Autorotation - Jesus Bolts EP

Link to a review for Live Music Scene: http://www.live-music-scene.co.uk/cd-reviews-content.asp?id=405

Tyntsfield: A Modern Ruin

The Clayton family does not do normal days out. So, instead of going to Pizza Express or Wookey Hole, we decided to explore the newly opened Tyntsfield (pronounced ‘Tintsfield’) Estate, on the other side of Bristol. Owned until 2001 by the Gibbs family, the property has since been bought and renovated by The National Trust. In many ways, it is a typical aristocratic home, with beautiful vaulted ceilings and neo-Gothic architectural affectations. However, there are some likeable eccentricities which perhaps mark it out from your standard Sunday-afternoon white elephant. The billiard room, for example, features a centrally-heated table and a bafflingly complex automatic scoring machine. And the handsome library, containing first editions of Dickens novels and French anatomical dictionaries, also has John Le Carré novels and Sotheby’s catalogue from the 90s shelved indiscriminately next to each other. The most charming aspect of the place, however, is that the renovation is still very much a work in progress; in one room we are shown the painstaking task of cataloguing over 140,000 objects left by the Gibbs family. And frequently the visitor comes upon rooms or hallways that contain miscellaneous objects, random possessions, which perhaps say more than anything else about the state of the place until very recently.

In effect, Tyntsfield was a bachelor pad for the last twenty years of its private existence. Many of the treasures now on display were boxed or covered, simply because they were never seen, and the last in the family line, Richard Gibbs, had no use for them. His quarters, on the top floor of the house, are sparse in comparison to the splendour on the two floors below: a bed, a bare bathroom, and some paintings of long-forgotten military campaigns on the walls of his drawing-room. When Gibbs died in 2001, his only remaining asset was the house, and having never married or had children, it was acquired for public use by The National Trust. It is a sad, strange story. When I enquire whether Gibbs was ever likely to marry, a typically discreet Trust employee stage-whispers to me: “They say he had girlfriends up here. But I wouldn’t know anything about that. He kept himself to himself.”

New Adventures In Shite-Fi.

Links to a couple of reviews I wrote recently...

http://www.live-music-scene.co.uk/cd-reviews-content.asp?id=376

http://www.live-music-scene.co.uk/cd-reviews-content.asp?id=342

Running 2010 down.

... In which I attempt to narrow down my favourite albums of the year to just ten, and realise the embarrassing scarcity of blog posts I have put up in 2010. Are you ready? Do you care? Then let's write a freaking end of year album list!

10. Eels - 'End Times'

The second in a trio of Eels albums released in the last 18 months, 'End Times' found E at his grizzled, caustic best. Equating the end of a relationship with the apocalypse is hardly a groundbreaking concept, but the album convinces due to the sheer gravity of the songwriting. However, 'End Times' is not all bleak - somehow a song about a female suicide bomber, 'Paradise Blues', was one of the year's most triumphant. The third in the trilogy, 'Tomorrow Morning' was a consciously breezy affair, but felt forced; 'End Times' is wholly, winningly downhearted. Standout track: 'Mansions of Los Feliz'

9. Four Tet - 'There Is Love In You'

On 2008's 'Ringer' EP, Kieran Hebden took a definite step in the direction of the dancefloor, shaking off the pretty glitch-folk of his earlier albums. 'There Is Love In You' is the closest thing to a 'proper dance album' that Four Tet have released, and in places it kicks hard (the pulversing, euphoric 'Love Cry'), but also retains a sliver of the strangeness that has become their calling card. The disembodied female voice(s) on 'Angel Echoes' and the tidal synths on 'This Unfolds' confirm Hebden as one of music's most innovative producers. Standout track: 'Angel Echoes'

8. The Bees - 'Every Step's A Yes'

Released in the summer to a largely indifferent reception, 'Every Step's A Yes' is easily The Bees' finest effort, a warm, honest slice of psychedelia which is effortlessly charming. Try not to beam widely when 'I Really Need Love', 'Silver Line' or 'Tired of Loving' is playing. Hard, isn't it? The reason this album is such a success is consistency; previous Bees albums have been eclectic to a fault, 'Every Step's A Yes' is simply a joy throughout. Maybe their next record will generate more buzz. Sorry. Standout track: 'Silver Line'

7. Male Bonding - 'Nothing Hurts'

Generally seen as the best English response to the American 'Shitgaze' scene, Male Bonding have much more pop nous than they are perhaps given credit for. And whilst 'Nothing Hurts' unfolds at a breakneck pace, not least on the frantic 'Year's Not Long', at the heart of the album is a savvy way with a hook. 'Weird Feelings' and 'Franklin' sound like Vampire Weekend in a blender, and the pretty acoustic closer 'Worse To Come' surely suggests the opposite. A hugely promising debut. Standout track: 'Year's Not Long'

6. Twin Sister - 'Vampires With Dreaming Kids' / 'Colour Your Life'

OK, so this isn't strictly supposed to be here, given that it's a compilation / round up of the Twin Sister output so far, and one of the EPs was released last year. However, this band are too good to ignore. Over the course of the ten tracks on here, the band displays the range, maturity, invention and skill that takes most bands a lifetime to perfect. Their first album will be one of the highlights of the new decade. Standout track: 'The Other Side Of Your Face'

5. The Tallest Man on Earth - 'The Wild Hunt'

Kristian Matsson has ascended rapidly to the top of the sensitive singer-songwriter pile - and no wonder. On 'The Wild Hunt' he lays out his stall in a no-nonsense, devastating fashion; and every song sounds like a standard. 'King of Spain' is witty and anthemic, 'Love Is All' is simply gutwrenching. He is also responsible for my personal live highlight of the year - a spellbinding cover of Gillian Welch's 'Everything Is Free', accompanied by Megafaun at Green Man. Not a dry eye in the tent. Standout track: 'Love Is All'

4. Beach House - 'Teen Dream'

Whilst the hype around this record upon its release hasn't really translated into critical acclaim at the business end of the year, this remains a remarkable piece of work. Strident, unashamedly dramatic and, most importantly, filled with frighteningly good choruses, 'Teen Dream' provided a hazy soundtrack to a long summer. 'Zebra', 'Norway' and '10 Mile Stereo' led the way in terms of accessibility; 'Silver Soul' was the album's aching, desperate core. Standout track: 'Zebra'

3. Boston Spaceships - 'Our Cubehouse Still Rocks'

...In which we all learned never to write off Robert Pollard. The man has been gaining momentum again recently, and 'Our Cubehouse Still Rocks' is the staggering culmination of this revival. Backed by members of the Decemberists and other former GBV comrades, the Spaceships simply bash out sixteen classic cuts, oozing confidence, swagger and humour - qualities that, a few years ago, it seemed that his Bobness was beginning to lack. The year's most unexpected and gratifying return to form. Standout track: 'Come On Baby Grace'

2. Arcade Fire - 'The Suburbs'

Okay, confession time. I didn't give this album a hope in hell, based on the monolithically poor 'Neon Bible'. And so I ignored it. That was a mistake and, Mr. Butler, I'm sorry. Arcade Fire have done a very clever thing here and isolated the qualities that made 'Funeral' so incredible, marrying them to a new lyrical maturity, and ditching the bombastic approach to arrangement that made their previous album so woeful. They have caught something which, whilst it comes in a classic-song disguise, is very much now. Their fears are ours, and they communicate them beautifully. Standout track: 'We Used To Wait'

1. Field Music - 'Field Music (Measure)'

I never thought I would ever place a double prog album at the top of this list. Because that, when all is said and done, is what Field Music make. And not only that, it is prog of the most tricksy, elusive, mathematical kind. Yet something about 'Measure' is truly magical - the sheer brio with which the Brewis brothers approach their craft, the dizzying twists which pepper their songs, the occasional moments of McCartney-esque melancholy which cut through the fussiness. To make an album with twenty great tracks on it is remarkable, but such is Field Music's modus operandi that it feels more like forty. Enormous though it may be, this is a hugely fun record, bursting with exuberance and wisdom, a fine summation of what it means to be English in 2010. Personally this one record gives me great hope for songwriting in this country - that a band is still taking cues from bands like XTC, The Beatles, even - whisper it - ELO, suggests that there are still great pop records to made here. And the Brewis brothers, on the evidence of 'Measure' at least, may be two of the most ambitious songsmiths in music right now. Let's hope they haven't used up everything on this sprawling, packed masterpiece. Standout tracks: 'In The Mirror'; 'Measure'; 'Let's Write A Book'; 'Choosing Numbers'; 'Something Familiar'

Separado! - Review

Well, there’s a revelation then: Gruff Rhys has some eccentric relatives. As the lead singer of king freaks Super Furry Animals, Rhys has dabbled in just about every musical genre available, ridden around festivals in a fluorescent pink tank, broken the world record for the most profane song ever, and once got Paul McCartney to crunch celery on one of his records. That’s all been well-documented in the past, however, and is almost irrelevant when considering his new film. For Separado! focuses on a more personal concern for Rhys – his family history, a long-lost popstar Uncle, and a little-known enigma in South American history.

Of course, this isn’t a straight documentary. It opens with a reconstruction of a horse race in the 1880s, which was fixed by Rhys’ great-great-great Uncle, and which prompted an exodus to Patagonia along with a significant number of the Welsh population. Almost a hundred years later, Rhys’ uncle, René Griffiths, became a celebrity in Argentina, singing in the lovelorn storytelling style known as ‘guacho’.

Intrigued by both these aspects of his family’s heritage, Rhys travelled to Argentina to track down Griffiths, also promoting his then new album, Candylion, by playing in tiny village halls to miniscule audiences (one of these audiences is simply described as ‘a horse in a field. An indifferent horse.’) Along the way he is supported by local acts including the ‘incredible’ Tony Da Gattora (essentially a man yelling “HYPOCRITES! WAR CRIME!” to a bemused public). It is a strange quest indeed, but Rhys is a charmingly inept host: his thick Welsh accent means that ‘horse race’ emerges as ‘ostrich’ (which confused me enormously at first), and he seems reluctant to say very much about what this journey means to him personally, choosing instead to let his Welsh / Spanish-speaking relatives do the talking. Which they do, at length. Luckily they have fascinating stories to tell.

For those already au fait with Rhys’ music, this is a delight: there is a singalong to ‘Gyrru Gyrru Gyrru’ (‘Driving Driving Driving’) and a beautiful live version of ‘Lonesome Words’. Most of the soundtrack is drawn from his two solo albums to date, Candylion and, er, the one with the really long Welsh name.

Separado! is a bit like an episode of ‘Who Do You Think You Are?’ directed by Terry Gilliam. It is silly, endearing and very much a family affair. There are moments where the documentary loses its narrative thrust a little and wanders off in another direction – I found the section on global gold-mining to be a little too preachy – but surely that is a true reflection of our intrepid yet clueless protagonist. Rhys’ charm is the real winner here, and Separado! is worth its feature-length running time because of it.

No amount of charm will ever make me buy a Tony Da Gattora album though. Ever.

7/10

Escape to New York.

This is happening in two days. Needless to say, I'm very excited ... and pretty nervous. Reading my little thoughts to a bunch of Greenwich Village hipsters could go either way, really. I have no idea what to expect, other than a whole lotta big things.

March 15th, Bristol.

New poem written last week:

March 15th, 2010. Bristol

Following a herd of fluorescent school-
children across the road who are very
nearly knocked over by a Rolls Royce
I take photographs of the harbour
hoping that they will look like
somewhere else

and later after buying a record
by The Beta Band I think I see Tony outside
the record shop, but it isn’t him and I stop
mid-
wave,
and suddenly feel very tired

Frank O’Hara has served me well
these last few days and I am
writing just like him,
as the skateboard does the rounds
and clacks neatly in the park. Frank!
Did you ever actually eat your lunch?

Now it is cold
and I long for the girl
in the white coat
across from me
picking her teeth

Jaw of a Whale.

Carved from the jaw of a whale
Cold white warm violin in your arms
Hang notes in my hard linen sails
Push me back through the eye of a needle

Here's to the girl with the flowers at her neck
One for the girl with the red dress and wide eyes

Bring me a gun in the night
Place it gently at my waiting temple
Click for the deafening light
Push me back through the eye of a needle

Here's to the girl with the flowers in her hair
Here's to the girl with the incremental eyes
One for the girl with the cold and the kleenex

Back from the water's edge

Sit in our perfect blue space
Deep down under the water beneath us
Everything fades to your face
Fish swarm by in the beautiful silent
Here's to the girl with the flowers on her lips
Here's to the girl with the devil in her hips
One for the girl with the blue coat and suede shoes

Carved from the jaw of a whale

Back from the water's edge

I watched 'Somers Town'...

... Then dreamt that Shaun Turgoose robbed my guitar at screwdriver-point, after I had attempted to escape through a complicated network of garden sheds.....

List for life.

It's the most wonderful time of the year. A time when all the music magazines are full of lovely Top 10 / 100 / 394,860 albums of the year, largely meaningless cultural analysis of the past year, and woefully inaccurate predictions about the coming one.

So I thought I'd have a go myself.

Here, then, are my Top Ten albums (in order, naturally) of 2009. Hup!

10. Trembling Bells - Carbeth

An unashamed throwback to late 60's folk-rock, 'Carbeth' was nevertheless a thoroughly enjoyable exercise in nostalgia. Fairport are the clear influence here, but what marks this album out as more than a straight tribute is the vein of strange experimentation that runs throughout; the band are unafraid to wander in new sonic directions, a technique that works to occasionally stunning effect.

Standout - 'Willows of Carbeth'

9. Cass McCombs - Catacombs

...In which our young hero stumbles into the middle of the road. Well, not entirely of course. 'Catacombs' sees McCombs paring back his sound to create a largely acoustic album of easygoing - if not always engaging - songs about love and lion-killing. It is a marked departure from his previous work, and the gamble does not always pay off; but when it does, the result is gorgeous.

Standout - 'You Saved My Life'

8. Yo La Tengo - Popular Songs

Now firmly established as an indie institution, Yo La Tengo surely have no need to further cement their reputation. Yet cement it they have, with an album that continues in predecessor 'I Know You And I Will Beat Your Ass's eclectic, playful approach. This time they add swooning soul strings to 'Here To Fall', and languid funk on 'Periodically Double Or Triple'. There is a sense that, even after 20 years, this band is capable of anything.
Standout - 'Avalon Or Someone Very Similar'

7. Mos Def - The Ecstatic

It's become something of a journalistic cliche to say 'it's been a barren year for hip-hop', but - again - it has. Surprising, then, that the best hip-hop album by a country mile (with honourable mentions to Q-Tip and Raekwon) should come from a man who has spent more of this decade on film sets than in recording studios. 'The Ecstatic' fully lives up to its title - it is a wonder to behold; no two tracks sound even remotely the same. More hip-hop like this 2010, please.

Standout - 'Auditorium'

6. Pastels / Tenniscoats - Two Sunsets

Simply put, this is a beautiful, beautiful album. Yet it seems to have had a rather complex genesis: a collaboration between jangle-rock stalwarts and Japanese folkies, 'Two Sunsets' is the result of a year's pinging back and forth between Glasgow and Tokyo. As you'd expect from the contributing factors, the pace is sleepy and the vocals are, um, charming. But the real strength lies in the songwriting - melodic and honest, this is an album that will steal your heart.

Standout - 'Song For A Friend'

5. A.A. Bondy - When The Devil's Loose

Sometimes, though it pains me to say it, the best albums aren't steeped in originality or wild invention; they are founded on familiarity. Such is the case with 'When The Devil's Loose' which treads carefully in the well-worn footsteps of Dylan, Nick Cave and Conor Oberst. Both joyful ('I Can See The Pines Are Dancing') and desolate ('A Slow Parade'), Bondy gives us what we want - and though it may not be original, it is deeply satisfying.

Standout - 'I Can See The Pines Are Dancing'

4. Animal Collective - Merriweather Post Pavilion

The critic's album the year, hands down, 'Merriweather...' is a strange, mythical beast indeed. Representing a natural progression from, and consolidation of, the band's earlier incarnations, it is both gloopy and transcendent; propulsive and spacey; intense and playful. 'Also Frightened' and 'No More Runnin'' provide the enormous emotional peaks, and 'My Girls' is simply an astounding pop classic. Who'd have thought?

Standout - 'My Girls'

3. The xx - xx

A remarkable debut, which prompted up-and-coming bands across the country to ask 'Why didn't WE think of that?' Because what makes 'xx' so instantly accessible is its simplicity - bass, guitar, drums, boy, girl, little else. The production, arguably the band's main instrument, is impeccable. Influenced in equal measure by the Jesus and Mary Chain and the Sugababes, The xx perfectly depict a relationship at odds with itself - nervy but heartfelt, strident yet sedate. Stunning.

Standout - 'Shelter'

2. The Low Anthem - Oh My God, Charlie Darwin

Faintly ridiculous title aside, this record is a serious statement of intent from a band who seem to be hitting their stride - and how. 'Oh My God...' riffs on the themes of evolution, apocalypse, lost loves and seafaring, but never feels overplayed. The songs themselves veer between intimate, hushed hymnals and all-out Springsteen-esque rockers, such as the frankly jaw-dropping 'Champion Angel'. This record marks the beginning of a new, scared, Americana.

Standout - 'To Ohio'

1. Wild Beasts - Two Dancers

Last year's 'Limbo, Panto' had plenty of the latter, to put it politely. But no-one could have predicted that, less than a year later, this band would come up with something so - astonishing. 'Two Dancers' is immaculately played, lyrically intriguing and very, very listenable. The band describe their sound on this album as 'downbeat erotic music', and I guess that's fair, but there is so much more here. The two-part title track sums up the bands duality: falsetto and growl, fever and comedown, all played out in a kind of languid suburban wet dream. There is a mesmerising fluidity to this album; one can only wonder what they will come up with next. On the basis of 'Two Dancers' though, it could be that Wild Beasts become the best English band since The Smiths. They certainly have the means.

Standout - 'We Still Got The Taste Dancin' On Our Tongues'

Read, sleep.

...Has been my lifestyle recently - which would explain the lack of posts. In the last two months I've read:

'Pet Sematary', 'Dan Leno & The Limehouse Golem', 'The Comedians', 'To The Lighthouse', 'The Island of Doctor Moreau', 'The Wild Duck', 'The Deep Blue Goodbye' ... and 'Sophie's Choice'.

Exhausting.

Re-up.

I am still here - just. Lots of new posts coming soon. This is all 'a bit Twitter' (bitter?), sorry about that.

Moving.

I am moving out next week, September the first. On September the first, 2008, I moved out as well. Coincidence? I think so. Both me and Rosie are flying - or at least fleeing - the nest within the next month - Rosie's got a place at Portsmouth Uni; we're going down there on Thursday to check it out. Personally I'm really looking forward to living with Karim, Jay and Julie, should be miles of smiles. Don't know whether Rosie's so keen on moving so far away though.

Am also putting together a scrapbook of all my recent travels, it's amazing how much you forget, and how much it meant at the time - a lifetime of temporary relief...

Gigging lots recently too; it is good, creativity is in full swing. I keep breaking strings.

Review of Mos Def's 'The Ecstatic' to follow shortly.

Summer slumber.

I wish Autumn would bloody well hurry up. There, I said it. I want days on end of cold, rain, mist, or any form of precipitation really. Bring it on, please. I have a big new coat to wear. I want to hibernate til it hurts.

Anything is better than this bright warm greyness we are currently 'enjoying'. I can't sleep in the Summer; hence why I am wide awake and writing at 7.35am. That strange acidic tiredness that happens when you sleep out of time? When your ribs feel like glass tubes and your eyes sting? That's my Summer.

Don't get me wrong, it's been good, if strangely stillborn: I haven't actually done an awful lot, apart from writing. Which I guess is a good thing. Yesterday I went to Bradford-on-Avon by myself and drank loads of coffee and finished 'Love In The Time Of Cholera', and took pictures of this beautiful old barn (see above).

I suppose the main feature of my Summer has been loneliness. No, that's the wrong word. Alone-ness? At least, nobody's been there to share it with me; I wish somebody had been. Most of my friends have paired off with someone by now. I can't see how that's going to happen for me anytime soon.

Review: The xx - 'xx' (Young Turks)

....You know you’re getting older when a new band cites The Sugababes and Aaliyah as two of their key influences.

Based on that, you might expect The xx - yes, it is a very silly name - to be standard chart-fodder, that everyone will have forgotten in about a week’s time (I would name some bands at this point, but I have forgotten their names. You see?). However, there is much more to them than an off-the-cuff Mariah Carey reference on their Myspace page. As other reviewers have cleverly pointed out, they’ve clearly been listening to The Cure circa ‘Seventeen Seconds’; The Jesus And Mary Chain circa ‘Darklands’; and whole a lotta Burial. And it shows. So what have they created here? Doom-pop? Goth-step?

With such a diverse range of influences, you might expect their debut to be a little over-fussy. In fact, they’ve gone in the other direction, creating a skeletal, barely-there sound which is nonetheless thoroughly immersive, and frequently verges on being very special indeed. Actually I’d go so far as to argue that the middle triumvirate here – ‘Heart Skipped A Beat’, ‘Fantasy’ and ‘Shelter’ – are flawless. And the rest of the album comes eye-wateringly close too. The singles ‘Basic Space’ and ‘Crystalised’ combine tired boy-girl vocals and minimal guitar lines beautifully; the former sounding like ‘Close To Me’ on a double-strength dose of Nytol. Most of the songs on this album come across as half-finished, like demos, and they stop unexpectedly with little fanfare. Yet there is a real freshness about this sound – it’s bleak, yes, but it’s pop music, when all is said and done, and it’s pulled off with considerable panache.

Very rarely is a debut album perfect though, and this collection has a couple of flaws. Firstly, some of the lyrics are rather simple, verging on the banal; noticeably average. Sure, I guess you could argue that creating atmosphere is more important here, but I’d still prefer something to get my teeth into. And occasionally the vocals veer into show-off territory – I’d much prefer a ‘high’ than a ‘high-ee-i-ee-iiigh..’, for example. It just doesn’t fit with the band’s less-is-more aesthetic, and it grates; at their worst, The xx sound like a heavily-sedated Subways. However, on the vast majority of ‘xx’, they sound an awful lot like that darned elusive Future Of British Pop – slinky, nervy and extremely damn tuneful to boot. This is an excellent debut, but it's an album to build on rather than rest on. The future is bright for this band - even if they don’t seem to think so.

(8/10)

Review: 'Moon'

I have never been fascinated by space travel. Sure, I wanted to be an astronaut when I was younger - but only because everyone else did. I imagined it to be similar to a pilot's job - hours upon hour of gnawing, grey tedium, suddenly and briefly punctuated by snippets of visceral, pant-wetting terror. All accompanied by vacuum-sealed beef bourgignon. The idea of being blasted in a tiny fire-farting rocket with two massive (and eminently flammable) fuel containers lashed to either side, towards a frozen airless sphere of rock, whilst wearing a Michelen Man suit, did not exactly fill me with awe and wonder. Plus, what would you do when you got up there? Wander about, play a bit of golf, collect some rocks, go for a dip in the Sea of Tranquility? That's not even enough activities to fill a sunny Bank Holiday, let alone a Massive Space Mission. Anyway, the long and short (though mostly long) of this preamble is that 'Moon' (dir. Duncan Jones, a.k.a. Zowie Bowie...) comes closer than any other film to portraying what I picture space to be like.

Filthy, bored and alone on a far-flung base on the dark side of the Moon, Sam Bell (Sam Rockwell) is coasting towards the end of his three-year contract with an enormo-profit energy company, who are somehow harvesting and using lunar minerals to generate power. With only a helper robot - GERTY (voiced by Kevin Spacey and given facial expressions by a series of emoticons) - for company, Sam is finding the last fortnight a little tedious to say the least. He also suspects he may be going slightly crackers - and who wouldn't, being stuck in a white box with Kevin Spacey for three years - or indeed any length of time? He begins to see things - figures on screens, girls in chairs, that sort of thing. Then, on a routine repair mission, Sam crashes his lunar rover and loses consciousness. GERTY wakes him up back on the station, but it quickly becomes apparent that all is not what it seems. And indeed, when Sam breaks orders to investigate the crash site, he finds a body inside the vehicle - it, too, is Sam Bell.

What follows is, well, hard to follow. The two clones form an uneasy comradeship, neither entirely sure who the 'real' Sam Bell is, and both detremined to find out. Over the course of the film, one Sam deteriorates dramatically; it is implied that he is suffering brain damage; whilst the other walks around in new uniform, boxing, skipping etc. Their relationship is built nicely, with both men gradually coming to accept a truth which is unfurled plausibly (well...) towards the end; though much is still left to the viewer's discretion.

'Moon' owes an obvious debt to '2001: A Space Odyssey'. GERTY is the vocal spit of HAL, albeit slightly less mechanically malevolent, and the visuals are pleasingly lo-fi and CGI-free. However, unlike '2001...', there is no gosh-wow-isn't-space-big moment here: everything unfolds on a deliberately small scale; the drama, although it occurs in space, is intensely human. The only place Sam wants to boldly go is home to his family. The simple visual style makes a refreshing change from recent sc-fi thrillers (the recent 'Star Trek' relying far too heavily on computer effects, ironically enough), and the storyline is absorbing without tipping over into ridiculousness. Rockwell is fantastic as both Sam Bells, and whilst the film may be lacking an iconic moment to remember it by, it deserves a high placing in the end-of-year lists. A space oddity, in a very good way.

(9/10)

Czech Mates.

Well, I'm back from the Czech Republic, where I've been teaching English for the last week. The trip splits itself nicely in two: we spent a couple of days in Prague, before heading to Janske Lazne, a small and beautiful spa town near the Polish border. I was part of a little team from our church, which also (thankfully) included Emma (otherwise I may have gone crackers). We all taught younger people; I took on a class of 6 between the age of 11 and 14. Teaching was difficult yet ultimately rewarding; though I certainly won't miss the staff meetings at 7.15 in the morning... Afternoons were officially 'free', but I spent most of the time frantically re-planning my lessons before the next day. However, we managed to fit in a hike to the top of the tallest mountain in the Czech Rep., and lots of coffee-drinking and cake-eating (caffeine and sugar becoming increasingly vital resources towards the end of the week). Overall, a really lovely time - I made some wonderful friends, as well as being able to enjoy my time with old ones.

Wandered around town this afternoon - library, record stores, cinema (to see 'Moon' - review to follow shortly). Nice, if a little rainy... 'Bona Drag', a cup of Earl Grey and a Wagon Wheel are helping though.

Blurred visions.

This always happens, with things like this. I begin them with enthusiasm, commitment, dedication etc. - all of which wears off in a month or two, and neglect sets in. Looks like almost three weeks since I last passed this way. Never mind, at least I have some newsworthy things to write this time.

Yesterday I returned from my fourth, and best, Glastonbury Festival. Why best? Well, mainly because of the music. Here, for the record, are the bands I saw: The Volt, Golden Silvers, Lay Low, Regina Spektor, N*E*R*D, Fleet Foxes, The Dead Weather, The Specials, Neil Young, First Aid Kit, The Low Anthem, Bombay Bicycle Club, Spinal Tap, Dizzee Rascal, Crosby Stills and Nash, Bruce Springsteen, Status Quo, Yeah Yeah Yeahs, Alela Diane, Nick Cave and The Bad Seeds, and Blur. It was, as you can imagine, quite a weekend.

It was also great because the atmosphere was so friendly, and because the weather held more or less, and because I had some wonderful friends to see everything with: Mike, Kayleigh, Nat, Emma and Simeon were brilliant company, making what was already a great weekend into my favourite festival ever. I'm considering skipping the thing next year - although the idea of a special 40th anniversary festival is quite appealing, this one was more than special enough.

And for the next few weeks I have little to do aside from writing and reading. Perfect.

Another short piece of writing about escape and regret.

I miss it so much some days.

Today is one of those days.

Shelf life.

I had a strange wake-up call today. Firstly, Elizabeth Bowen's 'The Last September' leapt from my bookshelf onto the floor. Then her 'Collected Stories' followed suit, making a considerably louder crash. Strange, I thought. Then a few seconds later, the entire bookshelf cracked and buckled under the remaining weight, and one screw came away from the wall completely, sending the rest of my books flying on to the top of my wardrobe, on the floor, into the bin...

It is a sign, perhaps, that I need some new shelves. I don't intend to stop buying books anytime soon.

In other news, I have a job at the land of drudge - though I am enjoying it slightly more this time around. At the age of 18, I seemed to be much more angry and frustrated at the job; now I just feel a kind of resignation about the whole thing: It Is A Job. Nothing More. Think Of The Money. Well, me and Jess had fun(?) last night anyway, just arsing around as you do.

Lots of good things have happened recently, the weather has been wonderful for football and sunbathing and lemonade-drinking - but a lot of confusing things have happened too. I've concluded that spending some time away, by myself or with a couple of friends, would be a very good thing, just to sort my head out. Time to break out the tent. And the cordless drill.