I seem to have two modes of sleep it seems – well rested and relatively funtional.  As I discovered over Christmas, I can happily sleep for about ten hours a night if possible, and I feel rested and chipper and happy.  That was great.  Oh how I miss those heady days – bed at one, pished, up by ooh, nearly noon just in time for lunch.  That was special.  I actually woke up in the morning of Monday 4th to come back to work and experienced a stunning sensation: I actually felt okay.  It wasn’t even a wrench to actually wake up!

This morning I experienced something similar.  It seems that I have a more commonplace sleep pattern as well – one which is not ideal, but with which I can live quite happily: six hours.  When the blog and the label are going full pelt I tend to go to sleep either exhausted or pished – working until the very small hours or, alternatively, taking the opportunity to blow off some steam.  This means a lot of three and four hour nights, which takes its toll on you, really it does.  Then there are times when I make a point of going to bed early and getting seven or eight hours and you know what? It doesn’t help.

What does seem to do the trick is six hours.  It’s not ideal, but I just seem to wake up feeling a bit shagged but basically alright – like this morning – and it seems to be a pretty consistent phenomenon.  Apparently this is thought to be largely down to the natural sleep cycle of your body – we all have one and they are all slightly different.  It seems that about six and a half hours kind of suits me, for some reason.

I don’t know much about this, but apparently there are theories that a lot of insomnia might be linked to the differences between the world’s twenty-four cycle and a person’s natural cycle, which may be twenty-two hours, or twenty-five and a half or whatever, and sometimes the two cycles interact incredibly disruptively, making it difficult for insomniacs to to find a sleep cycle which interacts positively with their body’s natural cycle.  So it’s not a problem with sleeping, exactly, more a disruptive interaction of the two frequencies, which can be very interesting mathematics in itself.  None of this, as is presumably evident, is anything I know much about, but I read about it once in a book and found it all very interesting.  Feel free to tell me I’m talking shit in the comments of course, because it’s quite possible, but make sure and do your five first because that’s the rules.

So, erm, not quite sure how that leads into five silly questions to invite the lurkers out of the shadows, but here goes…

1. When do you get your best lie-ins?
2. Strangest place you’ve ever had a night’s sleep.
3. Most inappropriate sleeping you’ve ever managed.
4. Longest time you’ve managed without sleep.
5. Last interesting science stuff you read about.  Nothing ‘sciencey’ like the Daily Mail and their ‘official saddest day of the year, as sponsored by shitey travel agents though please.  I am tipping Becky to win this one.

The Boo Radleys – Martin, Doom! It’s Seven O’Clock

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Ben Folds Five – Narcolepsy

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Bonnie Prince Billy – Cursed Sleep

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Dan of Green Gables – Nothing Could Stop You From Sleeping Tonight

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The Beatles – I’m So Tired

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Right, I can hold it in no longer.  I never posted it when it came out, and I have tried most studiously to ignore it ever since, but it seems I am failing, so it has to be said:

That fucking Horchata song by Vampire Weekend is absolutely fucking dreadful.

Is that xylophone I hear?  Yes, I think it might be.  And those fucking drums during the chorus – it’s so cod-ethnic it’s borderline fucking racist.  It sounds like the fucking soundtrack to some sort of soul-crushing Lion King sequel for fuck’s sake.

I mean, we all know they’re fucking posh, but could the subject matter of a song possibly be any more banal and tediously middle class.  And as for rhyming horchata with balaclava, I want to shove that bloody balaclava so far up his fucking arse that it pokes out his fucking mouth and actually makes it impossible to drink any fucking horchata at all.

It is one of the most hatefully squishy, insubstantial, irritating and just downright punchable songs I have ever heard.  Yes, punchable.  If I discovered a manner in which songs could be punched, then Hor-fucking-chata is the very first one upon which I would practise my newfound talent.  I would, to rob a phrase from a friend, punch it until it stopped being fun, which would be never.  Even with bits of brain and teeth starting to splatter about the place, the sheer fun of giving that song an unbelievably good punching just doesn’t seem like a pleasure which would ever grow old.

Mind you, if it ever did I could always skip forward two songs and start punching Holiday instead.

Vampire Weekend – Horchata

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I never really know what to do with pre-release mp3 teaser thingies on this site.  I don’t like just slapping them up on the blog without any thought, as a great many mp3 bloggers do.  It seems a bit of a waste of my time, and bit… well, a bit thoughtless I suppose.  As if suddenly the site would become a mindless news aggregator, which is not really fair, but it does feel a bit like that.

So I decided a little while back that I would use the podcasts for popping in new mp3s I had been emailed, but which didn’t have a home within a proper review of any sort.  That makes good sense, but then a lot of people don’t listen to the podcasts for varying reasons (no, not just because they’re shit), so it feels like there should be a way to pop the things up on the blog as well, for you other lot who heartlessly ignore all the hard work and effort that goes into the loving creation of a weekly podcast.

Anyhow, here are some things, most of which have been featured on every blog in Christendom already, and have also appeared on my own podcast already, but erm, I figured that non-podcasters deserved some fun too.

Sara Lowes may be best known for her work with the Earlies and Micah P. Hinson, but she is a fantastic solo artist in her own right, and this song is a teaser from a her new album Back to Creation, out, erm, soonish.  It has quite a lush pop sound, but for a change I am not going to complain about that.  Instead I am going to embrace it and say that I rather like it.  How’s that for an old dog learning a new trick then, eh?

Sara Lowes – Night Times

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My friend Phil and Little Matthew who helps with Toad Recordy things (as well as being a smart arse in the comments section) both love Eluvium, so I find myself really rather looking forward to their new record.  This teaser track sounds extremely promising, too.  The album is called Similies, is out on about the 15th Feb or so, and can be pre-ordered here.

Eluvium – The Motion Makes Me Last

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The new Eels album, frankly, ain’t really doing it for me just yet.  It’s a touch Eels-lite, but there are some good moments.  Little Bird is the official teaser for the album, End Times, which is out on Monday I think.

Eels – Little Bird

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Sam Amidon has also released an mp3 from a new album called I See the Sign.  It’s out in March sometime, and when I put it on the last podcast I remarked that it sounded a lot more like the Doveman stuff he does with his friend Thomas Bartlett, and speculated that perhaps Thomas had a lot to do with the new record.  Apparently this isn’t really how Bedroom Community (his label) work, so I may well be wrong, but I’m going to see him play in London in a week or two and I’ll ask him then.  Until then, this is How Come That Blood – nothing like the Sam stuff we know and love, but still brilliant if you ask me.  I’m really looking forward to this album.

Sam Amidon – How Come That Blood

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So, feedback time.  Do you have a preference for how to deal with this kind of newsy shite in future?  Should I have a way of just slapping up brand new mp3s sent by PR people to make sure you get your news on time, or does waiting for the review but sticking new stuff in the podcast make more sense to you?

I’m not sure, writing this review, whether or not you’re going to think that I’m completely mental, but in all genuine honesty, I really like this record.  It’s fucking weird though.

This sounds a little bit like a balloon full of words has been released into the air and is whooshing about, divesting itself of its contents in a great big torrent until it finally collapses, a shrivelled shell of its former self, entirely spent.  It feels almost as if Ersing himself could collapse and dissipate into thin air at the end of this record; dam burst, thoughts poured out, deflated and exhausted.

Never mind the sheer pace, the delivery is bloody weird as well.  There are times when it’s so odd that you wonder how it ended up ever being committed to record as a form of music.  It feels more suited to the surreal environment of cartoons, with their exaggeration and charicature and bizarre internal logic.

Quite what the fuck he’s even on about half the time is far from obvious.  The relentless flow of words – often spoken, sometimes sort of sung – is so garbled and rushed that divining the actual lyrical content is a fairly insurmountable challenge, never mind sitting down to figure out what exactly he’s trying to say with it all.

However, like all clever weirdos serving up a gigantic portion of strange, Ersing does offer a little bit of relief.  After one of the craziest songs on the album he slips suddenly into a strange sort of piano ballad – one with muffled and rough production perhaps – but still something of an olive branch to the listener who, by that point, must surely be wondering what the fuck has hit them.

Past the vocals, the guitar playing is just as wrenched and spasmodic.  I suppose you could just barely characterise this as being a little like really early Hammell on Trial material being covered by the Animaniacs – it’s as close as I can get anyhow, despite it being something of a tenuous comparison.

It’s not entirely a great big ‘haha, fuck you, deal with this if you think you can’ to the audience however.  Songs like A Prior Instance of Teething, Under an Umbrella and Pause Fruit are genuinely lovely so, as I said, it’s not like he doesn’t know how to break the texture of a record this confrontational, to give people a way in.

And that’s how it works, I suppose.  I was fascinated with the sheer surprise of this album to begin with.  But then a couple of those songs got under my skin and before I knew it (and it took surprisingly little time, actually) even the strangest stuff seemed to have its place in the universe.  This might not work that well with individual preview songs, but when you listen to the entire album all the flights of fancy are actually very well anchored.  So listen past the initial ‘What the fuck??’ moments and give this one a bit of a chance.  You may well still hate it after that but I have really come to like it and I bet there’s quite a few of you out there who will do the same.

Mike Ersing – Pause Fruit

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Mike Ersing – Mood Dependant Retrieval

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MySpace (Buy the album here too – you’ll have to email the man himself, but it’s only three dollars.)

I am going to end up using that dreaded word ‘nice’ to describe this band, unfortunately.  Not because I intend it as any kind of indictment of their music, simply because there is a very easy going feel to this EP which almost reminds be of really early Beautiful South (by this I mean before they turned into music for people too boring to cope with Coldplay).

It’s more a vague impression than a striking resemblance, and maybe it’s just the vocal intonations at times, or perhaps the interplay of the vocal and the slightly plaintive plucked ukulele which appears at times, most notably on Goodnight Moon.  There’s a vein of feisty spirit running through this, particularly on the title track, and it makes for a nice interplay with the the sense of pleading inherent in Casey Chandler’s voice.

I have to confess that on the first few listens it all seemed a bit too pleasant for me, really.  But  on better acquaintance it turns out I get on quite well with this EP – sort of in the manner of someone who has been a decent, solid friend for a long time.  You never spend that much time with them and then suddenly it dawns on you that you’ve known each other for years.

If anything, I think what makes this record is the combination of the songs together.  Taken alone, I might not have taken the first track all that seriously, treated it as no more than a pretty good indie song, but the next couple of tracks are slower, emptier and seem to emphasise certain nuances in Lost Generation which I might not have noticed had the pace remained the same throughout.  So I nearly missed it due to rushing my musical enjoyment just a little too much these days, but this is actually a really enjoyable EP.

Galapaghost – You’re All I Need

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MySpace | More mp3s | Buy from Amazon mp3

It’s been a little quiet here recently, partly because I am still digesting the first of the new year’s releases, but more significantly because I am really rather occupied with Proper Job at the moment.  And what I am doing for Proper Job represents a rare case of them benefitting from my Song, by Toad work, because I am using my (admittedly rather limited) video skills to do some animation work for a client.

I sampled some sounds of the product actually working, to make it all more realistic, and once I got them in place at the right points in the video I realised that they sounded quite strange in amongst all the silence and it occurred to me that some bed music would be a good idea.

And fuck me, that was a weird moment.  All of a sudden I started to look at my music collection rather uncomfortably.  I needed something with no lyrics (distracting) and which also had to be the perfect combination of busy without being frantic, modern without being weird and universal without being cheesy.  So, er, no Enfant Bastard then.

It was strange actually, because I became very defensive (in my own head) about my music collection and the manner in which it was being judged (by me, in my new role as ‘the other voice inside my own head’).  I ended up thinking ‘that’s not what music’s for, you (me) dick!’ until I realised that actually, that’s bollocks.

How much of the world’s total painting output is as a pure form of art rather than, say, as illustration or graphic design or interior design or whatever the hell else it gets used for?  A fuck of a lot, I reckon.  And how much music is used as sonic design for things like computer noises, as a emotional trigger for things like adverts and computer games, and all the other shit music gets used for.  It was weird to think that if you’re listening to music for the sheer enjoyment of listening to music, then you are probably in something of a minority.

Proper shit returns tomorrow.  You know, actual writing about music and stuff.  Sorry.  I’m tired (again).

Hmm, the Edinburgh live music beast still has to entirely crawl out of hibernation it seems, with still very little action to be found in and around the city this week.

There are, however, a couple of things going on and the welcome return of Trampoline should rescue us from our post-Christmas ennui.  Their lineup is rather cheerful this month, so cheerful in fact that it might even put a smile on the promoter Euan’s grumpy old puss.

Sadly though, I made something of a half-arsed new year’s resolution to stop ignoring high profile bands and go and see some more famous people play this year.  However, looking at the schedules they are nowhere to be found at all.  The Queen’s Hall has a couple coming up (a sold out Mumford & Sons and Grizzly Bear) and Xiu Xiu are playing Electric Circus in a few weeks, but that’s about it as far as I can see.  I even had a look at the King Tut’s schedule and there doesn’t seem to be much there yet either.

Ah well, a rest never did anyone any harm I guess.  And it’s not like I don’t have enought to do at the moment, what with the house gig videos and eagleowl session still staring expectantly at me from the bowels of the computer.

Saturday 16th January 2010: How to Swim, Over the Wall & Thomas Western play Trampoline at the Wee Red Bar.

How to Swim are exuberant with lots of instruments and Over the Wall are exuberant with lots of electronics, although increasingly more instruments too.  Thomas Western isn’t particularly exuberant, but then again one more helping of exuberance and you might just exuberate yourself all to pieces.

How to Swim – Genesis P and Me

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Saturday 16th January 2010: Come On Gang! & Futuristic Retro Champions at Sneaky Pete’s.

This will be indie-pop a-go-go at Sneaky’s, which is probably when the venue is at its best I would have said – noisy, poppy tunes and plenty of beer.

Come On Gang! – Wheels

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It’s freezing outside and (just slightly) covered in snow (about half an inch) so naturally the entire nation has ceased to function.  Erm, okay, it really isn’t that cold and the snow really isn’t that big a deal in all honesty but of course given the worst weather conditions we usually have to deal with are constant and life-sapping drizzle it seems that it’s all come as a bit of a shock to the nation as a whole.

We live in a city by the sea of course, which means that we never get the sunshine which is promised and sadly, during the winter, we never get the snow or the cold either.  In the countryside it may occasionally be dangerous, but in the city it’s never much more than a stunningly picturesque inconvenience, and the bastard stuff will all have melted by next week anyway, so we might as well enjoy it while we still can.

This week the podcast is not themed at all, it’s just new and interesting stuff from my inbox.  I tend not to just slap up promo tracks emailed to me by PR chappies on the blog because, frankly, I really have nothing to say about them yet and I don’t really like firing out posts on the site when I don’t really have an opinion, right wrong or otherwise, to accompany it.  Podcasts, on the other hand, are a bit more spontaneous so they seem like a more suitable place to put new and interesting stuff before I have any real chance to figure out whether or not I actually like it properly.

Toadcast #103 – Baby, it’s Cold Outside

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01. Timber Timbre – Magic Arrow (Daytrotter Session) (01.47)
02. Drew Danburry – Many are Cold, but Few are Freezing (11.11)
03. Barton Carroll – The Poor Boy Can’t Dance (14.57)
04. Kid Canaveral – Good Morning (21.50)
05. The Middle East – The Darkest Side (28.19)
06. Eluvium – The Motion Makes Me Last (38.04)
07. Final Fantasy – Lewis Takes Action (43.12)
08. Rachael Dadd – Table (50.13)
09. Woodpigeon – Music Belongs to Those Who Make It (56.15)
10. Samamidon – How Come That Blood (62.32)

Today rocks.  It’s freezing cold, even Edinburgh has a little snow, and the Water of Leith has completely frozen over outside our office.  Basically, this is a proper Winter and, as you might have guessed from my last post, I am loving it.

My hair froze on the way into work this morning, which is something I haven’t experienced since I was about seventeen.  I went skiing for a day with my Dad this Christmas which, rather sadly, is something we haven’t done for nearly ten years.  Christ it was perilous on the first few runs down!

So yes, basically I am loving it, it’s like regressing to childhood again, at least as nostalgic as the Elton John song I put in your Friday selection.  Yes.  Yes I did.  Elton John.  Suck it up, bitches (as he presumably must have said to Wham at one stage).

This weekend I will be sorting out video and audio from the New Year’s House Gig, making a start on the eagleowl Toad Session, getting a couple of our new releases sorted out and generally being an efficient little weasel.  I think I work harder in my free time at the moment than I do at my actual job – I’m certainly far more organised, there’s no doubt about that.

I was mocked yesterday for constantly carrying about a a big (and very pretty and colourful) chart of the Song, by Toad Records release schedule for the year.  Fair point and all, but between the timeline and the actual cost figures I have in there, it’s a pretty important chart to have. Yay admin!  Whoever thought it could be so sexy.

1. Name one plan/resolution/Very Important Decision you have made for the new year.
2. Have you done any Extremely Fun Snow Stuff yet?  And if not, WHY NOT?
3. Favourite snowy bit in a film (NOT Hoth-related because that’s too easy).
4. Coldest you’ve ever experienced.
5. Favourite warming up beverage for freezing cold days.

Trips and Falls – It’s the Snowpocalypse

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Nick Cave & the Bad Seeds – Fifteen Feet of Pure White Snow

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Elton John – Cold as Christmas

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iLiKETRAiNS – Terra Nova

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Tacks, the Boy Disaste – Frozen Feet

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Don’t get me wrong, I love a baking hot Summer too, but while we seem to get at least a small proportion of glorious Summer days here in Edinburgh we never, ever seem to get anything approaching a proper Winter.  Basically, it can be miserable, but it never gets cold.  Even now it’s not really what I would call cold, particularly.  I grew up in Austria where the Winters got really rather chilly from time to time, and as far as I am concerned this cold snap is a wonderfully welcome change from the usual wind and rain.

I accept that for people out in the middle of nowhere the snow, given how comically unprepared the UK seems to be for such things, can be dangerous and I don’t intend to take the piss, but here in the city I have to confess that all I can think is that I wish it were colder and that there was more snow.  There’s just something so nice about that nip on your earlobes which serious cold weather brings, and about how you can actually feel the cold air swirling in your lungs when you breathe in, and how sometimes it’s so cold that your teeth actually hurt.

And the nicest thing about the cold of course, is that you get inside and it’s dark and you can have a nice cuppa, and that tingly feeling of warming up slowly spreads through you.  But in any case, I say stop moaning, people of Britain!  It’s the fucking Winter – it’s supposed to be cold.  That’s what makes Winter fun – it’s the equivalent of blazing sunshine in the Summer or April showers or those cool, clear Autumn days you get when the wind blows the leaves about the place.  Stop fucking moaning and enjoy it for Christ’s sake.

Mind you, as I pointed out to my father who is from Canada, for the British, moaning about something probably is enjoying it, in a perverse sort of way.

FOUND – Cold Climate Culture

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