I am but fuck it, why not, it sounds fun. And there’s nothing to help people settle down and get over their nerves about being new to a place that finding some silly old fart to snigger at.

Here’s a couple that I might well consider:
Lemonheads – Being Around (Acoustic)
James – Say Something

Or my first year in Glasgow:
Gene – Sick, Sober & Sorry
Pulp – Common People

[The latest in our Introduce Your Local Record Shop series is Bart. Bart is not only in pretty much every band in Edinburgh, most notably the superb Eagleowl, but also the evil mastermind behind The Gentle Invasion, who put on some of the best gigs in the city.]

I’ve been trying to find a way to write about this as a music fan, rather than a musician or promoter, but inevitably it’s as a promoter of gigs that I have most experience of the record shops in Edinburgh. I have a poster run that starts at Elvis Shakespeare on Leith Walk and goes up along the bridges, finishing at the Southern Bar on South Clark street. This occurs at least once a month, depending on what I have on.

Elvis Shakespeare is my favorite record store in the city, so it’s no accident that I start there. It’s a genuinely nice shop – well stocked, and so cramped for room (as the best record stores are), but the bright walls and wooden flooring make it feel spacious and welcoming. It doubles as a second hand bookstore (hence the name), and you can also get a cup of tea or coffee. The two guys that work there know me quite well (purely from doing this monthly poster run), and when I stop in we always have a chat about what the current poster’s for, what else I’ve been up to, and how things are going in general. It’s just nice spending time there.

They also run in-store gigs, which have included some of the best shows I’ve been to in Edinburgh. (the photo is from when Thomas Truax played there earlier this year, which could barely be described as an in-store gig, since he spent as much time running up and down Leith Walk, singing in the windows of the neighbouring shops).

But it was as a music fan I first went to Elvis Shakespeare. The first purchase I made was a German release of one of Morricone’s Dollars Trilogy soundtracks (I forget which one, though the title was translated into German anyway). Meeting Dave, the owner, at the counter for the first time, he proceeded to explain that a lot of the records in the store were from his own collection, and he picked up that particular one whilst living in Europe. This may not sound like much, but from that short conversation, I was hooked. To have that small bit of background – to know that the record had a part in someone’s life, and was now being passed on to be a part in someone else’s life (it was a present for a friend’s birthday) was really exciting. It’s that connection that’s important, and why I love record stores in general. It’s not just the music that’s important, it’s how the music fits into your life. We frequent these record stores and we have long online discussions about what Micah P. Hinson album is slightly superior – not because we quite like music, but because we’re genuine music fans. I mean I like tea, but I don’t have epic debates about whether Earl Grey is more refreshing than Darjeeling [It isn't - Toad]. Music is part of out lives. And it’s nice to see a music shop that’s run by people with the same outlook.

Oh yeah, songs.
Ghost of David, title track from the Damien Jurado album which was recommended to me by David at Elvis Shakepeare, and has since become one of my favorites.
Damien Jurado – Ghost of David

And The Chase from the Fistful of Dollars soundtrack. I’m pretty sure that was my first purchase at Elvis Shakespeare. Also, it kicks ass.
Fistful of Dollars Soundtrack – The Chase

As you can see I have complied with Mrs. Toad’s request to stop featuring cutesy Edinburgh pictures on these little posts and put up some pictures of radgy wee neds instead. This is something I think she feels is more representative of a kind of Edinburgh life that tends to be ignored (for more such pictures, go here, it’s hilarious).

I play football regularly in Craigmillar, often against teams from there or alternatively from lovely places like Craigour, Niddrie and other delightful Edinburgh tourist spots. I’ve actually been threatened with being knifed something like three or four times during various matches when we’ve played out there. It is a little unsettling actually, because for all you always have to respond with bravado – ‘Yeah fuck off – I’m more scared of your Mum you little poof’ or something equally erudite – there’s always the slender chance that one of the weaselly little fuckers is just crazy enough to mean it.

The biggest question I have with neds (pikeys, scallys, radges, whatever you local variation might be) is how they manage to find the stamina to go through life so CONSTANTLY FUCKING ANGRY. Honestly, where does that rage come from, how can they summon that level of anger, all of every day, about nothing at all? I suppose having lost at everything doesn’t help. Maybe the anger is why they live such short lives too – the rage must just burn you up.

Anyway, all that’s by the by really, isn’t it. What’s on this week then? Not much, but one absolute corker: Fence Club.

Wednesday 17th September 2008: James Yorkston & the Athletes, Malcolm Middleton, and Pictish Trail & Rozi Plain at The Caves.
In terms of lineups you’d struggle to beat this. James Yorkston’s new album is gorgeous, and given his tour is necessarily going to be a solo affair I really recommend you take this chance to see him now. The lush beauty of the sound is going to be perfect for The Caves, especially with full Athletic accompaniment. Malcolm Middleton’s literate, witty, downbeat indie takes little introduction, I would hope, and the dynamic duo of Pictish and Plain should be a treat. Tickets are getting close to selling out, too, so I’d buy one now if I were you. The official line is that there should be tickets left to sell on the door, but they aren’t certain. Book here to put your mind at rest.
James Yorkston – Queen of Spain
Malcolm Middleton – A Brighter Beat

Saturday 20th September 2008: Jonquil at Henry’s Cellar Bar.
One of Edinburgh’s own has recently agreed to become their manager, so they must be good. It’s a sort of experimental folk sound, broadly speaking, and is really bloody marvellous live. It’s a late one too, so don’t get so plastered you fail to appreciate the music. I do that all the fucking time, and it irritates the shit out of me.
Jonquil – Apparency

And, you know, I really think that’s it.