Song, by Toad

This may be the limpest of all excuses I’ve ever had for naming a podcast.  You know why it’s called the Jeffcast?  Because I kinda mention Jeffrey Lewis a couple of times.  Oooh, yes, that makes sense.  Still, sorry, I couldn’t think of anything else really, off the top of my head.

I suppose I am off to see Jeffrey Lewis directly after recording this, so I guess it sort of counts.  He is playing a secret gig at Henry’s Cellar Bar after sneaking out of the Beggars Banquet Christmas Party at the Picture House over the road.  It’s one of the things I love about the anti-folk crowd: you genuinely get the impression that they’d rather be playing to an appreciative crowd of their mates, rather than a bigger crowd of anonymous punters who may stand there and demand entertainment.

So there you go, that’s the deal for tonight.  For the rest of the weekend we’re putting together Meursault albums, ready for the official (re)launch of their record next Friday at the Song, by Toad Christmas Party.  So, after folding and screen-printing a thousand of the bastards we’ll all be well ready for Gimme Shelter in the Caves on Saturday and a spot of Candythief action in the Jazz Bar on Sunday.  Enjoy the 48th Toadcast.

Toadcast #48 – The Jeffcast

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01. Yo La Tengo – Double Dare (04.12)
02. Wolf Parade – Call it a Ritual (07.29)
03. Modey Lemon – Loch Ness Monster (11.25)
04. Sly & the Family Stone – Life (17.09)
05. The Velcro Quartet – The Love Song of Little Cosmo Nostradamus (20.03)
06. The Pernice Brothers – The Ballad of Bjorn Borg (25.57)
07. Caramel Jack – The Lincoln Jackson Incident (34.37)
08. The Magnetic Fields – All the Umbrellas in London (38.29)
09. Sparklehorse – Happy Man (Memphis Version) (44.46)
10. The Veils – Birthday Present (49.44)
11. Grandaddy – Miner at the Dial-A-View (54.24)

Frances, aka Animal Magic Tricks, played in Edinburgh a little while ago on her way up to Fife to play at the Fence Records Halloween Party.  I’d never heard of her before, but blimey she was good.  I’ve since gone a bit MySpace on the whole business and only been more impressed.  She’ll be playing up here again in February or March again hopefully, and Neil from Meursault has offered to do some recording with her as he was equally impressed.  This is splendid news: more songs, more songs!

Why do I like it so much then?  Well on her recorded stuff in particular Frances has really allowed the crackle and his to detune what might otherwise be very pretty, flighty female eccentrica.  Imagine if the likes of Feist or St. Vincent or any of that lot had been detuned to the point of disintegration, and you can imagine what you’re in for here.  Distorted clicks and beeps pervert a gentle, quavering voice, bringing all sorts of intrigue and depth to what might otherwise be very fragile and gentle.  As it is, the sound is more deviated and sinister.

She has an EP (I think it’s an EP) for sale on her MySpace page which I have just ordered and am really looking forward to hearing.  And I am really excited about the prospect of working with her in the Spring.  Splendid!

Animal Magic Tricks – Cannibal I
Animal Magic Tricks – Fingers (Demo)

Gak. Too much beer. Once more I stagger into work feeling fuzzy-headed and furry-tongued after a night of beer and song. It’s so fucking hard to concentrate on anything when you really just want to curl up on the floor under your desk and catch up on another six hours of sleep.

Tonight, however, instead of sleep, there will be podcasting and then a trip to the Withered Hand, Ish Marquez and Stanley Brinks gig at about eleven. And tomorrow we all get up nice and early and spend the whole day putting together Meursault albums. This involves screen printing front and back, folding the poster with the lyrics on it, applying a Toad stamp and an orange felt tip to the inlay card, and putting a barcode sticker on the back. Oddly, it is also going to involve watching Wales and Australia play at egg-chasing on the telly. It’s also going to take ages, but should be worth it in the end.

I forgot to mention a couple of gigs earlier in the week (like there weren’t enough already) but Sunday could end up panning out very nicely if you all do as you are told and follow my advice, which is this: potter along to the National Museum of Scotland for three o’clock, when The Pictish Trail will be playing a free set, then go to the pub for a couple of hours (there’s dozens within easy walking distance) and potter along to the Jazz Bar to see Candythief between about nine and half eleven. Candythief have a new album available and if it’s anything like their previous EP I will be absolutely delighted. So there you go – that’s your Sunday planned out for you.

As for Friday, however, there is still some serious business afoot: Five Friday Favourites, as pinched from GUT. It’s been very local on the site this week, so this would be a fine chance for all you lurkers to show the local gangs that you’re not afraid of them and get stuck in on your own account. Go for it – what’s the worst that can happen – public humiliation? Pish posh.

1. Favourite sweetie (in the candy sense, because of Candythief – nothing saucy please).
2. Best work-dodging tip for the terminally hung over.
3. Longest spell spent successfully on the wagon.
4. Soap of choice.
5. Coolest old TV program to search for on YouTube.

The Pictish Trail – I Don’t Know Where to Begin
Candythief – Junk
The Jam – All Mod Cons
The Zincs – The Moguls’ Wives
The Men They Couldn’t Hang – Hush Little Baby

This record is all over the place – not entirely in a bad way, but it can be a little disconcerting at times.  The pace and rhythm stop and start, and songs lurch off into new territory half way through, and in general the whole thing can come across as a direct challenge to the listener to not like it. That’s unlikely to be what you end up doing though because, as it crashes about, this record staggers through some marvellous moments that are easily enough to talk you into giving it the extra time it both needs and deserves.

There are hints of Man Man in some of the more unhinged moments, but not all that much. It can also be a little like early Modest Mouse and I can definitely hear some of Tom Waits’ more barmy moments here and there as well.

It’s too experimental to be excessively like any of these bands though. There are times when the songs themselves seem to grind to a halt, but there is a lot of great stuff on this album if you are prepared to give time and attention to a somewhat recalcitrant record that doesn’t necessarily surrender its goodies after half a glass of red wine and some lazy compliments.

Baby Walrus – Airplane Shuttle Blues
Baby Walrus – Some Dawns No Bird Will Sing

MySpace | More mp3s | Buy from Slumber Party Records

You know it never occurred to me that Meursault’s band name would prove so tricky to spell, but first the BBC and now Mojo magazine have managed to spell it incorrectly, and both in different ways. When they were played on Gideon Coe last week they were on the track listing as Meuersault, and now their brilliant review in this month’s Mojo starts with them being referred to as Mersault. God knows how that’s going to affect any of our potential sales, but I hope we don’t have too many people give on looking for a band that might not drop easily out of a Google search. I’ve written a page on the label site with both misspellings in the URL and the title, which is about all I can think of.

Anyway, what a fucking great review eh? Well done lads. The album can be pre-ordered here, in advance of a 15th December release date, or bought at the Song, by Toad Christmas Party next Friday at the Bowery.

Aaron Schroeder – Hooray For You

You know, it’s getting on for the tail end of November and I have barely even sulked at the early arrival of Christmas shit everywhere and that Noddy Holder garbage on the stereo in every fucking shop in the city. Given that I detest all of these things, why am I not hating them so much as usual? Easy – they are simply being ignored; passively boycotted, if you like.

I fucking detest vast amounts of Christmas. The obligation and guilt-based shopping the shallow acquisitiveness, the competitive exhibitionism involved in showing just how well you ‘do’ Christmas and all that other shit. The relentless marketing in particular makes my anus bleed.

I do love Christmas though. Or, bits of it. And for some reason, partly because Mrs. Toad can’t stand it either and partly because I have slowly tried to train the family into neither giving nor expecting presents, those bits seem to be winning, recently. We just haven’t been anywhere near the shops to be annoyed by the whole thing.

Neither Kate nor I have much interest in special occasions. We don’t really observe one another’s birthdays, we have never bought one another much of anything for Christmas, and we might – might – go out for dinner on our anniversary, but that’s about it. Basically, we are just a couple of reactionary misanthropes who don’t like being told when to do anything – including doing something special for one another.

But Christmas is a little different, I suppose because of the nature of the Pagan festival from which it originates. In the depths of the dark and cold (and wet, more often than not, here in Scotland) there is something bloody brilliant about lighting the fire, closing the doors and refusing to interact with anyone other than your very nearest and dearest for a week or two. We had some roast chestnuts on Princes Street the other day.

It’s the personal side that I’ve always liked though. We’ve never had big parties, just spent a long, quiet time together as a family (usually four of us or less) and played lots of tunes, cooked together, read books and just recuperated from the year. It’s an incredibly nourishing thing to spend quiet time with the people who love you the best. This year we’ll probably order a goose to roast on the day, but I reckon most of the holiday will be spent troughing like porkers. Mostly we’ll stay in, not talk to people, and just spend some time together doing not very much at all. Add in the fact that the meals are special, the cold outside and warm inside makes the setting as comforting and cosy as possible, and the fact that I’ve been so busy this year we’ve hardly had a moment to ourselves and I find myself looking forward to Christmas enormously. It’s not even December yet and I am ‘ready’ – bloody hell! And I don’t even care about the carnival of capitalist masturbation that I am going to end up pretty much ignoring.  Two weeks! Me and Mrs. Toad! And no-one else! Wheeee!

We might even do you all an anti-Christmas podcast if you’re really, really fucking nice.

King Creosote – My Favourite Girl
Willard Grant Conspiracy – Dance With Me

This post isn’t supposed to be quite as portentous as the title might imply. It’s actually more of a casual observation: basically there are some songs, and quite often they are early Bob Dylan ones, where all I hear is the legend, and I can’t really hear them as songs any more.

The two most obvious ones are both on the same album: With God On Our Side and The Times They Are a-Changin’. I think it might be because my parents talked such a lot about the importance of these two songs in particular when they were introducing me to Bob Dylan, and consequently I actually have no idea whether or not I like either track. I actually think that as pieces of music I am not that keen on either.

I’ve always thought, in fact, that I just didn’t like that entire album all that much but that is, or at least should be, nonsense. It sounds so much like so much stuff I love, and is pretty much an anti-folk album, despite the fact that he was considered by many to be a folk singer. Mind you that boundary is so fuzzy anyway that it makes very little difference in the first place. In any case though, you get the point: given what I else I love, I really should like it.

And looking at the tracklist before writing this I realised that actually, maybe I do. When the Ship Comes In and Hattie Carroll are two of my favourite Dylan songs, so maybe it really is just their status that puts me off those two tracks. Maybe they really are so famous and such iconic songs that I just can’t hear the song anymore. Maybe it’s similar to the way some actors become so famous that you can’t watch them as characters anymore, and simply see someone so famous that they have actually transcended any artistic achievements they might manage by virtue of being such powerful symbols in and of themselves.

Bob Dylan – The Times They are a-Changin’
Bob Dylan – When the Ship Comes In
Bob Dylan – The Lonesome Death of Hattie Carroll
And here’s something of a surprise cover, from the Pogues last ever album. This was two albums after the departure of Shane MacGowan and pretty much sank without trace, but there were some good things on it, like this Dylan cover.
The Pogues – When the Ship Comes In

You can’t fucking move in Edinburgh this week but for accidentally walking in on a quality gig.  Honestly, you could end up with a liver like a cricket ball if you went to all of the bastards, so there may be a few orange juice gigs (yes, I know, boom-tish and all that) for me this week, or I’ll have to spend all of December sobering up.

Given what Christmas is generally like anyway, I suspect that’s what January is likely to be for but, as with Christmas itself, it seems that the party season is starting earlier than ever this year.  Anyhow, there are a couple of really major ones this week, so unless you are at gigs from Wednesday until Sunday with barely a pause for breath, then bollocks to you.

Wednesday 26th November 2008: Nick Cave & the Bad Seeds at the Corn Exchange.
I don’t think I need to tell you what a legend I think Nick Cave is.  Along with Tom Waits and Bob Dylan he forms some sort of Unholy Trinity here at Song, by Toad and as his age increases so, seemingly, does his swagger.  Dig, Lazarus, Dig may not have been the most brilliant of his albums, but the stage show is still pretty amazing, helped considerably by the presence of demonic dervish Warren Ellis, torturing his violin to within an inch of its life.  Not to be missed.
Nick Cave & the Bad Seeds – Opium Tea

Wednesday 26th November 2008: Mary Hampton & Pete Greenwood bring the Green Man Tour to the Bowery.
If you can’t face the plastic glassed, beer stained, sweaty aircraft hangar which is the Corn Exchange then this is place for you.  The Bowery’s cosy setting is as perfect as I can imagine for the kind of delicate folk that the Green Man tour will be bringing to town.  Peter Greenwood is a little more popsome than Mary Hampton, so the two should provide a nice counterpoint to one another and a splendid evening altogether.
Pete Greenwood – Negotiations & Last Words

Thursday 27th November 2008: The Limbo 1st Birthday Party at the Voodoo Rooms, with Micachu, A-Lix, Dead Boy Robotics & Ex Lion Tamer.
Quite how Limbo have managed to put on a gig every week for a year is bloody well beyond me.  This will be at the dancier, electro-spazzier end of the spectrum of music you’ll hear about on this site, but then again this is supposed to a party after.  So well done to Dave and Andy at Limbo, and you can be assured that I will be there with bells on.  And, while we’re at it, well done to Ex Lion Tamer on signing with Seventeen Seconds Records.
Ex Lion Tamer – Go Ghost

Thursday 27th November 2008: Oxjam at the Hive, with Thieves in Suits, My Tiny Robots, Found, Sorren MacLean, Black Diamond Express Saint Jude’s Infirmary & the Wee Baby Jesuses.
Forgive me if I don’t link to every single MySpace page for this one, but you can all use Google.  This is the second of two nights in the capital this week with an all-star lineup of bands and all sorts of shadowy-sounding extra entertainment, like Ox-Factor stage, a Guitar Hero Arena and a cocktail bar.

Friday 28th November 2008: Withered Hand, Ish Marquez, Stanley Brinks and an Uber-Secret Special Guest at Henry’s Cellar Bar.
Even without the Very Special Guest this is a pretty special lineup for fans of scratchy anti-folk twisted with unrest and disquiet.  Withered Hand is pretty much head of the Edinburgh arm of the anti-folk society, and certainly the one who fits most cleanly with their sound.
Jeffrey Lewis – If You Shoot the Head You Kill the Ghoul

Saturday 29th November 2008: White Heath & Fanattica at The Tron.
I am not entirely convinced about White Heath’s recordings on their MySpace page, but Euan put them on at Trampoline the other week and said that they were excellent live, so this should be worth checking out.  Recorded, there is quite a straightforward indie rock foundation to songs subsequently spiced up with real instruments.  Live apparently there is much more of an unhinged carnival atmosphere than I have thus far detected, so maybe it’s just not quite been captured on the recordings.  Fanattica are excellent live, with plenty of influence from the considerable Edinburgh Polish population, which they churn up with plenty of spirit and deliver with plenty of mayhem.

Saturday 29th November 2008: Gimme Shelter at the Caves, with pretty much the cream of the Edinburgh music scene.  I can’t be arsed linking all the MySpace pages, but here’s the list: Broken Records, Ballboy, Wake the President, Steve Mason (DJ Set), The European Union, De Rosa, Found (DJ Set), Withered Hand, Meursault, eagleowl, Jesus H Foxx, Little Pebble, The Kays Lavelle, Team Turnip, Kat Healy.  Basically, as you can probably tell, one great big fuck off extravaganza of music.  Surprisingly enough, my tip for the day is Team Turnip.  It may be a silly name, but Russell was one of the first people to ever submit music to Song, by Toad and his songwriting is really good.  He’s been under the radar somewhat since then, so I’ll be really interested to see how he’s getting on after almost two years.

I know it’s a bit obvious to do a podcast like this so shortly after my birthday, but it gives me the opportunity to ramble a bit and play some classics I might not otherwise have played.

There are so many wonderful songs about growing old, and I actually think I may have missed most of them.  I have no fear of being old, but for some reason it feels a little more immediate this year but I don’t know why.

So goodnight people, it’s been a pleasure.  Sleep well and don’t be too rough on yourselves.  Take Kirsty’s advice and “don’t be too rough on my cold, cold heart; it’s all I’ve got left to me now.”

That may be the smart-arsed line, but the most important line in this song is the bit where she says that “there’s a light in your eyes tells me somebody’s in and you won’t come the cowboy with me”.  It’s such a crucial judgment, isn’t it.  You take a bet on someone, you throw in your chips and you hope for the best.  So if you’re feeling brave, good luck to you.  Look after her, I’ll be there anytime soon.

Toadcast #47 – The Oldcast

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01. The Rolling Stones – Mother’s Little Helper (00.01)
02. The Band – Rockin’ Chair (07.46)
03. Michelle Shocked – Memories of East Texas (11.21)
04. Hafdis Huld – Tomoko (20.57)
05. Baby Walrus – Some Dawns No Bird Will Sing (28.44)
07. Donny Hue & the Colors – The World Came Running (30.25)
08. Mumford & Sons – Little Lion Man (34.21)
08. Soko – The Dandy Cowboys (43.31)
09. Kirsty MacColl – Don’t Come the Cowboy With Me, Sonny Jim (47.04)
10. Neil Young – Old Man (55.09)
11. Jeffrey Lewis – Back When I Was Four (58.12)

After a day of indolence yesterday I am back on the horse, so to speak, to bring you our favourite time-wasting indulgence: the Five Friday Favourites. I can’t think of anything more tedious and unfair on Friday than being expected to actually do the work which we are paid to sit at our desks and do, so I spend the day pottering about on the internet, sorting out artwork for Toad releases, playing silly computer games, and keeping a nice Photoshop rendering ready to pop up onto my screen should anyone happen to walk by.

What are your plans for the weekend, then? I have to do some tedious DIY stuff on Saturday like wiring up the light in the kitchen and stuff like that. Then of course there’s the small matter of installing Mrs. Toad’s gigantic fucking Mirrorball in the living room. Yes, mirrorball. It’s at least two feet across as well, so if I don’t kill myself by trying to balance on top of the ladder then I may snap my spine in half trying to lift the sodding thing up onto its hook thingy. Mind you, think how cool the Toad Sessions are going to be with that bloody great thing in the room. Splendid!

This week’s five have been submitted by Dylan from Blueback Hotrod, official Toad photographer and proud sporter of the Golden Leek award for excessive Welshness. He insists that it is currently Mo-vember, when we should all be growing beards and moustaches for charity. This sounds like a load of old bollocks to me, but I can’t be bothered to look it up, so we’ll just have to take his word for it.

See all the Edinburgh lot tomorrow night in the Bowery for Alex Cornish, and as for the rest of you, get your weekend greetings in here, and wait for tomorrow’s podcast. Have fun Toadlings.

1. Best celebrity moustache.
2. Optimum sideburn length.
3. Nasal hair: trim or pluck?
4. When does beard sculpture go too far? Discuss.
5. Your own best personal achievement in the field of facial topiary. (Alternative ladies’ question: favourite knitting pattern.)

And this week’s five random songs come from an enormous pile of music I downloaded from my friend Morgan a while back, but still haven’t had the time to go through properly.

Linton Kwesi Johnson – Bass Culture
Captain Beefheart – Grown So Ugly
Red Sovine – Phantom 409 If you’re thinking ’surely not that Phantom 409′, then the answer is yes, that Phantom 409. Fucking cool, eh.
Serge Gainsbourg – Couleur Cafe
Fela Kuti – Viva Nigeria