Take My Hand, Matt Berry

Archangel, Burial

You Are The Sunshine of My Life, Stevie Wonder

Etre, Nicolas Jaar

Just flicking through my Napster library, and I'm assuming my brother downloaded this, but it's a brilliant album. Full of beautiful, haunting sounds which at first wash over you sublimely, but at certain points in the songs they become delicately haunting. Space is the Only Noise is such a brilliant, poetic title, perfectly suited to the album and all the ideas presented here. It's just startling, and I'm surprised he's not as big on the indie scene as he should be... such a fascinating, rewarding artist. If it sounds pretentious, stick with it if you're into your chilled out electro. On my first listen, I would compare it in quality to the dizzying heights of DJ Shadow's Entroducing... or Burial's Untrue.

Shutterbugg, Big Boi

White boy listening to black music... It must be decent.

Tangled Up In Blue, Bob Dylan

I played this on Guitar Hero today, and then suddenly felt an urge to go on a long walk and listen to Blood on the Tracks repeatedly. It was brilliant. I just love this song, but I also love how it can mean so many different things to so many different people, so I won't press my thoughts on it too much...

Take Care, Beach House

I Speak Because I Can, Laura Marling

'My husband left me last night/Left me a poor and lonely wife/I cooked the meals and he got the life'

What a way to open a song. It's simply one of the most powerful verses I've ever heard. The striking word play of the man leaving you think would start the narrative of the song, but it immediately reverts back to the woman, reminding us of Marling's focus throughout the album. The whole song has this mythical quality, reminding the listener of Penelope and Odysseus. Yet what I find so startling is that it could be applied to any time period. From the Ancient Greeks, through to a Bronte heroine, a woman of the modern age ('I cooked the meals and he got the life' could still ring very true in many 'equal' households), or Laura herself dealing with her break-up with Charlie Fink (some bitterness regarding his public outpouring of their relationship in the main refrain?). Marling's folk music really lends itself well to this timeless quality which is striking for a woman of just 20.

Musically, too, the song plays upon folk convention beautifully. It starts with a quiet guitar, but then through the song, it becomes more worldly, incorporating a really stirring sitar, and the drums gradually becoming more heavy, then you get these little quiet interludes linking into the lyrics wonderfully. I love the introduction of the man's backing vocal, reminding us of how she's still haunted by her husband, their memories, and the prospect of his return.

The song builds to such a powerful crescendo, some of the most emotional of recent years even if the narrative of the song is relatively ambiguous (has she cheated on her husband? has her husband left on a voyage? etc.) The voice she inhabits is totally different from anything else she's done, taking on a woman who's left lonely, trying to 'figure out what she believes.' For me, Laura Marling is the voice of womanhood for our generation.

Little Fluffy Clouds, The Orb

I was reading an article on the Guardian today about the best openings of albums. whilst this might not rank quite that highly on my list, it's certainly noteworthy. Never listened to The Orb before and I find that electronic music suits this weather quite nicely, this song in particular!

Gypsy, Fleetwood Mac

I think the latest Guillemots album has put me in the mood for Fleetwood Mac, and so I decided to give Mirage a first proper listen whilst travelling today... I loved it, got on with it really well and had some sumptuous songs, and this song in particular is just sublime.

Acrophobia, Penguin Villa

I finally got round to watching Uncle Boonmee Who Can Recall His Past Lives Today (y'know, that Thai film which won the Palme d'or at Cannes last year, most famous for the scene in which a princess has sex with a catfish?) anyway, it was fantastic, so moving, so dreamlike, showing that abyss between life and death like I've never seen before whilst being endlessly cinematic.

Anyway, this song came at the end, and it captured the bittersweet, dreamy tone of the film perfectly. Before looking up interviews with the director, I just had to listen to this again. If you watch films in a foreign language, then it shouldn't matter that much with music, either.

Sea of Love, Cat Power

The Rescue Blues, Ryan Adams

I never listened to Ryan Adams. I always thought him and Bryan Adams were the same person, but I always just misheard the name. Apparently not. So I was pleasantly surprised when I started listening to some of his stuff the other day. His album Gold is occasionally moving, and extremely easy to listen to, it makes decent background music just if you're pottering about the house or reading a book. His voice is also very nice...

Album Review: Walk The River, Guillemots

Fyfe Dangerfield is no longer in love, as we found him on his previous outing Fly Yellow Moon. Instead, he is loveless, isolated, but at least he has the grand music of his bandmates to back him up. Whereas Fly Yellow Moon was Dangerfield's spontaneous collection of songs written and quickly recorded in the rapture of a short-term relationship, Walk the River (streaming in full here) is the meticulous aftermath where the band reflect in detail on inevitable lost love, crafting an album that's as cohesive as it is heartbreaking.


The album begins with the title track, as it begins 'Fell in love with a boy, grew tired of it,' as he uses the metaphor of an animal on the run to express his loneliness. 'I'm still here' Fyfe pines, yet he is haunted, feeling hunted. The ambiguity of that word startling. Similarly, on I Must Be a Lover, one of the more pop-orientated songs, ends in a chorus of 'let the memory go' and on I Don't Feel Amazing Now (the title says it all, eh?) it seems he's after meaningless sex, after the disappointment of a lost love: 'I don't wanna know your name, I don't ever wanna speak again/I just wanna be somewhere I can lose myself, is that alright?' It's a song that is full of power, it's bluntly depressing, and as filthy as you'll hear Dangerfield. Thematically then, Walk the River seems a little one note, but that all helps the album to become really coherent, certainly a record you'll turn to after a break up when you've worn out the Mac's Rumours, or Noah and the Whale's First Days of Spring.


Musically, again, it is perhaps their most unified album. They long ago ditched the rich orchestration which made me love them in the first place, they've turned from a double bass to a standard electric bass, their drumbeats seem less jazz-infused, and there's no sign of a typewriter. But if you are after a band who can create a textured, dreamy sound from standard instruments, this is a great example. It verges on shoegaze, and it all has this spaced out feel. In an interview, Dangerfield has said he had been obsessed with the idea of being in space, which is found in the music and makes a perfect analogy for the isolation Dangerfield is so clearly describing throughout the album. The guitars are sparse, and there's lots of reverb and effect, take the opening of Inside for example, you may as well be gazing at the stars whilst walking on the moon. If you can accept that they've lost the musical bombast and originality that once made them so popular, then you should be able to appreciate that they've discovered a sound that is deeply atmospheric, moody and wholly engrossing. If they've ditched the conventional orchestral strings, they've created a just as effecting and unique sound through a standard rock-band set up.


I initially had doubts about Walk the River. Red proved to be one of the most disappointing albums of the decade, and it seemed as if my first favourite band were going to fade away, embarrassingly try and sell out to the mainstream, and these thoughts weren't dispelled when I first listened to The Basket. But when listened to in the album's context, near the end, you can only then understand the complex nature of the song, the burst of joy is actually regret for a relationship past, and in this light, what was once a flimsy pop song becomes one of the most melancholy songs the band have ever produced. The fade-out of the song is spot on, it's the deterioration of those happy memories, or the promise of new romance only to be lost again, which is only made apparent by one swift production choice.


That's the beauty of the Guillemots and their music, it's so deft, so meticulous, yet so easy to listen to at the same time. This album could be dismissed as a band maybe forgetting their original roots and becoming slaves to soft-rock, rambling on about lost love. Yet they'd miss the subtlety of the songwriting, the magical, intimate atmosphere, the richly smooth, earnest vocals. It isn't a patch on Through the Windowpane, which for me is one of the most magical albums ever recorded. Walk the River doesn't have any songs you instantly fall in love with like Trains to Brazil, nothing as life-affirming as We're Here nor anything quite as majestic as Sao Paulo. Yet I have nothing but love for the Guillemots right now, a band who have recaptured glimmers of their early promise and have crafted their most consistent album yet, and one of my favourite albums of the year so far.

I'll Take Care of You, Various Artists.

This is one of those really old numbers which loads of bands go on to cover, and so many versions are great, I often listen to them in one go. I think the original, or an early version at least, was by the Bobby "Blue" Band, and the name of that band sums up the mood of the song completely:

The first version I heard was by Mark Lanegan, and it was also the title of his covers album. His voice (as I've mentioned before) just has so much soul, and his deep growl fits this song wonderfully, reminding you of old men with so many regrets in an old smoky bar, it's really minimalist but delicately moving:

Finally, there was a version made by Gil Scott-Heron (which was again remixed by Jamie from The xx) in which the strings are the most evident change. It seems much more cinematic than the original, very exaggerated, but again so much soul runs through it. You can tell Gil's had years of living, and so much time to encounter similar situations. He's lived, and that's what gives the song such a raw and earnest tone. With the re-mixed version, it has this 90's disco vibe, with a modern dub-step twist, making it a completely new song. It seems really jarring after listening to all the other versions, but once you settle into it, it's really impressive. In the final few seconds, there's a man who whispers 'fucking hell', as if he can't deal with the emotion of his situation. A really subtle way to being this song into the 21st century, plunging you to how you might feel in a club when your depressed and have had a wee too much:

I find it amazing that a song can mean so much to so many great musicians, that they can rework it with so much passion. A song can have its own meaning to everyone, as you can hear from these examples, and I find it really interesting in how artist's try to differentiate, or acknowledge different aspects of the initial version. It's really affecting to listen to all the little differences between these songs, and while I don't expect anyone to listen to all four in one go, it surprisingly doesn't get boring, instead it's even more interesting. It possibly lends a greater insight into an artist's concerns than listening to their original songs. I can't decide which version is my favourite, but it's no wonder that this song has inspired so many talented singers.

Come On! Feel the Illinoise!, Sufjan Stevens

Such a mammoth song. So epic in its approach to songwriting and its lyrical content. The arrangement is just stunningly zany, it has everything going on and more. The lyrics are crazy, so uplifting and so depressing at exactly the same time. You know those days where you wake up and feel happy, sometimes for no specific reason? I always stick Sufjan on as I did today, he is so life-affirming, yet grounds you to reality at the same time. He's so heart-on-sleeve, so earnest, but never loses sight of the bigger picture of what he's talking about. Musically, it's my favourite pop-rock song of the 2000's... Maybe! It's certainly brilliant.

Angela Surf City, The Walkmen

The Walkmen are such a perfect rock'n'roll band. Their albums always consist of extremely listenable gut-wrenching songs about teenage alienation and day-to-day anxieties of young people, but told with such verve, passion and brilliant songwriting that I don't know anyone who've given them a listen who haven't returned to them.

Their last album, Lisbon, was no different. And it became one of my favourite albums of the year and probably my most listened to album of 2010. Becuase I listened to it so much around the Autumn months, it reminds me of a very specific time, and the music was a perfect soundtrack to coming to grips with a new place, new relationships, and essentially, growing up.

One of the standout songs of the album is Angela Surf City. It's a pulsating take on unrequited love, a fleeting relationship about a girl who never really shared her emotions (you kept your jaw wired closed), how he used to have to simply try and read her 'signs', and is now living in regret, trying to love onto the times when he held her. Musically, it's so American, the whole album reminding me of a coming of age Hollywood road movie, and as ever the vocals just engage you, the singer's heart constantly ripping out your own. It's an energetic, regretful and ultimately sad listen.

Forty Six & 2, Tool

I'm pretty sure loads of fanboys have written loads about Tool's music, and you could google plenty of meanings to the song, and I'm sure you'll also find a lot of details on the meticulous songwriting. Even on the song's Wiki page there's some details about Jungian psychology and science, which some might find pretentious, other's will find it pretty interesting. So there's no point adding to that with my probably inferior knowledge, Tool being a band with a huge cult following and all. But as a piece of music this is just glorious, an onslaught of bitterness accompanied by some pretty incredible bass, and if you can even vaguely stomach this song, it's really worth giving the rest of their material (particularly their albums Aenima and Lateralus) a listen.

Will Do, TV On the Radio

What a Monday morning for new music. New albums from Guillemots, Metronomy, Foo Fighters, Cass McCoombs, Panda Bear and TV on the Radio have all become available for us to sink our teeth into At least a couple of these will surely become among my favourite albums of the year, and thus, this should be a day I won't forget. As I type, I'm giving TV on the Radio's latest album, Nine Types of Light, a listen.

I did want to choose All Falls Down, but sadly, I couldn't find a link. So instead, I chose their latest single, which is still very charming. TV On the Radio never losing their ability to infuse genres, making a really funky rock song, full of melancholy regarding a relationship of unrequited love. I'm also really fond of this video... Give it a watch as well as a listen!

Party Wounds, Rolo Tomassi

I've never known a woman to have such a manly vocal. This metal/funk/pop song flits between loads of different styles, and it's from a band who are always so much fun to listen to.

She Wants, Metronomy

Coming back from The English Riviera (a name I find amusing and have always scoffed at, though I did find it a pretty place), I read decent reviews of Metronomy's latest album (streaming here), which also takes the same name as the aforementioned part of Devon. The band come from Totnes, which I'm guessing is consistently nicer than Stockport. But as I sit on my bed looking at the blue sky, after lifting wood outside and watching the Grand National, this album fits my equally tranquil mood, as well as the strangely wonderful weather we've been having.

She Wants begins quite moodily, establishing a nighttime mood through the sparse, loud bass. It's not the most sunny song on the album, but I find it really beautiful. The scene they paint of a boy and girl simply lying on a bed is really nice, and recalls the intimate details of a close relationship. Something about it rings so true. Instead of focusing on the most obvious British Summertime connotations, Metronomy instead discuss the sticky night, in which he can't sleep, as the female is lying peacefully, twitching in her sleep. It may feel like a series of rather obvious observations, but I'd guess it would remind everyone of a sleepless night they had with a partner.

There's similar little observations on the album, which I'm quite enjoying, its funky electro-pop being matched by a certain euphoria for a place and people.

Baby's Arms, Kurt Vile

An American singer-songwriter who I discovered when his most recent album came out last month with this song as the opener. A really nice, quiet album which borders on the grungey side of things, reminiscent of Lanegan's earliest albums.

Becoming a Jackal, Villagers

Miss You, The Rolling Stones

Went to a museum yesterday, this song was playing. It's definitely one of my favourite Rolling Stones tracks. I'm going away for a few days, I'll try and post, but I'm not sure if I'll have internet connection/time to do it...

Chelsea Hotel #2, Leonard Cohen

This little vignette is one of my favourite Cohen songs. It's so self-deprecating and funny, yet also really heartbreaking. 'You told me again you preferred handsome men/but for me you would make an exception' is just a perfect line. I've always found it takes a genius artist to get that balance just right so that you're both laughing and crying inside, and Cohen frequently achieves this. It's about a guy, in love with a woman (apparently Janis Joplin), and what they get up to at the Chelsea Hotel. His love is now unrequited as he sings in denial that "I remember you well." Even more perfect is the final line. After baring his heart bare and using all this poetry to describe their encounter, he claims that 'I don't think of you that often.' It's absolutely perfect - has he had other such encounters which are equally heartbreaking? is he simply convincing himself that he doesn't love this woman? or was this song just off the cusp? Either way, it's perfect!