A Prophet

Fran suggested my blog entries are too long and that she often found herself dropping off half way through reading them, so I’ll try and keep this one short and sweet. Also, I was advised to include more pictures - behold below!

Saw A Prophet last week with my good bud Mark. It was the first decent film I’d seen in a while as I’ve been rather busy though, weirdly, I managed to fit the first half of St Trinians 2: The Legend of Fritton’s Gold in last week (don’t ask). Mark also hadn’t been to the cinema for a good couple of months so anticipation was high. Fortunately, we weren’t disappointed.

Gangster flicks (and books and TV shows and video games etc) are never going to go away but for me there has been so many good examples that I have a well worn cynicism for the genre. After Gomorrah I felt there wasn’t much more ground to tread but I was happy to be proven wrong in this case. Jacques Audiard, who directs, has done a few other very classy thrillers, the one that springs to mind is Read My Lips about a deaf secretary who gets involved in the seedy underworld of Paris tutored by everyone’s favourite dodgy yet dashing French – you guessed it – Vincent Cassel and was by all measures pretty damn good. This film – A Prophet - is similarly so. It’s an exciting moral tale set in a hard-knock prison which no-one in their right mind would ever want to spend more than 15 minutes visiting that hooks you right in from the start. The lead whose name I forget is bang on and it’s a tale of humble begininnings and the climb to success. More importantly, I feel it makes a convincing statement againts the polluting effects of racism but maybe that’s just me. Best of all, one of the main supporting actors (Niels Arestrup) is the spit of Anthony Worral Thompson:

Niels Arestrup:

Despite, or maybe because of this, this is a powerful, engaging movie with just the tiniest hint of the supernatural. Make no mistake, it’s a disturbing ride and easily earns it’s 18 certificate, yet, there’s a warm seam running through the tale. Most importantly though it’s a cracking story and that’s really what matters most not boring at any point. I loved it and I’m pretty sure you would as well.

Yes, even more than St Trinians II.

PS

I’m still off the tabs.

Confessions of a Scottish Nicotine Sucker

It has now been 10 days I think since I last suckled at lady nicotine’s toxic bosom. What happens at this stage is you find you have a surfeit of energy which if stationary manifests into strange thoughts and I can barely stay seated. This would be fine except I’m in the office just now. A rat still foraging in the hold of a sinking ship. Its 39 days till we’re all made redundant so I’m struggling to find motivation for the endless supply of reception advice e-mails I have been assigned for the umpteenth day to provide responses to. Of all things related to the BBC these are by far the most achingly dry.

Example: Mr Fotherington-Smythe (not his real name) from Berkshire doesn’t get his local news bulletin – BBC South Today in the very unlikely chance that you’re interested – and wants to know what we the British Broadcasting Corporation – whom he PAYS for – is going to do about it!

I’ll tell you what I’m going to do about it Mr Fotherington-Smythe, if that’s your real name (it’s not), I’m going get on a train to an undisclosed location in the North-east Highlands and personally plant a bed of flowers – chrysanths and tulips mostly with some local varieties here and there – in such a way that when they bloom the carefully co-ordinated multicoloured petals spell out:

Dear God, please ensure Mr Fotherington-Smythe which isn’t even his real name of Berkshire gets BBC South Today instead of BBC London when he sits down to the TV after his dinner every weekday night as he is a “Licence Fee Payer” after all and it’s only fair that he gets the relevant stories about his local community and that. Go on God Goddy God God, you know you want to. Dae it, dae it, dae it! 

Cheers big man.

That’s what I’m going to do.

Well…I might instead just suggest you get a qualified aerial engineer to reposition your aerial to the appropriate transmitter for your area and go and see Un Prophete tonight at the pictures with Markyboy instead.

Only time will tell.

Quitter

On Sunday evening I met Row and her good friend Cara at that pub in Queen Street Station – an establishment most personally significant in that once when waiting for a train there I found a BNP style free newspaper (headline “asylum seekers hunt our swans”). So despite it’s plastic corporate outward appearance, it aint the most salubrious of joints inside.

Anyways, I ask for a pint of Guinness (winter beverage of choice) and before the barwoman charges me she asks “would you like any crisps or nuts with that…?”.

Taken aback briefly I replied “pardon?” stalling for time and she repeated the question. I actually considered it for a nonosecond and then seeing sense quickly answered “no thanks”.

The point being is that when you enter a pub and ask for a drink that really should be the end of it. Okay, maybe you’ll be asked if you want ice and a slice if it’s a G&T! But I’ll ask for crisps if I want them – I don’t need a serving suggestion. Save the upselling for McDonalds or Pizza Hut thanks. Pubs are meant to be on the margins of corporate civilisation to an extent – a place where politeness is optional (but welcome all the same). This is why I despair at the smoking ban – more on that later.

As I said, rotten pub, expensive (the pint was £3.35 and not especially nice, the creamy head was dirty brown) also there’re signs all over the bar ecstatically proclaiming “if we don’t give you a receipt with your order it’s free!”! Joy! A win-win situation. Not. The staff will be on pain of death to offer a receipt – not something I’ve ever desired upon receiving a drink at a bar – so it’s extremely unlikely that if you’d even notice this rare event not happening that you’d get a free round. In fact…has this actually happened to anyone? Do let me know.

Smokin’

So, I’m trying for the umpteenth time to kick this horrible cigarette habit. I quit for the first half of last year, lapsed in the summer and kicked them again only to pick up where I left off over Christmas and new year, telling myself and anyone who asked that it was only for the holidays and the sight of so many old friends who I’ve enjoyed a fag with and who still puff away.

It’s never that simple is it? Soon all your thinking about is the cigarette rather than the company and that old dependence snides it’s way back into your life. Nevertheless undeterred, it was the big push a week last Monday and so far I’ve been 8 days without and counting. In the meantime I’ve fitted running, cycling and swimming (which I hope to make a regular part of my routine, I’d forgotten how much I enjoy this) to take my mind of the old coffin nails. It’s really the worst habit to try and kick, hats off to everyone else who has or is trying but I’m quietly confident i’ll last this time. As it is, I have no desire for a fag at the moment, the beast only rears it’s grinning head at moments of stress – unfortunately, just now is not without it’s challenges but I can cope with that – and when I’m out with smoking buddies. Which leads me to the smoking ban.

It’s now been several years since smokers were forced outdoors here in Scotland. For a while England was a haven for pub goers but that soon fell under the joykilling axe. Many people think it’s a success – sadly mostly existing non smokers – and if it stops more people taking up smoking, even which I’m yet to see any hard evidence in favour of, then hurrah. However, when the ban was introduced the lawmakers didn’t take one very important thing into account. Pubs. Once heavy with a cool home-from-home atmosphere are now sterile. No matter how it appears on the outside and whenever you go with friends you can be sure all the best laughs are being had outside whenever the smokers fly out their droves for the usual ‘one fag per drink’ allowance. If you are a non-smoker like me (touch wood) you may be aware of the feeling of abandonment when half or all of your group leave their coats, hats and scarves and troop outside for a chat and a smoke. It’s miserable being left and breaks up the evening and more importantly, makes the whole practice very tempting for me, especially after a couple of pints when my sense of personal responsibility weakens. It’s easy to ignore friends lighting up at the table but when they all go for a jolly chinwag outside and you’re left in limbo til they’re return it’s far more glaring.

I feel I must make it clear that I don’t advocate smoking, no sir no way no how. I feel great after only a week off the tabs, Row says I’ve a much lighter disposition when I’m not smoking and in many ways I wish I’d never taken up the habit but nevertheless, it’s something people do and – gasp! (pun intended) – enjoy. Sure, keep smoking out of the workplace, shops, hospitals, museums, zoos, schools, garages, restaurants, chemists, sport stadiums, job centres, cinemas, theatres, prisons anywhere really but pubs? Come on. What next? Dry pubs?

By all means have a law separating the smoking section from the bar, the non-smoking section and stage/dancefloor and keep it well ventilated but to push everyone outside into the street seems drastically unfair and puritanical. Aren’t we meant to be living in a free state? This seems like a monumental leap backwards in personal freedom. Pubs just aren’t what they used to be and I’m sure it’s no coincidence that I keep seeing them closing down all over the city.

There is a chink of light at the end of this corridor in that I’m sure some of you are aware that there are still places you can go where people can enjoy a smoke and a drink without any hassle. These after-hours hangouts are usually art related, nomadic, self policed, don’t let any old Tom, Dick or Harry in and nobody takes the piss or draws attention to them usually. They are far more relaxed and mingle friendly than your usual high street bar. Long may they continue but ‘least said’ eh?

Kindle Swindle

Have you heard of the latest ticky-tacky tat being touted ruthlessly by big business as the future? It’s called the digital e-reader and is essential a handheld electronic device which displays print much like an iPod say but instead of music - a medium that benefits from massively from portability - it’s books that are stored within.

 

Of all the things marketed as a digital breathrough this has to be the most parodic. Firstly, what an ugly beast. Can you imagine whipping this out on the train? Or in a cool cafe or bar? It looks like the kind of thing the gas man carries when he comes to check your meter. Compare this to an actual book - tactile, flexible (well, if it’s a paperback!), colourful, light and eminently throwable. The standard eReader looks grey, plastic, unwieldy and fragile. 

Secondly, I’m a compulsive reader and I’m rarely without a book. I carry whatever book I’m reading almost everywhere I go just in case I get a chance to bury my nose in it. Though I may pick up different books at home or friends places and read the an odd chapter or paragraph I’m a one-book-at-a-time kind of guy. I’m serially monogomous with literature. I rarely carry more than one book at once anywhere with me. Just now I’m reading a book recommended to me by a friend called The Cheese Monkeys by Chip Kidd. I’m looking forward to the next chance to read it. I have no desire to start reading another book on my lunchbreak I want to stick to the one I’ve got. I certainly have no desire to read tens of thousands of books which the eReader probably stores in it’s memory banks. To be fair, if I was a student this could be really handy for study purposes but for a committed/casual reader like myself that has no appeal. Whichever book I’m reading at the moment is a companion – I enjoy the cover, the typeface, the different chapters, the easy access and most of all the personality, something I’m afraid the digital book is a black hole to.

Finally – the price. Who in their right mind would pay upwards of £200 for one of these? The library is FREE. Books lent by friends are FREE. On the rare occasion I buy a book it’s usually no more expensive than a fiver (I get a lot of books from Fopp see) and almost never dearer than £20. And they look good on a shelf, if I decide they’re worthy of display.

I’m sure they’ve got they’re place in the world of academia and it’s really not like me to knock a new technology but the whole thing smacks of oily salesman trying to convince us to part with cold hard cash for a product which we have no need for. If you were tempted to get one (something I really don’t believe many folk are but still, let’s hypothesise) just donate your money to the local library and take some books out instead. Why buy another plastic product that needs charging and can’t easily be recycled? Sure as fate the one you would buy will be obsolete in 6 months time and replaced with another model anyway!

If it aint broke don’t fix it and try to charge me a weeks wages for the privilege.

Sweeney Straddles the Sun

I’ve been very busy lately (you just wouldn’t believe the week I’ve had) so I haven’t been able to update the blog as much as I’d like but on January the 3rd I played with a new band called Sweeney Straddles the Sun. It was to launch my friend Jason Sweeney’s new album so he gathered together a bunch of local musos gave us a copy of the CD to learn our parts and rehearsals began in earnest last month. 

It was a good band of players, genuinely some of the best musical talent in the Glasgow indie scene and folk I’ve always admired so I was quite honoured to be asked in all honesty. Ant O’Donnell, Paul Kelly and Alasdair Mitchell played drums, guitar and bass respectively. Two of whom, Ant and Paul are acquaintances I’ve and I’ve seen them play with various bands. Ant is also an actor (he recently starred in a kids TV programme not unlike the Teletubbies!) and works for the Scottish Youth Theatre. I’ve seen him play a few times with Izo Fitzroy and the Royal Bastards and Paul Kelly is a prolific rock ninja, fronting The Plimptons and the fantastic The Martial Arts. 

Jason also played drums in the last band I played for (though he sings in SSTS) All My Friends. He really is a terrific drummer and he really held us together, he’s got real panache and is an infectious personality. I listened to the CD’s and was taken by the influences. It’s a studied performance taking in the Super Furry Animals (one of the songs is sung completely in welsh!) and The Beta Band, both bands I’m crazy about, SFA is probably my favourite band of all time.

We only had time for three rehearsals and one on the day so we weren’t as tight as I would have hoped for – this turned out to be no bad thing a the songs have a lovely swaggering ramshackle quality. I swapped instruments all through the set, playing acoustic and electric guitar, microKorg, keyboard, percussion and flute. The night of the gig was fraught with technical problems but apart from some heckles (from some close friends I’d invited of course!) it went down well. We performed at the 13th Note - which if you don’t know Glasgow has been a long standing mecca of cool – and I was chuffed to finally play live there.

Sadly, there are no immediate plans to get together again. It’s very much a solo project for Jason and I get the feeling he doesn’t have the time to dedicate to a full band. It’s really a shame because it’s a lovely sound, refreshingly honest and tuneful and it was rare to get such a cool bunch of players together (and me!). Nevertheless, I’ve been inspired and want to carry the torch for inventive harmonic pop and hope to get a band of my own on stage very soon. Watch this space.

Weather eh, eh? Eh?!

It’s cold. -7 degress centigrade according to the weather app on this laptop. Which is damn cold for Glasgow.

People complain about this but really we’re all enjoying it. The frost takes us out of ourselves, makes us forget the humdrum, which let’s face it is humdrum and should be forgotten.

I know the cold hurts and there are people living outdoors who are in very real danger but those of us lucky enough to be able to control our environment should enjoy this unusual and interesting time.

Films of the Decade (That I Didn’t Hate)

Last night I went to see Michael Haneke’s The White Ribbon. Don’t worry, I’m not going to attempt to review it. Yet. I’m still thinking about it.

In the meantime, here’s a list of the films I compiled over a couple of weisbeers that I really enjoyed over the last ten – seriously, ten years – years. Hope someone else liked them too.

10. In Bruges 2008

This gleefully idiosyncratic movie is full of the kind of warped soul you just don’t usually see in the multiplex and it put Bruges on the map for me. My mate Chris likened it to Samuel Becket’s Waiting For Godot. But with guns.

9. Downfall 2004

Now this is how a movie should be made. Black as night in tone, this is a heavy duty historical record of the last days of Hitler. And it’s fab. Did I really write that? Oh, just go and see it.

8. Belleville Rendezvous 2003

Subtle, twisted humour, inspired visuals and moving themes of the kind you usuallynever get in mainstream animation I honestly could hardly believe such a movie had been made when I first saw it. I had to return to the cinema a second time just to see if I hadn’t imagined it the whole thing. I hadn’t, yet it still felt like magic. Life affirming.

7. Death Proof 2007

Critically mauled at the time of it’s release and criminally ignored by all but a few rabid movie fans this fabulously trashy yet sublime pseudo-exploitation flick is slowly gathering momentum as a bona fide cult classic. And quite right too.

6. Mulholland Drive 2001

Who is the cowboy? What is the thing that lurks behind the bins of the diner? What’s wrong with the espresso? These and many, many more questions are dutifully disavowed of answers in my favourite David Lynch flick.

5. The Lives of Others 2006

Stasi controlled East Berlin; this taught me more than I’d ever known previously about the regime. Stasi agent, Captain Gerd Wiesler, is entrusted with a mission to protect the interests of a corrupt minister by bugging the flat of a respected playwright yet finds moral complications hinder his progress. This could easily be science fiction, the kind written by Ursula le Guin, imaginative, exciting, moving, yet incredibly (for a layman like me), this was set during the 1980s in Europe.

4. Cloverfield 2008

Why can’t there be more blockbusters like Cloverfield? The film opens with twenty minutes or so of footage of a bunch of annoying hipsters having a party in a Manhattan loft apartment. You follow the romantic machinations of one photofit yuppie type, a nice enough fella who is leaving New York to take up a plum business role in Japan (cheeky Godzilla reference). Unknown to the cast all hell is about to break loose. It’s a film full of vitality and a noticeable lack of Hollywood cynicism – aside from the dull but photogenic cast perhaps but they really aren’t the stars of the movie. Made by a director – JJ Abrams, who else? – who actually appears to know what it’s like to go to the cinema, this should never be seen outside of the theatre.
3. This Is England 2006

Another monster flick only this time the beast doesn’t have claws. Shane Meadows captures the joy of friendships when you’re wee followed by the horrible disintegration as it all turns sour. Despite the challenging subject matter it’s very funny at times, beautiful to look at and listen too and heart rending. Also stylish – the skinhead look never looked so good.

2. Grizzly Man 2005

This film really is a superb oddity. On it’s simplest level it’s a documentary about the Timothy Treadwell, a man who decided to spend his life living with grizzly bears in the North American wilderness but ultimately, through his own foolhardiness/stupidity/mental instabilty, is killed by the very creatures he declares such love for. But it’s so, so much more than that. Disturbing, thought provoking and most of all, absolutely hilarious. I have no idea if Werner Herzog intended it to be so funny but it’s comedy classic. Treadwell himself  is a hair trigger loon; outrageously camp, zealous in the extreme about “nature”, he anthropomorphises every animal he meets giving the bears emasculating names such as “Mr Chocolate” and swears and cusses like some kind of hairdressing sailor throughout. It’s an absolute must see.

1. Waltz With Bashir 2008

After much deliberation this knocked ‘There Will Be Blood’ off the top spot and right down into the teens (I confess I just couldn’t be bothered rearranging any further!). Waltz with Bashir came along a year ago and for me, exposed the true clout of animation as a storytelling medium. For a long time I’ve believed cartoons speak much more powerfully to the intellect than photography – an illusion of reality – animation interprets how we actually see things from the mind’s eye. The master animator can stretch and distort images with greater control than a cinematographer and no more has this been proven this past decade than in this film. To sum up very quickly it’s the present day account of the director Ari Folmon’s experience of the 1982 Lebanon war as a soldier. It’s all told through flashbacks as described by the surviving comrades he visits as he tries to piece together events from their fragmented memories. I won’t give any more away as I’d hate to spoil it for you. It was an education for me in many ways as, with the countless films about war; this is one that really comes close to describing the mundane reality for a soldier. One scene shows a tank platoon cruising through the countryside firing randomly in all directions at no-one and nothing in particular another - where the title of the film comes from - shows a gun battle taking place in urban streets while the local population, detached from the chaos below, spectate from balconies high above the action. I do hope this crowning achievement spells the beginning of a bold new era of animation.

And the rest…

11. City of God 2002

12. Spirited Away 2001

12. Persepolis 2007

13. Hidden 2005

14. Children of Men 2006

15. The Piano Teacher 2001

16. Control 2007

17. The Royal Tenenbaums 2001

18. Shaun of the Dead 2004

19. There Will Be Blood 2008

20. Minority Report 2002

Special mention to the films of Studio Ghibli, which I discovered and loved watching throughout the decade.

Cycling Dies Irae

As you are no doubt aware if you’ve read some of my precious entries I like to ride my bicycle. I like to ride my bike. I use it to get everywhere and commute to and from work most days on it – occasionally for a change I’ll take the train, though I resent paying for it. That reminds me, do you know the origin of copper wire? Two Scotsman fighting over a penny. I digress (thanks Billy Connolly), mostly it’s the best way to travel in the city but you do get rotten apples who spoil the barrel.

Yesterday, I was very tired when i started work so I didn’t have my usual confidence so unintentionally I allowed a few drivers to dangerously overtake me at high speeds. The only way to stop this on fast roads is to confidently occupy as much of the lane as possible. This often takes a nerves of steel most cyclists will testify - you are very conscious of the armoured protection of the drivers and your polystyrene helmet being your only defence. Still, once you get used to it you don’t bat an eyelid, it’s easy and keeps the drivers in check but as I was saying yesterday, I wasn’t feeling up to it as I wasn’t really awake as I’d just rolled out of bed and got dressed without a shower (I know! I was going to be late and I’d had a bath the previous evening!) or had breakfast tea or coffee and it was very dark and hostile so zoom zoom zoom, the cars kept overtaking with nary an inch separating us.

Today was different, I set my alarm early, had a shower, had breakfast and strong fresh coffee with the radio on and even had a barney with Kirsten – not welcome but it certainly woke me up – so when I set out I was ready for anything. About halfway there I’d not experienced anything but perfect manners on the road and was starting to chill out and enjoy the cycle when vrrrammn! A black cab shot past on the empty road I was on.

When this happens you get a sudden shot of adrenaline as the car is so loud and quick – this never happens on the pavement. Also there’s a gust of wind which hits you starboard meaning you cling on for dear life. After the shock, it’s quickly replaced by anger and you eye your aggressor careening off into the darkness, red lights ablaze. Maybe because of the coffee or maybe it was having already tussled with Kirsten – if you can stand up to her dragon slaying is not out of the question – I decided to give him a piece of my mind so I kept a steady pace until we reached the next set of traffic lights where i rapped on his window. He tried to ignore me at first but I persisted and he wound down the window, I said calmly ”you drove fart too close to me there, that’s my life you’re playing with pal in future be a little more considerate”, hoping he’d apologise and be done with it. Sadly this wasn’t to be and a tête-à-tête ensued concerning how much of the lane I was allowed and blah blah blah.

I felt kind of sorry for him as he was quite a bit older than me and even though he was driving, ironically, like a boy-racer I thought I was in danger of seeming like a bully so as soon as soon as the light went green I parted with, “you’ll find the highway code online pal!” and I zipped off. Honestly it’s all very embarrassing on reflection but when you’re in the thick of it and your hackles are raised it’s easy to get angry.

I found a good guide for cyclists and drivers here. I use lights, wear luminous clothing in foggy or bad conditions, obey traffic lights (since I was booked for going through a red light and charged £30 I decided to simplify my life and stick to green lights only), ride decisively on the road using hand signals for every turn and watch behind me when it’s safe  and I always let cars past when it’s safe to do so.

Brothers and sisters can’t we all just, like, get along man?

The Songs That Saved My Life 2000 – 2009

As we hurtle towards the end of the decade like a charging rhino jacked up on goofballs the press has started to print lists. Lists of films, lists of people and lists of the best individual trifles from city centre convenience stores (not really but for the record I’d say the Sainsbury’s strawberry upside down trifle is definitely in the top 5).

Anyway, I’m not even going to attempt to side step the trend so I’ve agonised over a top ten album list of the decade. This has been as difficult as it’s really been a glory period of music especially in the latter half. Last year was unprecedented with so many good albums being released.

I’m not going to go on too much, simply to say this is a list of my favourite albums of the decade, not a best of or a ‘must-listen’ (although I totally recommend you do) but simply what I’ve enjoyed listening to most, time and time again. Okay, counting backwards I’ll start with….

10.       Hour of the Bewilderbeast    Badly Drawn Boy

This album opened the decade for me during a troubling time when I moved home from England to Scotland (funnily enough it’s the only album produced by an English artist that’s made it onto the list). I was returning to my family but living in a different neck of the woods, specifically Glasgow. It was a very difficult time as I’d left all my friends behind and this was before mobiles and the internet had really taken off – no facebook etc but this album got me through it fully intact.

 

 

 

 

 

9.         #3                                            Suburban Kids With Biblical Names

  

I was introduced to this band from a colleague at work who was obsessed with Swedish pop. He got me into the fantastic band I’m From Barcelona and made me a copy of the CD, there was room at the end so he included the first two EPs of a duo called, amusingly,  Suburban Kids With Biblical Names which he had an inkling I’d enjoy. How right he was. Full of achingly catchy and witty songs I still listen to this a lot and wait patiently for them to return to Glasgow (I’ve seen them twice here so far).

 

 

 

 

8.         Sung Tongs                             Animal Collective

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

This was a bolt out of the blue for me and arrived just at the right time. Recommended by my old friend Steven and championed by my other mate Paul I hesitantly gave this a go. At first it sounds utterly chaotic and nonsensical but only after a few plays it begins to make a strange kind of sense. One part Beach Boys, a pinch of Paul Simon and a high dose of psychedelic drugs. It’s the album that introduced me to the rest of their incredible music and for me is still there warmest record.

7.         I Can Hear Your Heart          Aidan Moffat

I’ve always been a fan of Arab Strap but was worried this might be a case of Morrissey splitting from Marr but this record is a joy from start to finish and it’s one that I’ve introduced to a select few who agree it’s something very special. Mostly spoken word tales of licentiousness and infidelity but with a dreamy backing of French pop loops and flamenco flourishes it’s (as recommended on the inlay) best listened to with headphones under the duvet with a hangover.

 

 

 

 

 

6.         Friend EP                                Grizzly Bear

After reading about these guys in a magazine I was lent a copy of this EP and was left cold at first. However, I was determined to give it a fair whack and slowly but surely they drew…no! – it got under my skin and now is firmly one of my all time favourite records. Their albums really are equally good and this is really a collection of would be B-sides as well as some choice covers (a stoatin’ version of their song ‘The Knife’ by CSS stands out) as well as one of the most beautifully melancholy song I’ve heard for years, Deep Blue Sea which recalls The Velvet Underground at their purest and best.

 

 

 

 

5.         The Strokes                            Is This It

 

I agonised about including this at it seems so obvious but really my list wouldn’t be complete without it. Their first EP (at least I think it was their first) heralded the true start of the decade for me. As I said earlier, I was living quietly with just my Dad in Glasgow and missing my old friends, skulking around record shops, libraries and art galleries having not made any new friends when I picked this up from Avalanche records in town mainly because I liked the cover (and the name was undeniable cool). After listening in rapture for about the 50^th time I wasn’t bored and had decided there was a whole new life waiting for me, why hadn’t I noticed what I was missing before? It sounded so fresh and tuneful compared to what I’d been listening to – Britpop was so long dead and the NME was a lifeless rag, flogging bands like The Cooper Temple Clause as the next big thing. This was real and it was the sound of now. I know it’s all probably been said before but that was it. Is This It soon followed and by then my life was changing for the better and I had a new soundtrack.

4.         The Evens                              The Evens

 

This is a subtle and oh-so-cool-as-steel record. I was kindly given a copy of it as a gift from my friend Richard after creating a flyer for his radio programme. it was unexpected and just filled all the blanks musically that I wanted to hear. It’s stripped down punk folk, if you can imagine such a thing and features the sound of a baritone electric and drums with a male and female voice. Punky, agitated lyrics about mundane things such as shopping at the hardware store to angry rallying cries against the police, it’s catchy and lovely and always makes me smile.

 

 

 

 

3.         Candylion                               Gruff Rhys

It was seeing Gruff perform this at the Tramway which led to me hooking up with Rowan and one of the tracks, Beacon in the Darkness, makes me think of my Dad. Because of that and as it’s full of lovely songs means I’ve placed it so highly.

 

 

 

 

 

 

2.         Loss                                        Mull Historical Society

 

Some magazine said about this album at the time (I’m paraphrasing) “In a sea of dross stands out Mull Historical Society”. I couldn’t have agreed more at the time, this was around about the time of The Strokes and was one of the few bands of the time worth getting emotional about. I can’t tell you how much I still love this record  so I won’t even bother.

 

 

 

 

1.         Fleet Foxes                             Fleet Foxes 

 

Just released last year and like most records that stay with you, it pretty much came out of the blue for me. Each song a patchwork of acoustic guitars, bass and human voices in harmony it inspires and uplifts. The songs deal with family and death much like Arcade Fire (which just because they’re not in the top ten doesn’t mean I don’t love them…) but they have a more timeless sound. Perhaps it’s the timelessness that I love or maybe it’s because it’s freshest in my mindthat makes it number one. It’s probably just that I love singing along with it.

Well that’s yer lot. No, wait! There are many runners up so here’s a few – in no particular order – which I’ve enjoyed hearing just as much but couldn’t fit into the list:

 We Love Life Pulp

LCD Soundsystem/Sounds of Silver LCD Soundsystem

Vampire Weekend Vampire Weekend

Held On The Tips Of Fingers Polar Bear

Come On Feel The Illinoise Sufjan Stevens

Please Describe Yourself Dogs Die In Hot Cars

Discovery Daft Punk

Young Forever Aberfeldy

Kings and Queens Jamie T

Get Behind Me Satan The White Stripes

Stainless Style Neon Neon

Loud…louder…Stop! The Neil Cowley Trio

Funeral Arcade Fire

Hymns For A Dark Horse The Bowerbirds 

Finally, I think I should include some the records not from this decade I’ve discovered and went nuts for during this decade:

My Life In The Bush of Ghosts Brian Eno/David Byrne 1981

Pithecanthropus Erectus Charles Mingus 1956

The Modern Lovers Jonathan Richman 1976

The Wicker Man Soundtrack Various  1973

The Sidewinder Lee Morgan 1964

RIP Pyewacket

The (unofficial) leader of my three ratfinks Pyewacket met her maker this morning. As you may have read she’s had a tumour and in the last week it went from bad to worse.

I’m actually relieved as I’d been worrying a lot about her and she was really far from well last night when I got home. After my sister said she thought she was seriously ill (she’s had pet rats before), we took turns fussing over her, petting her, making sure her bed was OK, feeding her lots of sunflower seeds and such. She responded pushing her wee chin out to be tickled and gingerly nibbling away but as she wasn’t running about – so completely unlike her – we all knew she probably didn’t have long to go.

The vet was very nice but straightforward, which is exactly what you want. He had me put her in a tin airtight looking box, into which he’d placed a cotton ball soaked in methanol. After a minute we opened the lid and although her eyes were open you could see she was unconscious. Then he administered the injection and put the lid back on to give her some privacy. He didn’t say that but it seemed appropriate. When he took the lid back off he checked and she was no longer breathing.

I’ve seen lots of pets go, some who were much older and much beloved but I was still moved by this one. I’d never of guessed that a wee rat could have so much personality, she really was the brightest of the three, the most fearless (she was the first to square up to Damon, my sisters cat) and the most personable. While the others slept she’d often be skittering about watching my every move and getting excited whenever I went to fetch her out of the cage for a play.

That's her, the furthest right head of the fearsome rat-cerberus

Enjoy the rat afterlife Pyewacket.