Song, by Toad

One drink, home early, not staying out, want to take it easy tonight… it’s just never going to bloody happen, is it.  Pure fantasy.

Last night’s escapades mean that I had far too little sleep last night, and something of a hangover this morning.  This puts me in no fucking mood to piss about with my cunting colleagues, who seem to have decided that answering the fucking phone is beneath them.  Our receptionist is off today, which means that we all have to take turns answering the phone, but apparently ‘taking turns’ needs to be explained in really big letters, and preferably with pictorial aids.  Apprently some people simply don’t hear and some people ‘have a deadline’.

To put you in the picture, there are only about twenty of us in our office in the first place, and we are a consultancy – every single fucking one of us is working to a fucking deadline, because that’s what our damn clients pay us for: to do their panicking for them.  I actually had to reach over some cunt’s desk this morning in order to answer the incoming call on his fucking phone.

“Hi, SuperdesignCo…  yes just a moment, who’s speaking please… yes I’ll put you through.”  Hardly enormously time consuming or intellectually fucking challenging you would fucking well think.  It reminds me of those cunts who are forever boasting about how many emails they bloody well have.  Yes, don’t worry, we all know how jolly clever and important you are.  There’s time for a chat, time for a coffee, time to fanny about pissing and moaning about how fucking busy they are, but not enough time to spend a minute answering the fucking telephone.

So for the rest of the day, I am far too busy and have decided that I am going to be pointedly too important to answer the damn phone.  Fuck it, it isn’t going to be for me anyway, so if anyone wants me I am going to be having a nap in the loo.

1. Name the worst violation of workplace etiquette which regularly gets your goat at your job.
2. And confess to the one you are most guilty of yourself.
3. Which office charicature is most prevalent in your place of work.
4. You have one bullet, and the world has promised to turn a blind eye… who’s for the chop?
5. How many hours of actual work do you tend to accomplish on hangover days?

The Sequins – Let’s Go Drinking in the Morning

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Clem Snide – Don’t Be Afraid of Your Anger

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The Divine Comedy – A Drinking Song

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John Cooper Clarke – Twat

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The Notwist – Pick Up the Phone

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We’d already recorded the FOUND Toad Session earlier this same day, and Honeytrap had just recorded their session with Off the Beaten Tracks.  So basically, the sun was baking and we were all absolutely shit-faced.  Consequently, to describe the interview as any sort of conversation as opposed to some kind of deranged, cataclysmic cluster-fuck would be to massively flatter it.  In all honesty, this is a complete and completely splendid mess – enjoy!

Again, all the videos can be seen on the Song, by Toad Vimeo or YouTube pages, and the photo galleries can be perused on our Flickr page.  Dylan from Blueback Hotrod took all the photos, and the set he has posted has a few more pics than the one on the Toad Flickr page, so go and have a look to view the full set.  The whole interview is below, in the podcast file, and after that there are all the session mp3s which you are welcome to pass around as you see fit.  Good luck with the interview; it’s fucking mental.

Toadcast #90 – Honeytrap Toad Session

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Honeytrap – Roslin is a Cylon (Toad Session)

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Honeytrap – Death Before the Silver Screen (Toad Session)

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Honeytrap – Hours With the Masters (Toad Session)

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Honeytrap – Broken Violin (Toad Session)

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Now we have the increasingly chaotic session video first, and then three session videos for Roslin is a Cylon, Death Before the Silver Screen and Hours With the Masters.

01. Honeytrap – Roslin is a Cylon (Toad Session) (8.15)
02. Kate Bush – Army Dreamers (14.08)
03. Jack Charman – Wibbly Wobbly Walk (16.54)
04. Honeytrap – Death Before the Silver Screen (Toad Session) (25.03)
05. The Sequins – Let’s Go Drinking in the Morning (28.43)
06. Dirty Projectors & David Byrne – Knotty Pine (31.39)
07. Honeytrap – Hours With the Masters (Toad Session) (41.29)
08. Beach Boys – Honkin’ Down the Highway (50.22)
09. Prince – Raspberry Beret (52.57)
10. Honeytrap – Broken Violin (Toad Session) (66 39.)

Oh dear god almighty I have a hangover.  Fucking bastard music people.  Last night there was gigging and drinking and wandering the streets of a most balmy and pleasant Edinburgh with an assortment of miscreants and other ne’er-do-wells.  We saw Honeytrap and Meursault play at Sneaky Pete’s – I was recording this podcast, hence late for X-Lion Tamer, sorry to both Ed and Tony – and it was fucking amazing.

And after that there was drinking.  Fuck me there was lots of drinking.  And then I came home and went into the local all night shop and purchased a couple of steaks for late-night snacking purposes, and was harassed by a bunch of young lads when I came out.  Not harassed in a bad way, but I think I was asked to buy them some fags or something like that.  Anyhow, the conversation… erm, well I’m not really sure how the conversation went, because I was fucking hammered, but at some point the van came up, which was parked just along the road.  So, ah, for some slightly bizarre reason I ended up with five high school lads and me sat in the van with the stereo up fucking loud – so loud apparently that you could hear it all the way down the street.  Or, at least, so Mrs. Toad tells me.  Because at some point she came home from wherever it was she was out drinking and hopped in as well.

So, after a little van-based rocking out, they came back into the house for a bit and Mrs. Toad played them Motorhead and The Sex Pistols and The Wedding Present so fucking loud the windows shook.  Funnily enough, these nice, polite lads kept insisting throughout that we should just let them know when we were bored and we would like them to go.  Such nice, polite boys!  I think one of them even did the dishes.  I didn’t want to have to try and explain what a couple of total fucking bozos they were dealing with, but erm, yeah, that was our Friday night.  Weird, huh?  I think we went to bed at about five, eventually.  And now to record a couple of Toad Sessions, at least one with a very, very hung over band.

Toadcast #71 – The Tough Lovecast

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01. Belle & Sebastian – Take Your Carriage Clock & Shove It (03.46)
02. Adam Balbo – Debating a Time Metaphor (07.16)
03. The Sequins – The Usual Delights (14.05)
04. Situationists – A Cold Front (16.31)
05. Blur – Out of Time (23.02)
06. New Ruins – Symptoms (32.37)
07. The Laurel Collective – Hindenburg Mile High Club (41.26)
08. The Lovely Eggs – Tyrannosaurus Rex for Christmas (45.07)
09. The Empty Set – A Challenge to Copernicus (49.34)
10. Honeytrap – Mussolini’s Son (55.29)

People fall in love for lots of reasons, some good and some bad. I don’t know why I fell in love with my midget companion, but I did and now I’m stuck with her.

What is the reason for this post then? I’m not entirely sure, but it’s late and I am pished and I am feeling a rush of elated giddiness about my sheer good fortune in ending up with this lass. Happiness is an elusive thing too, so I think you have to note the occasions when life is good to you, if just out of gratitude. A doff of the cap to the fates, if you will, because bad luck is always ready to make things shit the minute you take anything for granted.

People who are miserable fuckers, I am always tempted to conclude, don’t recognise the happy times when they have them. I never want to be someone who doesn’t acknowledge his enormous and entirely undeserved slices of luck when they materialise. I hate people who don’t know how lucky they are.

Anyhow, the point, yes of course. Well we have just come back from a friend’s house having had a delicious meal (grey sole and queen scallops on a bed of spaghetti with lemon, parsley and purple sprouting broccoli – what a cunt I’ve turned into!) and watched an amazing film. It was Death Watch with Harvey Keitel, Romy Schneider and Harry Dean Stanton and is shot in Glasgow in 1980. Try finding it anywhere – I bet you can’t. French Amazon is where we eventually tracked it down.

Anyhow, after all this grown-up middle class bollocks what does my darling girl want to do when we get home? Turn the stereo up fucking loud and plough through the vinyl. Play music, play it fucking loud, get mashed and act like idiots. Like I needed any encouragement. So the gins are poured, the amp is bursting at the seams and the neighbours are praying for the SAS. God I love this girl!

The Builders & the Butchers – Black Dresses Play this really, really fucking loud. Really fucking loud. Break something, you played it that loud.
The Sequins – Patients
Billy Bragg & Wilco – Hesitating Beauty This is just a love song. I make no apologies. I am besotted. Fuck you too.
White Rabbits – Kid on My Shoulders
The Shaky Hands – Whales Sing

[I really should delete this post, but I think I deserve it to be left up as a salutory lesson about the perils of drunken posting. What a shambles. Feel free to read the utter nonsense below and then point and laugh. I hang my drunken head in shame. Wordpress really should come with a fucking breathalyzer.]

Fuck me people, pull yourselves together. This is not a Radiohead, nor a Snow Patrol, nor a Travis fanboy site (Oxford comma there – everyone get that? Cunts). This is a place for people to bring new things and to get really fucking excited about folk having a go, showing some spunk and trying to make the most of a merciless, shitty industry.

As such, when I post about four groups in a single day who are good, young, up-and-coming and showing some enterprise and spirit I am fucking dismayed to come home and find not a single comment and no love at all for these lads. Why are we here, folks, eh? Why, really? Any of us can log onto the nearest bloody Pitchfork, Q Magazine, whatever sort of site and download trendy stuff, even ‘alternative’ trendy stuff. That is not what Song, by Toad is for.

In an industry full of commercial cunts, I make no money at all. I am here to give the small bands, who no-one has heard of and no-one cares about, some praise and some recognition and I should fucking well hope that is what you are here for too. Money and support are parcelled out awfully stingily in this industry and places like this, where small numbers of enthusiasts gather, are oases of love and generosity.

So the next time I write about four small, unheralded but nonetheless superb bands like I have done today I fucking well expect some response. It’s easy to remark on the merits or otherwise of the Arcade Fire. But you can read about them on Drowned in Sound, surely? Here is where you come for something a little different, and I love the fact that I get a ton of hits, but when bands come here and see that I have written about them and no-one gives a shit, then I am fucking well ashamed. If I’m writing about The Mountain Goats then by all means stay silent, but when I’m writing about young bands just on the verge of gaining a little bit of recognition it’s really important that you show them a bit of love.

I know there’s enough of you out there, and I don’t mean to resort to blackmail, but really, when you are needed around here is when the bands are yet to hit the NME.

I write about big bands, like Feist and British Sea Power because they interest me and I guess they probably interest you as well. But I write about small bands, like every band I have written about today, because these little enterprises are what I love: people with a bit of belief and a bit of conviction pitting their passion against the markets (ie: fighting a terminally losing battle) in the hope that some folk will latch onto their stuff. This is supposed to be one of those places – or, at least, it will always be one for me – where the little people get the praise that the quality of their output merits.

So even if you don’t like what I’ve posted it is way, way more important to me that you have your say when I write about bedroom bands than when I write about Vampire Weekend. Honestly, the point of blogs is side-stepping the massive, tedious, PR-fuelled music industry. We are here for the little people so, if you do nothing else ever again, go and find an unsigned band on this site and let everyone know what you think of them. Even criticism is good, as long as it is largely constructive. Just let these lads know you appreciate their efforts. The New Pornographers don’t need it, but wee Edinburgh folk-tronica groups do.

I can’t for the life of me think of a group that will want to be associated with this sort of infantile temper tantrum, so I apologise in advance to Honeytrap.

These fellas are currently assembling one of my most anticipated albums of 2008. Label-mates of the superlative Coventry group The Sequins, Honeytrap are also signed to Tough Love Records and have produced some of the best songs I have ever heard. Death Before the Silver Screen has never been bettered by anyone. Anywhere. Ever. So there you go. Sorry to Honeytrap for roping them into this little rant, but really folks, turn off Black Mountain’s prog-revival shit-fest and clamp your ears around one of the most promising groups the British Isles has produced for fucking years. They have an album approaching this year and if I’m the only one here who splashes out for it then I’ll have a right fucking tantrum. Yes, even crapper than this one.

And if you wish I was posting about someone more famous then fuck you. Fuck you hard and unlubricated with a fucking sea urchin. (And, erm, cheers to Simon for making himself known. Ta mate, much appreciated, honestly).

Honeytrap – Death Before the Silver Screen
Honeytrap – I Don’t Know How it Begins
Honeytrap – Spotlight
Go and buy Honeytrap and Sequins stuff from Tough Love Records. And forsake your subscription to Q forever.

Greetings and Happy Valentine’s day my little Toadlings. Wait, what’s that? You hate Valentine’s Day? Loathe it in fact? Would dearly love to nuke fucking Hallmark and every last shitty little shop peddling their tawdry baubles and meaningless rubbish that serve no purpose other than to defile the pure concept of true love and disrespect the dignity of the un-mated?

Good. Me too. In fact, us too, for the wildly popular (grumble, sulk) Mrs. Toad is back to do the great Valentine’s anti-podcast with me. To bitch and moan, to get side-tracked, to ramble and to poke pointed sticks in the side of the great marketing behemoth that the most shallow and meaningless of public celebrations has become. If you do not like Valentine’s Day very much, then this is the place to be.

Toadcast #21 – The Lurvecast

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01. Nirvana – Where Did You Sleep Last Night? (00.23)
02. The Velvet Underground – Femme Fatale (08.06)
03. The Raveonettes – Little Animal (10.57)
04. R.E.M. – The One I Love (13.57)
05. Half-Man Half-Biscuit – Paintball’s Coming Home (20.54)
06. The Pierces – Boring (25.43)
07. (The Real) Tuesday Weld – Terminally Ambivalent Over You (31.03)
08. Shane MacGowan & the Popes – Her Father Didn’t Like Me Anyway (34.41)
09. The Wave Pictures – When I Leave You For Somebody Else (38.30)
10. Pulp – Pink Glove (45.33)
11. The Raincoats – Don’t Be Mean (50.15)
12. Rufus Wainright – One Man Guy (59.34)
13. William Shatner – Ideal Woman (66.34)
14. The Sequins – Nobody Dreams About Me (71.45)
15. The Smiths – Please, Please, Please Let Me Get What I Want (77.31)
16. The Walkmen – Don’t Forget Me (82.58)
Feeding BritCaster.com

6. Richmond Fontaine – Thirteen Cities

Willy Vlautin is one of the most gifted storytellers in modern music. I have never known anyone so effortlessly evocative. This is a desert western classic, all beauty and rambling stories about drifters and losers, the normal and the ordinary.

Richmond Fontaine – The Kid From Belmont Street

review | website | buy

7. Monkey Swallows the Universe – The Casket Letters

Sometimes God is a bastard. These characters have gone on potentially permanent ‘hiatus’ just as I started to get all excited about them. The Casket Letters is one of the loveliest albums of gentle folk-pop you’re likely to hear, and then they go and pack in it. Swine!

Monkey Swallows the Universe – Down

review | website | buy

8. The Sequins – The Death of Style

Genuinely innovative style, boisterous and the very definition of infectious. Who’d have thought Coventry was so much bloody fun!

The Sequins – When the Flames Went Out

review | website | buy

9. Ray’s Vast Basement – Starvation Under Orange Trees

Beautiful, wistful and very old fashioned. This is an album of dust-bowl Americana with a sprinkling of loveliness, all based on the work of John Steinbeck which, on listening to the album, is no surprise at all.

Ray’s Vast Basement – California’s Gone

review | website | buy

10. The 63 Crayons – Spoils For Survivors

Electronic and relentless, always travelling forwards. The band Kasabian wish they could have been.

The 63 Crayons – The Squeeze

review | website | buy

…and don’t spare the horses.

Yes, we are back. What an enormous relief, I hear you all cry. How did you ever get by without me. Well before I get back to my usual crisp, clear and perfectly formed blog posting* I have some bits and bobs to round up, so this will be a bit of an all-over-the-place post.

Christmas lists:
Yeah, I’ll probably be making at least one. Top 20 albums perhaps, but not much more than that because I just can’t quite be arsed. A lot of people are making Festive 50 lists in honour of the great John Peel, but I am not sure I could face it. The avalanche of new songs in 2007 reduced to fifty? I doubt I could whittle them down, but I may yet have a go.

The Contrast Podcast is doing one, and listeners and participants are invited to take part. It’s a great project, so if you don’t know what I’m talking about then bugger off and have a listen. Just email Tim your top five songs of the year, in order, by November 27th and you’ll be counted. The whole lot will come out as a series of podcasts over the Christmas period, which sounds rather jolly. Details on participating can be found at the bottom of this post.

Johnny Flynn & the Sussex Wit – Leftovers

The Waiting Room will also be doing a big old Christmas Special, with special listener requests. It doesn’t have to be at all related to Christmas, so if there’s something in particular you’d like to hear then leave a comment on the site or email DC direct and let him know. My vote was for No Christmas in Kentucky by Phil Ochs which, if you know it, is a relentlessly depressing song about poor people not being able to afford the sort of stuff everyone else takes for granted at Christmas time, and just how bleak Christmas must be if you are living in poverty and abandoned by your nation. I couldn’t find an mp3 though, so the festive spirit has been given a temporary reprieve.

Decoration – Only a Plague Can Stop Us Now

Other Shit:
Mike at Manic Pop Thrills reckons we should try and engineer a Christmas #1 for Malcolm Middleton in the UK charts. Given that the song in question is entitled We Are All Going to Die, I think you’ll agree that there could be no better choice. Given that the likely winner is some ratty old transvestite from The X-Factor, I think we owe it to ourselves as a community to get Malky in there if at all possible. Help save Christmas for the misanthropes! ‘We’re All Going To Die’ gets a digital only release on 17^th December and I’m not sure where to buy it just now, so I’ll try and remind you all closer to the time.

Blogfresh Radio has been scraping the bottom of the barrel once more and invited me to talk about Found, one of last week’s reviews. Click here for the appropriate episode.

The Sequins – Treehouses

The Daily Growl – or Tim, as he’s known to his mates – took me on a pilgrimage to the new Rough Trade record shop when I was down in London, where I spent almost a hundred quid on vinyl. What a moron. And before you ask, no I can’t afford it – not anything like. Still, I have accumulated enough singles recently that record companies have sent me as promos that I figured I might as well give in and buy a record player. Some fifteen years after they became obsolete. Genius.

Phil Ochs – Talking Cuban Crisis
*Anyone sniggering at this is barred.

What a lovely, lovely podcast this is.  No Mrs. Toad this week (yeah, yeah, I know, fuck off the lot of you) partly because she is away in the States being important and businesslike and so forth and partly because you are all a bunch of cunts for liking her best, you shower of ungrateful bastards.

Anyway, needless alienation of one’s audience aside, I am a little tired of doing themed podcasts.  Nothing particularly pressing leapt to mind this month so I thought I’d just throw on a pile of stuff I was really enjoying and sod having a coherent theme – that’s for the professionals anyway.  So it’s just a big old mish-mash of stuff I’m enjoying at the moment, but I think it’s quite a good playlist for all that.

There are actually a couple of songs chosen for other women in my life!  Oh shock horror! One is our reception lady here at work who revealed a surprisingly excellent vinyl collection when a few of us went round to her place after a staff night out recently, including Pavement and The Pixies.  Who would have thought it!  The other lady song is from Clap Your Hands Say Yeah, after I was entirely charmed by the niece of our next door neighbour who apparently used to go out with their keyboard player.  She is trying to move to New York at the moment actually, where there are plans to play fiddle and harp on the new Au Revoir Simone album, which is splendid news.  Apparently this one is to be more folky than the last, which bodes very well indeed.  So go Ruth!  I can’t wait to hear it.

Better stop talking about ze laydees now of course, before I get skelped by my lovely lady.  Not one of of ‘em a patch on the sparkling gem that is the delectable Mrs. Toad of course, not even close!  *ahem*

Toadcast #14 – Total Self-Indulgence

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01. The White Stripes – 300mph Torrential Outpour Blues (03.04)
02. Rachel Unthank & the Winterset – Blue Bleezin’ Blind Drunk (12.34)
03. Jonquil – Lions (18.58)
04. Misophone – The Sea Has Spoken (20.46)
05. The Pixies – Where is My Mind (29.25)
06. The Sequins – Let’s Go Drinking in the Morning (36.09)
07. The Monochrome Set – Tomorrow Will Be Too Long (39.37)
08. iLiKETRAiNS – Death of an Idealist (44.10)
09. Clap Your Hands Say Yeah – Over and Over Again (Lost & Found) (50.23)
10. Ringo Deathstarr – Starrsha (55.00)
11. Babyshambles – UnBiloTitled (57.02)
12. New Pornographers – Adventures in Solitude (64.29)
13. Phil Ochs – Here’s to the State of Mississippi (75.18)
14. The Mabuses – Bonus Track (82.46)
15. The Real Tuesday Weld – Waltz For One (86.49)
16. Kenneth Williams – When the Toad Came Home (88.40)

This really is a superb, spiky, joyful record. Phew! Honestly, I’ve been looking forward to this album as much as any all year, so it was with a little trepidation that I first sat down to listen to it. I was even more twitchy when it didn’t quite grab as instantly as their previous singles. Christ, surely it wasn’t going to be mediocre was it? Fortunately, no, it was more like that awkward moment on a first date where you have yet to relax.

A few listens in, I was hooked. Pure, bouncy enjoyment from start to finish, this is twelve shiny tracks of indie-pop glitter. The drums rattle through the record like a machine gun, Hywel Roberts voice is right out of the early 80s and the songs are overflowing with brilliantly choppy guitar. They lurch through the rhythms, stop and start and make you fucking dance – even me, seriously. They have an old-fashioned sound, primarily due to Roberts’ voice I think, but there are elements of ska and mod sounds in there too.

The only song I have heard before is, surprisingly, the superb French Way of Life. Neither Patients nor Nobody Dreams About Me provide any material for this album, which is perhaps the slight stylistic shift it took me a moment to get used to. I’m not about to get into an argument about what is and isn’t derivative. No music is created in a vacuum, nor is there a particular reason that new and innovative is better than well-executed re-tread. The first Libertines album is hugely derivative, stylistically nothing new and nonetheless utterly brilliant. This album, however, does sound new and different to me. I can hear a lot of the stuff they are working with in the songs, but nevertheless it definitely does sound fresh and exciting to my ears.

It makes me want to dance, it makes me want to fuck it all and get pissed and have a laugh, it makes me want to be a student again (don’t really understand that one, but it does), it makes me wish I was having a party just so I could play this album. And to top it off, it actually gets better as it goes on, too. The Usual Delights, Lets Go Drinking in the Afternoon and The Grass is Never Green are a superb 1-2-3 at the tail end of the album, so perhaps that’s why it took me a bit to get into. But for a brand new group to spit out twelve cracking songs like this, without even any recourse to their existing singles, is pretty bloody impressive.

I see the utter drivel that we are supposed to like, the dross in the NME, the Kate Nashes and Jack Penates of this world, and it’s all fucking streets behind this stuff. Do the people who decide what to pimp in pop culture just not like music very much? It bloody looks like it, because this lot spank the pants off anything I’ve heard on the radio for a very, very long while.

The Sequins – Treehouses
The Sequins – The Usual Delights

website | hype | buy the album

Make sure you go to the website and buy it direct from the label. Want to know why? Here’s a quote from an email I got from Tough Love Records:

Can’t stress enough how important it is that people buy through us. Not sure if youre aware or not, but if we sell the album for £8 in shops, we only get back about £2-2.50. That’s a pretty crippling return! So, yeah, basically any help you can provide on that front is well appreciated.

They’ve gone to a lot of trouble to make this look gorgeous as well, so click below for a peek at what you get for your £8. Bargain, I’d say.