Father’s always smokin’ and your mom’s at church… for Tuesday spins

Yesterday was too much of a growler punch for anything and as my brain returns from being fried I thought it time to look back at those tunes that have been making me either shake my money maker or offer a knowing nod of approval toward the radio in the car this last week and some.

October Drift – Airborne Panic Attack

Maybe it’s because I don’t want to be that guy of a certain age surrounded by post-rock albums and denouncing the music of today or maybe it’s desperation to break out of Spotify’s ever decreasing circles of recommended ‘new’ music… but I love hearing genuinely new music on the radio that ticks all my boxes and try very hard not to think of how the performer is probably half my age.

This has lots of things I like and nothing I don’t.

The Black Crowes Thorn In My Side

That little yellow dude over at 1357 gave me all the nudge I need to slip The Crowes’ Southern Harmony and Musical Companion into the cd slot in the car last week and it hasn’t left. The guitar tone on this keeps making me go back for more. Whether I need an intermittently correct calendar for the next 50 years remains to be confirmed.

Yasmin Williams – Swift Breeze

We’re into that time of year that means avoiding Mariah Carey and Chris Rea by listening to those Best of 2021 picks (mine will undoubtedly find me sitting surrounded by and picking out post-rock albums as it’s been a good year for the genre) and I keep seeing Yasmin Williams’ Urban Driftwood pop up, phenomenal player and a great album.

Sonny Landreth – Native of the Motherland

Speaking of great players… this one popped as a recommendation and while I prefer his instrumentals like this one, I was glad to discover Sonny’s work.

Coach Party – FLAG (Feel Like A Girl)

Another one from a promising new talent that falls into the ‘making me move my head in a way that rivals Elaine’s little kicks on the drive home’ category that’s been getting a whole lotta spins.

Bruce Springsteen – Prove It All Night (The Legendary 1979 No Nukes Concerts)

Jim over at Music Enthusiast gave me the heads up this one was coming as I was asleep at the switch on this Springsteen drop. It’s every bit as good as the idea of a power-drive run through Springsteen and the E Street Band’s set circa ’79 should be.

The Quiet People by Paul Cleave

From the PR: “Cameron and Lisa Murdoch are successful New Zealand crime writers, happily married and topping bestseller lists worldwide. They have been on the promotional circuit for years, joking that no one knows how to get away with crime like they do. After all, they write about it for a living.

So when their challenging seven-year-old son Zach disappears, the police and the public naturally wonder if they have finally decided to prove what they have been saying all this time… Are they trying
to show how they can commit the perfect crime?

Multi-award winning bestseller Paul Cleave returns with an electrifying and chilling thriller about family, public outrage and what a person might be capable of under pressure, that will keep you guessing until the final page”

Okay, so we all know the adage that you’re not supposed to judge a book by it’s cover – a thoroughly bogus claim anyway – but it would be remiss of me to even think of reviewing Paul Cleave’s The Quiet People without mentioning how bloody awesome its cover art is. It’s also a pretty cracking proposition; many is the time I’ve mentioned that I wouldn’t like to play chess with a few crime writers given how many moves ahead they seem to think. Of course there are also some where you have to wonder if they need to lie back on a couch and talk to someone at a large hourly rate. Obviously reality and a controlled, fictional world over which a writer reigns omnipotent are two different things, but could someone who spends their time coming up with tricky, hard to solve murders, actually get away with murder?

Which leads us to another question, the gist of this review; does Paul Cleave’s The Quiet People deliver on that premise? Does a cracking cover design grace a cracking novel? Oh hell yes.

Paul Cleave has delivered a novel that ‘gripping’ doesn’t do justice to. He kicks it off strong: getting the tension going with a chill-inducing prologue then darts into an equally nerve-wracking scenario as Cameron loses track of his son Zach at a fair. He doesn’t let off that hammer throughout – there’s no way of saying ‘just one more chapter’ with this bad boy, it’s intense in a delicious way.

As a parent of a seven year old son, I found this to have a whole lot of edge-of-the-seat moments and tore through with baited breath just hoping…. but then I can’t talk too much about plot because I don’t want to give this away – I’ve made enough ‘Bruce Willis was dead the whole time’ comments in these reviews. Without trotting out that chess metaphor for the second time in one review, I will say that Paul Cleave has crafted a brilliantly plotted and paced story here with some real vivid scenes. It has the expected twists and turns of a great thriller and a conclusion that might just floor you and it’s told with a masterful narrative and style and, yes, you may wonder if Paul Cleave might be capable of pulling of an unsolvable crime himself it’s so fiendishly clever in its storyline.

The characters push the tension along and Cleave paints them both fully and complex. There’s a real joy to be had seeing how they interact – particularly Cameron and Lisa – as the plot unfolds and the nuances in their behaviour sneak out and cracks appear, the same of which can be applied when the narrative switches to DI Rebecca Kent and her relationship with DI Ben Thompson. The narrative switch, and getting an alternative view of Cameron and his wife to that presented by his narrative is another brilliant element of Cleave’s craft.

Cleave’s prose is precise and wielded like only an expert can. He keeps it taught, powerful and it packs a sharp punch. Ridiculously compelling, tightly plotted and massively rewarding; The Quiet People is another shot of the bloody good stuff from Orenda Books.

My thanks to Karen at Orenda for my copy and to Anne Cater for inviting me to review as part of the blogtour.

Feel the warm wind touch me, hear the waters crashing… Five from Crowded House

Over the last year or so I’ve been delving into Crowded House. Prior to this I’d really only had a familiarity with some of those hits that seemed to be regular radio plays and couldn’t say I’d ever listened to a Crowded House album, let alone own any. That’s since changed and they’ve become one of those bands I’ll often turn to on long drives or just fancy something, frankly, gorgeously charming to listen to.

I’ve yet to really take in the now three albums they’ve made since they decided to regroup in 2006, instead I’ve been thoroughly enjoying their first four album run. I won’t try and give a review of their albums or career as Aphoristic Album Reviews has already done an outstanding job of that – and it was just those round ups that prompted me to delve deeper at last so will merely politely suggest those looking for more can find a perfect round up there.

Instead these are five of my favourite Crowded House songs which, I’ve noticed, neatly represent one from each of their original albums, in order of date rather than preference, along with one of my absolute favourite songs of late which comes from Afterglow – a collection of outtakes and b-sides – and was left off their first album.

Hope you enjoy as much as I have been.

Don’t Dream It’s Over

When You Come

Fall At Your Feet

Private Universe

Recurring Dream

World record players on a tour of Japan, Charlie fixing his van with the left arm tan… Monday spins are here again

It’s the start of another week, another Monday rising to meet us like the tip of the working-week iceberg that looms beneath the chilly waters.

So let’s grab a mug of the good stuff* and take a look back at the week that was in terms of listening delights that penetrated my lugholes.

Courtney Barnett – Write A List of Things to Look Forward To

I have really missed out here – Courtney Barnett being one of those names I’d heard and read of numerous times but never checking out. I guess we’re too spoilt for music these days and it’s hard to get to grips with anything, it’s like my son when we visit the Lego store; there’s so much he didn’t know he wanted and can’t make his mind up as to what to walk away with.

My wife got me back into monthly music mags recently and one of Ms Barnett’s tunes appeared on one of the cds they come with and proved to be the trigger I needed to check out and enjoy her new album Things Take Time, Take Time this last week. It’s pretty damn good.

Foo Fighters – Generator

I’m reading Dave Grohl’s ‘The Storyteller’ at the moment and it’s a cracker of a book. There’s a lot he leaves out for obvious reasons but it turns out that’s he’s quite the memoirist. In it he states his belief that There Is Nothing Left To Lose remains the best album they’ve made to date. I can see why he likes it, personal reasons aside. It’s certainly their first to sound like a real ‘band’ album and it’s stripped-back sound – thanks to Adam Kasper and the bare-bones nature of Grohl’s home studio where it was made – makes for a great listen to this day. I think I ranked it quite highly in my Least to Most a couple of years back but not a top three, good as it is.

John Fahey – Requiem for John Hurt

Because there’s always time for something so great

Cold Water Flat – King of the Undergound

In a weird jog of memory I found myself thinking of Cold Water Flat – a college / alt-rock band that never took off but, as they were formed by Paul Janovitz, brother of Buffalo Tom’s Bill Janovitz, came across my radar many years ago. Pretty sure that if I have the cd it’s one of those boxed up in the garage and they’re not on the streaming service beginning with S so had to resort to YouTube to hear the album again. They managed just two of them, one for a major (which borrowed BT’s producer Sean Slade), before going their own separate ways. The drummer would actually go on to pick up the Pullitzer Prize for Fiction for his novel ‘Tinkers’.

Snail Mail – Valentine

Another of those new artists I’d read about / heard about but never checked out. This time it was the weekly emailer from my local / favourite record store Vinylstore Jr that got me tuning in when he pitched it as a ‘midway point between Lucy Dacus and Hole’. Now: I like a bit of Hole and I like Lucy Dacus, but which is best? There’s only one way to find out

Jimmy Eat World – Just Tonight (Phoenix Sessions)

I hadn’t listened to Jimmy Eat World in blood years until I saw this crop up last week. Apparently the band did some of those full-album performances as streamed concerts when the world of touring was shut down last year and are now releasing the audio. Futures was one of their albums I thought was hampered by production so I’ve been enjoying the rawer / live takes on this.

*a rather fruity Kenyan blend today should you be interested

Psychopaths Anonymous by Will Carver

From the PR: “When AA meetings make her want to drink more, alcoholic murderess Maeve sets up a group for psychopaths.

Maeve has everything. A high-powered job, a beautiful home, a string of uncomplicated one-night encounters. She’s also an addict: a functioning alcoholic with a dependence on sex and an insatiable appetite for killing men. When she can’t find a support group to share her obsession, she creates her own. And Psychopaths Anonymous is born. Friends of Maeve.

Now in a serious relationship, Maeve wants to keep the group a secret. But not everyone in the group adheres to the rules, and when a reckless member raises suspicions with the police, Maeve’s drinking spirals out of control. She needs to stop killing. She needs to close the group. But Maeve can’t seem to quit the things that are bad for her, including her new man…”

“I mean there’s obviously no God, and if there was, He’s not sitting around thinking ‘I need to make Jill quit the booze because the red wine turns her into such a cunt.’ That can’t be right. Even if you are everywhere and see everyone and know everything and know everything, you don’t give a fuck about Jill, she’s so annoying.”

This is not your standard thriller, but then Will Carver’s novels are anything but standard, he continues to carve a unique space in the genre with novels that sharply tongued and plotted, deliciously dark in humour and bite and meticulously crafted. Psychopaths Anonymous is another slice of the very good stuff from an exceedingly talented writer – reading a Will Carver you know that not only is this the work of a skilled wordsmith but one who clearly bloody loves it too, it means there’s really no way to read his work and not revel in the joy of doing so.

Yes; Psychopaths Anonymous paints with the darker colours on the palette – there’s murder, very bloody murder in fact, a lot of sex, murdered gangsters with genitalia stuffed into their mouth and plenty of scathing takes on humanity – but it does so with a decidedly insightful voice and a wicked sense of glee and wit that is, if you’ll pardon the pun, addictive. There is a theory that if you’re only exposed to one narrative voice – be it in literature, film, television etc – for a certain amount of time you will inevitably find elements of it in which you identify similarities to yourself. It’s why novels where the protagonist is far from a match for the reader still work, even if they’re capable of the most horrific acts.

How many people watched ‘Dexter’ and still enjoyed watching the character’s breakfast routine with each new episode’s credits as if they were watching an old friend, even if he’d spent the previous episode cutting people into small pieces and dumping them in the ocean? Will Carver’s novels are often populated and narrated by some of the most unpleasant characters guilty of the most heinous acts – one of his former novels was narrated by evil ‘itself’ – and yet his skill lies in a superb ability to find a way in which we can not only find an element to relate to but even agree with some of their most scathing of commentary.

Take Maeve for example. Maeve, as a character and narrative voice is massively compelling – a woman who, on the face of it, has it all and has it all nailed down. Yet it’s a facade – beneath that surface, not particularly too far beneath, is a dangerous whirlwind of a psychopath with a very well managed alcohol addiction and an itch to kill.

And yet… for a supposed ‘psychopath’ – someone lacking in empathy – her actions seem fuelled by a sense of injustice or righting wrongs, whether to her or not, and there are more than a few signs of compassion that peek through the cracks – enough, at least, to ensure you’re ‘with’ this narrative voice rather than feeling your reading the rantings of a Jeffrey Dahmer, say. Is she acting out of a sense of righting wrongs inflicted on those who have penetrated her facade and actually connected to her in some off-kilter way or are is it merely an excuse to indulge in another addiction, like that ‘well nothing important happened today but it is Friday’ excuse for an extra drink? It’ll all depend on your take on Maeve really, how much you’ve already found yourself identifying with in her or her reliability as a narrator.

She’s got no time for dickhead clients – I failed to supress my laughter at her comments during a meeting – or phonies and those that would force either themselves or their beliefs on others and Carver get’s these across in a darkly humours and spot on commentary that you can’t help but agree with. Of course, the difference is that Maeve tackles it in a more ‘hands-on’ way and ends up with a head in her fridge and the reader doesn’t.

It all makes for fucking brilliant fiction and a book that’s hard to put down as you tear from page to page like every other Will Carver novel to date, in fact. A wicked, not-at-all guilty pleasure that’s a joy to read and another great book from an outstanding talent.

My thanks as always to Karen at Orenda for feeding my particular addiction and to Anne Cater for inviting me to review as part of the blogtour.

These are the days when you wish your bed was already made…. another Monday spins

The purple fella wrote some absolute belters didn’t he?

Well, we’ve slipped out of autumn and into the arse-crack of the year that is November.

Today feels like an especially steel-toe-capped kick in the pills of a Monday thanks to four days of broken sleep so rather than stare bleary-eyed down the barrel of a week I’m too cattle-trucked to deal with, I’ve armed myself with a mug of Ethiopia’s finest and an egg banjo* to take a moment to once again provide a pithy summary of what I’ve been enjoying in the week past and let future-me deal with the next few days.

Sinead O’Brien – GIRLKIND

Getting started with something new again and another ‘holy crap I’m digging this’ moment from a radio-accompanied commute (thank fuck for DAB) – Sinead O’Brien is a multi-disciplined artist and her music, to quote the bio, is a “unique fusion of of lyric-focused spoken and sung words set against the ‘unholy orchestra’ of her band.” I’ve been digging it all week.

Aereogramme – Indiscretion No.243

Oh man I loved Aereogramme. They had a gorgeous way of creating epic, sweeping songs that could then punch into a charge and thrash but just… never made it and the toll of having to constantly self-finance and all the ‘almosts’ took the inevitable toll. I recently found out that Chvrches (who hate being called ch-vurches but what do you expect if you try something gimmicky like that) are made up of two former Aereogramme members which got me joyfully revisiting their discography.

Steve Winwood – Higher Love

If you wanna talk about an amazing CV then Mr Winwood has gotta have one of the most impressive out there. I’ve been dipping in and out of his solo work for a few months now and keep coming back to this most obvious of tunes, there’s something about it I love… I can’t get enough of that intro to this one, the tight, glorious restraint before the song breaks… the percussion, the groove… all great stuff and perfectly of its time.

Courtney Marie Andrews – To Ramona

A frequent name on this blog now.. this comes from a ‘Dylan… Revisited’ comp from Uncut magazine earlier in the year but popped up on my Spotify last week and has had a good few spins since.

Explosions in the Sky – Climbing Bear

Much like Mogwai, Explosions in the Sky have a knack for creating some gorgeous soundtrack work. I picked up their soundtrack to a PBS documentary on Big Bend and, even without seeing said doc, this is typically beautiful stuff from EITS and has often been in my ears since picking it up a week or so back.

Philip Sayce – Burning Out

Kicking into a different gear this week meant dipping back into Philip Sayce’s 2020 album Spirit Rising – plenty of revved-up guitar workouts to dig.

*Translation: fried-egg sandwich

Sergeant Salinger by Jerome Charyn

From the PR: “J.D. Salinger, mysterious author of The Catcher in the Rye, is remembered today as a reclusive misanthrope.

Jerome Charyn’s Salinger is a young American WWII draftee assigned to the Counter Intelligence Corps, a band of secret soldiers who trained with the British. A rifleman and an interrogator, he witnessed all the horrors of the war – from the landing on D-Day to the relentless hand-to-hand combat in the hedgerows of Normandy, to the Battle of the Bulge, and finally to the first Allied entry into a Bavarian death camp, where corpses were piled like cordwood.

After the war, interned in a Nuremberg psychiatric clinic, Salinger became enchanted with a suspected Nazi informant. They married, but not long after he brought her home to New York, the marriage collapsed. Maladjusted to civilian life, he lived like a ‘spook,’ with invisible stripes on his shoulder, the ghosts of the murdered inside his head, and stories to tell.”

There’s a massive difference between the “Sonny” Salinger of this novel’s prologue – an aspiring short story writer chasing his romantic infatuation with Oona O’Neill in the Stork Club and meeting Hemmingway for the first time – and that of the Sergeant Salinger of the coda – drifting through his memories as he tumbles down an escalator at Bloomingdales in 1947 (a point at which part of his famous novel had already appeared in a serialised form) struggling to come to terms with his experiences in the years in between.

Sergeant Salinger by Jerome Charyn explores Salinger’s war years, how the horrors and tumult of emotions witnessed and experienced shifted and formed the young writer’s mind and outlook to the point where the naive romantic of 1942 could, less than a decade later, deliver a defining novel oozing in edginess and scathing critique of modern society.

Salinger’s war years are richly imagined, blurring lines between fiction and reality – there was a lot here that sent me to check ‘did that actually happen’ and with so much of it genuinely having taken place (Exercise Tiger really was the horrific cock up it’s described as here and more).

We view the horrors and brutality through Salinger’s experiences whether it’s coming ashore with the second wave on Utah beech and spending hours wading through water, the green hell of Hürtgen Forest or the liberation of Kaufering IV in a way that’s at times reminiscent of Catch-22 with its mix of the absurdity and tragedy of war and the increasingly detached state “Sonny” begins to inhabit – Salinger was hospitalised for ‘combat stress reaction’ after the defeat of Germany. We see a writer being shaped by both events and a growing disillusionment with those around him – be it the Hemingway he again encounters in Paris or his own superiors.

Taking a known figure and carving a fictional version of them with a bit of artistic licensing can often go awry in the wrong hands. But with more than fifty works of fiction and nonfiction to his name, Jerome Charyn’s hands are safe ones to be in – here Salinger’s biological facts mix with another talented writer’s imagination to bring the young “Sonny” to life in a way that more straight ahead biographies wouldn’t.

Most importantly, though, even if you’re not familiar with or interested in J.D and his “Holden Caulfield novel” and short stories, Sergeant Salinger works bloody well as a novel in its own right and one very much worth reading.

My thanks to No Exit Press for my copy and to Anne Cater for inviting me to review as part of the blog tour.

More Monday spins

It’s that kick in the lunchbox part of the week that is Monday again.

So as I sit here bleary-eyed after a few days off to give me a four-day weekend, I thought I’d soften the blow by giving a quick nod and a wink (say no more, squire) to those tunes that have been punching into my ear drums this last week or so.

The War on Drugs – Harmonia’s Dream

Is the new War On Drugs album good? Does a bear shit in the woods? Does the Pope where a silly hat? Did Donald Trump play a part in organising the Jan 6th insurrection? Should the gargantuan orange cockwomble and his vacant, in-bred looking spawn be locked away for years? FUCK YES

U2 – Kite

I never know how many people will have heard of this band… I know they had a few songs graze the outside of the Top 200 or so back in the 80s but they always seemed destined to remain in the garden centre bargain bin next to Pan Pipe Moods 12 and that album of television themes. Anywho, this is from their ‘comeback’* album All That You Can’t Leave Behind in 2000 and I’ve been singing this in the shower lately for some unknown reason. I don’t think it was ever released as a single but it’s one of the better tracks on the album (better than that tosh about a mole digging holes) and Bono Vox does an uncanny impression of a really good singer when he lets himself go on this.

Pearl Jam – Hail Hail

I celebrated the successful completion of another lap around the sun last week and my lovely wife gave me No Code on vinyl – one I’ve been wanting to add to the shelves for some time. On any given day it’s my favourite Pearl Jam album depending on whether it wins the arm wrestle with Vitalogy and I’ve been giving it plenty of spins since.

The Mysterines – Love’s Not Enough

Can’t tell you much about this band other than that they’re from Liverpool and they’re not much like that other famous band from that way. When I heard ‘Love’s Not Enough’ on 6 Music a week or so back I thought two things:

  1. Kinda sounds like Eliot Sumner
  2. This is pretty fucking good

Since then I’ve been enjoying the Love’s Not Enough ep over on that streaming service beginning with S.

The Twilight Sad – There’s a Girl in the Corner

Why did it take me so long to follow the signs and get into a band as blood awesome as The Twilight Sad? What is the origin of the M–sigma relation between supermassive black hole mass and galaxy velocity dispersion? Did Sammy Hagar deliberately use a tautological statement in ‘Why Can’t This Be Love?’

Big Thief – Little Things

Word be that the upcoming Big Thief album is gonna be a double – which is both impressive considering their two albums of 2019 were both of the ‘that’s really fucking good’ variety and exciting because their two albums of 2019 were both of the ‘that’s really fucking good’ variety. The singles they’ve released so far this year are also of a type that involves profanity.

*Comeback from what I don’t know, perhaps they’d had to go back to their day jobs at Plumb Centre or something for a while to fund it

Cold As Hell by Lilja Sigurðardóttir

From the PR: “Estranged sisters Áróra and Ísafold live in different countries, and are not on speaking terms. When their mother loses contact with Ísafold, Áróra reluctantly returns to Iceland to look for her. But she soon realizes that her sister isn’t avoiding her …she has disappeared, without a trace.

As she confronts Ísafold’s abusive, drug-dealing boyfriend Björn, and begins to probe her sister ’s reclusive neighbours – who have their own reasons for staying out of sight – Áróra is drawn into an ever-darker web of intrigue and manipulation.

Baffled by the conflicting details of her sister’s life, and blinded by the shiveringly bright midnight sun of the Icelandic summer, Áróra enlists the help of police officer Daníel, to help her track her sister ’s movements, and tail Björn. But she isn’t the only one watching…”

There’s a quote toward the end of Cold As Hell explaining why so many missing people in Iceland are never found, as the country is “so wide and so sparsely populated, much of it not easily accessible, with its cracks in the lava, fissures and river valleys, mountain lakes so cold they never gave up bodies, and the restless sea all around.” It’s small wonder, then, that this chilling, remote country sat atop the world has given us a genre as rich as Icelandic Noir, a genre to which Lilja Sigurðardóttir’s Cold As Hell is a magnificent addition.

Cold As Hell is the first in a five-book series and it’s a mighty fine way to kick it off and get the reader hooked in. Taut, addictive and superbly plotted, Liilja Sigurðardóttir has written a real cracker of a novel here.

There’s a surprising amount going on in Cold As Hell. I say surprising because the narrative tears along at a superb pace with short, punchy chapters across multiple subplots and characters, each carrying just the right amount of hook to keep you charging ahead without ever feeling rushed.

Whether it’s Áróra’s search for her sister, financial crimes or the plight of an asylum seeker, Lilja Sigurðardóttir details every element of her novel with a wonderful prose style and populates it with characters that are vital and compelling.

While it’s clear that a lot of ground is being laid here for a longer story arc than one novel can contain, Cold As Hell is thoroughly satisfying in its own right whilst ensuring there’s plenty for the next instalment to sink its teeth into. I’ll also say that Grimur’s ‘twist’ is beautiful in it’s execution and was a hugely satisfying “oh!” moment that really shifted the plot in a manner that’s rarely so well done.

Cold As Hell is a great read. An intelligent and edgy thriller that makes for a fantastic start to the series – I’m already looking forward to book two. My thanks to Karen at Orenda Books for my copy and to Anne Cater for offering me a review spot on the blog tour.

Monday spins

Here we are with the weekend behind us and staring down the barrel of another week. So, on the day that always feels like a kick in the pills, here’s a quick wander down the path of tunes I’ve been giving a lot of ear time this last week.

Eddie Vedder – Long Way

An Eddie Vedder solo song without a hint of a ukulele? Yup – what’s more there’s an album on the way (I think he plays all instruments but that might be a malicious rumour from the fan forums) following quickly on the heels of the ‘Flag Day’ soundtrack he’d put out earlier. This is a real Tom Petty vibing track, rather than a Pearl Jam song that didn’t pass muster, and that’s no bad thing.

Regina Spektor – While My Guitar Gently Weeps

I’ve been watching a lot of Studio Ghibli films recently with my son and ‘Kubo and the Two Strings’ (which isn’t a Studio Ghibli but from Laika, another studio with a very strong set of films under its belt) came up. It’s got a great soundtrack as you’d expect from a film about a boy with a magical instrument, and while it’s mostly originals there’s this really cool cover of a – frankly – stone cold classic that runs with the credits. I don’t think Regina Spektor has put out a lot of late but she put out a couple of belters back in the day.

Sting – Rushing Water

I can’t say I’ve paid much attention to Sting’s solo output for a long time. I don’t think he’s put out much in the way of ‘straight ahead’ solo music for a bit. If I recall there’s been a musical about a ship, a winter solstice themed album, some tosh with Shaggy, duets…. if anything I’ve listened to his daughter’s work more than his. That being said, turns out he’s got a new album called The Bridge on the way. Not a cover of Billy Joel’s album, more one primed with ‘pop-rock’ tunes that he put together over the last year when nobody could really do anything outside for more than five minutes. Maybe I’m getting older but this seems like a pretty good upbeat and cheerful place to be.

Aerosmith – Boogie Man

We’re all victims of algorithms aren’t we…. I guess because I’d talked about Joe Perry’s book out load in the presence of my phone Prime recommended I watch Aerosmith’s ‘Rock for the Rising Sun’ concert doc. It’s an alright live doc but the most interesting thing was hearing them dust off ‘Boogie Man’ – the almost-instrumental closing track from their gargantuan selling Get A Grip. It’s been in my head ever since and has got me pondering an Aerosmith Least to Most series…

Pixies – Here Comes Your Man (’87 version)

When picking up my copy of the Trompe Le Monde anniversary press from my local record shop I decided to add the Pixies EP aka The Purple Tape to my collection which is a collection of those songs recorded during the band’s first studio session in 1987 that didn’t make it to Come On Pilgrim and it’s a great blast of ‘pure’ Pixies magic.

Pink Floyd – One Slip (2019 Remix)

As part of The Later Years box set Pink Floyd decided to remix their oft-derided 1987 A Momentary Lapse of Reason, their first without that cockwomble Roger Waters shouting at them about how shit they were. Because of Waters’ shouting neither Nick Mason or Richard Wright had enough confidence in their playing to contribute much to the album and it was mostly Gilmour and session musician – hence the remix that’s about to be released as a stand-alone outside of the box set. It features new drum parts from Nick Mason as well as the restoration for Richard Wright’s keyboard contributions to “restore the creative balance between the three Pink Floyd members”. It also sheers off some of the overwrought 80’s production that hampered the original too. Having loved it on The Later Years I’m glad it’s getting a wider reissue.