I have a friend Craig who works in Waterstones and is an obsessive about old American folk music and, more specifically, blues.  He has been making Neil Meursault mix CDs for ages, which I’ve heard and consistently found myself asking what the hell I was listening to.

I usually hate the tedious collections of old blues music which seem to always adorn Uncut covers when they ask bands to name their formative influences, but some of the really scratchy old recordings Craig put on his CDs were amazing, so erm… this is the podcast I guess.

At last – someone who actually knows what he’s talking about!

Toadcast #93 – The Craigcast

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01. Blind Boy Fuller – Rattlesnakin’ Daddy (02.57)
02. Charley Patton – Pea Vine Blues (12.34)
03. Big Joe Williams – Baby Please Don’t Go (18.54)
04. Willie Brown – Future Blues (22.16)
05. Skip James – Hardtime Killing Floor Blues (31.32)
06. Robert Johnson – Hellhound on My Trail (39.57)
07. Muddy Waters – I Can’t Be Satisfied (50.54)
08. Muddy Waters – Trouble No More (57.16)
09. Howlin’ Wolf – Spoonful (59.54)
10. Mississippi Fred McDowell – Fireman Ring the Bell (71.15)

Jesus fucking Christ.  I think I may actually have a badger living in my mouth.  Or a muskrat.  Or one of those little yappy dog bastard things which always make me want to feed them to our bloody cat.  Gin is raping my brain.  Fucking bastard.

To make matters worse, that insufferable weasel Mrs. Toad is malingering at home, lolling around in bed, watching movies on iTunes and generally just doing bugger all.  I WANT TO GET SICK!  I never get fucking sick.  If I ever have time off work it’s either because my back is crippling me, which doesn’t feeling like being sick at all because it doesn’t give you proper sick voice, or I am skiving.  Now, however, I feel a nap in the disabled loos coming on again.

Actually, writing the word loo in the plural form there makes me think, not all that surprisingly of… Rebecca Loos!  The disabled Loos!  I think her pig-wanking episode was the pinnacle of reality TV – the ultimate in self-parody by a medium already happily digesting its own sphincter.
For those who missed it, there was a reality TV programme over here a good few years back called On the Farm or something like that, where the same old cast of desperate E-Listers moved into a farm for a bit and spent their days doing ordinary, everyday farm jobs.  No-one, however, seemed to think through the implications of showing one particular everyday farm job live on television: that of inseminating livestock.

So a woman, who was effectively famous for no other reason than the wielding of her vagina, ended up masturbating a pig live on television, and with that particular act removed from the utilitarian farm environment and brought into the realm of entertainment (particularly the realm of ‘salacious entertainment for the means of getting ahead despite being devoid of any observable skills besides the possession of an enormous pair of breasts’, which is Miss Loos’ specialist genre) it turned from tedious chore into bestiality.  Which was brilliant.

Why was it brilliant?  Well apart from the ‘Christ has anyone thought about what she’s actually doing?‘ factor, which was pretty good in itself, it was such an amazingly clear illustration of what is actually going on in reality TV.  These people, basically, are humiliating themselves in order to become famous.  They are sufficiently desperate for fame – and fame in and of itself as opposed to fame as a by-product of having a particular talent – that they consider having the entire nation point and laugh at them on live television to be a suitable price to pay for that fame.  How much humiliation will they collectively be prepared to tolerate?  How desperate are they to be in the public eye?  Well Rebecca gave us our answer – desperate enough to wank off pigs on the telly.

1. Most dignity-free celebrity moment on reality TV.
2. Invent a new reality TV programme.
3. Most pointless celebrity.
4. Favourite trashy celebrity (being even slightly worthy disqualifies anyone from this, so choose carefully please).
5. Biggest surprise celebrity attention-whore who turned up on reality TV despite you previously thinking they had some dignity.

This week’s five songs are taken from a compilation I made about seven years ago, comprised of stuff I ended up selling on because I had no room left on my CD shelves.  Looking back at what’s on it though, I do wonder what the fuck I was thinking.

Lift to Experience – Waiting to Hit

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Willard Grant Conspiracy – St. John Street

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Dan Bern – New American Language

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Solomon Burke – Diamond in Your Mind

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Pete Yorn – Strange Condition

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I am not one of those people who goes on and on about the quality of vinyl and the sound it makes and so on and so on, because I am just not an audiophile, really.  I’m not saying that I can’t hear the difference, just that I have no real objection to listening to badly recorded songs on 92Kbps mp3s or on a shitty old tape recorder or anything like that.  It just doesn’t really colour my enjoyment of a song, particularly, is all I’m saying.

This came up on the Fresh Air Radio show yesterday though, and I thought I might write a post about it: one of the things for which I love vinyl, more than the sound, is the way it changes the actual process of listening to music.  I have no CDs anymore, just digital and vinyl.  Because of the Biblical quantities of new music I listen to and the fact that I am jealous little hoarder, I have gigabytes worth of music on my main hard drive (and yes, before you ask, it is scrupulously backed up).  I don’t know the exact number, but I think you could start my digital music collection playing, walk away from the stereo for two months, and it still wouldn’t have to repeat a single song.

That kind of thing, along with Spotify and naughty downloading really does change how I listen to music.  I can find myself deciding I like something, shunting it into my music library, and then not listening to it again for years because I am so caught up with my inbox.  That a bit sad, really, and it is also where vinyl comes in.

Collecting vinyl is an expensive and painstaking process.  Between online purchases from small indie labels across the world (well, the US, Canada and here, let’s be honest), browsing through second-hand shops, the odd new thing purchased in actual record shops (remember them?) and occasionally going mental on eBay whilst plastered, it takes time and effort to accumulate vinyl.  It’s also bulky and expensive, so you just can’t buy that much of it.  I know some people might challenge that, but they are mental people, like Ed from 17 Seconds, who has a whole room of the stuff.  Compared to digital though, it’s just impossible to own that much music on record simply for practical reasons.  This restriction means that your collection tends to stay manageable, and also tends to cluster around the things you really, really love, with a few random second hand purchases thrown in to mix things up.

Secondly, of course, playing the stuff is a very high-maintenance undertaking.  Records need to be sifted, selected, piled up and, most importantly, turned over at least once every forty-five minutes or so.  This makes the act of listening to vinyl so much more deliberate and selective than sticking your stereo on random and letting it play what amounts to a relatively closely selected personal radio station from your collection of digital files.  You have to actively choose what you play, and you tend to listen to it more because you can’t just walk away and let it look after itself.

For myself I find it tends to slow me right down, and take the haste out of listening to music.  A little like the Slow Food Movement, by its very slowness it’s not that it forces me to concentrate exactly, more that it prevents me really concentrating on anything else all that much, so I tend to just absorb the music more.  It stops me treating listening to music like a job, stops me thinking about too many other things, forces me to concentrate on a much narrower selection of music and in doing so allows me to form a better relationship with it.

So never mind the audiophile sound issues, what I think I like most about vinyl is its very inconvenience.  It is a demanding and awkward format, by today’s standards, and this forces you to listen to music in a certain way, a more deliberate and receptive way, and that is what I love the most about the stuff.

The Magnetic Fields – Time Enough For Rocking When We’re Old

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The Wedding Present – Spangle

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Yes, we’re back on the air with a somewhat hastily arranged programme.  I somehow managed to only realise on Monday that this show would be going out today, so we haven’t been all that big on preparation this week, I’m afraid.

There’s a slightly new format to the show this year, in that I will be joined on every broadcast by Ruth from the Bowery, and that there will be a live session performance from a band of our choice every week as well, with the video of this performance going up in the post for the following week’s show.

On air 7pm-8.30pm GMT – listen here.

This week we will be joined by Edinburgh newcomer Thomas Western, who has only just moved up here and is just starting to introduce himself to the local music scene.  He’ll be playing a few songs – maybe three or so, depending on time – picking some tunes and talking pish with Ruth and myself.

The tracklisting will appear below and be updated live during the show, so feel free to add abuse and nonsense in the comments.  Like you ever need asking…

1. The Walkmen – The New Year
2. Thomas Western – Live session track so new it’s not been named yet!
3. Jesus H. Foxx – Elegy For the Good Times
4. The Builders & the Butchers – Down to the River
5. Bonnie Prince Billy – The World’s Greatest
6. Thomas Western – The Worm Forgives the Plough (Live in Session)
7. Diamond Rings – All Yr Songs
8. The National – Fake Empire
9. The Douglas Firs – Grow Old and Go Home
10. Daniel Johnston – Walking the Cow
11. Thomas Western – Don’t Talk (Put Your Hand On My Shoulder) (Live in Session)
12. The Oldham Brothers – Wouldn’t It Be Nice (Beach Boys Cover)
13. Thomas Western – Your Front Door (Live in Session)
14. Meursault – William Henry Miller Pt. 2 (Vinyl Version)

It’s hard to write a review of an album by someone considered by a lot of people to be something of a demi-god of his genre, particularly when your knowledge of his work is pretty thin.  So I am warning anyone with a slightly more than healthy relationship with Sebadoh in particular to bear in mind before reading this that I really like One Part Lullaby by Folk Implosion, although I haven’t listened to it for ages and, despite the impassioned urgings of a succession of friends, barely know a thing about Sebadoh.  In fact I haven’t really sat down and listened to any of their albums carefully, now that I think about it, although I’ve probably heard a fair bit in passing, over the years.

If this were a new album by a new band I’d never heard of, I have to confess that I really don’t know if I’d have given it enough time.  I will admit that this benefitted from the Famous Person Benefit of the Doubt clause, which meant that I listened to it a few more times than I might have, giving it a little extra time to sink in.

Even so, I am not what you’d call smitten.  It’s decent, the sound is good, and there are some really lovely songs, but I’ve listened to it through on many occasions now and only worryingly rarely do I get that ‘oh good, that song’ reaction that you get when songs have wormed their way into your subconscious.

In terms of stature and career path I find myself comparing Barlow to Stephen Malkmus, once of the equally-revered Pavement, although they both make rather different music.  This is less eccentric or demanding of your attention than Malkmus’ work has generally been, and as such perhaps a little easier to dismiss without due attention.  If I didn’t ‘know who this was’ then it’s entirely feasible I might simply have skipped over it as another reasonable but unremarkable indie album with the right general sound, but not enough character to the individual songs to let them really grab your attention.

And despite the good bits, I think that’s where I’d have to put my stake in the ground with Goodnight Unknown.  Were he actually unknown I might never have given this more than a couple of listens, not least because as an album is it just far, far too long.  Given that I have persevered with it I still don’t think there’s more than a small handful of songs on it which have enough in the simple department of hooks and melodies to really stick in my mind and get me humming along.  In short, despite good moments, it just doesn’t grab me at all.

Lou Barlow – Goodnight Unknown

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Lou Barlow – I’m Thinking

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I’ve been dancing rather coyly with Br’er’s music for the last few months, trying to get to the stage where I really could figure out quite what I made of it.  It’s tense, but not all that edgy, and can be beautiful, without ever being particularly pretty, and it is experimental but in more of an unsettling than a confrontational way.

It’s not that I intentionally try and pigeonhole music, although I suppose we all do it subconsciously, but it definitely took me a while to decide that with this stuff, I am just not that sure what I am listening to.  There are elements of chamber pop, of cinematic indie stuff, of darkly camp musical theatre, and of elaborate orchestration and plenty of other things none of which seem to end up asserting a defining character over the finished article to the extent that I would feel really comfortable trying to express what I think I’m listening to here. I mean, for Christ’s sake, there’s even some Gregorian Chanting in here, or something worryingly close.

In general I suppose it’s the theatre of the thing which grabs me the most.  It’s full of very disparate moments of high drama, all exaggerated to the point where most songs at some point have you raising an eyebrow, looking at the stereo, and thinking ‘what the fuck is this?’ with genuine curiosity.

Lyrically, I can’t make out much, to be honest, beyond to confirm the fact that the lyrical imagery seems to chime very much with the impression above: by turns theatrical, experimental, unsettling or flamboyant.  Like the rest of the album it’s weird enough that I still don’t know if I love it or might turn out to hate it, but I’m definitely fascinated by it and I do find myself playing it a lot, albeit with the same slightly puzzled look on my face most of the time.

Bre’er – Painted Lady

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Br’er – Centralia

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The first time I heard this album I didn’t pay that much attention, I have to be honest, and it really didn’t help.  I think it’s fair to describe Embryonic as a great big mental sprawling mess.  It really is just all over the place; noisy, jarring, weird and oddly melodic.  You can tell they can write hooks, because they’re all over this album, simmering beneath the surface of the smothering cloud of noodling, offering just enough succour to the listener to keep that thread of engagement intact.

When Wilco used to go off on big experimental tangents – I’m particularly thinking of Spiders (Kidsmoke) and Less Than You Think on A Ghost is Born at this point – they tend to have an underlying structure from which they depart, fanny about for a bit, and then return to just as you think they’ve lost it altogether.  By contrast, on Embryonic the Flaming Lips seem to shoot song after song through with a little glistening silver thread of killer hook which they rarely ever abandon, no matter how weird everything around it becomes.  That hook just sits there glittering away through the mess to reassure you that you are actually listening to a very capable pop band here, not just some mentalists who have never seen a guitar before in their lives.

I am not actually a massive Flaming Lips fan.  I never particularly loved Soft Bulletin particularly, and that was the first time I even became aware of them, Yoshimi I really did like, but then At War With the Mystics didn’t seem to quite know what it was doing.  The way they have been described to me by friends is as a band who were never a pop band, really, but who happened to make two really poppy albums.  On first listen I found this way too full on, and apparently that is the kind of band they always were until so many people imitated Soft Bulletin that it now sounds kind of pedestrian, which apparently it most certainly was not at the time.  That’s the view from a long-standing Lips fan, and it’s an interesting perspective, I think.

From my own point of view, this sounds like a group who wrote two pop records, got bogged down a bit with At War With the Mystics, and have just decided ‘Fuck it, we’re making whatever kind of fucking album we want this time – let’s go for it’.  And that they bloody well have.  A great big double disc of guitar wig-outs, noise, strange, shrieking electronic sounds, drums played by Animal’s wilder cousin – they really have just cut loose and blown out every last cobweb.

The freedom, confrontation and confidence in that approach give this album real unity – it sounds like the right record, executed the right way, one that is entirely comfortable with itself – it just works as a whole.  Oddly, that means that although there are loads of bits where I really don’t enjoy the sounds being made, and all sorts of stuff which completely rubs me up the wrong way, I actually think it’s brilliant.  It may alientate you at times, but that just makes the reconcilliation all the sweeter.

I can give you preview songs, but they really don’t give you much impression of what Embryonic is actually like.  This is one where separating the songs from their neighbours really does rob them of a great deal, but hopefully it’ll give you some idea.

The Flaming Lips – I Can Be a Frog

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The Flaming Lips – Aquarius Sabotage

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This week marks the start of the Fresh Air broadcast, which is splendid news.  There will be a launch party in the Teviot on Tuesday evening, to which anyone fond of drinking, acting the arse and falling over is invited.  Ruth from the Bowery and myself will be doing a show every week on Wednesday between 7pm and 8.30pm, and are hoping to have a band live in session every week, if we can.  It’ll have to be pretty stripped down – anything which will translate well to really simple acoustic should do the trick – but I think we can make it pretty interesting.  It will be a lot quicker and dirtier than the Toad Sessions, which will be good, because I’ve been wanting to find a way to do something a bit less involved for a while.

The only significant problem I can see is that Ruth has a nasty habit of badly upstaging me.  She did it on my Fresh Air show last year and on the bloody podcast this year, and if she starts doing it on a regular basis this time around I don’t know if my fragile ego will be able to take it.  There may be tantrums, there may be bawling, and there may be a considerable number of toys a very long way from the pram in which they belong.

It’ll make for bloody good radio though!

So, apart from car crash broadcasting and gallons of cheap (state sponsored – woo hoo!) beer, what else is happening this week?  Well I’ll tell you.  Firstly, there’s a couple of gigs happening which I am not personally so keen on, but which might interest you: Miike Snow is playing Sick Note at Cabaret Voltaire, late but free on Thursday 29th, and Cold Cave are on the bill at Playdate at Sneaky’s on Saturday 31st.  Both are really rather trendy, so the cooler amongst you might be interested, but personally they aren’t really to my taste so there you go.  Mandex rating: tight to constrictive, particularly at Stinky’s.

Tuesday  27th October 2009: The Young Republic play in-store at Avalanche Records.

The Young Republic are touring their excellent (and shortly to be given the Toadly Treatment) new album Balletesque and although they were sadly unable to arrange an Edinburgh date, they are playing an in-store at Avalance at 5pm on Tuesday.  Their semi-orchestral, Western tinged indie folk pop has given way to a more dramatic, aggressive sound these days, albeit one which is a little more stripped down.  I definintely recommend this if the timing doesn’t make it tricky.

The Young Republic – Bows in Your Arms

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Friday 30th October 2009: Dry the River, eagleowl & the Bowerbirds at Sneaky Pete’s.

The Bowerbirds are a band I have a slightly up and down relationship with, since Campfires and Battlefields introduced me to them a couple of years ago.  They are certainly rather brilliant, at their best, but can be patchy in their recorded output, as far as I am concerned.  I’d still be interested to see them though, and eagleowl gigs are not to be missed in general.

Bowerbirds – In Our Talons

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Saturday 31st October 2009: Art Fag, The Leg & Our Ladies of Sorrow at Sneaky Pete’s.

Our Ladies of Sorrow play a Halloween Special every year, and I have never been, and there is absolutely no damn chance I am missing it this year.  They are basically an Edinburgh alt-folk supergroup (of sorts) and will dress up specially (but of course!) and soundtrack a compilation of horror movie clips.  I can only begin to imagine how weird that is going to be, but I am really looking forward to it, even if I do have to hop in a cab down to Leith the moment it’s over.

There’s something about AA Bondy which I love, despite there being no real surprises in his sound.  It’s plain vanilla acoustic Americana, but it’s gentle and lovely and his voice is charismatic and believable.

Maybe it’s because his songs are really personal, and delivered in a weary, confidential tone, so you end up feeling like you’re actually having a conversation as he picks a slow path through his carefully constructed tales of normal unhappiness.  He manages to be just a little poetic and just a little cryptic and in doing so lend just a little obvious craft to what are actually mostly domestic and personal songs.  Generally though, these are confessional and couched in plain, simple language, giving them all the more impact.

There’s something quintessentially American about the delivery, rhythm and instrumentation.  This reminds me very strongly of my time living over there, of living somewhere kind of rural, of drinking red wine late into the night with a new friend, and getting to that stage in the evening where you are drunk and tired enough that you start to tell one another about your failures and regrets.  The stories are told with no shame, but the pain is still a little too fresh to be completely hidden, and suddenly on the basis of these confessions you find yourself forming a surprising bond with someone who would normally be much more of a stranger to you.

There is no really obviously infectious tune like Vice Rag to suck you into this album, unlike his last, so you have to make your way more slowly with the less radio-friendly stuff which actually is a lot more representative of the bulk of his work.  But it’s immediate enough in its own way, in a very emotionally engaging way, and a way which makes you feel instantly at home and comfortable with the record.

No-one will prick their ears up the minute you put this on the stereo and demand to know who they’re listening to, but catch them when they’re a little more vulnerable and it should hit home pretty instantly!

A.A. Bondy – To the Morning

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A.A. Bondy – I Can See the Pines are Dancing

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[The second part of this week's Sunday Supplement is a gig review written by (the other) Matthew, who helps us out with label work, for which we are hugely grateful, and is also working with Meursault, helping them organise and publicise their tour.  And in return for all this help we give him...  erm, we, er, give...  oh dear.]

This was superb. End of.

I thoroughly enjoyed each performance, though I don’t have much to say about Edward & The McCalls as this was my first real impression of them and I’d like to maybe take some time to get to grips with them a little more – though they did play some rather snazzy toe-tappers.

The thing I was particularly looking forward to was seeing My Kappa Roots perform. It would be really silly for me to try and describe how much I love this guy’s music. Everything about it is just perfect. There’s nothing like a good stroll with the iPod in playing The House of St Colme Burnt Down. I hadn’t seen Pablo play before so I was really fucking excited. He did not disappoint one bit. Each song was played with absolute perfection and at times I couldn’t help but let my jaw slip. I wasn’t aware if I was drooling or anything, but there’s a chance I was. Urgh. So. Fucking. Good.

The thing I noticed about Pablo was how good a guitarist he is. I’m really quite jealous actually. His songs are played so delicately and intricately with such a good balance between simple strums of emphasis and complicatedly plucked melodies. Beautiful.

Another thing is Pablo’s voice. If there is a sadder sound in the world I implore you to find it. I really, really love sad voices. I don’t know why. Perhaps my depressive tendencies make me a little more partial to them. Perhaps it’s because sadness is beautiful. Beauty is a sad thing. Was it not Oscar Wilde who said “all art is quite useless”? What a bloody distressing thought. Apologies. But it is very true. All things of beauty are useless – love, or indeed any emotion at all, music, literature. It’s all completely and utterly fucking useless. But we love it anyway.

I think I went a bit off the point there (though I hate people with “points”, I want to break their fucking point off and shove it…(yeah, there I go again)). Right, what was I saying? Oh yes. It was bloody good.

I’d actually only heard Glaciers maybe a week before this gig so it was still really fresh in my mind. I was really eager to see Nicolas play because I couldn’t – and still can’t – understand how someone can be so talented. Not only is he a damn good song writer  and amazing illustrator, he’s a bloody good performer. I’m about sick of falling in love with a band’s recorded work and then being disappointed by them live. Maybe it’s just me. Maybe I’m just so unfortunate I keep catching them on an off day or something. But anyway, Glaciers was brilliant, to say the least.

Nicolas came across as a really lovely, patient chap with a… a, well I don’t want to sound clichéd, but a nice glow. He glowed with enthusiasm and real character, and it was a pleasure to watch. He also had his friend Will with him who played the organ and belted out some really beautiful singing. They made quite a lovely pair.

They started off with some really nice and quiet ukulele songs, which happen to be Nicolas’ interpretation of some found rugby songs. Quite brilliant. Then they moved on to his own songs which, I think, were played with a wee bit more confidence and presence.

The Bowery really is my favourite venue. It’s the perfect place to see these sorts of performances. It’s quiet, small, personal, upfront, modest and just plain wonderful. I love it. It’s the sort of place these sorts of bands can come out of their shell and feel comfortable enough to really get into their show without feeling too overpowering and obnoxious. It feels like you’re just in a room with your friends having a great time, whether it’s relaxing or partying, laughing or crying. I’m so glad it’s there.

 As for the gig itself, I’m not sure I have much more to say about it. Hmm. All I can think is that I wish it went on for a bit longer.

Oh yes. Check out Nicolas’ art stuffs. He’s a genius.

Glaciers – The Horse and Cow

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