It’s all going to be underground this week, with most happeny things happening at the Bowery, aided and abetted by Sneaky Pete’s on the Cowgate.

Ben Folds Five – Underground (Live at Ziggy’s)

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This weekend has been nice, actually.  Getting the Samamidon session posted took me all the way through Friday night without any sleep, and all I managed was a couple of hours’ nap before the Meursault in-store at Avalanche, and then then off to have a couple of bevvies with Broken Records to celebrate their signing to 4AD.

After all this, though, Sunday was a real treat.  I did no work whatsoever, Mrs. Toad and I tidied the house, albeit at a rather leisurely pace, and I played vinyl all afternoon.  A gin was poured at about five in the afternoon, I read through the latest National Geographic and we cooked a great big meal for some friends.  Fucking marvellous.  I have to confess that I hogged the record player all night, but then, recently that hasn’t always been the case.  I’ve been so busy that Mrs. Toad has done all the playing of records, while I beaver away at the computer, so it was nice to shelve all that for a couple of days and really just relax and indulge for a bit.

And let’s face it, there’s can’t be much better than a Sunday afternoon playing vinyl with a nice, strong G&T.

Thursday 12th February 2009: Share & The Second Hand Marching Band at the Bowery.

I know nothing at all about Share, but the Second Hand Marching Band’s recent EP is superb, so I am really looking forward to seeing them live again.  With 22 of them fitting everyone on stage will be a challenge, as will the mic setup.  Nevertheless, their ramshackle, folky gentleness promises to provide a memorable evening.
The Second Hand Marching Band – Don’t!

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Thursday 12th February 2009: The Endrick Brothers & Broken Records at the Caves.

The Endrick Brothers are a plain vanilla alt-country band who I nevertheless enjoyed enormously on the only occasion I’ve seen them live – they just had a sort of warm charm to them.  Broken Records are likely to be playing out of their skins as they celebrate the recording of their album. Tickets from here.
The Endrick Brothers – Star of the Silver Screen

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Friday 13th February 2009: Meursault & How to Swim play This is Music at Sneaky Pete’s.

I’ve shamefully never been to This is Music.  Probably because I fear the late closing and the dancing students – what a dismally pathetic excuse.  I’ve done a lot of drinking this last week with people with no jobs to go to in the morning, and believe me, it takes some doing.  Anyhow, with the carnval mayhem of How to Swim and the demented howl of Meursault, this should be fucking superb.
How to Swim – A Little Orgasm of Disappointment

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Saturday 14th February 2009: My Kappa Roots, eagleowl & Rob St. John at the Bowery.

This is a collaborative effort between the Bowery, the bands, Ten Tracks, the Collective Gallery and The Skinny.  Irrespective of all that, of course, it’s just a fucking splendid lineup of the capital’s finest alternative folksters.  And balls to Valentine’s Day – to quote Billy Bragg “Those glossy catalogues of couples are cashing in on happiness again and again.”  And never mind the unhappiness it fucking generates.  Pointless fucking whore of an occasion.
Billy Bragg – Valentine’s Day is Over

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I was writing about bands selling out a couple of days ago and the phrase ‘the anti-popular reflex’ cropped up. Now, there are plenty of instances of bands genuinely selling out that we covered in that post and the subsequent comments, but I thought this particular phenomenon needed a little more idle chatter devoted to it. Hooray, I hear you say.

I have an instinctive and barely controllable anti-popular reflex whereby no matter how much I like something, as soon as it starts to become hugely popular I find it very difficult to maintain my enthusiasm. Sometimes this goes so far as to instinctively hate things simply because they are so popular. I can’t bring myself to watch Lost, for example, despite the fact that plenty of people whose opinions I respect keep telling me how good it is. And if I did watch it, it would be with that wrinkled up nose a little child gets when forced to eat brussel sprouts.

I think a lot of indie lovers suffer from this, and I think there are a couple of reasons, one trivial and one a little deeper.

The trivial one is that we indie lovers care quite a lot about music, and the general public does not. We care about music and form close bonds of loyalty with our favourite groups because no-one else likes them and it can feel that our evangelism on their behalf is important for them. Whether this is true or not is a moot point, but it can often feel that way. When these groups get popular it can be impossible to maintain that intense relationship because, well, if they’re special to several million people then it’s stretching the definition of the word special a little, isn’t it.

The slightly (only slightly though, don’t look so scared) deeper reason is this: most indie lovers are alternative types in general. Virtually none of us were from the cool set in school, nor are we amongst the champagne and martinis set now we are older.

To those not at the beating heart of all things cool, this makes the attribute of coolness something which can be oppressive, condescending, and demeaning, not least because those in the inner circle tend to guard their status rather jealously. Many of us react to this by redefining cool as being the things we ourselves most like, rather than the things that the vagaries of fashion and public clamour tell us we should like, but this is still a slightly defensive position. What is held up to be cool in the magazines and on the telly is popularly defined as being better, at the direct expense of everything else.

The stance – well, my stance anyway – is ‘Fuck off, who the fuck do you think you are to look down your nose at me you vacuous, bovine imbecile. What makes you think I give a shit what your opinion is of my lifestyle, or care the slightest fig for your herd mentality, you hollow, empty shell of a human being, you.’ Or some such. My relationship, and I don’t think I am alone in this, with the world of high cool is a fractious one at very best.

So when bands I love go mainstream this hostility towards things in the upper echelons of the hierarchy of popularity can kick in and overwhelm the actual warmth I may feel for the music. And equally, if I first hear of a band or a TV program or a pair of trainers simply because they are already very cool, it is highly unusual that I will think anything other than ‘Ah right, just more shit the masses venerate for no reason whatsoever. Just like they venerated that stringy transvestite Sarah Jessica Parker. Or those vapid cunts in The OC. Or that self-indulgent idiot Pete Docherty. Or that unbearable shitfest Titanic (Oscars, that film actually won Oscars).’

So it may not always be entirely reasonable, but I don’t think the anti-popular reflex is completely unfair.

The Magnetic Fields – Famous
The Endrick Brothers – Star of the Silver Screen
The Beatles – Honey Pie
Ben Folds Five – Underground
The Extraordinaires – Seeds of Jealousy
And now the kicker. Yes, I am actually going to ask you to listen to Meat Loaf. Yes I own this album and no, I didn’t have to go and buy this song just for this post. Snigger all you want, but if you listen to the lyrics and replace the girl in question with your favourite music and the anti-popular reflex (reason #1) is perfectly described.

Meat Loaf – More Than You Deserve

This is the first of three reviews of landscape bands. Bands and albums that are deservedly part of the landscape but which may be a little difficult to notice at times.

I saw the Endrick Brothers support Richmond Fontaine at ABC2 earlier in the year and loved them. There was something so honest and heartfelt about them, something so frank and disingenuous about frontman Niall Holmes that I couldn’t but take to them. He painstakingly explained every song to us and clearly put himself into the songs, albeit in a restrained non-ostentatious way.

The album is really just straightforward country-rock (from Glasgow funnily enough – you wouldn’t think it) that reminds me strongly, as I said at the time, of a group called Jolene. Both write in a very similar style and, despite the general predictability of the music they seem to find something in almost every song to latch onto. Brendon Benson has this knack as well although I would baulk at describing the Endrick Brothers as being at his level just yet.

There’s something extremely warm and likeable about this record which I find myself quite drawn to. You’ll probably think I’m mad, because it’s hardly an overly distinguished sort of album, and certainly not one that jumps out at you at all. It’s not great, but it just has its own kind of friendly charm which Song, by Toad sort of likes.

The Endrick Brothers – Thorns on Every Rose
The Endrick Brothers – Star of the Silver Screen
Jolene – Calling Madeline

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