Toadcast #50 – The Friendcast
Ah, mates. Can’t live with ‘em, can’t kill ‘em. Mrs. Toad’s best friend from her reckless yoof is visiting us here in Edinburgh with her gentleman friend, and consequently I got to thinking about my own old friends, and all the people who, over the years, have introduced me to so much brilliant music. So I started to patch together a playlist of all the important friends who have added a lot of music to my life. The problem is that it became way too long for my one hour restriction, so for this week I cast that aside, and allowed myself an extra ten minutes.
Honestly though, old friends are so important, this could have gone on for two hours, easily. Every one of the people I mention here has a whole story of their own, and it was quite difficult to resist telling all of them in proper detail. It seems such a shame, actually, to reduce all of these people to a two-minute link. I could almost do a whole podcast for any one of these scenarios really, and maybe I’ll do that in future. For now, though, you’ll have to make do with this. It may be shabby, but it really could have been so much worse. Meanwhile, Mrs. Toad is fucking plastered. Oh good. Enjoy!
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01. Pink Floyd – On the Turning Away (02.27)
02. Pearl Jam – Black (11.23)
03. The Tragically Hip – Wheat Kings (18.30)
04. Gene – Her Fifteen Years (25.23)
05. Radiohead – Black Star (28.04)
06. Verve – Lucky Man (34.41)
07. Weeping Willows – Eternal Flames (39.19)
08. Billy Bragg – Days Like These (DC Remix) (45.41)
09. Bob Dylan – Po’ Boy (49.42)
10. Elbow – Newborn (55.46)
11. Blanche – Do You Trust Me? (63.19)
12. Maximo Park – Apply Some Pressure (69.07)
I completely agree with you about the value of old friends, but for some reason my best and oldest friends have not been very influential on my listening habits, except perhaps by negation. For example, one of my oldest friends still insists that America (A Horse With No Name, etc.) is the greatest band ever. I remember playing The Queen Is Dead for my friends back in 1986 or so, and they laughed at me. And when I tried to introduce them to Daydream Nation in 1988 or 1989, they shook their heads ruefully.
loved the wheat kings song.
My goodness, that Pink Floyd track does go on, doesn’t it? …And on. I used to love Pink Floyd, now I almost invariably find them funny. Black by Pearl Jam is just a great tune. The way it builds to the end gets me every time. Have you heard Gillian Welch and David Rawlings’ performance of Black Star perchance? Great stuff.
So. Who introduced you to Tom Waits? Nick Cave? Or were those independent discoveries?
It was a Christmas soiree chez nous last night. Some nibbles, a little light music and some friends over for a few drinky poos.
Now, Mr Toad is currently sleeping off a monumental hangover after getting up at 10am to play football still absolutely plastered (he went to bed after five). Neil of Meursault fame spent the night passed out on our spare bedroom floor, the worlds most rubber man. Dylan prostrated himself on top of a vaulting horse and proceeded to sleep, arms and legs akimbo, and snoring loudly.
I blame this blog. Bloody degenerates the lot of youse.
Surely you took pictures! Meanwhile, in the clean world, C&B put the little lads to bed at 9-ish after watching the Charlie Brown Christmas special, then he and the missus read in bed for awhile (she the New Yorker, I Dickens’ A Christmas Carol) and turned in at 10:30 or so. No booze, but I did have a glass of spiced soymilk ’round suppertime. Woke early this morning so the boys and I could rake the fallen leaves from the back yard and then jump in the piles. In short, I accept no responsibility for this bacchanalia. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to go iron my smalls.
By the way, why do you have a vaulting horse in your house?
On second thought, never mind.
Great party………
You all really should get twitter and tweet us minute by minute details.
Nick Cave I discovered by myself, and my Dad was responsible for Tom Waits and Bob Dylan.
And a fine party it was indeed. Christ, I’m still recovering now.
cheers matthew….tho i think i’ve got the beer blues……
Akimbo, eh?
I don’t know about my arms and legs, but my head was definitely akimbo the next day.
Sunday 14th December 2008 technically didn’t happen for me. I woke up around mid-day on the living room floor, staggered round the corner to my sister’s, she took one look at me and drove me straight home, where I went back to bed for the rest of the day!
My liver will be akimbo for about a week I reckon. Bloody gin.
(..and red wine, and beer, and scrumpy cider, and snowballs…)
There are photos I’m afraid Dylan. Photos.
There can’t be!
Which maniac brought a camera?!
I’ve seen them. And they are not pretty.
I expect to see these photos, and I expect to see them soon.
I think that if I ever made them public I would have to change the name of this podcast to the Nofriendsanymorecast.
And this was from the sensible end of the evening:
don’t you suit green.
Interesting to note that your head fits rather snugly into the South Atlantic. Many a poor mariner has been lost directly over your right shoulder.
Dylan was SNOWBALLING without me? I’m gutted.
Snowballing? Is that anything like teabagging?
A snowball is a cocktail comprised of advocaat and either sparkling lemonade or ginger beer, often with a dash of lime cordial or sometimes sweet sherry. It’s traditionally served at Christmas time with a glacé cherry to your mad old auntie.
It’s Mrs. Toad’s favourite.
Teabagging would be a quite different experience, particularly for your mad old auntie.
Ginger ale, not ginger beer.
We tried to tell him, Tarticles, but he just kept using the expression. Some might even say he took a childish glee in it. We were all very ashamed for the poor lad.
I brought four little snowballs to the party hoping to share them around!
A likely story! Don’t bother coming to London, Dylan, we’re booked completely. pffft.
What did I do?