Late Night Stargazing

I know I don’t exactly have the best reputation amongst the blogging community in terms of replying swiftly to the kind comments which folks leave, but my responses have been even more tardy than usual recently.

I have the WordPress app on my phone, which alerts me whenever someone leaves a comment, and it is here that I usually read and reply – but at the moment, for some reason, it won’t actually load them up for me to read.

Doubtless there will be an update along soon enough to rectify it, but until that happens I don’t have chance to read and reply until I next log on via my laptop, which I don’t do every day. I spend all day tapping away at a laptop; more often than not it’s the last thing I feel like doing when I’ve finished my actual job for the day.

So my apologies if you think I’ve been rude by not replying to a comment you’ve left sooner than I have done recently.

To make up for it, here’s a bit of classic trance-trousers for you: DJ Tiesto’s In Search of Sunrise Remix of Delerium’s Silence, in all its 11:34 majesty:

Delerium feat. Sarah McLachlan – Silence (DJ Tiesto’s In Search of Sunrise Remix)

Llŷr and I once went to a Gatecrasher event at Cardiff ice rink (Gatecrasher, for those not in the know, being a club night renowned for their love of all things trance) – all muscly meats with their tops off, jailbait girls wearing as little as possible accompanied by regulation-issue furry knee-high boots.

I think it may have been a New Year’s Eve event, as the night was packed with superstar DJs (the identity of whom I cannot remember) doing 2-3 hour slots before being helicoptered off to their next venue somewhere in the UK to play a probably identical slot, whilst a resident DJ plugged the gaps between each set with more repetitive beats and lasers.

This meant that each superstar DJ missed the end of the previous one’s set, and so had no idea that each one before them had ended their set with this remix of this tune.

Which, in turn, also meant that we must have heard it at least four times that night.

It’s testament to what an absolute banger it is (and possibly to the amount of drugs (everyone else had) taken) that the crowd went mental for it every time.

More soon.


It’s a bit of a “dead cat” scenario, and I know I’m playing right into their dirty, dirty hands by writing about it, but yesterday Neil Parish (Conservative MP for Tiverton and Honiton) was named as the chap being investigated for allegedly watching pornography in the House of Commons, thereby neatly deflecting away from this week’s votes in the House of Lords (which Labour peers disgracefully abstained from) which mean that (and I’m expecting that at least one of these will be legally challenged as unlawful):

  • the Electoral Commission is no longer independent and is now under governmental control, specifically of Michael Gove, he of Vote Leave who were fined £61,000 after the current Electoral Commission referred them to the police for breaking funding rules;
  • the Nationality and Borders bill means that we no longer have to comply with the United Nations’ Refugee Convention – send them to Rwanda!
  • the Elections Bill means that ID is now needed to vote – a direct attack on the poor
  • the Police Crime, Courts and Sentencing Bill – our right to protest has been further eroded, if it’s a bit too noisy.

Dead cat or not, I can’t resist looking at the story of the alleged porn-peruser, now identified.

What a hill to die on! “I was exposed as the Wanker of Whitehall, so that people might ignore my Government’s power grab”. He must feel so proud.

Although, perhaps “feeling” “proud” is the root of the problem here.

Or maybe this is an intervention: “power grab” does sound not too many steps away from being found like former Tory MP Stephen Milligan: found naked except for a pair of stockings and suspenders, with an electrical flex tied around his neck, head covered and an amphetamine-laced orange in his mouth. And dead, obviously.

Earlier this week, Parish was interviewed on GB News and was asked for his thoughts on claims that a Tory MP had been caught watching pornography:

“If you have got 650 members of parliament in what is a very intense area you are going to get people that step over the line,” he said.

Insert your own Member of Parliament gag here.

Sure. If a lot of people work together, it’s understandable that some of them can’t wait to get home before they have to get their kicks. Being an MP is a long day, far longer than any non-MP has to endure without a bit of spicy nudey interjection.

I’ve worked in offices with significantly more than 650 people in them, and if any of them had been caught dribbling over a clip on Pornhub when they should have been working, they’d have been sacked immediately.

Not your Conservative MP though, oh no: Parish has been referred to the Parliamentary Commissioner for Standards in the House of Commons, and has had the whip removed following the allegations. You can make your own joke up about that too, right?

In entirely unrelated news (I’m sure), according to Hansard, Parish has mentioned “broadband” 58 times in the House of Commons, mainly to decry the slow speeds we have in this country, and, presumably, in Tiverton and Honiton.

Perhaps that’s why the randy old goat had to watch it in the House of Commons instead of back in his own constituency. We all hate the swirl of doom that is buffering, right?

Doubtless, there will be excuses and half-arsed apologies:

Tune time:

AC/DC – Caught With Your Pants Down

More soon.

Friday Night Music Club

It’s another Bank Holiday weekend here in the UK, so another long weekend which I will doubtless spend putting off doing all the odd jobs – like finish unpacking, or finally construct my bed (it’s only been seven months…) around the house which I’ll be cursing myself for not having done come Tuesday morning.

To soundtrack that, and whatever you’re up to, here’s another of the old mixes split down into manageable one hour chunks. I was surprised when I revisited this one to find that it the original mix was only two hours long, so we’ll have rattled past this one and on to anew one in no time.

I shan’t waste anymore time (except for the usual disclaimer which you all probably know off by heart by now: any skips or jumps are down to the mixing software; any mis-timed mixes are down to me; all record selections are mine) so here’s the link:

Friday Night Music Club Vol 2.1

…and here’s your track-listing:

  • Peter, Paul & Mary – I Dig Rock And Roll Music
  • Pixies – Weird at My School
  • The Walkmen – The Rat
  • Interpol – Evil
  • Lene Lovich – Lucky Number
  • The Jags – Back Of My Hand
  • The Vapors – Turning Japanese
  • Generation X – Dancing With Myself
  • Marvin Gaye – Got To Give lt Up
  • Prince & The Revolution – Girls & Boys
  • Mary Mary – Shackles (Praise You)
  • Jungle – Busy Earnin’
  • Belle & Sebastian – Your Cover’s Blown
  • Friends – I’m His Girl
  • Micachu – Golden Phone
  • Le Tigre – Hot Topic
  • The B-52’s – 52 Girls


More soon.

Be Llŷrious

That’s Llŷr up there, my best friend, and today would have been that rock God’s birthday, so it seems only right that I share another memory of him.

I’ve been wanting to share this one for a while, but couldn’t quite work out how to write it so that it “works” as a written piece. I’ve ended up writing it Memento style, in reverse chronological order. Bear with me.

The story can actually be split into two separate events, and I wasn’t with Llŷr for either of them. Nevertheless, I think it pretty much sums up our relationship: always wanting to make the other one laugh, even if we weren’t actually in the presence of the other to witness it happening. Don’t worry, it will all make sense in the end.

When writing this, I was indebted to Llŷr’s older sister, Hel, who was with him for one part of the story, and who filled in the blanks for me as to what was going on and why I received the text from Llŷr that starts this story off.

To set the scene: we were living in the Flat of Filth at the time; Hel and I think it was before he got ill. Llŷr had travelled up to That London to visit Hel, leaving me high, hosed and happy all alone back in Cardiff. Don’t take that the wrong way, for as much as I loved living with him, when you live with someone – anyone – we all love a little bit of alone time every now and again.

My night of self-loving was interrupted by a text from Llŷr:

“Dude, can you think of something rude to shout at Kasabian?”

Of course I could, but I figured he had probably exhausted those possibilities already.

Over to you, Hel. If you could start off by explaining where the hell you were and why, that’d be grand:

“We were in KOKO’s in Camden. Spencer [a friend and former flat-mate of Hel’s] knew a girl who worked on The Album Chart Show which I think went out on Channel 4. They’d have a few bands on, doing one song from their current album, and one band doing about five songs. Me and Spencer saw Primal Scream doing this, and when tickets came up for Kasabian doing the same, Llŷr and I jumped at the chance, as we thought it would be hilarious.”

Just for the record: Hel, Llŷr and I are all of the opinion that all Kasabian records are absolute dog-dirt so you can read on without fear of me actually posting anything by them.

“During maybe a rubbish band [other than Kasabian] or a break in performances, me and Llŷr went to the top floor bar because it was quieter and easier/quicker to get served. We went to the balcony and who should be filming an interview but Tom and Serge [from Kasabian]. They were sitting on a sofa, and the interviewer was on another sofa, facing them. Me and Llŷr sat a bit behind the interviewer’s sofa and tried to think of things to do to put them off.”

It was probably at roughly this point that Llŷr must have sent the aforementioned text.

I’m sorry to say that my comedy chops let me down on this occasion; all I could come up with, which was neither big nor clever, was to suggest he might mouth the C-bomb at them.

“We started doing rude signs at them behind the interviewer’s back, pointing and laughing, and I think Llŷr may have mouthed the C-bomb at them. Initially they ignored us, but they got more and more agitated and so the production team asked us to leave because we were distracting them. Obviously, we found this hilarious, and could barely walk, we were laughing so much.”

And right there you have the reason everyone loved him so much: he never stopped being that cheeky little boy, acting up and trying to make his friends laugh whenever he could.

(In July 2020, Tom left Kasabian by mutual consent, having admitted to physically assaulting his then-fiancee. The use of the C-bomb, mouthed or otherwise, is therefore entirely justified and correct.)

But, other than friendship and our trust that the other would come up with something, what had prompted Llŷr to text me to seek guidance on ways to upset Kasabian?

Well, let me take you back a few weeks before his trip to That London. Llŷr had gone to a gig on his own – he’d asked me, and doubtless several other friends, if we wanted to accompany him, but none of us did, so off he trotted off all on his lonesome.

The band he went to see was Jimmy Eat World, and about an hour or so after he left the Flat of Filth, I received a text from him:

Dude, I think I’m the oldest person here. What can I do that will make me seem younger and cooler?

Easy, I replied. Make it look like you’re there ironically. Maybe start a chant of Jimmy Eats Cock?

I never said it was a clever answer.

A couple of hours later, he barrelled back into the flat.

“You bastard!” he said, smiling.

“Me? What did I do now?” I protested innocently.

“After you sent that text, that was all I could think of. I was worried all night in case I accidentally shouted it out and got lynched by a bunch of teenage girls.”

Sorry dude.

But now we had yet another private joke: whenever we were out and the DJ played something by Jimmy Eat World – and it would always be this tune (although apparently they have others) – one of us would hoik a thumb in the direction of the DJ and ask the other: “Who’s this again?”

Jimmy Eat World – The Middle

If you’ve been affected by any of the issues raised in this post, and wish to offend pop stars of a similar standing to Kasabian, then please use the Comments facility to seek guidance and reassurance.

Happy Birthday, dude. Miss you.

More soon.

New Mood on Monday

This morning’s pick-me-up choice is an absolute no-brainer, because after a pretty tough couple of weeks at work, I was listening to some tunes over the weekend when this came on, and I immediately felt better, happier, kind of warm and fuzzier inside.

Which I’d like to think is exactly what Best Coast intended when they wrote this little beauty:

Best Coast – The Only Place

More soon.

Sunday Morning Coming Down

It seems like only yesterday that I last posted some Molly Tuttle, but a quick check, shows that, assuming I have tagged everything properly on here, it was actually back in 2019 that she last featured. A follow-up is, therefore, long overdue.

Fortuitously, the Californian songstress is back with a new album, released at the start of the month, but this time she has a credited band in tow: Golden Highway, whose name sounds like one of the bands with the weekly-changing moniker that Glen Ponder used to front on Knowing Me, Knowing You with Alan Partridge (in order: Chalet, Debonair, Ferrari, Bangkok, Savour Faire, Lazarus and Golden Highway. See?).

Anyway, I digress (and, you’ll be surprised to note, I’ve managed to resist illustrating that last point with a clip from the show), Tuttle and the Highway’s (as the kids on the street are calling them) album Crooked Tree is a bluegrass beauty, replete with banjos, fiddles and even a spot of yodelling.

Here’s a track from it which ticks each of those boxes and to these ears also has a Plastic Jeezus-esque melody to it at the start:

Molly Tuttle & Golden Highway – Nashville Mess Around

More soon.

Late Night Stargazing

Given that it’s my favourite Nick Cave song, you’d expect me to dislike any attempts to cover Into My Arms. Why mess with perfection, right?


For there was nobody more surprised than I when I heard Ane Brune’s version on her 2017 album Leave Me Breathless, a record packed full of cover versions of songs I love done in a totally unique way.

Which is odd, because I’m pretty sure that had I first heard this sound-tracking an advert for anti-perspirant or some such I probably would have hated it.

As it is, loads of weeping strings and steel guitars somehow give this an almost pastoral feel.

Check it out for yourself:

Ane Brune – Into My Arms

I still prefer the Dark Overlord’s version, of course, but that’s pretty good.

More soon.

I Can’t Help Myself

It’s been over three years since I wrote one of this series.

When I last wrote one, I opened with these words:

Time to resurrect an old series.

Here, I post songs which provoke an involuntary response, where you hear a word or phrase and suddenly find yourself shouting the words to a song which have some vague link to the word or phrase you just heard.

I found myself displaying this mild form of Tourette’s Syndrome twice this week.

The first was whilst watching BBC tea-time quiz show Pointless. As host Alexander Armstrong said: And the first category is…’Words’, I found myself half-muttering, half singing: “Don’t come easy to me”, which is not only true of how I generally perform when playing along with the game at home, but is also a reference to this one-hit wonder from 1982:

F. R. David – Words

The other one came from a much more traditional source: football. I watched the FA Cup semi-final between Liverpool and Manchester City on Saturday, and even though I knew he was a Liverpool player and have heard his name spoken many times before, it was during this game that, for the first time, whenever the commentator mentioned central midfielder Naby Keïta, that I found I had this song whirling around inside my teensy brain:

The Pogues – Navigator

You’re welcome.

More soon.

Friday Night Music Club

Regular visitors to my Friday night slot (stop it….!) will probably have noticed a few things that I like to do with the mixes I put together and post here (I’m talking the self-contained, meant-to-be-listened-to-as-a-whole mixes, not one of the ones I’ve recently split down into hour-long mixes).

Firstly, I like the first tune to be a definite opener; not necessarily one which sets the tone and style for the rest of the mix, but one which can easily be recognised as a curtain-raiser. See Tonight You Belong To Me by Patience and Prudence from Vol 1; I Dig Rock’n’Roll Music by Peter, Paul & Mary from Vol 2; Rudy, A Message To You by The Specials from Vol 3; Serious Drugs by BMX Bandits from Vol 4; R.E.M.’s Daysleeper from Vol 5…you get the idea.

Secondly, I love placing songs next to each other which shouldn’t really be there, songs which you would never have thought to play alongside each other but which somehow work (I think/hope).

Thirdly, I do love to slip in a tune which makes the listener think: ‘Blimey, I’ve not heard this for ages’ or ‘Cor, I’d forgotten all about this!’ (Not that anyone really says ‘Cor’ or ‘Blimey’ outside of a Carry On film anymore.)

Fourthly, end on something magnificent, just like you would want any gig or DJ set you went to in real life to do. Go out on a high, always leave ’em wanting more etc etc.

You’ll find examples of all four of these character traits on tonight’s brand new shiny mix, so let’s get the admin out of the way and crack right on, shall we?

Admin Part 1: any skips or jumps are down to the mixing software (I counted two when I listened back to this one); any mis-timed mixes are down to me (there’s one that’s a bit clunky here, I’m afraid; all record selections are mine (you’d better believe it, baby).

Admin Part 2: two of the tunes featuring this week contain some effin’ and jeffin’. One of those two contains a lot. Therefore this warning is most definitely required this week:

Friday Night Music Club Vol 8

And here’s your track listing. Look away now if you like it to be a surprise:

  • Death In Vegas – Dirge
  • Marilyn – Calling Your Name
  • Dexys Midnight Runners – Geno
  • The Pogues – The Sick Bed Of Cuchulainn
  • Pixies – Nimrod’s Son
  • Super Furry Animals – Golden Retriever
  • New Order – Regret
  • Missy Elliott featuring Ludacris – Gossip Folks [Fatboy Slim remix]
  • Miike Snow – Animal [Crookers Remix]
  • Fatboy Slim – Everybody Needs a 303
  • The Beloved – Your Love Takes Me Higher [7″ mix]
  • Bentley Rhythm Ace – Bentleys Gonna Sort You Out
  • The Police – Every Little Thing She Does Is Magic
  • Belle & Sebastian – Seeing Other People
  • Beck – Deadweight
  • The Primitives – Spacehead
  • Ride – Twisterella

That’ll do.

More soon. I may even post something else before next Friday, you never know.

Letter From God To Man

As it’s Bank Holiday here in the UK, and with apologies that do have to get up and go to work today, there seems no need for a New Mood on Monday post.

Instead, I can’t think of a better way to round off a long weekend of religious-ish tunes than with this Radiohead-sampling bit of raging genius which contains a grim message:

Dan Le Sac VS Scroobius Pip – Letter From God To Man

I don’t often post lyrics to the songs I feature, but Scroobius Pip’s lyrics are simply something else.

Come on everybody, sing-along!:

This is a letter from God to Man

“Hey there, how-how’s it going?
Long time, no see

I know I haven’t been around much lately
But it didn’t seem like you wanted me to be
The last time I sent down a message
You nailed it to the cross
So I figured I’d just leave you to it
Let you be your own boss

But I’ve been keeping an eye on you, I have
And it’s amazing how you’ve grown
All your technological advances
And the problems you’ve overthrown
And all the beautiful art you’ve created
With such grace and such finesse
But I admit there are a few things I’m afraid
Have impressed me less

So I’m writing to apologize
For all the horrors committed in my name
Although it was never what I intended
I feel I should take my share of the blame
All the good I tried to do was corrupted
When organized religion got into full swing
What I thought were quite clear messages
Were taken to unusual extremes
My teachings taken out of context
To meet the agendas of others
Interpretations taken too many different ways
And hidden meanings discovered

Religion became a tool
For the weak to control the strong
With all these new morals and ethics
Survival of the fittest was gone
No longer could the biggest man
Simply take whatever he needed
Cause damnation was the price
If certain rules were not heeded

Some of the deeds committed in my name
Just made me wonder where I went wrong
Back at the start when I created this
The foundation seemed so strong
See, all the elements were already here
Long before I began
I just kind of put it all together
I didn’t really think out a long-term plan

I made the sun an appropriate distance
And laid the stars across the sky
So you could navigate the globe
Or simply watch a sun rise
I covered the earth with plants and fruits
Some for sustenance and some for beauty
I made the sun shine and the clouds rain
So their maintenance wasn’t your duty

I tried to give each creature its own attributes
Without making them enveloped
I gave you all you all your own space to grow
And, in your own way, space to develop
I didn’t know such development
Would cause rifts and jealousy
Cause you to war against each other
And leave marks on this planet indelibly

You see, I wasn’t really the creator
I was more the curator of nature
And I want to set things straight with homosexuals right now:
I don’t hate ya
I was a simple being
That happened to be the first to yield such powers
I just laid the ground
It was you that built the towers

It was you that invented bombs
And the fear that comes with them
And it was you that invented money
And the corrupt economic systems
You invented terms like “just war”
And terms like “friendly fire”
And it was you that didn’t know when to stop digging deeper
When to stop building higher

It was you that exhausted the resources
I carefully laid out on this earth
And it was you that even saw these problems coming
But accredited them little worth
It was you that used my teachings
For your own personal gain
And it was You that committed such tragedies
Even if they were in my name

So I apologise for any mistakes I made
And when my words were misconstrued
But this apology’s to Mother Nature
Cause I created you

Everything is broken
Everyone is

More soon.