Music I'm Listening To This Week

Five more songs I can't get out of my head (or off my music player)...

8in8 is a musical collaboration between Amanda Palmer, Ben Folds, Damian Kulash and Neil Gaiman. Yes. Musical. Neil Gaiman. Calm down, granny.

I downloaded this record some weeks ago from Amanda Palmer's website (where it's available for a minimum price of just $1) because I'm a huge fan of both Palmer and Folds, both of whom can do no wrong in my eyes... well, apart from marrying Neil Gaiman. I really wish Ben Folds hadn't done that.

Anyway, I've been happily enjoying it without actually realising that the final track is spoken by the God of All Stories About Stories About Stories himself. Who knew he sounded so much like a cross between Tom Lehrer and Noel Coward? The track is called The Problem With Saints... and bloody hell, it's annoyingly good. My Neil Gaiman rehabilitation continues...

Fortunately it's not my favourite track on the record. I wouldn't have been able to live that down. No, my favourite track (though to be fair, all six are excellent) is this... a duet about the failure of permissive parenting, by Amanda and Ben...



Oh, and the 8in8 mini-album is called Nighty Night, presumably in tribute to Julia Davis. That's got to be worth 61p (at today's exchange rate) of anybody's money.

Skint & Demoralised...? Well, yes, I am. But am I downhearted? No, because I've just discovered my New Favourite Band (this week's model) - and they're from just down the road in Wakefield.

I missed out on Skint & Demoralised first time round. So did a lot of people, it seems, despite their debut album Love, And Other Catastrophesbeing on a major label. Listening to songwriter Matt Abbott on 6Music earlier in the week I heard him explain how the band went from heroes to zeroes in the space of two months back in 2009, leaving them with perhaps the most appropriate stage name in pop. Now they're back, with This Sporting Lifeon their own indie label, and ironically drawing more attention than ever. It's a fickle mistress, the music business.

Originally a performance poet, Abbott writes classic observational indie lyrics that'll remind you of everyone from Morrisey to Ian Dury to Mike Skinner to Frank Turner. Yes, he's that good. Further evidence can be found on his ode to the great British pub...

Speaking of Frank Turner, I've yet to grow tired of his latest record, England Keep My Bones- it could well turn out to be album of the year.

The opening track, Eulogy, is only 1 minute 34 seconds in length - which is both frustratingly short (when I'm listening to it, I want it to go on forever) and perfect.

Not everyone grows up to be an astronaut
Not everyone was born to be a king
Not everyone can be... Freddie Mercury
But everyone can raise a glass and sing
Well I haven't always been a perfect person
I haven't done what mum and dad had dreamed

But on the day I die I'll say
"At least I fucking tried!"
That's the only eulogy I need
That's the only eulogy I need.

It's one of those songs that makes me want to go on living. There can be no finer praise.

Brilliant! Tragic!- the new record from Art Brut - isn't quite as brilliant as much of their previous output, nor is it entirely tragic. There's a lot to enjoy here, from Eddie actually trying to sing rather than just talk or shout, to their heartfelt tribute to Axl Rose, to the wonderful Bad Comedian and its appropriately corny lyrics.

You're walking around like love's young dream
He dresses like he comes free with the NME
How can you bear to hold his hand?
I bet he signs his name in Comic Sans

Best reason to buy this record though - as opposed to just downloading it - is the beautiful artwork by Phonogram's Jamie McKelvie. Album cover of the year, no competition.



Finally, I got a real urge to listen to some old Pogues the other night, in particular the track below, possibly their finest moment. I thought I'd mention here because the alternative was to come up with a Top Ten Songs About Ford Cars...

...or a Top Ten Songs About Dodgy Top Shelf Magazines From The 80s.

Be grateful I'm sparing you that...

My Rise of the Planet of the Apes Review

The worst thing about the new POTA movie is the title. Repeat "of the"s sound clumsy. And 'Rise'? Why not Dawn? Or Birth? Or even the original working title, Genesis? "Rise" is a rubbish word, and that goes double for the next Batman film.

Beyond that, the fun begins. This is the first Apes movie where the titular (don't call 'em) monkeys are all-CGI rather than Roddy MacDowall or Tim Roth in ape suits and make-up. Of course, it's Andy Serkis behind the CGI as he's the only actor in the whole of Hollywood whose facial expressions can be motion-captured by computers. Fact. I thought I wasn't going to like all this computer generated idiocy. I grew up on ape suits and make-up (it was a confusing childhood) and I've long been a critic of the misuse of rubbish CGI over more traditional sfx techniques. But... damn it if these aren't some of the best CGI fx I've ever seen, only occasionally did I remember the chimps weren't real. And no 3D either - always a bonus.

The writers have worked hard to give us a credible origin story and an emotionally involving one. Scientist James Franco is desperate to find a cure for his dad's Alzheimers. Caesar, one of the apes he's testing his new brain-boosting drug on, may hold the key. But give Caesar a brain and he doesn't want to be an ape any more - he wants to be part of the family. Inevitably we end up rooting for the apes more than the humans - and by the end of the film, so does Franco.

Rise is peppered with references to the future / past Apes movies as NASA's first manned mission to Mars takes place in the background and the astronauts are soon lost in space. The in-jokes may go a little too far when we see the original Charlton Heston Apes movie playing on a TV in the background. If that movie exists in this reality... didn't anybody heeds its warning? My favourite reference comes from Harry Potter's Malfoy, now seeking alternate employment but still a sleazebag, as he tells Caesar to, "take your stinking paws off me, you damn dirty ape!" A famous line from the original Apes epic, and one that's cropped up in a few other movies too...

An Object Of Beauty

I was a huge fan of Steve Martin's previous novel, Shopgirl (and the movie it inspired) so when I found a proof copy of his latest book, An Object Of Beauty, in the local charity shop, I was happy to plunk down my two quid for Help The Aged.

This novel is a harder sell than its predecessor though, largely because it's central protagonist, Lacey Yeager, is much less likable than the heroine of Shopgirl. Lacey is a mover and shaker on the New York art scene: a flirty, flighty, at times duplicitous, deceptively shallow creature who shimmies up the slippery pole, playing the game by her own rules and doing whatever it takes to get to the top. She's the sort of woman I'd hate unconditionally if I ever met her in person, so it's to Martin's credit that I was drawn into her story - and the insane world she inhabits. I don't have a great deal of interest in art history - particularly not modern art. I'm happy to look at it in a gallery or museum but I rarely care about the men and women behind the canvases. Martin's skill is to make artists, gallery owners and collectors as fascinating as the artwork they obsess over...

Alberg was a collector with a quick purse, which delighted those on the receiving end of things. He had a body shaped like a bowling pin and would sometimes accidentally dress like one too, wearing a white suit with a wide red belt. His wife, Cornelia, was thin where he was wide, and wide where he was thin, so when they stood side by side, they fit together like Texas and Louisiana. There was always a buzz when he entered a room, a buzz that could be described as negative.

Although the novel proceeds from the late 90s through the early years of the 21st century, there's a timeless quality to Martin's writing that reminded me of another great New York novel, Breakfast At Tiffany's. While Lacey Yeager is no Holly Golightly (she wishes!), the circles she moves in and the predicaments she faces reminded me very much of Capote's classic. Although Franks, the narrator (a thinly veiled Martin substitute) does have a habit of running off into turgid lectures on The Scene at times, you can easily skip those and still enjoy the wonderfully observed tale of a group of insane characters increasingly divorced from reality due to their involvement in the murky and mental world of art.

Top Ten Seaside Songs

Following my Return To Reighton Gap post, this seemed apt. You may be going on holiday soon. You may just have come back. Either way, here's ten seaside songs that might get you in the mood / jog your memories. I could easily have made this a Top 20 or 30 but I'm trying to reign myself in and stop boring your speedos off.

10. Led Zeppelin - Down By The Seaside

(From 'Physical Graffiti'.)

The sea air makes messrs. Page and Plant go all mellow. Nice.

9. Queen - Seaside Rendezvous

(From 'A Night At The Opera'.)

It has the opposite affect on Mr. Mercury, sending him quite, quite bonkers. Not that he has very far to travel.

8. The Kooks - Seaside

(From 'Inside In/Inside Out'.)

I like the way they've recorded the acoustic guitar on this track. It sounds like he's busking on the sea front. Without the seagulls stealing coins from his hat.

7. Kirsty MacColl - He's On The Beach

(From 'The Best of Kirsty MacColl'.)

Poor old Kirsty, she's doesn't have much luck with men. This bloke tells her he's going on holiday without her... next thing she knows she's getting a postcard from the seaside. Sydney, Australia.

And he says it's brilliant there
There's something in the air
There's sunshine everywhere
He's on the beach

Was it something she said?

6. Bruce Springsteen - 4th Of July, Asbury Park (Sandy)

(From 'Greetings From Asbury Park N.J.')

Being brought up in Asbury Park, Bruce had a lot of seaside stories to tell on his early records. This one brings a tear to my eye if I'm in the right mood (melancholic).

Every summer when the weather gets hot
They ride that road down from heaven
On their Harleys, they come and they go
And you can see 'em dressed like stars
In all them cheap little seashore bars
Parked making love with their babies
Out on the Kokomo

I've never been to Asbury Park, but for some reason I imagine it to be like the New Jersey equivalent of Blackpool.

5. Rialto - Summer's Over

(From 'Rialto'.)

A song that obviously owes an enormous debt to our number two record this week (no jumping ahead, kids, we'll get there soon enough). It's no worse off for that.

Kamikaze seagull planes fighting over chip shop take-away remains
When you're walking on the cliffs
You can't help thinking of how far down the sea is
And what if it should give...

Quite beautiful.

4. Squeeze - Pulling Mussels From A Shell

(From 'Greatest Hits'.)

I never really understood the innuendo of this song, but it's obviously a gloriously mucky tale of a holiday romance and what goes on behind the chalet. If anyone wants to explain just what Chris Difford and Glenn Tilbrook mean by "pulling mussels from a shell", you know where the comments box is.

On second thoughts...

3. The Drifters - Under The Boardwalk

(From 'The Very Best of the Drifters'.)

If this song doesn't make you want to go lie on a blanket down by the sea, you're obviously dead from the sunglasses down.

Just be thankful this child of the 80s didn't inflict the Bruce Willis version on you. (One of the first records I ever bought!) Hey, Bruno...!

2. Morrissey - Everyday Is Like Sunday

(From 'Bona Drag: 20th Anniversary Edition'.)

Hands up if you thought this would be number one? Well, yes, it is one of Mozzer's best. And it is wonderfully evocative of those dreary seaside towns where the highlight of the week was sharing some grease tea and celebrating winning a cheap tray on the bingo. But hey, Morrissey - I actually like those tacky resorts. I can think of far better places to bring down your nuclear bombs. Is is really so bad that Every Day Is Like Sunday?

1. Beach Boys - Surfin' USA

(From 'Surfin' Safari/Surfin' USA'.)

I'm sure that seaside holidays are completely different kettles of fish in the USA, but nothing says sun and sand and sea to me more than the Beach Boys and nothing gets me more in the mood for a holiday. I'm waxing down by surfboard as I type...

(No, that's not a Squeeze-esque euphemism, Steve!)



So those were my bucket and spade / sandcastle / ice cream on the beach songs... but what song reminds you of seaside holidays gone by... or gets you in the mood for future ones?

Return To Reighton Gap

When I was a kid, back in the late 70s and early 80s, our annual family holiday would be to a small pebble-dash bungalow at Reighton Gap near Filey. Me, my mum and my dad. I look back on those holidays with enormous fondness.

The bungalow was located on the edge of Reighton Sands holiday village and every day I'd get on my scooter and ride down to the beach, up to the slot machines or round to one of the three shops in the area that sold old American comics from spinner racks.

Even though I was only 7 or 8, I'd go off by myself on that scooter and my parents wouldn't worry because it was a different time, a safer time, far more innocent. Plus they trusted me not to go near the sea, not to go of with strangers, not to get in any trouble. I was a good kid. Not an only child but my brother and sister were both much older and had left home so I was used to playing by myself.

Most days Mum and Dad would take me down to the beach. At the bottom of the hill from the bungalow a long concrete path led down from the clifftops to the beach where the remains of old wartime sea defences and bunkers were gradually dissolving back into the sand. I'd take my Star Wars figures down to the beach - not all of them, but usually Luke, R2D2 and my battered up landspeeder. Where better than to play at being on Tatooine?

We'd also go on day trips to Filey, Scarborough, Bridlington, Flamborough and Whitby. Sometimes we'd go up to Seamer Market so Dad could look at the cattle. We'd have fish and chips and ice cream and all the usual seaside treats. They're some of my happiest childhood memories despite the fact that around this time my dad was made redundant from his long standing job as a car auctioneer and set about starting up his own auction site on the outskirts of Leeds. Most holidays Dad would drive back there twice a week to run the auctions. Money was tight but that never stopped my parents from spoiling me. I still remember one year (1980, it turns out) Mum and I walked 3 and a half miles to the nearby village of Hunmanby to buy a Spider-Man Summer Special I'd seen there the day before. We couldn't afford both bus fair and the 40p comic below. It was one of the best comics I ever owned.

A couple of weeks back, I took Mum back to Reighton Gap for the first time in years. (Dad was invited too but he passed - "too many hills!") We stopped off in Filey for fish and chips then drove down the coast to park on the cliffs at Reighton, sitting in the sunshine and watching the sea.

The old bungalow is long gone, demolished years ago along with most of its neighbours. I expected it would have been replaced by more caravans but the site itself is mostly just a grassy field now, the odd bungalow still standing, but mostly empty land. The concrete path from the cliff to the beach has crumbled and broken up and the old WWII sea defences have been bashed to sand by the sea. Reighton Sands holiday village remains, just over the rise, but all the old shops with their spinner racks of American comics have disappeared and the slot machine arcade where I played Pac Man, Space Invaders and Dragon's Lair has been replaced with a flashy bar. It's all changed from when I was a kid; all except the view from those cliffs. Some things are forever - the sky, the sea, and how much I love my mum and dad.

What I'm Listening To This Week...

I'm going to try to do a weekly current music review feature. (Well, music that's currently on my player. It won't all be new.) Come back next week and watch me fail!

Honey from Portland band Sunbeam is one of the best summer singles I've heard in donkey's years. I want to say it reminds me of Terry Hall's Colourfield, but only in the way it makes me feel... like the sun is shining even though it's pouring with rain outside my window. I know very little about this band, but I liked the two samples they kindly sent me so much that I had to buy the rest of their debut album, Sunbeam And The Lovely Ghost. You can listen to Honey and download a free track, Bulldog, from their website. I think you'll find that once you do... you'll end up wanting the rest of the album too.



The first time I listened to the debut album by The Vaccines, I thought it was a pretty racket that I'd probably lose interest in very soon. I had no idea how much these short, spiky songs with a touch of Jesus & Mary Chain distortion would hook in my head. The album has been on constant rotation ever since. But unlike most of the artists I rave about, I'm not really drawn to The Vaccines by their lyrics. I couldn't really tell you what any of their songs are about (one's about a wetsuit, that's all) but they have that rare and elusive quality that makes a hit record: catchiness. Their new single is Nordgaard (haven't a clue!): try not to hate them for the fashionista video.





A far more interesting lyrical prospect are Band Of Horses, whose song Factory features one of the finest opening lines I've heard in a dog's age (puppies not included).

The elevator in the hotel lobby has a lazy door...

If that was the opening line of a novel or short story, I'd have to read on. Thankfully, the rest of the tale is just as well written - beautifully sung and melodically played too. If the rest of the album Infinite Arms is as affecting as the opening track, Band Of Horses will have a fan for life.





Spearmint mainman Shirley Lee is back with his second solo album - and this time it's a double. I approach double albums with some trepidation, wary of padding, but Shirley has helpfully divided this one into four easily-digestible parts. The first disc is Winter / Autumn, the second Summer / Spring. This made perfect sense as Shirley's songs are always wonderfully evocative of time and place. They're like snapshot stories from his life - a great night out with friends, the last time he spoke to his father, dancing to a song that made everything seem right. I think of Shirley's songs as his personal audio scrapbook and they're always fascinating, engaging and often deeply moving. Given the time of year I've been listening to the second disc first, and it's here we find his tribute to John Peel (above), When An Old Cricketer Leaves The Crease.





During my rare public appearance at last weekend's Caption Comics Festival I found myself chatting with a bloke called Nick, husband of cartoonist Francesca Cassavetti. It was one of those weird coincidences where I'd driven all the way to Oxford and ended up sitting next to someone whose dad came from just over the hill from my home - Golcar, the next village on from Slawit. I enjoyed talking to Nick, he was a friendly and interesting fella. I had no idea... until much later... that I'd actually been talking to the former lead singer of The Members, Nicky Tesco. It's probably a good idea nobody told me: I'd only have been starstruck.

My Captain America Movie Review

Everyone's been asking for my Captain America review. Do you people have nothing better to do with your lives than wonder what this particular Zombie thought of the latest Marvel blockbuster? I'm a very busy man, you know. I can't just be reviewing every film I've seen as soon as I've seen it. Oh, very well...

The capsule review goes like this: I enjoyed Captain America. I thought it was fun. Not as much fun as Thor. Not as much fun as The Incredible Hulk. Certainly not as much fun as Iron Man. (But a load more fun than Iron Man 2.)

I liked the way Chris Evans portrayed Steve Rogers' journey from zero to hero. I liked Hugo Weaving's boo-hiss Red Skull. I liked Tommy Lee Jones. I like Hayley Atwell. I liked Stanley Tucci. I liked Toby Jones. There wasn't anything not to like. I just wanted to like it more.

I wanted Evans to be more charismatic (I know he can - Johnny Storm proved that). I wanted the Skull and Zola to be more diabolical. I wanted Tommy Lee Jones to have funnier / grumpier lines. I wanted Bucky's tragic fate to have more impact. I wanted the romance with Peggy Carter to have more heart. I wanted Cap to live up to the Indiana Jones template, but it was never going to happen.

The problem is Captain America himself. Created in the 40s, he's the archetypal square-jawed hero. He only really becomes interesting as a man out of time. To be everything he needs to be in the present day, Steve Rogers needs to be rather dull and L7 in the past. He's no Indiana Jones. He's no Johnny Storm. He's just a too-good-to-be-true hero like the ones we grew up watching in the old black and white movie reels. (No, I'm not that old - I watched them on Saturday morning telly.) And that's just what Marvel gave us here - a modern day movie reel. There was no room for sly winks to the camera like Harrison Ford would have done. I might have enjoyed that more, but it just wouldn't have been appropriate for Captain Whitebread.

Still, it was nice to see a cameo from the original Human Torch. Sadly no Namor though. Wonder if Marvel Studios don't own the rights to Subby?