I was toying with the idea of moving the freelance reprints to a sub-domain, as their more hem-hem "professional" tone sits badly alongside the more informal personal blog posts. But then I thought: sheesh, why make things more difficult for people? So I'm going to revert to the earlier concept of Freelance Fridays, saving any gig reviews from earlier in the week until then.

Looking at my last.fm events calendar for the rest of 2008, I can already promise you heaps and heaps of gig reviews. Here's the current list of forthcoming attractions:There will also be interviews with Phil Oakey from The Human League, Otis Williams from The Temptations, Will Young (which looks like being a rare face-to-face job... as it were... eek!), hopefully The Hold Steady - and doubtless several more, once the summer lull is over.

That's if I don't get all arsey and refuse them all. Just yesterday, I sniffily turned my nose up at some WWF dude, Justin Hayward or John Lodge from the Moody Blues, and The ALL! NEW! LEGALLY RECOGNISED AT GREAT EXPENSE, SO DON'T EVEN TRY IT! Drifters, none of whose members were even in the group before 2008.

During my mini-break, I also wrote a preview piece for Nottingham Pride, in which I attempted to explain the continuing need for gay pride festivals.

I was also scheduled to interview Rufus Wainwright - but agonisingly, I had to pull out with just twenty minutes to spare, on account of being dragged into a Very Important Conference Call (in the course of which I spoke just one word, that word being "Hello"). However, Simon at the Post (his blog is here) stepped into the breach at almost no notice, and was kind enough to ask Rufus nearly all my pre-prepared questions. (Also crediting me on the finished article with "interview research". He really does look after me awfully well. I am blessed.)

Anyhow, if you'd like to read my sort-of interview-by-proxy with Rufus Wainwright, please click thisaway.

And while I'm here: apologies for yesterday's lack of posting, which was not exactly the best way to demonstrate that I have Turned Over A New Leaf, but then I was too busy dealing with the emotional fall-out arising from our being Named and Shamed on the village blog.

In the meantime, I'm still commenting regularly on Tom Ewing's superb Popular blog over at Freaky Trigger, which has now reached the second half of 1978. I know that Tom would love it if more people contributed to his comments sections - so if you enjoyed pitching in on this year's Which Decade Is Tops For Pops, then this might be the place for you. (We do disappear up our own fundaments at times, but please don't let that put you off.)

If last night’s show was any fair measure, then the audience for Drive-By Truckers – a six-piece alternative country-rock band from Athens, Georgia – divides neatly into two.

For some, the quasi-literary narrative style of the lyrics was the main attraction. Most Truckers songs, whether composed by the shaggy, imposing Patterson Hood, his leaner co-vocalist Mike Cooley, smiling bassist Shonna Tucker or former member Jason Isbell, take the form of carefully crafted mini-dramas, which demand close attention.

Meanwhile, a smaller but more vocal faction was happy to respond on a gut level to the band’s sturdy Southern boogie, and to the exultant drive of their so-called “three axe attack”.

For the first half hour or so, neither tribe were best served by the slightly samey mid-paced chug on offer. Muffled by the mix, the vocals remained impenetrable to all but the most word perfect of diehards – and despite the brilliance of their execution, there was something interchangeable about all those guitar jams.

Just as apathy threatened to set in, the Truckers shifted gear. The harrowing You And Your Crystal Meth dipped the mood to powerful effect, while the suppressed fury of The Righteous Path evoked Neil Young at his most blistering.

The absolute highlight was saved for the encore. Taken from 2001’s much loved breakthrough album Southern Rock Opera (essentially an extended homage to Lynyrd Skynyrd), the compelling Let There Be Rock was played from the heart, both the band and the crowd finally shedding their last vestiges of studious detachment.

Labels: eveningpost, gigs, popmusic

Listening to this rootsy, rambunctious take on pre-WWII Mississippi Delta blues and Appalachian “mountain music”, you’d never guess that its practitioners hailed from a different set of mountains, several thousand miles northwards. As it turns out, the Agnostic Mountain Gospel Choir have transplanted the music of the Deep South up to their native Calgary in Canada, where they have developed their own twists on tradition.

Recorded mostly live, and overdubbed with bursts of slide guitar and dilapidated junk shop trombone, the mostly self-penned songs tend towards the fast and furious, adding an almost punk-rock energy while paying clear nods to Tom Waits and Captain Beefheart. It comes as no surprise that Seasick Steve has already voiced his approval.

This album’s appeal lies less with song craft and emotional range – the mood being uniformly joyous throughout – and more with the sheer pleasure to be had from the band’s playing. On the strength of this hugely enjoyable set, next Wednesday’s show at the Bodega should be well worth catching.

****

Labels: albums, eveningpost, popmusic

Ooh, MEEM. Perfectly timed for the new bash-it-out-regardless regime, say I.

(This came from Cliff.}

1. My uncle once: blew up aeroplanes (legally), to see what would happen to the luggage.

2. Never in my life: have I even got as far as First Base with a lady.

3. When I was five: I wrote my first short story, a simple ode to independent enterprise called The Egg Chick.

4. High school was: a cruel, loveless environment for a sensitive, mixed-up kid like me, and I bore the scars for years (and still do, a little bit).

5. I will never forget: the (very long) name of that mountain in New Zealand, as recited by Quantum Jump at the start of their 1979 hit "The Lone Ranger".

6. Once I met: Miss Rotherham Advertiser 1981.

7. There’s this girl I know: who's bright, and sharp, and funny, and interested in the world around her, and irrepressibly, infectiously positive in her outlook - and I can't wait to see what she does with her life, because I suspect she'll do a lot.

8. Once, at a bar: a stripped-off stripper coaxed me into stroking his freshly oiled torso - the error of which I only realised once he'd moved on, leaving my hands rancid with thick, noxious gloop.

9. By noon, I’m usually: just about coming into full mental focus.

10. Last night: I went to a twenty-first birthday party, where the birthday boy socially engineered me into sitting on the Young People's Table - which was initially nerve-wracking but ultimately great, as the Young People that I talked to were ace and I had some of the most stimulating conversations that I've had in a long, long time (it's tough restricting some of these answers to a single sentence, innit?).

11. If only I had: more confidence in my abilities.

12. Next time I go to church: it will be to show someone the truly beautiful new stained glass window that was installed in June.

13. What worries me most: are self-invented and illusory projections of doom, which prevent me from getting things done.

14. When I turn my head left I see: a nice pregnant lady.

15. When I turn my head right I see: a recently vacated desk (she's buggered off to Bournemouth).

16. You know I’m lying when: hell freezes over, as I'm congenitally incapable of lying (exaggerations, half-truths and strategic omissions are as close as I can get).

17. What I miss most about the Eighties is: the weekly music press.

18. If I were a character in Shakespeare I’d be: something flighty and pouffy, like Puck.

19. By this time next year: K's life will be a whole lot better, you mark my words.

20. A better name for me would be: Doubled Trivia, as an ex-blogger waggishly dubbed me in the early days.

21. I have a hard time understanding: what you're saying, unless I can see your lips move (so maybe it's time to recharge the stopper bottle with olive oil).

22. If I ever go back to school, I’ll: make sure it's during the holidays, when no one's around.

23. You know I like you if: I can talk freely in your company.

24. If I ever won an award, the first person I would thank would be: the person who gave me the award, like DUH.

25. Take my advice, never: ring-fence your tastes.

26. My ideal breakfast is: a freshly baked buttery croissant, followed by scrambled egg with smoked salmon.

27. A song I love but do not have is: Don't Go Breaking My Heart, by Elton John and Kiki Dee (I had to think for a long time about this one).

28. If you visit my hometown, I suggest you: visit the market.

29. Why won’t people: do as they would be done by?

30. If you spend a night at my house: you'll be glad you did, as we're bloody good hosts and the guest facilities are, frankly, gorgeous.

31. I’d stop my wedding for: all eternity, as I'm already civil partnered and have absolutely zero desire for an upgrade.

32. The world could do without: wasps (please note lower case, as I have no wish for self-extinction).

33. I’d rather lick the belly of a cockroach than: jump in the deep end, or drive down a motorway.

34. My favourite blonde(s) is/are: Kevin Ayers in the early 1970s, Deborah Harry in the late 1970s.

35. Paper clips are more useful than: protractors and set squares.

36. If I do anything well it’s: unlikely that I'll keep quiet about it, as I'm a boastful little sod.

37. I can’t help but: worry that my revisions won't show up on the RSS feed.

38. I usually cry: during Desert Island Discs, at the end of Breakfast At Tiffany's, and when the housemates get their messages from home on Big Brother.

39. My advice to my child/nephew/niece: if you're good at something and you enjoy it, then stick with it.

40. And by the way: you're beautiful, did anyone ever tell you that?

I'm tagging: Reluctant Nomad, who hasn't blogged since May 2007 (and if I can come out of mothballs, then so can he).

...which makes it an ideal time to dip my toe back in the water, of course. (Hell, do I even have any readers left?)

I'll spare you the bulk of the navel-gazing - but oh, my darlings, I have been blog-blocked for The. Longest. Time. (Maybe I still am. We shall see.) It's been a Misplaced Paradigm thing, I think.

This place used to be a hit-and-run, don't-look-back, bash-it-out-in-your-coffee break kind of enterprise - in intent, if not always in execution. (I'm often at my most productive when expectations are set at their lowest. It's a simple sleight of hand, and I can be good at self-sleighting.) But then, that's how blogs were, back in the day. Then the (perceived) paradigm shifted, and deftly crafted, neatly turned, on-topic, stylistically consistent, passively-aggressively careerist (I don't altogether mean that, but let it stand) essaylets became the norm. And so began the (almost wholly imagined) peer pressure.

And then the freelancing thing came along, and with it the imperative of discipline. Word counts; neutrality; taking the "I" out of everything. Which, once you've mastered the processs, can cast an unattractive back-shadow over what you have come to see as your juvenalia.

Except - and I only realised this the other day, when necessity sent me back to an archived piece from 2002 - the juvenalia wasn't really all that juvenile after all.

In fact, now that I can view it from a reasonably objective distance, some of it was really quite, you know, good. And that made me sad. Sad for what had been lost.

So I'm stepping back into the saddle, but hopefully on my own terms. Jeez, it's a freaking blog!