I think I started to figure out what I wanted to write about this album when I read the following paragraph, which Euan wrote to introduce his own review on The Steinberg Principle:

“With ‘Sky Blue Sky’ and ‘Wilco (The Album)’, Wilco probably lost a lot of people who liked what they had done on ‘Yankee Hotel Foxtrot’ and ‘A Ghost Is Born’.  I guess the same is true of those albums though, in that they lost a lot of people who loved ‘AM’, ‘Being There’ and ‘Summerteeth’ – or at least confused a lot.”

I think Euan found my tepid relationship with recent Wilco output a little frustrating, when we talked about it, because the first time we ever discussed Wilco was after Yankee Hotel Foxtrot and A Ghost is Born, and my love of those albums was equal to his, give or take.  Then, when things changed on Sky Blue Sky, I just couldn’t love it anymore, however much I tried.

Mind you, the same thing happened when I discovered Summerteeth (which I bought because of the fantastic Billy Bragg collaborations, Mermaid Avenue Vol.1 and 2 which came out in the late 90s).  I tried to explore backwards, and it just didn’t work.  Try as I might, I just couldn’t get into A.M. or Being There, which was something I remember finding rather frustrating.

Looking back at Euan’s opening paragraph, I guess I was just one of those Wilco fans who remained stranded on the YHF/AGIB island, and that was just one of those things. It was kind of hard to accept though, given how much I loved those albums and, to a slightly lesser extent, Summerteeth. In a way I ended up with an elusive feeling of irritation, as if the band had failed me in some way, or as if I had failed them.

So with all that in mind, you’ll excuse me if I didn’t exactly leap to put this on the stereo when it plopped onto my doormat a couple of months ago.  Partly, I think I was trying to avoid the anticipated guilt of not really liking it, but I’ve done my best to grow some balls, and I’m glad I did.

Not that this is an amazing album, inevitably.  There are still some highly unwelcome hangovers from the classic/soft rock sludge of the previous two records, a sound I will never grow to love. Dawned on Me, for example, is just soft and squishy, and completely fails to excite. And it’s not alone.

I was inevitably a little put off the album by those familiar failings, however there were just enough moments to keep me around, little glimmers here and there of something a little different going on: the utterly gorgeous strings of Black Moon, for example, and the urgent machinery of epic opener Art of Almost.

An odd sense of persistence took hold as the good bits started to sink in.  I still wasn’t enraptured with the album, but there was something which kept me going back.  And for all I am still not enraptured with the album, I am really glad I have spent the time getting to know it better.  Some of this is absolutely brilliant. The aforementioned Black Moon, for example, as well as the absolutely beautiful, piano-led, twelve-minute closer One Sunday Morning (Song for Jane Smiley’s Boyfriend), which might be one of the best songs they’ve ever written.

In between there are moments where the band recapture their old sprightliness, with songs which seem to be an odd mish-mash of YHF/AGIB era prog experimentalism and the more recent classic rock stodge, and yet sound oddly like they could almost be on Summerteeth.  And while they are good, and there are just enough of them to make this album a good listen, it is those two sad songs I just mentioned which make me glad I made the time to listen to this album as much as I did.  They are worth the price of admission alone.

Wilco – Black Moon

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Wilco – Born Alone

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Website | More mp3s | Buy direct from the band

 The Dreichcast is so called because yesterday was fucking dreich. Dreich is another one of those wonderful Scots words which I, with my vague sort of RP/BBC/public school accent can’t really pronounce properly, but I wish I could.

Nevertheless it worked out pretty nicely actually, and despite the drizzle and general unpleasantness, Mrs. Toad and I went out for a wander, had some lunch, bought some immensely smelly cheese, and then went and got utterly scooshed at the Emily Scott album launch, and then on to Papi Falso at Henry’s Cellar Bar.

I really like Papi Falso actually.  The music is weird, but still upbeat, and far, far better than the doosh-doosh garbage or excruciating cheese you would hear at most other clubs.  And also, being Henry’s, there is space to sit and shoot the breeze, rather than having to scream in one another’s ears from half an inch away.

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Direct download: Toadcast #195 – The Dreichcast

01. Only the Sea Slugs – She Said (00.09)
02. Wilco – Art of Almost (06.23)
03. Pet – Love Buzz (16.40)
04. Nirvana – In Bloom (21.37)
05. Benjamin Shaw – The Birds Chirp and the Sun Shines (29.15)
06. We Can’t Enjoy Ourselves – Your Darkest Thoughts Will Shine (34.40)
07. The Jesus & Mary Chain – Taste the Floor (39.47)
08. Toto & the Bad Eggs – Little Naked (45.17)
09. Whirling Pig Dervish – A Question of Sport (48.17)
10. Tom Waits – Burma Shave (57.49)

Hoarse.  Horse.  Hoarse.  Horse.  Geddit geddit, see what I did there?  Yes, another tedious pun, but I know you know to expect no better from me these days.  Anyway, it’s only called the Hoarsecast because I have a bit of a phlegmy flu which, whilst not fun, is hardly very debilitating so there is no need for me to moan really.  Not that this usually stops me, but anyhewww…

It’s a funny old mix, this playlist.  I rearranged the songs time and again, swapped a few in and out here and there and just couldn’t find a way to make them click together for some reason, so for all I like everything that’s on here it is still a little bitty, as a single coherent mix.

Mind you, with me talking pish between all the songs, there’s fuck all chance of these things really flowing in the first place.

Direct download: Toadcast #142 – The Hoarsecast

01. Wilco – I Can’t Stand It (00.17)
02. Hooray for the Riff-raff – Slow Walk (08.32)
03. Interpol – Evil (15.49)
04. Jose Delhart – Broken Hearted Chant (22.17)
05. Flower Orgy – Boneyard (25.12)
06. Willie Nelson – Good-hearted Woman (31.59)
07. Willard Grant Conspiracy – Notes From the Waiting Room (38.07)
08. Dumbo Gets Mad – Eclectic Prawn (40.33)
09. Sexual Objects – Here Come the Rubber Cops (47.56)
10. Grinderman – Star Charmer (57.53)

Hooray for us – possibly the vilest and least romantic Valentine’s Day Podcast yet!  And before anyone whinges about that picture, go to fucking Wikipedia and complain, because that’s where we bloody got it from.  I know!  Scandalous!  Someone should complain.

So erm, yes.  I don’t think we left anyone unoffended this year.  I sincerely hope not because I don’t like to think of people out there nurturing an anticipated false outrage complex only to be let down.

We do not like romance, we do not like being told when to have fun by people who are simply hoping to exploit our disposable income, we do not like it being implied that being single is some sort of failure, we do not like people measuring their self-worth by how much their partner can be emotionally blackmailed into spending on them, we do not like having to live up to commercially defined standards to demonstrate that we love one another, we do not like having to skip the football just cos we’re supposed to behave one some particular day or other, we do not like fucking teddy bears or fucking chocolates, we do not like sitting in tumbleweed-infested restaurants whilst people glance nervously around them wondering if they’ve done it right, and we do not like having a list of things to live up to before our relationship is considered functional thank you very fucking much.

We do like lazy Saturdays in the garden, swearing at the fire for twenty minutes trying to get it to light with damp logs, meals with friends, new places, listening to vinyl so loud the floor shakes, a bit too much to drink with people that we really like, laughing/shouting at films, arguing about the side of the bed, swearing blind it’s not your turn with the chores when you know damn well it is, drinking coffee in the garden when it’s sunny, slagging off almost everyone, shouting at reactionaries on TV, emailing one another stupid stuff all day, insulting the cat, surprise cups of tea, buying shit on the internet when we’re drunk, only coping with the washing mountain when it threatens to start a SARs epidemic, watering the plants mere minutes before death and walking hand in hand through the park and peering at cool old dudes chuntering around at the allotments or sailing model boats in the park pond.

Oh, and getting pished and recording offensive podcasts for Valentine’s Day… enjoy!

Toadcast #108 – The Boabycast

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01. Cracker – Mr. Wrong (03.10)
02. Billy Bragg & Wilco – Way Over Yonder in the Minor Key (09.57)
03. The Smiths – Last Night I Dreamt That Somebody Loved Me (17.11)
04. Eels – Love of the Loveless (20.16)
05. The Clash – Brand New Cadillac (29.40)
06. Bill Hicks – Pussywhipped Satan (31.41)
07. Evan Dando – Hard Drive (44.33)
08. The Coathangers – Nestle in My Boobies (48.11)
09. Virgin of the Birds – She’s in the Moon Again (59.10)
10. David Cross – Your Baby is FUCKING BORING! (65.59)

[Welcome back to Euan's monthly column on Song, by Toad.  After (sort of, not really) telling me off for weaseling out of doing a Favourite Albums of the Decade list, here he presents his own.]

You know, I was planning to reveal my top 10 albums of 2009 on my own site, then I decided, where better a place to post my top 10 than on Matthew’s page. Given the indifference that my top 50 of the decade seemed to spark amongst his readers, I thought it would be worth doing my top 10 on Matthew’s page for one simple reason. I don’t think they will be 10 records that either Matthew or you as readers would choose. Maybe I’ll introduce you to something new. Maybe not. But I really do see a point to these lists. Just like I see a point to music journalism in general. As I said, to dismiss an exercise like this with comments like “I just don’t care” would seem foolish given the blog you are using in the first place. I care about Matthew’s top 10/20. And that applies to most lists. I even read, in its entirety, the NME top 50 of the decade.

Top 10 lists for a particular year perhaps have less significance? I don’t know. I was just thinking the other day that what’s so appealing about a top 50 or 100 of the past decade are the personal reasons for the choices. Why was Yankee Hotel Foxtrot my number 1? Why will it not be Matthew’s? It’s fascinating. And something I really do enjoy at this time of year.

Anyways, you can check out my top 50 of the past decade over at www.thesteinbergprinciple.wordpress.com if you can be bothered. In the meantime, my top 10 records of 2009 would be, in no particular order:

Withered Hand – Good News
J Tillman – A Year In The Kingdom
Fieldhead – They Shook Hands For Hours
The Antlers – Hospice
My Latest Novel – Deaths and Entrances
Miles Benjamin Anthony Robinson – Miles Benjamin Anthony Robinson
The Builders and The Butchers – Salvation Is A Deep Dark Well
Sufjan Stevens – The BQE
Wilco – The Album
Peter Broderick – Music For Falling From Trees

It always takes me absolutely ages to get into Son Volt albums, so I suppose I’m due a bit of an apology for the poor publicity team at Toolshed who sent me this a couple of months ago and have been patiently waiting for a response ever since.

I wanted to take my time though, because that’s just my pace with Jay Farrar’s band.  The music itself is a little like that as well: rich, comforting and unhurried.  They sound like a band who are prepared to give you the time to come to them on your own terms, whenever you’re ready, which is a reassuring feeling when listening to a record.

Inevitably though, my first reactions to this were the usual: ‘Well, where are the tunes?  Where’s the immediacy?  It all sounds the damn same!’  I must have listened to this record through almost twenty times or so before I started to know the songs well enough to form relationships with them individually, instead of as a single homogenous lump.

In this case it was the gorgeously harrowing tale of the wreck of the Sultana which was the trigger.  For some reason this was the song which grabbed me first, and given the rather horrible subject matter and my predilection for sad music, it was quite an iron grip.  It was only then that I started to hear that same heartbreak in many of the other songs.  Cocaine and Ashes is similarly laced with luxuriant pathos – the kind that breaks your heart yet makes you feel warm and consoled inside at the same time.  It’s a canny trick, and few can pull it off anything like this well.

Apart from the sad songs, there is a shimmering rage to tracks like When the Wheels Don’t Move – not unhinged fury, more a growling glower of a song, which marks perhaps the furthest distance from classic alt-country to which this album ever wanders.

Farrar sings about his country, its history, its legacy and its people – it’s a remarkable blend of the big and the little stories in that respect.  Perhaps that’s where the title comes from, with the dust equally representing the grit of the music and the ashes of America’s confident self-regard.  As a title, it also conjures up the dustbowl nightmare of the Grapes of Wrath, for me, and fitting that he should do so so soon after Wilco, led by Farrar’s former bandmate Jeff Tweedy, released a version of Woody Guthrie’s Jolly Banker which takes aim at precisely that subject.

So I doubt Son Volt are going to shock anyone any time soon in a musical sense.  They seem entirely settled in their general dynamic, and I can live with that quite happily.  It means I know to take my time, not to rush anything, and give enough time I know their albums will seep into my consciousness eventually.  Just be prepared to relax and let it come to you at its own pace.

Son Volt – Dynamite

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Son Volt – Cocaine & Ashes

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Website | More mp3s | Buy direct from the band

Sorry, I know this is going up late, but I have been working on the promotional material for the Jesus H. Foxx EP release.  There’s a fair bit still to be done, but for the time being I am cautiously optimistic that it is going to look fucking brilliant.  There will be a lot of painting to be done though, so putting the final touches on the thing is going to take bloody ages, but I think it is going to be easily worth it.

In other news, this week’s podcast is a prolonged chat with Euan (of Kays Lavelle, Trampoline, Steinberg Principle and Woodenbox fame) as a way of rounding up the excellent fortnight he spent feeding and changing Song, by Toad whilst Mrs. Toad and I were off gallivanting.  So, rather than make his usual grouchy, joyless comments on posts I thought I might invite him to make his grouchy joyless comments on a podcast.  So he came round and complained and complained and generally sulked his way through the whole thing, which was nice.

Oh alright, of course he didn’t. But it just wouldn’t be fun for me if I didn’t make fun of Euan for being grouchy long past the time anyone else has ceased to find it funny.

Oh stop sulking.  You’re turning into him.  All of you.  Shame on you, people, shame on you.  Cheer the fuck up for God’s sake.

Toadcast #77 – The Grouchcast

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01. Wilco – Bull Black Nova (06.39)
02. The Kays Lavelle – Scars From the City (15.14)
03. There Will Be Fireworks – We Sleep Through the Bombs (27.37)
04. Beerjacket – Father (31.46)
05. iLiKETRAiNS – Terra Nova (39.36)
06. Andrew Bird – The Giant of Illinois (50.10)
07. Finn – The Fourth the Fifth (61.47)
08. Fleet Foxes – Oliver James (65.29)
09. Tom Waits – Temptation (74.12)

Mrs. Toad and I might be gallivanting about the Italian countryside, but we are still thinking of you, our loyal Toadlings. We may be relaxing by the pool, but we understand that life might not be quite so easy for those of you at home. Actually, fuck it, life is never this easy for us either. This is like some bizarre anomaly for us – time, peace, reading books… it’s all so fucking restful I’ve almost forgotten to swear at the locals.

The place we’re staying is just plain ridiculous. We are living in what amounts to the tiniest of little comedy garden sheds imaginable, but the outside space is some great big gigantic plaza. It’s just ridiculous.

Fortunately, there is something to lower the tone. Nature is basically a great big urinal, as we all know, and I have been doing my best to maintain a time-honoured male principle of ‘no place being too sacred or picturesque for having a sly piss’. So when the bladder beckons, so does the wall, and there I go to water the olive groves of Puglia. It feels like a public service, really it does.

Thanks again to Euan and the lads for keeping things going while we’re away. The connection here is so damn slow I really haven’t been able to read it all, but Mrs. Toad periodically checks up on things on her Blackberry (the woman’s insane) and lets me know how things are going. This news I generally treat with an indifferent grunt, before returning to the pondering of precisely which sort of cheese I most fancy for lunch, but I appreciate her efforts.

Toadcast #74 – The Poolcast

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01. The Shaky Hands – Summer’s Life (03.26)
02. Lemonjelly – Spacewalk (12.45)
03. Grandaddy – Ghost of 1672 (19.44)
04. Billie Holiday – Good Morning Heartache (24.36)
05. Animal Magic Tricks (with Neil from Meursault & Pete from The Leg) (34.42)
06. Edith Piaf – C’etait Une Histoire D’amour (38.11)
07. The Flaming Lips – Can’t Get You Out of My Head (48.12)
08. Wilco – Jolly Banker (52.17)
09. The Laurel Collective – No Pirates Left (63.04)
10. Yoshimi! – Philosophy For Fangirls (69.12)

Mrs. Toad (malingering old bag) and I are going to be live on Fresh Air at 6.30pm tonight, and I’ll post the playlist here as we go along.  This way any foul remarks can go here and not sully Fresh Air’s fine reputation as an upstanding family station.

Click on the big Listen Live button on this page to tune in.

01. King Creosote – No-one Had it Better
02. The Japanese War Effort – St John
03. Broken Records – Wolves
04. Eels – Fresh Blood
05. Jason Lytle – Flying Through Canyons
06. Jason Lytle – On a Piece of Wood I Go
07. Jesus H. Foxx – I’m Half the Man You Were
08. Yusuf Azak – The Key Underground
09. The Wave Pictures – Canary Wharf
10. Wilco – The Jolly Banker
11. Phil & the Osophers – They Threw a Shoe at You
12. The Leisure Society – The Last of the Melting Snow
13. Alberto Veto – Through Her Teeth
14. Rock Plaza Central – Don’t You Believe the Words of Handsome Men
15. The Limes – Dead Furniture
16. X Lion Tamer – Life Support Machine

Cheers folks, been fun.  See you next week 6.30pm-8pm once again.

Foiks really should be a proper word, shouldn’t it.  I think that might be as close as I get to the infitnite number of Booker Prize-winning monkeys.  That would be quite disappointing actually, wouldn’t it – Booker Prize-winning monkeys.  You wait almost an infinite amount of time (say, ‘ages’, for example) for your infinite number of monkeys to rattle off some Shakespeare and all they fucking lazy simian bastards come up with is the latest Joanne Harris Novel for Menopausal Women Who Think Their Artistic Side is Being Neglected.  Fuck you, monkeys!  The Girl With the fucking what?  Jesus, as if I didn’t feel like I was having my period already.  Mind you, it could be worse.  They could write Jeremy fucking Clarkson’s autobiography.

That picture at the top there is how we are hoping to get the Toadmobile  painted.  We spent Thursday night getting drunk together and fannying about with Photoshop to come up with a few different ideas, and that was a narrow favourite, just ahead of one in bright metallic green with black and white racing stripes down the middle.  It also was very cool indeed.  Christ knows what our mechanic is going to say when we show him that picture, but, erm, well we’ll just leave that for another day shall we.

Grmpf.  That’s it, really, so please de-lurk and chip in with your Friday Five, as pinched from the talkboards on the Guardian.  And if you want to chip in next Friday’s five then just email me at the usual address.

1. Favourite not-a-word-but-should-be.
2. Place name which sounds completely made up.
3. A word doesn’t exist for this, but it should.
4. Cool-sounding foreign word.
5. Word you could never spell.

Velvet Underground – Venus in Furs

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Wilco – I’m Always in Love

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Gomez – Make No Sound

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Lambchop – Grumpus

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My Teenage Stride – Actors’ Colony

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