Goofle

That's great to hear! They are right at the top with Slowdive for me, and I too can't understand why their following seems to be a considerable amount smaller.

__________________

James

Why I think ‘Sweet Thing’ by Van Morrison is an aural embodiment of what love feels like
Getting soppy with ‘Celtic Soul’


My dad and my step mum have the happiest marriage I have ever encountered. They rarely fight and when they do it’s simply an inane bicker about picking up crumbs or taking a long time to get dressed. In fact even those incidents are the most loving arguments I have ever witnessed. The real testament to their commitment comes from the fact that they are completely at a loss without each other. My step mum recently went on holiday for ten days and it was framed as a Greek tragedy. Instead of a week and a half of joy in the sunshine the trip was treated as if it was a small break in a Nazi death camp as she burst into tears even at the thought of being separated from her husband. After she left my father came out with what is at once the most sickeningly sugary statement he has ever made while also a level of emotion I one day aspire to experience. ‘It took us years to find each other, we shouldn't be apart for any longer’.

This all takes me back to their wedding day in August 2010 when I sat in awe (drinking my tenth contraband rum and coke passed underhand by a family friend with a nudge and wink) watching their first dance. My dad has regularly included ‘Astral Weeks’ in his list of favourite albums and it had always been a confusing entry for me. It wasn't an album he would play in the car and force onto me like Surfer Rosa, OK Computer, or even Led Zeppelin IV — it was an album that had a quiet confidence, one that was important to him but not at all flashy. ‘Astral Weeks’ seemed like a personal favourite, the kind that you don’t talk about or try to share. An album that’s just deeply touching on an emotional level. Until his wedding day all I knew about my father’s relationship with ‘Van The Man’ was that he had once seen him live in a castle of some sort. This had not prepared me for the image of my dad and his new wife slowly dancing to ‘Sweet Thing’, an image and even more so a sound sample of joy, happiness, and adoration.

The almost mythical ‘first dance’ is one of the most symbolic wedding day rituals. The first foray into celebration and a life together through the medium of moving your feet to some music. There’s something special about the way the couple start off on a lone dancefloor, joined together in matrimony against the world, only to be surrounded by their loved ones by the end of the song. The first dance celebrates the fact that love comes in many shapes and sizes, although the romance between the two in the spotlight is the root of the celebration it would be nothing without friendship and family’s supporting roles.

‘Sweet Thing’ was a special choice and that day has firmly etched the song into my own romantic oeuvre. The lone strum of the acoustic guitar in its genesis. The transition towards the climax with the introduction of the bass, the violins, and especially the flutes. The flutes result in this song’s unbelievable resemblance to paradise, bringing forth images of cherubs blowing on wind instruments and flowering fauna. The lyrics make this song what it is. Morrison is inducted into the Songwriter Hall Of Fame for beautiful words like these. My personal highlight is when he sings (with an almost unrivaled passion and sincerity) the second verse.

‘ And I shall drive my chariot
Down your streets and cry
‘Hey, it’s me, I’m dynamite
And I don’t know why’ ‘

These four lines say it all. Looking past any resemblance to a creepy sexual innuendo, this is great poetry. Van Morrison plays with heroic imagery, highlighting the importance of vulnerability and openness in his relationship. Van Morrison’s interpretation of love is all honesty, courageously accepting how his beloved makes him feel and admitting that it’s confusing to him. Love doesn't result in cliche, not in this song. Van doesn't feel like a blossoming flower or anything else overused and cringe inducing. Van feels volatile and pent up, like he is about to explode with emotion at any second. Most of all, he’s unclear why it’s even happening. Other love songs act like they know it all, as if the songwriter has a blueprint laid out in front of them when in reality confusion is at the heart of everything we do. Our feelings are foggy and unclear, and when you’re married and slow dancing with the love of your life it’s still unpredictable and complex. That’s worth celebrating.

I for one will never be able to get married unless I can listen to the opening notes of this song and immediately bring forth memories of some special girl. That’ll be my test. Half cut in a corner watching my dad, I never doubted that my stepmother was the one for him. If I ever get the chance to play this song at my wedding, I hope my guests experience the same epiphany. Each to their own though, my grandad was appalled at the song choice and commented that they ‘should have got some Johnny Cash’. My stepmother line dancing to ‘Ring of Fire’ in a wedding dress may have made me even happier than ‘Sweet Thing’ did.

James

Introduction to Mourning
Why I’m so devastated about Community’s cancellation


I love the idea of a sitcom. I like the concept of deriving humour from banal situations and using the things that bring people together in life to get laughs. In practice though, most sitcoms are absolutely dreadful. One note characters make obvious jokes and a laugh track sounds at even the most effortless facial expressions. From the truly terrible farces like The Big Bang Theory to accomplished shows that still lack ‘something’ like How I Met Your Mother no American sitcom has ever used the genre exactly the way I like it. Except from Community. NBC and Dan Harmon’s community college commentary was both the best program on television and perhaps the most powerful connection I have ever had to a group of characters. Over the course of four fantastic seasons and one strangely loveable ‘gas leak year’ NBC made me fall in love with this ragtag bunch of misfits and see pieces of myself in each and every one. Then they took it away from me, the bastards.

The characters were what made Community so special. Dan Harmon created seven eccentric yet unbearably human characters. Characters that were all uniquely damaged and only found treatment in eachother. Relationships that seemed more important than anything else in the show’s universe. It’s my adoration for these seven losers that made me stick it out through season four and not hate it despite serious problems with the writing. It’s my commitment that made me rewatch the series four times. Britta was my favourite, the washed out activist that highlighted how easily one can lose sight of what they hold dear. Britta was rash, she had some very strange motivations, and at times she was positively braindead but she had the biggest heart at Greendale. Britta’s good intentions were what defined her.

Troy showed us that it’s okay to not really know who you are. Abed was a guy who struggled to function in normal society but still found his happy place. Annie tried really hard and it wasn't uncool, she was young and yet she could accomplish anything she wanted to. Pierce was a successful businessman who had more personal problems than anyone, his downfall told us that compassion and selflessness are the route to happiness not victory or money. Shirley was the classic Christian housewife and through five seasons we learned that religion is nothing without acceptance and that even the most outwardly perfect people have issues in their past. The protagonist Jeff Winger through countless trademark ‘Winger speeches’ showed that even the most immoral people can be redeemed.

That’s not all though, Community relayed life lessons with genuine hilarity and a flair for a great parody. As a movie lover I thrived on Community’s tinkering with the tropes of storytelling and genre. I tuned in every week expecting high quality pop culture pastiches. The references in Community actually had meaning, Harmon and company weren't just namedropping in an effort to reveal their own intelligence they were making a television programme for people that love entertainment. Community wasn't a show about nerds, it was a show for nerds. From paintball episodes mimicking big budget action movies, to a class named ‘Nicolas Cage — Good Or Bad?’, it was success after success.

The really heartbreaking part of Community’s cancellation is its ending. In the previous seasons Harmon had ended with a big emotional moment. Harmon was aware of the threat of cancellation and scripted his season finales with an air of closure. This year his fatal flaw was optimism — the episode ended with Abed commenting that the gang wouldn't have to worry about coming back next year. It seems ironic that NBC decided to cancel the show here, of all places. In case current talks with Hulu fall through and Community never returns to my screens I’ll rewind my version of the ending to a few episodes previously when Troy left on an around the world trip. Troy was saying goodbye to Annie and she commented that she was lucky to have known him — Troy then says that he is unlucky, because he missed out on a chance to have known her for longer. In terms of Community, I am most certainly unlucky. I missed out on another season and a movie. Although perhaps I am lucky that I got to be acquainted with such a high quality sitcom at all.

Paedantic Basterd

Dude, whoever it was that said Regine Chassagne looks like she has down syndrome... that is one of the most unnecessarily cruel things I've ever heard. I adore Regine, she's beautiful.

As for Community, I could talk for days about the kind of genius Dan Harmon is. I don't even know where to start to engage you in a discussion about it. Screenwriting is my secret passion the way some people daydream about being rockstars or models, and Dan Harmon has had the greatest impact on my writing, after Black Books being what inspired me to try writing in the first place.

If I could choose to relive any episode of television as if it were for the first time, I'd choose to go back to Community's first paintball episode. The wonder and pure elation I felt when I realized that they were making a movie out of television is kind of indescribable. I watched the whole thing on the edge of sanity and it completely changed the way I view sitcoms.

I've been playing around with writing an entry on Community as well, but I can't seem to sit down and funnel my feelings into a structure to do it; I've really lost a lot of passion for my own journal, although my need for cognition probably thrives more today than it did when I was writing.

Fingers crossed for Hulu to pick up Community; I hear they're talking. Honestly, I think that just like Arrested Development, Community is going to be one of those television legends that seriously impacts American sitcom production, whether it impacts the format, humour, and pop culture as A.D. did, or the very medium of television itself (as clearly the network format is broken).

James

The Regine comment wasn't really meant in a cruel way, it's just the sense of humour my friend and I have built up over the years. I still think she's beautiful and stand by it. (although I like the violinist even more)

I'm a writer too - and although Community is far from my biggest influence it has taught me to embrace the works than inspired me and actively include homage in my own scripts and stories. Not hiding my favourite films impact on on my own work has been pretty huge and I thank Community for that.

I love Modern Warfare and all of the big high concept episodes but I was always a bigger fan of the emotional core of the show. I don't cry often but Community moved me to Troy level tears on multiple occasions and I think it's just outstanding that a show can be hilarious yet contain so many emotional nuances. Community never relied on relationship based upsets or big moments like death for drama, all of the pain derived from character flaws. No doubt, Harmon was a special writer.

As for passion for journals. I don't really have the bug either. It's only since I started a blog on www.medium.com that I've been crossposting the content here.

James

A Lighter Side Of The City
Prostitution ruined my holiday
Walking through Amsterdam during the day as an outsider is to place your life into your own hands. Not because of any violence, not at all. The Dutch natives that made our acquaintance were incredibly charming and great representatives of their country. Not once during my trip did the people make me feel remotely uneasy. My biggest adversity was the constant stream of cyclists who seem to hold precedence over pedestrians. I couldn't absentmindedly cross a road without all of a sudden being bombarded with the ringing of a small metal bell. What’s truly remarkable about this mayhem is how quickly it flatlines. As soon as the sun goes down Amsterdam leaves behind the hustle and bustle and becomes a centre of tranquility. Old fashioned lamplights shine down onto cobbled streets and in collaboration with the moon seem to create dancing shapes on the water of the plentiful canals. I have never seen a sight as romantic, and even piles of trash heaped on the streets and bawdy tourists could not detract from the beauty.

It was on our second night when we decided to ingest the more liberal side of Amsterdam. A bag each of magic mushrooms seemed an appropriate way to enjoy the pleasures we are not afforded at home. A friend and I sat by the side of the canal and I felt as if I was transported back to the scenes of The Merchant Of Venice or some other Shakespearean tale. The setting gave me the sensation of a supporting character and I started to think in iambic pentameter. Lush descriptions of the allure clouded my mind. I stared into the water and I swear it has never looked so inviting. I can’t swim and I am terrified of any body of water that reaches beyond my waist but in that moment I had to restrain myself from jumping in. The golden reflections could do me no harm, bring me nothing but happiness and warmth.

Thankfully I am not that easily led and all of a sudden the darkness started to creep in. We felt uneasy at the disappearance of the illuminations and struggled to our feet. We stumbled over to the civilisation we had previously forgot existed and started the search to ask directions to ‘the light side of town’. ‘Where the lights are’. ‘A place with light’. In our childlike naivety it took us a few minutes to realise we essentially looked like johns using polite euphemisms on our way to the brothel. By divine grace our other friends reappeared before we dug a hole. Apparently we looked like ‘a couple of stray dogs’.

Who knows what would have happened if we had actually taken those directions. Our morbid curiosity did however get the better of us on a comparatively sober night and we eventually ventured to the Red Light District. It ended up being the most disturbing experience of the whole trip. A trip that included The Anne Frank House, The Van Gogh Museum and Miles Kane live. I’ve always been morally opposed to prostitution. I’m an old fashioned guy and I think sex should be something special and full of meaning, not a way of making some money. My image of prostitution was however, very out of touch with reality. Prostitution consisted of two very distinct narratives in my mind. On one hand you had the Belle de Jour prostitutes, glamorous and classy. On the other there were poor and desperate slavic girls wrapped in blankets. I imagined a stroll through the red light district to consist of supermodels on pedestals followed by a homeless shelter at the end of the road. An ignorant view based largely on stereotypes, but not one that I exclusively hold. Until prostitution is experienced first hand it is hard not to see it as a series of cartoons. I was astounded by my trip to The Red Light District, because they were all normal women.

These girls (and occasionally boys allocated with blue lights) are somebody’s children, somebody’s siblings, somebody’s parents maybe. They are human beings with friends and families, hopes and dreams. They have brains in their heads, hearts in their chest, blood running through their veins. I saw prostitutes as caricatures, and a great deal of people share that perception. The dehumanisation of these people makes me feel kind of sick, and racked with guilt. I’m not denying that strong individuals can go into this line of work and be happy, but they’re the minority. As I walked down that street every single person I locked eyes with seemed deeply melancholic. It is all in those eyes. You can fake confidence, adjust your posture and your body language, wear nice lingerie, but the second you properly look at somebody it all crumbles. To touch on another icon of The Netherlands — it’s all there in Van Gogh’s self-portraits. Vincent painted countless images of himself, each with a distinct mood and tone. Looking into the oily colours of his eyes in the museum I felt a great insight into Van Gogh’s soul. You can sense how damaged and beautiful the man was just from those circles of chemicals. If I can get such a reaction from an artist’s interpretation of the human eye, it is intensified one thousand times in reality. I couldn’t look at any of the gratitious body parts on show in those scarlet spotlights — I was too drawn to those pupils. I know nothing about their personal lives, but I know I’ve never been so unsettled by an interaction with another person.

I loved The Netherlands. I loved it so much I can see myself living there one day. I can look past the terrible sanitation problems, I can look past the tourists only interested in the drugs and not the culture. I don’t think I could ever look past an underbelly quite this dark. Every Dutch friend we made seemed so reasonable, but how can they be if this is considered normal? I like the freedom and how open the Dutch are. Our neighbour at the music festival we attended was proud to announce her one night stands over breakfast the next morning and I really like that. It was funny and charming. However I feel like liberty and indulgence come with a price — if you are going to enjoy the privileges of living in a country with those beliefs you owe the exploited and the vulnerable an extra debt. Happiness comes with a severe price and any embrace of the light should include an equal damnation of the dark and the seedy. I’m not saying make it illegal, but reform it enough that we can be safe in the knowledge these people are comfortable.

And perhaps I’ve got this all awfully wrong and it’s a noble industry. Perhaps I’m being just as ignorant as before. I could be called a prude. But if so, the prostitutes should wear sunglasses to make the sightseeing less painful.

djchameleon

I won't so far as to say that it's a noble industry that doesn't have it's darker sides but the red light district of all places in comparison to some other places is a far higher standard/safe for the actual sex workers when it comes to prostitution. I still feel like you are viewing them as caricatures if you haven't even spoken with them and just judge them while passing by on how you perceive them to be by saying that have soulless eyes essentially.

__________________

Fame, fortune, power, titties. People say these are the most crucial things in life, but you can have a pocket full o' gold and it doesn't mean sh*t if you don't have someone to share that gold with. Seems simple. Yet it's an important lesson to learn. Even lone wolves run in packs sometimes.

James

Nah man, it's the opposite of soulless eyes. They're full of soul. That's why they're so hard to look at.
I suppose it is safer. That's an advantage. I'm still very much opposed to it.

James

A Sunny Day in Glasgow - Sea When Absent
Thoughts on a potential album of the year
One of the most abhorrent cliches I can think of is ‘don’t judge a book by it’s cover’. Sure, it has good intentions. It calls out against the shallow and image-obsessed society that we live in, and I can respect that. I do think though, that it is perfectly acceptable to make assumptions about a book based on it’s artwork. With any type of art or expression, the packaging it comes in acts as an extension. Therefore if a band with a ridiculous name or a hideous album cover record a beautiful, heart wrenching song — these details don’t necessarily take away from it but it holds back on a chance to maximise meaning. It’s the same with a piece of cinema’s title. A film can be beautifully shot and written, but a title that succinctly captures the atmosphere is a work of art in itself. This is all part of the reason I love this record. ‘A Sunny Day in Glasgow’ seemingly sums up the entire ethos of the band itself. That’s exactly what Shoegaze means to me. Shoegaze consists of gorgeous melodies and instrumentation hidden behind layers of effects and abrasive noise. Shoegaze finds the hidden beauty in a wall of sound. Shoegaze is something perfect and idyllic in the most unlikely of places. Almost like a lovely day in one of the world’s most infamously rainy cities.

I’m from Glasgow (well, Cumbernauld), and I think this band from Philadelphia have understood our city better than most local bands. To discuss another cliche, Glasgow is a diamond in the rough. Sunny days are rare but when they do occur they’re especially joyous. A sunny day in Glasgow consists of the city’s entire population celebrating ‘taps aff’ weather in high spirits. In the same way that the city is both the most friendly to tourists and the most prevalent for knife crime, it’s a city of contradictions. This astoundingly rife for analysis band name adds so much to the music, as does the cover — an image of a tropical paradise hidden behind a haze of grey. The packaging of the release has a direct impact on the execution of the project’s goals.

Even without these aesthetic advantages, Sea When Absent would still be an extraordinary album. It blows my mind that a band that consists of members scattered over different continents can create an album so cohesive. The band were never once in the same room during recording, yet it seems they all had a clear cut vision of what they wanted. Sea When Absent is a true mark of it’s times. We live in a world today so globalised that some of the best music comes from long distance correspondence. Technology has advanced so far that people can collaborate in perfect harmony over oceans. This band and album have such a kitsch appeals that it’s almost difficult to discuss the music, but the music truly is something special. I would go as far as to say this is possibly the best Shoegaze or Dream Pop release since the turn of the century. The nineties were a complete golden age for the genres, with a range of perfect albums coming from a handful of accomplished and original bands. Now I feel we may be entering a revival. My Bloody Valentine last year released a third album over twenty years since their sophomore. Slowdive have reunited for a string of live dates, one of which I was lucky enough to attend. Now Sea When Absent marks the arrival of a band that can be mentioned alongside those names, finally taking Shoegaze in a long overdue new direction.

Sea When Absent is more polished than Loveless, the songs are a great deal more upbeat than the miserable odes that pervade Souvlaki, but it exists in that same spirit. A Sunny Day in Glasgow have mastered songwriting in a wholly original manner. These songs meander through different styles, unrecognisable hooks from the ones that occurred just a minute before. Just as the listener thinks they know the structure of a song the band take them by surprise, pushing it in the complete opposite direction. In my many years of music obsession, I don’t think I have ever encountered songwriting like that. You can only hear traditional Shoegaze leanings in certain areas, the extended instrumental part of ‘Boys Turn Into Girls’ and the beginning of the first song ‘Byebye, Big Ocean’. Other songs genre hop impressively. The bassline on ‘Crushin’’ is almost funky, ‘The Body, It Bends’ starts off as a slice of Indie Pop. These juxtapositions define the album — heavy with light, tradition with rebellion, and especially the happy and the sad.

The tone of the album is truly a puzzle. On my first ten or so listens to this album I thought it was especially feel good and upbeat. The other night I saw it through another lens. This album can also sound intensely melancholy. It’s almost as if the tone is neutral and shaped by the conditions in which you’re listening. In the same manner, the album works well both during the day and at night. This quality is shares with some true classics in the genre. ‘Souvlaki Space Station’ is undoubtedly quite a sad song, but at the same time it sounds so vast and inspirational. Ride’s ‘Vapour Trail’ is the closest thing that relates to Sea When Absent, a song so layered and dense that it can at once convey two opposite emotions. Sea When Absent is truly a fantastic album and one that will without a doubt get many more repeat listens in the coming months. Highly recommended.

James

Two albums I have been constantly revisiting for a long time got full plays today. And I had a record night last night with my friends and we had good chat with a smoke and a few beers. Soundtrack was incredible. So I'm gonna post five albums.

The Wrens - The Meadowlands
Jesus christ, I've been listening to this album constantly for what feels like a year now. I now know this album in and out, I know every lyric and every piece of instrumentation, yet it still isn't getting old. This album still sounds fresh and exciting after what must be hundreds of plays. I think the lyrics on this album are among the best ever put to paper, with Charles Bissell writing songs that don't appear overly poetic or wordy but have hidden depths. The real talent lies in the way Bissell writes songs that can be read multiple ways, as love songs as well as allegorical tales of the album's development. 'Thirteen Grand' is about the record contract The Wrens were asked to sign, on the surface at least. Individual lines can be abstract enough that they could apply to any personal or professional crisis that the writer was experiencing at the time. These lyrics are equal parts beautiful and honest. The words themselves and the metaphors Bissell creates are gorgeous (not to mention the music!), but also deeply detailed in regards to his personal life and mental state.
To mention the music, because my inner reader and writer sides are always quick to jump on the literary value of an album's themes. I don't want this album to sound like one of those with high quality lyrics but dull and lifeless musicianship. Most of my favourite lyricist's are singer/songwriters, artists that aren't particularly talented in regards to innovation musically. Not that The Wrens are innovative, but they're interesting. They craft perfect pop melodies yet perform them so unconventionally that there's always something to discover. A lot of thought goes into these arrangements and it's blatant in the replay value. The juxtaposition of these grand pop tunes with seething lyrics about the industry, an unlikely combination that just works seamlessly.
What The Meadowlands does to music is what films like Singin' In The Rain, Adaptation, and especially The Player do to the film industry. Even recent Best Picture winner Birdman. They criticise the politics and the ins and outs of the medium, while also celebrating it in earnest. The Wrens create something joyous out of using the influence of popular music while also pointing out the flaws in the concept.
10/10 album, honestly.

The Clientele - Suburban Light
This is just the perfect album for a rainy Saturday, and another album I have decided to call an 'all time favourite'. Both of my choices here are poppy indie rock albums, both from the 2000s. That little period has become a real hideyhole for underrated gems. Currently residing in the limbo period between being contemporary and 'an era' in it's own right, the early 2000s are populated by some annoying buzz bands but a few really original and genuinely cult bands that produced excellent albums. Pop music has been my thing lately. having ran out of steam listening to dark albums on repeat such as my obsession with Swans' early albums and recent releases like The Body's I Shall Die Here, and adjusting my mindset for a more positive look on life. While not having the energy to push my taste to its limits by experimenting with jazz and avant-garde. Between the art-pop of Bjork's latest and a couple of recent chart hits that I put on in between things then these two that have been on near constant rotation. This album is just so warm, and so lush in its instrumentation. With mellow guitar tones and to top it off, a singer with one of the most welcoming voices I've heard in rock music. These songs create an incredible atmosphere. Perfectly conjuring up a feeling of Summer-Autumn aimlessness and the feelings of blissfulness or melancholy that surround it. I can appreciate the album all year round though, these songs can act as a fireplace. I think this album achieves what other people find in the work of Real Estate, watercolour portraits of bygone days in suburbia. I always found Real Estate a bit alienating, but The Clientele hit all the right notes and feel very organic.
Still haven't checked out anything else by this band, because this one has just floored me for months. I'm going to have to remedy that quick. Gonna try to work some overtime and get a bit of money to order this on vinyl. It'd be great to put on just when I'm around the house in between lectures and I want to see if any of my friends rate it. Great album for sure, close to perfect. Reflections After Jane and (I Want You) More Than Ever are highlights.

Last night:

The Smiths - Hatful of Hollow - Stuck this on while getting ready and trying to craft a DIY ashtray out of a Queen record and some boiling water. It didn't work at all, but I still insisted everybody use it. I will try to make a better one at some point, cause it's fun. The Smiths are one of those bands I discovered so long ago, and overplayed so much that I hardly revisit them. It proved to be a reminder of everything that I love them for. I am firm in the belief that this is their finest body of work. The recordings of certain songs on here, noticeably on This Charming Man, are far superior to the album versions. The triple threat of 'Hand In Glove', 'Still Ill', and 'Heaven, Knows I'm Miserable Now' all jumping out at me as amazing songs from a band I really do neglect. Glad they adorn my living room.
Mac DeMarco - Rock And Roll Nightclub - I hadn't paid much attention to Mac's debut despite many people recommending it to me. Then one of my friends brought it along and it really seems like something I should give more than a passing listen to. II and Salad Days are both great records, while Mac at The Arches was one of the best gigs I attended last year. I don't know why I haven't checked it out already. Sounds just as fun as his other releases, and nice to see he had that winning charisma even early on.
David Bowie - Scary Monsters - There has been a great deal of Bowie talk in my life recently. Ranking his albums and assessing the quality of the many phases of his career has been a hot topic with friends, family, and even in daily reviews of his albums running in The Dissolve's comment community. This is one I underrated, and it's become my go to Bowie this month. We played the record last night, side one before we wanted a change. What a wonderful collection of songs though. I really think everything he touched from Diamond Dogs through to this album was turned to gold. That is all peak Bowie for me. I'm tempted to include the Let's Dance era too solely for Modern Love, which I believe to be his greatest single. Scary Monsters is a definite classic though, I just haven't listened to it quite as much as The Berlin Trilogy, or Station to Station. This is the same kind of rediscovery I came across a few months ago with Young Americans, and I'm getting to the point where all of his albums from that period will be rated either 9/10 or 10/10.
Pixies - Trompe Le Monde - This was my contribution, I tried to push for Spacemen 3 or Darkside but you can't resist the power of the Pixies. I have their last two albums and their first EP but we went for side two of Trompe Le Monde. Some of their best songs there. Pixies are the ultimate sentimental attachment band for me - conjuring memories of Glasgow-Dundee car journeys with my dad with this band firmly featured on the soundtrack, and a trip to Holland in pursuit of a band me and a friend both adored. We decided to book tickets for the first music festival Pixies announced they'd play. Planned a Dutch trip, then typically they announced a festival appearance an hour's journey from our homes. It was worth it for the adventure, and Pixies still stick in my mind for giving me one of the best weeks of my life.
Distance Equals Rate Times Time is the best. Short and sweet burst of that distinctive Pixies' energy.