Older readers may remember that faintly hilarious photo-spread of our lovely cottage, which appeared in Period Living magazine a few years back. ("Will I be cooking lunch, or will I be cooking dinner?") Well, now it's the PDMG's turn to bask in the limelight, courtesy of a sumptuous six-page feature ("Peak of perfection") in the current edition of The English Garden magazine (available in your local newsagents for the next two or three weeks, hurry while stocks last).

This time round, the prose is a good deal less purple, and a good deal more factually accurate... until you get to "Mike And Kevin's Tips For Tiny Gardens" at the end of the piece, that is. Pruning is crucial! Mulch the beds! Keep the edges immaculate! Oh, it's pure Viz comic.

As for the photos - which were taken over two seasons, mostly at the crack of dawn - they couldn't show our humble plot in a more flattering light. It doesn't always look that good - but it's nice to know that very occasionally, it does.

The photo set was completed by a portrait of the happy couple themselves, enjoying a relaxing (and empty) cup of tea in the spring sunshine. (We got us best Wedgewood Queensware out, as the occasion demanded.) It's a pity that I'm squinting in the sunshine, but will you just LOOK at that healthy glow - achieved by our friend Shirl, who did a cracking job with the kitchen foil, just off camera. (K leaves NOTHING to chance.)

Just one minor quibble: did the magazine have to use the word "tiny" quite so often? We like to think we're "deceptively sizeable".

Stalkers please note: the PDMG will be open as part of our village's Gardens Open Day on Sunday June 21st. And you'll be most welcome.

Labels: cottage, mediawhoredom, pdmg

Nottingham latched onto the house boom long before most cities but was too cool for smiley T-shirts, as Mike Atkinson recalls...

For me, it all began at The Asylum, in the autumn of 1982. Tucked round the back of Woolworths on Stanford Street, the basement venue had previously been a gay club called Whispers – and as a hangover from those times, it continued to sell little brown bottles of amyl nitrate (“poppers”) from behind the bar. “Avoid direct contact with the nose”, said the label – and so, knowing no better, we would hold the bottles at chin height, making vague wafting motions and wondering why nothing was happening. Ah, such innocent times.

The Asylum wasn’t Nottingham’s first poser’s paradise – that honour would probably go to the Saturday “futurist” nights at Rock City – but it was perhaps the first club in town to adopt the ethos of London venues like The Mud Club and The Wag. The music didn’t change much from week to week, but we were happy with the familiarity of Blue Monday, Buffalo Gals, Planet Claire, The Cure’s Let’s Go To Bed, Blancmange’s Feel Me and Lies by the Thompson Twins. A year later, as its allure began to dwindle, a new place opened up in the Lace Market: the legendary Garage, run by the Selectadisc crew.

Back in the day, the Garage’s clientele split right down the middle, mingling only in the ground floor bars. Upstairs was for the togged-up trendies; downstairs was for the crimped and buckled Goths. Our gang liked it better upstairs, where Graeme Park mixed style-pop with funkier stuff, gradually nudging the music policy towards the latter. By the middle of 1985, the conversion was complete, with the harder, tougher sounds of early Def Jam (Beastie Boys, LL Cool J) and Washington DC go-go now dominating Park’s dance floor. Twelve months later, Chicago house hit The Garage – and clubbing was never the same again.

Your entry was never guaranteed, though – for this was also the age of style fascism, led by the fashion pages of The Face, Blitz and i-D. “Dress up, dress down, dress sideways – but above all, dress”, ordered one of The Garage’s posters – and the door staff had been instructed accordingly. One Friday night, a group of us showed up in less than cutting-edge apparel, only to be turned away at the door. “But we’re interesting, creative, exotic people!”, I pleaded – not entirely seriously, but giving it a last-ditch shot none the less. “Oh, OK, you’d better come in then”, muttered the doorman, remembering his brief. A couple of months later, faced with the problem of sneaking in a mate-of-a-mate with a streaked mullet and stone-washed jeans, I tried the same line again, with equal success. It was like uncovering a magic password.

1988’s fabled Summer Of Love might have revolutionised the scene in London and Manchester, but the acid house explosion largely passed us by. Down at The Garage, now re-branded as the Kool Kat, Graeme Park continued to ride the entire spectrum of BPMs: half an hour of hip hop, half an hour of house, and back again. And it wasn’t druggy, either. The eccies didn’t make their empathy-inducing presence felt until the early Nineties, and so we continued to sulk in designer threads, sucking on bottles of Sol with wedges of lime stuck in the necks. Zhivagos in the Viccy Centre tried a one-off acid night, but it didn’t really work. The usual crowd turned up, aloof as ever, but obediently sticking their hands in the air because that was what you were supposed to do, right?

Meanwhile, James Baillie had opened The Barracuda on Hurts Yard, where Michael Murphy’s anything-goes “Queen Vic” nights became the stuff of legend. (Abba’s Dancing Queen, in a cool club? It felt radical at the time.) In the spring of 1988, Baillie and Murphy upgraded to Eden on Greyhound Street, and in late 1989 Ballie’s Venus – housed in the same venue as the old Asylum club – brought clubbers of my generation full circle. Next came the hazy hedonism of the Nineties – but that was a whole new chapter…

This interview can also be found in the current edition of LeftLion magazine.

Labels: nottingham, popmusic

This interview can also be found in the current edition of LeftLion magazine.

Two years ahead of the fabled 1988 Summer Of Love, The Garage on St Mary’s Gate became one of the first clubs – hell, perhaps even the first club - in the country to specialise in house music, (almost) all night long. And its introduction had nothing to do with smiley faces, bandanas, MDMA-drenched Ibizan epiphanies, or any of that distracting flim-flam – and everything to do with the knowledge and enthusiasm of one particular music obsessive.

From late 1983 until the end of the decade, Graeme Park was Nottingham’s most pioneering, most influential and best-loved club DJ, whose residency at The Garage took a generation of clubbers on a journey from early Eighties style-pop to late Eighties garage and techno, via electro, hip-hop, rare groove, DC go-go, Chicago jack tracks, and all points in between. And it all began in one little shop on Bridlesmith Gate…

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If it wasn't for Selectadisc, I'd have never have been a DJ. I ended up in Nottingham more by luck than design, to be honest; I was playing in bands, signing on, and used to frequent Selectadisc: both stores, on Market Street and the smaller one on Bridlesmith Gate. Bridlesmith Gate is the one that I spent more time in; with the main shop, you used to walk past and be a bit frightened to go in. Apart from the fact that it was slightly more friendly, Bridlesmith Gate used to have the second hand department upstairs. In the singles department there was a guy called Mel, and then there was a guy called Jeff, downstairs in the albums part, and they were both very knowledgeable. And because I played in bands, like most 19 or 20-year olds who are really into music, I kind of knew my stuff. I used to buy what I thought were quite cool records, and what they thought were quite cool records.

One day when I was in there, they said, “Somebody’s ill, can you help out? It’s dead simple.” I knew it was dead simple, because I used to work at Saturday job at a record shop in Scotland. I ended up working there part-time. And when Mel left, I was in charge of upstairs, which was brilliant. That was about 1982, 1983. And the thing is, Brian Selby - the original owner - had his office was at Bridlesmith Gate. He’d often pop out to make a cup of tea, and ask what we were playing. So I got to know him really well.

Brian had a record label background - he used to have his own Northern Soul label. He was just really into music, you know? He dabbled with restaurants as well. He had some sort of diner called Zuckermans at the top of Hockley - at one point, he was kind of taking over the whole of the East Midlands.

I loved the fact that I was in charge of buying in the singles, because I had quite eclectic taste. I remember for example Madonna’s first single Holiday, which didn’t really do much. There was a great offer on it from the rep: buy one, get one free. I bought shitloads of them, because I knew it was going to be massive. But of course it wasn’t at first time round, and I got in trouble for buying so many. So by the time that it was a big record, Brian was dead pleased. We sold them all and made lots of money on them.

I also liked being in charge of buying in the second hand stuff. My eclectic collection owes a lot to the fact that people would come in, a bit down on their luck, and get rid of classic rock and pop albums. Stuff like The Doors, and Love, and all that late Sixties stuff that had gone out of fashion. I'd play them in the shop and go; “Wow, I actually get this band; I can understand why this is a classic album.” So I’d buy it for myself.

The other great thing about Market Street was that they had a massive stock of cut-outs, which used to be the name for cheap imports from Europe. Portuguese versions of British-released albums, with the corners cut off them; hence “cut-outs”. Brian could sell those for a lot less than the proper British releases. And people would go, “Well, you know what, for £4.99 you’re getting a cut-out and you’re paying £6.99 for the proper British version.” And they were just the same. Maybe the quality wasn’t as good.

Brian had access to all these warehouses that stocked all this stuff; Jim (Cooke, last manager of Selectadisc) and Brian used to drive around in this Transit van to get stock. One minute you’d be serving people in the shop, the next minute Brian would be running up the stairs. “Come on, we need you to help us unload the van.” You’d go downstairs, and he’d have got boxes and boxes of the new Big Country album that had just come out and was flying off the shelves.

I vividly remember the day that Brian walked in and said “Guess what, I’ve just bought: the Ad Lib club.” And I’m like, “You’ve bought the Ad Lib club? That seedy, dark place, where you can smell the weed coming out of it on reggae nights? Why have you bought the Ad Lib club?” He says, “Because I think Nottingham needs a really cool little club, just like the Wag Club in London. I think I could turn it into this cool club, where they play really cool music.” I said, “Brilliant, but what are you gonna do - close it and do it up?” “No no no. As of tonight” – because it was a Friday night or something – “I’m renaming it The Garage, and I want you all to come down". "So what about all the regulars?" “Well, they’re not getting in, it’s gonna be a new thing.”

"So who’s gonna be the DJ?" He goes, “Well, I thought tonight, opening night, you’re gonna do it.” And I’m like, “Whoa, hang on a minute - I’m not DJ-ing!” And he says, “Come on - one of the reasons you work here is that you know your stuff, and you play in bands, so it can’t be that hard to DJ.” I was like, “Well, I’m not convinced.” And then he pretty much said that if I didn’t agree to do it then I wouldn’t be working in Selectadisc. I'd only DJed once before. At school. For a laugh. My mate did a disco, and all he played was progressive rock - Deep Purple, Richie Blackmore’s Rainbow, Rush, all that stuff. And nobody was liking it. So I went home, got all my new wave and punk records, and played them. Everyone loved it, but I didn’t think: oh, this DJ-ing lark’s great. I just did it because I knew that this guy was just not happening at the decks.

So there I was, at The Garage, upstairs in this room where the DJ box was behind the bar. Downstairs they had a guy called Martin Nesbitt (the one and only Reverend Car Bootleg - LL), who played gothic, punk, dark stuff. And upstairs there was me playing anything and everything. I was playing current stuff; there was a lot of really great dancey pop stuff around like Orange Juice, The Associates, and of course New Order, Talking Heads, Blondie, all that kind of stuff. And I was playing lots of old Motown, Atlantic and Stax, a bit of old disco, and it worked really well. This was around 1983, long before house music.

Before I knew it, I ended up working there Wednesdays, Fridays and Saturdays. I took to it like a duck to water. People were saying “Oh yeah, you’re really good”. They’d come in the shop and go “Ah, you’re the DJ at The Garage”. It was then that I decided that I was really gonna concentrate on it.

I soon realised that by being a DJ, three nights a week, I was getting 25 quid a night extra, so 75 quid a week. I didn’t have to split that money, because in a band you have to lug all your equipment in your rented van, set it up, do a soundcheck, take it all down, lug it in the van, take it back, and you were lucky to end up with a fiver. Then Brian opened a place in Leicester called The Fan Club, so I used to do a night over there as well. Obviously, working in Selectadisc meant I had access to all the new stuff that came out, while Martin played lots of reggae and things like Sisters Of Mercy and The Cult, which of course Selectadisc sold. So it kinda worked really well.

Round about that time, thanks to the shop, I was introduced to electro: Afrika Bambaataa and The Jonzun Crew and all the early Arthur Baker stuff. I’d play it in the shop, and think: this is great, this is fantastic. But Brian would say, “What's this stuff you’re playing? I don’t like it. I don’t think we should be selling it.” And I’m like, “Yeah, but this is Arthur Baker; he’s working with New Order. Blue Monday, Confusion…massive records.” And Brian was like “I don’t mind you selling New Order, but I don’t think we should be selling this stuff. It’s too...”

Well, reading between the lines, he was saying it was too black. But I played it in The Garage, and it was just brilliant. And then in '85, all the early Def Jam stuff was coming in, but Brian wasn't keen on us stocking it. I had to keep working in the shop, and I wanted to play this stuff, but he wouldn’t let me buy it in. So in my lunch hour, I had to go to Arcade Records. And then came Roxanne Shanté, Big Daddy Kane, all the early hip hop stuff. Brian wasn’t keen on me playing it in the club, but obviously it was what people wanted. There were an element of people who were like, “When are you gonna play Once In A Lifetime?” and electro did piss some people off. But for every one person pissed off, you’d get three or four new people who were into what I was doing.

Then in 1986, all the early house stuff started coming in from Chicago and Detroit: J.M. Silk, Steve ‘Silk’ Hurley, Farley Jackmaster Funk, Derrick May, Rhythim Is Rhythim, all that stuff. And I thought: fuck me, this is incredible! I had to give up working at the record shop, because by then word had spread about what I was doing at The Garage and The Fan Club and I ended up doing nights in Sheffield and Birmingham. It was impossible to DJ and work in the record shop. But the record shop was still important to me, even though I had to pop down to Arcade to get the house/hip hop/dance stuff. I had – and still have – eclectic tastes, even though I’ve become known for mainly being a house DJ.

I still liked to listen to all kinds of music, and buy it. So I was still going into Selectadisc, where obviously I’d still get staff discount. Virtually all the records I played at the Hacienda came from Selectadisc; I was Djing in Manchester, and had moved to London, but I was still doing The Garage and I would always pop in to Selectadisc on Bridlesmith. In the late Eighties you still had bands like the Blow Monkeys, who I used to love - they embraced club culture and dance music: a poppy, rocky, indie-ish type band who were quite cool, but who had got the 12-inch mixes done. And let’s not forget New Order, who carried on working with club people and making 12-inch mixes.

Unlike many DJs, I haven’t got rid of my vinyl at all. There’s loads of crap that I’ve kept, that I may have to get rid of one day, but I’ve kept all of my vinyl. I’m 45 years old, I’ve been buying records since I was five or six, and the bulk of that collection is from Bridlesmith Gate. But the landscape's changed now; I lecture part time at a university in Wrexham, on a music production degree, my students are late teens, early twenties, and none of them buy physical product. But I’ve got a couple of mature students who are adamant that they have to buy the CDs. I said, well, what about bands, where do you all hang out, where do you all meet to get your music and stuff, and of course they all buy their music online, and they all make music on their own. They all just sit with their laptops, beavering away. Whereas at Selectadisc, people would go in there to buy something, get into a conversation, and end up being in a band. That stuff just doesn’t happen anymore. I suppose it’s all through Facebook, isn’t it?

I still go to Nottingham from time to time. I still do gigs, and my bank account is still in Nottingham. It was a big part of my life. In your early twenties, you’re working out what you’re going to do – and it was Brian Selby, Selectadisc, and The Garage that carved my path out. It was being a part of that whole thing: playing in bands, and all the parties, and playing the music that Selectadisc was selling… it was great, great times. And it was a great city then, as well.

Labels: interviews, nottingham, popmusic

(An edited version of this interview originally appeared in the Nottingham Evening Post. Natalie wasn't exactly the most forthcoming of interviewees - the words "blood" and "stone" spring to mind - but she's talented, and local, and I wish her well.)

I saw you supporting the Portico Quartet at the Malt Cross back in February, and really enjoyed your set. You had some technical problems, but despite that you still got a great reaction.

Yeah, the band didn’t turn up, because we couldn’t fit them all in [on the Malt Cross’s small mezzanine stage]. But I thought it went quite well. It was just me on my own, which was unusual. It is a nice stage – especially when I get to play on the piano, because I’m quite hidden then.

What’s your usual line-up on stage?

It’s me on piano, with Ben Martin on saxophone, Roger Jepson on cello, a flute player, bass and drums. I’ve just got a new bassist and drummer – it’s been about two weeks, I think – but we’ve already done two gigs, at the Jam Café and The Hub.

How often do you get to play out?

Recently I’ve had quite a few gigs, but normally I’d say a couple of times a month or so.

Have you done any out of town dates?

I did a couple in London, but that maybe a year ago now. There’s none coming up, but it is a priority. I’d like to do more out of town gigs, definitely.

How long ago was your [just released] debut EP recorded?

A few months ago. There are four tracks with the band, and then one with just me and piano. They’re all original compositions. The lead track is Joe, which I wrote quite a long time ago. It’s about a pimp, and it’s about prostitution. It’s quite a dark song.

I’m laughing, because my next question was going to be: are your songs based on personal experience?

That one wasn’t, definitely! Most of them are, but that one’s quite abstract.

When performing, are you baring your deepest, darkest soul to us – or do you adopt an onstage persona?

Most of it is me and my experience and my feelings, but there are one or two songs which I’ve made up. Just adopting a persona, like you say.

Do your songs come quickly to you, or do they take a long time to evolve?

Normally I go through periods of writing, so they do come quite quickly. I normally finish them within an hour or two.

Are you going through a creative phase at the moment?

I am, yeah. I’m writing quite a bit at the minute.

In terms of musical influences, who would you look to?

A band called Cocorosie, definitely. I love them. Aretha Franklin vocally, and also Nina Simone and Billie Holiday.

What do you make of the local music scene in Nottingham?

It is brilliant: friendly and supportive, and everyone knows each other. I think that’s the only problem with it, because it doesn’t seem to expand as much as it could. It’s quite in its own little circle.

So is this something you’re doing primarily for fun, or are you looking to make a full time living from music?

I’m definitely looking to make a career out of it in the future. That would be my dream, I guess.

Natalie Duncan’s EP is out now on Farmyard Records. Natalie is currently working on her debut album. You can listen to her at myspace.com/betweenthekeys.

Labels: eveningpost, interviews, popmusic

Anyone expecting the originally advertised support act was in for a disappointment last night, as The Noisettes turned out to be missing from the bill – mysteriously so, as they are still listed as the support for the remainder of Maxïmo Park’s current tour. Their place was taken by Bombay Bicycle Club: a likeable teenage indie band, whose album is due out in early July. Singer Jack Steadman put in an intriguingly eccentric performance, his face contorted into the sort of cringing, apologetic grimace that you might pull if you had just offended your grandparents with an off-colour joke.

In stark contrast, Maxïmo Park’s Paul Smith – as natty as ever in his trademark black trilby and a close-fitting maroon checked suit – radiated an ebullient, unshakeable confidence from the off, his energy levels never dipping for a single second of his hour and ten minutes on stage. Eyes bulging and arms akimbo, he spent much of the set perched on a raised area at the lip of the stage, allowing even the most tightly crushed punter at the back of the sold-out venue to enjoy a full performance.

For a band whose rabble-rousing, anthemic indie rock was always underpinned with thoughtful lyrics and a leftfield approach, Maxïmo’s latest album is a disappointingly safe and conventional affair, which sees them treading water artistically. Beefed up on stage, the new material worked well enough – particularly recent single The Kids Are Sick Again – but it paled in comparison to crowd favourites such as Graffiti (which opened the set) and Apply Some Pressure (the final encore). And by placing such an emphasis on getting the crowd to leap around and generally go mad, much of the band’s subtlety was lost along the way.

Maxïmo Park used to be a little bit arty, a little bit different. Nowadays, they seem happy to turn themselves into the Kaiser Chiefs. Given their talent and potential, you can’t help wondering whether they’re selling themselves short.

Labels: eveningpost, gigs, popmusic

Starting at 5:30 in the afternoon and ending shortly after midnight, Nottingham’s inaugural Spex Fest offered an opportunity to sample six experimental indie bands – most of them American – in a well-chosen line-up which showcased the diversity of the current scene.

Following opening sets from Lovvers and Shitty Limits, Icy Demons (from Chicago) took to the stage at 7:45. Arguably the most technically accomplished live performers of the day, the band played a dazzlingly eclectic set, drawing on influences that ranged from jazzy prog-rock to funk and dub, all underpinned with a keenly rhythmic intensity. If you’ve been mourning the demise of Stereolab, then Icy Demons might just be the band for you.

Rainbow Arabia (from California) are a boy-girl duo who combine dance-derived electronica with Middle Eastern influences, overlain with obscure, echo-heavy vocals and pealing guitar lines. They took a while to hit their stride – but when they did, the effect was compelling.

Times New Viking (from Columbus, Ohio) took things back to raw, lo-fi basics, with a thrashy, brutal simplicity that stood in stark contrast to the previous two acts. Appealing enough in small doses, there was something a little too one-dimensional about their approach, which would have benefited from a sharper sense of dynamics.

Telepathe (from Brooklyn) were perhaps the strangest, most awkward and most challenging act of the day, blending girlish innocence with an unsettling sense of menace. Melissa Livaudais and the splendidly named Busy Gangnes stood sweetly behind their keyboards and percussion, singing mostly in unison with frail, emotionless, unschooled voices – while a booming, throbbing, deafening maelstrom of sound crashed around the room.

Labels: eveningpost, gigs, popmusic

If you fancy enhancing your Eurovision experience with rolling "expert" commentary from a bunch of music bloggers, then head over to The Singles Jukebox, where I'll be joining the team.

Labels: eurovision2009

There's a staggering amount of Eurovision-related stuff on The Guardian's site this year: go here for the full index, and go here for tonight's liveblog, hosted by Heidi "H Factor" Stephens.

For a fully illustrated song-by-song preview of tonight's finalists, David Sim (hands up, who remembers Swish Cottage?) has done an excellent job on the Telegraph's website.

K's not around tonight, so I'll be watching the finals in splendid isolation, laptop perched on my knee... and to be honest, it'll be a nice change to be able to give the TV coverage my undivided attention.

Happy Eurovision, everyone. And while I'm duly horrified by the appalling scenes that took place in Moscow earlier today, isn't it ironic that the gay-baiting Russian cops have got HOMO in mirror writing on the backs of their uniforms?

Labels: eurovision2009

After taking a much-needed break from the obsessive Eurovision-blogging in 2008 - mainly because I wanted to experience last year's finals as a civilian, rather than as a fan-boy obsessive for once - I thought it might be fun to try and place this year's previews somewhere other than this here blog.

So, um, here you are then: a handy guide to ten of this year's more notable entries, which is also the cover story in today's Guardian Film & Music section.

As for predictions, I'm saying Top Five for Norway, Bosnia-Herzegovina, Turkey, Ukraine... and, oh go on then, the United Kingdom. For once, we may dare to dream...

Labels: eurovision2009

At first, they sound like a novelty act – but on closer inspection, there’s a real seriousness of purpose behind Michael Goldwasser’s Easy Star All-Stars project. It takes a certain amount of brass neck for a bunch of mostly American and Jamaican reggae musicians to dedicate themselves to their chosen task: that of producing thoughtful, inventive and entertaining full-length covers of classic British concept albums. But instead of coming across as flippant or sacrilegious, the band’s underlying respect for their source material – Dark Side Of The Moon, OK Computer and most recently Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band – shines through, breathing new life into the familiar songs.

There are eight people in the current touring version of the band, with most vocals split between the statuesque Kirsty Rock, the effervescent Menny More and the beaming, calming Rasta presence of Ras I Ray. Barring a couple of self-penned openers, the lengthy set divided fairly evenly between the Floyd, Radiohead and Beatles covers. The selections from Sgt. Pepper were lighter and cheerier, with the occasional artfully altered lyric – those cellophane flowers in "Lucy In The Sky With Diamonds" are now red, gold and green, for instance. But where Dark Side and OK Computer can tend towards the oppressively bleak, the All-Stars didn’t let the subject matter stand in the way of serving up a good time. If anything, a little more English gloom wouldn’t have gone amiss – but perhaps this wouldn’t have played so well with the crowd, sections of which were bordering on the delirious by the end of the night.

There were a couple of misfires. The Beat’s Ranking Roger showed up for a brief guest vocal, but sheepishly resorted to cribbing the lyrics from his phone. Considering that he only had one verse to sing, it was difficult to feel much sympathy. And the encore section dragged badly – firstly with Kirsty’s over-stretched attempts to re-create the vocal drama of the Floyd’s "Great Gig In The Sky", and secondly with an interminable meet-the-band jam session that brought the show to an anti-climactic finish. But set against these were a sparkling dub-style take on "When I’m 64", a lush, emotional "Breathe", a finely crafted "Paranoid Android", a complex yet danceable "Money", and much more besides.

There’s a good reason why this bunch have been almost permanent fixtures in the upper reached of the US Billboard reggae charts for most of the decade, and it was a pleasure to hear them weave their unlikely magic in front of such an appreciative audience.



COMING SOON: The Noisettes and - but of course! - an extensive preview of Eurovision 2009.

Labels: eveningpost, gigs, popmusic

The band themselves might be sick of the constant comparisons, but it’s hard to witness Doves’ return from the wilderness – it’s been four years since the last album – without remembering Elbow’s position this time last year. Both bands deal in a similar sort of weather-beaten Mancunian wistfulness: blending the melancholy with the uplifting, and addressing themselves more to the individual listener than the collective throng. And both bands have come back re-energised: offering fresh new twists on their classic sound, and trusting that the quality of the music alone will see them through.

But where Elbow’s Guy Garvey plays the showman, actively seeking a direct emotional connection with his audience, Doves’ Jimi Goodwin cuts an altogether more distanced, elusive, almost private figure. His band aren’t there to force their own interpretations of their music upon you. What you make of the songs is up to you. Everything’s left open-ended: from the impressionistic lyrics through to the obscure movie footage on the back wall.

At times, it seemed as if everyone in the room was lost in their own private world: concentrating on the exquisitely played material, without letting their faces give anything away. And then occasionally, an anthem like "Black And White Town" or "Pounding" would punch through: breaking the spell, and sending hands flying skywards.

A four-song encore climaxed with "There Goes The Fear", whose coda had the whole band bashing out funky percussion rhythms, their regular instruments abandoned. It formed the perfect moment for an unscripted extra encore, especially for the “Nottingham ravers” in the house who had been bellowing for it all night: the 1992 cult club classic "Space Face", recorded back when Doves were still known as Sub Sub. It was the one truly spontaneous moment of the night – and all the more welcome for it.

Labels: eveningpost, gigs, popmusic

With both Leon Jackson and Same Difference dropped by their record labels, Rhydian Roberts has turned out to be the dark horse from The X Factor’s 2007 finals. Last night at the Royal Concert Hall, in front of a packed and adoring audience of all ages, the reason for his enduring success became clear. This was no cheap cash-in job from someone who had been sold an empty dream, hoovering up the remaining pennies while there was still time. Instead, we were treated to a lavish stage show – there were eleven performers on stage, including a delightful four-piece string section – and a carefully rehearsed, musically ambitious, stylistically diverse and artistically satisfying musical experience.

The show opened with a lengthy, dramatic medley of two Meat Loaf numbers. Rhydian threw himself into one of the most challenging vocal performances of the night, stalking the stage like a man possessed, and wringing every last drop of drama from the material. It was an awesome statement of intent: grandiose, bombastic – and, let’s be truthful here, ever so slightly preposterous.

For Rhydian is a unique performer in every way – that extraordinary voice, those strange mannerisms, that gleaming white quiff – and tasteful understatement just isn’t his style. Sometimes, he played upon his eccentricities for laughs. His take on David Bowie’s "Heroes" was an exercise in high camp, and his cheesy dance routine in the middle of "Macarthur Park" was an absolute hoot – “like Michael Jackson meets Simon Cowell”, as one of the fans on his official forum observed.

Weirdly, none of these theatrical jinks got in the way of Rhydian’s remarkable ability to stir our emotions, when the material called for it. The night’s artistic highlight belonged to a simple, traditional song called "Myfanwy", which was sung in its original Welsh. It was a tender, heartfelt performance, sung with utter conviction. As the song reached its climax, a Welsh male voice choir appeared on the overhead video screen, adding their warm, rich tones to the song’s closing moments.

Other elements were harder to justify. Did Rhydian really need to abandon the stage for three lengthy costume changes, leaving his band to entertain us with a curious selection of instrumental numbers? And was it altogether wise to pick no less than five numbers from Shirley Bassey’s back catalogue, including the last three songs of the night? No matter, this was a sparkling show from a determined and likeable young talent, who has made his mark in his own very special way. Reality TV wannabes may come and go, but Rhydian Roberts is here for the long haul.

Set list:
Medley: I'd Do Anything For Love (But I Won't Do That) / Not A Dry Eye In The House
The Reason
Coming Home Again
Instrumental: Albinoni Adagio
The Living Tree
There Will Be A Time
Heroes
Instrumental: Classical Gas
Macarthur Park
To Where You Are
Myfanwy
Instrumental: Hypnotic
Get The Party Started
The Show Must Go On
This Is My Life
The Impossible Dream
Somewhere

Labels: eveningpost, gigs, popmusic

(An edited version of this interview originally appeared in the Nottingham Evening Post.)


(Photo taken at Sheffield Academy, Tuesday April 28, by phoenixlily)

It’s been four years between the last album and the new one [Kingdom Of Rust], so what have you been up to? Was there a chance to take a sabbatical break?

There was, yes. We took about four or five months off. We didn’t have a break for [second album] The Last Broadcast, and we had about a month off for [third album] Some Cities. Then with this one we said: look, let’s try and actually live like normal people – not in this weird travelling bubble, or studio bubble. It was a nice time to find ourselves again. When you’re in a band, it’s like this weird family you’re connected to – so we wanted to spend time with our other families! (Laughs) It was much needed.

Then from there it was like: right, fourth album, blank canvas. OK, we didn’t know quite where to start, or what the fuck to do. But a year later, we had all these songs. And we kind of stepped back from it, and we were saying: yeah, it’s good, but it’s a bit comfort zone for us.

Then we started upon our quest, if you like, to search for what we could do that’s different. We needed to push ourselves and go down different avenues for Doves. To almost justify coming back with a fourth album, it’s got to be different for us. So that became the long road to doing this album: what we could try and what we couldn’t try, what we could get away with and what we couldn’t get away with.

So there was a process of experimentation, where you were trying to push at boundaries and see where they’d take you?

It was almost on a song by song basis. It was like, where haven’t we been before? Right, let’s go down that road. Then when we came out of the recording sessions with all these songs, we wanted to pick almost polar opposites. On the album you get "Jetstream" followed by "Kingdom Of Rust": totally opposing songs. And everyone was like: you can’t do that!

But in a weird way, it works. It’s a strange Doves DNA stamp that we’ve got: we seem to get away with what other bands might not be able to get away with. (Laughs)

There are a few changes that I’ve picked up on. The album has a big, majestic, quite grand sort of sound, which can get very intense.

I’d agree with that. It’s possibly our most intense album, because it takes you through some dark passages. Thinking about it, maybe it was a reflection of some of the struggles we were going through with this album: personally and with the band. You can’t help but for it to come out, so it’s always a good stamp of where you were at the time.

But there’s a lot of optimism on that album as well. And there are also snapshots, which is what I call it when you take a picture with words. Lyrically, we enjoyed going into things that we haven’t really done so much.

The lyrics are quite impressionistic, aren’t they?

We’ve always liked songs that are ambiguous. In fact, we hate pinpointing what they’re about. Some are obvious, like "10:03" and "Jetstream". But there are others where we wanna keep it ambiguous, so the listener can put their own version of the story on them.

Anyone’s point of view is just as valid as ours. We might be coming at it from a different angle than what the listener might interpret it as, but that’s cool. That’s what good songs do.

What about "Kingdom Of Rust" itself? What’s the significance of that title?

It’s got quite a strange resonance, that song. We went away for four years, and literally the whole music industry imploded. We wanted to write a song with a bit of optimism, so the lyrics “It takes an ocean of trust in the kingdom of rust” hit a nice resonance with what’s going on today.

You’ve got a couple of your own lead vocals on the album, and it was interesting to note that they’re two of the more electronic influenced tracks.

In Doves camp, we always pass the mike. Jimi’s the main singer, but we always get tracks where we’ll go: you try it Andy, or you try it Jez. We’ll literally get the mike and try it. And if someone’s personality works best in the song, then that gets the vote. Jimi’s one of the first people to encourage other people to take the mike, so it was very natural. In fact, it wasn’t even an issue. The song’s got the ego, and not the individual.

You pride yourselves on this democratic approach – so egos get checked at the door, do they?

You know what? The democratic approach is fine, but it’s a pain in the arse. Everything takes twice as long. (Laughs) With quite a lot of bands, it all comes from one person: here are the songs, this is how they are, you can just play them. That’s never what Doves have been about. It’s always been about a sort of painful democracy, if you like.

Did you literally hole yourselves up in your converted farmhouse studio for months on end, cutting yourself off from the outside world?

Looking back on it now, I suppose we were isolated. We were almost in a tunnel, if you like. Halfway through, we were thinking there was no end in sight. We started to lose it a little bit. “When is the end in sight? When is it?” And so it just seemed to be this endless tunnel, with no light coming in.

But three-quarters of the way through, we started to see an album emerging, which was the most amazing feeling. It’s like you’re looking at a jigsaw puzzle and then suddenly in front of you, you can start to see the picture. So it was literally from the darkest point to the highest point, in a couple of weeks! (Laughs)

You’ve got a big tour coming up, where you’ll be spending two months on the road. I guess it’s been quite a long time, so have you had any warm-up dates?

We did six warm-up dates, and it was great. It’s something that’s been missing from being in a band. The live circuit has always been a part of us, and it was weird to be in a studio for so long and not do a gig. So it felt so good to get back there. That’s what being in a band is about: actually getting on stage and playing it, in front of the whites of the eyes in the audience.

It feels good to have fresh material in the set, and just to exercise these songs live is an amazing feeling. If you’re playing for a year, you get to understand the songs a little bit more, and you can have a different twist on them from the actual studio recordings.

It’s the old cliché: it’s the travelling and everything else that’s shit, but that actual hour and a half on stage is what you do it for.

Have you got any festival appearances coming up?

Glastonbury is confirmed now. We had two choices – the second stage or the John Peel tent – and we decided to close the John Peel tent on the Friday night. Just because we wanted word of mouth. Everyone was complaining: it’s not big enough, it’s not big enough! But it’s like: sod it, we want to get some atmosphere going in that old tent. It’s gonna be cool.

I’ve heard a few people comparing your position in 2009 with Elbow’s position this time last year. I hope no one’s putting any pressure on you to “do an Elbow”…

Well, that’s out of my control, isn’t it? We’ve done an album that we’re all very proud of, and that we’ve worked ridiculously hard on – so our work is kind of done in that respect. As for commercial pressures and all that, that’s out of our control now. What will be, will be. I don’t think we’ve done an interview, or an article, without people mentioning Elbow!

But there’s one thing that their success has shown: that if you make a bloody good record that can stand on its own qualities, then that record will actually see you through.

Well, yeah. I’m always a strong believer in that. When we went from [early 1990s dance act] Sub Sub to Doves, we thought people wouldn’t give us a chance, because of our prior history – but it just shows you how wrong I was. You do a good album, and I think people will appreciate it.

Labels: eveningpost, interviews, popmusic

(An edited version of this interview originally appeared in the Nottingham Evening Post.)

Having previously released reggae covers of Pink Floyd’s Dark Side Of The Moon and Radiohead’s OK Computer, what made you decide to cover The Beatles’ Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band for your latest project?

Our thing is that we like to do concept albums. We don’t just want to do a collection of songs, or greatest hits, in reggae. We want to do higher albums that work really well as a cohesive unit, where the songs make sense together. Sgt. Pepper’s is considered to be one of the first concept albums, so that made it a logical choice.

Besides that, our first two albums were – because of the source material – were somewhat dark, minor key affairs. We thought it would be a great challenge to apply our sound to something different: to a more upbeat, major key, pop-orientated album.

As a resident of New York City, is it important that the albums that you choose are all British? Because they’ve all been British so far.

I think it’s somewhat of a coincidence. Or maybe it’s just that the British make the best albums? I don’t know if this informs the decision-making, but I did grow up being something of a musical Anglophile – even with reggae, as a lot of my favourite reggae comes from British bands.

Were there any delicate negotiations involved, when it came to assigning tracks to your various guest artists? [Steel Pulse, Ranking Roger, Max Romeo, U-Roy, Sugar Minott, Frankie Paul, The Mighty Diamonds, Black Uhuru’s Michael Rose, Third World’s Bunny Rugs and others.] Or did they just do what they were told?

The funny thing is, that while Sgt. Pepper’s is considered by many people in the rock and pop world to be one of the greatest albums of all time, a lot of Jamaicans – while they might be familiar with The Beatles – don’t know the album. It’s such a well known album, but it doesn’t have a lot of so-called “hits” on it. There are songs that get played on rock radio each year in America, such as “Lucy In The Sky With Diamonds” and “A Day In The Life”, but you don’t hear a lot of the deeper album cuts. And therefore they haven’t been covered a lot. So it was great for us to be able to do songs like “Fixing A Hole” and “Getting Better”, that probably haven’t been adapted. I’m sure that there’s covers of every Beatles song, but they’re not so well-known.

Listening through to the Beatles originals, how easy was it for you to imagine them as reggae versions?

There were certainly some tracks that were pretty difficult. My overall first impression was that it would be a very difficult project. Partly it’s because the vibe of the album is very different from our first two albums. Partly it’s the reverence that people have for this album.

It’s always good to attack that sense of reverence.

Oh yeah, and I have no problem with doing it – but it’s something to think about. I spent about six months just writing the arrangements. The beginning period was really just listening to the album, and immersing myself on a deeper level. I was very familiar with the album from the time that I was a child, but I hadn’t really analysed it on an intellectual and musical level.

Certain songs came easier. With something like "Lovely Rita", I knew pretty quickly what I wanted to do with it musically.

I‘d have thought “Within You, Without You” would be a challenge. That was the one that I just couldn’t imagine, before I played the album. But I like what you’ve done. You’ve put that “Sleng Teng” rhythm underneath it…

Hey, you’re the second reviewer who caught that, which is great. That arrangement was really difficult, because originally part of it is in 10:8 time, and then in 3 time. With our previous two albums, I’d done a lot of experimentation with doing reggae in odd time signatures – but on this one, just because of the pop aspect of it, I wanted to keep this album for the most part in 4:4 time. So I knew I had to get some kind of 4:4 beat and rhythm to this song. So, yes, this one was pretty tough.

Our bassist Victor Rice, who also mixed the album, wrote the string arrangement. He did a brilliant job of making it work in basically 5 time over 4. And then the whole “Sleng Teng” thing didn’t come about until we were actually in the mixing studio. I was like: you know what, this just isn’t night. It’s just not good enough. And I was just fooling around, and I thought: what if I replace the original bassline for it? I’d somehow got the idea of interpolating “Sleng Teng”, and that really glued the song together for me. It gave me the drive that it needed.

Another song which I didn’t think would work is “When I’m 64”, but it’s one of the most enjoyable tracks on the album. Especially with that extended dub section, which has a kind of Rico Rodriguez feel to it…

Yeah, with the trombone. “When I’m 64” was also difficult. I think that in England, people understand that it’s somewhat of a tribute to the whole 1920s music hall genre. But in America, people couldn’t quite relate to it on that level. I know quite a few people who actually just don’t like the song. They think that it’s too corny: “This isn’t rock and roll, what is this?”

In the course of my life, I’ve heard a lot of reggae covers of other music that I thought were very corny. It could be corny because of the source material, or corny because of making it reggae. So I had to be really careful to give it something that would make it sound cool to reggae fans and rock fans alike.

I don’t remember exactly how I came up with the arrangement, but I was just somehow thinking: OK, Twenties music hall in London; I’m gonna transport that to early Eighties dancehall in Jamaica. It’s kinda got the vibe of a classic Sugar Minott song called “Herbman Hustling”, and then I was like: well, let’s get Sugar Minott in to sing this one.

Have you had any response, from the Beatles camp? Do you know if they’re even aware of it?

Well, we do all of our albums above board. Before we put anything out, we’re dealing with the management and the publishers. We don’t want to fly under the radar. We want everyone to hear this, and we wouldn’t want to give anyone a reason to sue us.

So a long time ago, we dealt with Apple Corps: the Beatles company that they set up in 1968, which still technically administers their business. We got approval from them, and then we dealt with their publishers, Sony ATV, which was a much more lengthy procedure. That being said, we’ve not yet heard a response from Paul or Ringo or Olivia Harrison or Yoko Ono – but we really, really hope to get some responses from them.

I’d like to think that if Paul heard this, he would like it. I’m pretty sure that he likes reggae, and it seems like he’s into experimentation. Even if this album tanks commercially, if Paul McCartney ever said to me “I really appreciate what you did with my music”, I would remember that for the rest of my life.

Will your live show be dominated by Sgt. Pepper, or do you split it between the other projects?

We do a pretty long show, and with this new album we’re certainly going to play the majority of it. But because so many people love Dub Side Of The Moon and Radiodread, we’re still going to give them a healthy serving of those songs as well.

Do you carry a mental shortlist of albums that you might consider for your next project?

Oh, sure. When we did Dub Side Of The Moon, we didn’t realise that we were going to create a series. But once that became somewhat successful, we’ve thought about many dozens of albums. There are some that I’ve even started writing arrangements for. So we have a bunch in mind for the next one. I can’t tell you what it could be, because we try to surprise people when it comes out.

For what it’s worth, my vote would go to REM’s Automatic For The People. I’d like to hear you tackle that one.

I will register your vote!

Labels: eveningpost, interviews, popmusic

Sticking out like a raw, throbbing thumb on the NME’s latest package of up-and-coming young bands, The Chapman Family faced the hardest job of the night: warming up the still sparse crowd, at the awkwardly un-rock-and-roll hour of 7pm, with their intense, thrashy, guitar-heavy squall. To add to the challenge, they were forced to compete for our attention with an annoyingly distracting overhead video screen, which was mostly given over to advertising the NME brand and the tour’s mobile phone sponsors. Worse still, they had to suffer the indignity of performing beneath an endlessly repeating multiple choice text competition: “Which town do The Chapman Family come from?”

To their credit, none of this deterred the band from delivering an impressively full-tilt, committed performance. Mercifully, the screen was switched off during the remaining three sets.

Notably less self-assured than their predecessors, Magistrates were likeable, but lacking in charisma. They were name-checked as a band to watch by Dawn from Black Kids, when she spoke to the Post last October – and it was easy to see the musical connection, as both acts deliver a light, tuneful, breezy brand of indie-pop. If you like Franz Ferdinand and MGMT, then Magistrates may well be up your street.

Heartbreak belong to the classic tradition of synth duos, but with an added drummer. Their singer sported a spivvy pencil moustache, teamed with a close-fitting leather blouson which sported the sort of shoulder padding last seen on Gary Numan in the early Eighties. Fully aware of his own preposterousness, he strutted and preened with a winning sense of self-belief, occasionally breaking into interpretive mime, and even a brief moonwalk. The girls down the front loved him, and he lapped up their adoration. The music drew on hi-NRG and Italo-disco influences, and was strongly reminiscent of the much hyped electroclash movement of 2002. It shouldn’t have worked, but it did.

Almost unknown at the start of the year, La Roux have been one of this year’s big breakthrough acts. Astonishingly, they had never even played live until just over two months ago, and so their learning curve has been a steep and public one. Backed by two synth players, Elly Jackson cut a startling presence on stage, her outsized quiff sculpted into a gravity-defying vertical point. Plagued by technical hitches in the middle of the set, she shrugged off the problems with self-deprecating humour. (“Thank you for forgiving me. I wouldn’t have done!”)

Somehow, this lack of slickness reinforced Elly’s compellingly flawed yet strangely winning qualities. Yes, her pitch control is all over the place, and she undoubtedly has a “Marmite” voice. You’ll either cover your ears in horror at the shrill screechiness of it all – or you’ll recognise that La Roux are all about celebrating human frailty and imperfection, and you’ll end up loving them all the more for it.

For in this age of airbrushed, Auto-tuned pop robots, who never quite seem fully real, it’s refreshing that the charts can still make way for a quirky girl with weird hair, an odd voice – and some cracking tunes to match.

Labels: eveningpost, gigs, popmusic

An edited version of this interview originally appeared in the Nottingham Evening Post.


(Photo taken in Toronto, April 5th 2009 - the night before this interview - by chromewaves)

Congratulations on going Top Ten with “In For The Kill”. Did you expect the song to do so well?

It’s kinda weird. I know it’s a pop song, and that with the right exposure and the right push behind it, we always knew it could get to where it’s got. But without things like radio backing, it doesn’t matter how good your song is; if no one hears it, no one can buy it. So it’s just all a bit of a gamble. It’s obviously one of those songs that people have heard once or twice and bought.

There’s also been a lot of buzz about the Skream remix, which is quite unusual for a remix.

Well, this is the thing. That’s helped. I think it’s probably about 50% of the reason why it’s sold so much, because that remix means that the song has reached people that it wouldn’t otherwise have reached.

It takes the song in quite a different direction. Was it a strange experience to hear it for the first time?

Yeah, I think it was. I was in a hotel in Exeter at the time, just after our first gig. I could only hear it on my laptop speakers.

Which is how most people hear their music these days, I guess.

I know, and it was exactly the same – so you might as well listen to it. And you’ve got to be clever with the remix. You’ve got to be sensible. A remix is about taking the song into a new vein. There would be no point in getting a really electro remix, because it’s already like that, if you know what I mean. So you've got to do something with it.

You first came to a lot of people’s attention when you placed fifth in the BBC’s “Sound Of 2009” poll at the start of the year. At that stage, you had one limited edition single and a couple of songs on MySpace, and you hadn’t yet played live. So how did all these tipsters find out about you?

I think it was just an industry buzz. That BBC poll was based on 130 people in the music industry – and that is pretty much most of the music industry, to be honest. People in the music industry had known about me for about a year, so it wasn’t that shocking. We didn’t know if we would definitely be in it – but to be honest, I really don’t care. I know that’s really bad. You know, I’m not dissing the BBC or anything...

But you were glad of it? You didn’t think: oh shit, I’m not ready yet, stop?

Not at all – it came at the perfect moment. And it was the perfect position. I wouldn’t have wanted to be any higher. If you’re at Number One in that poll, you deserve a fuck of a lot of expectation. You’ve got to have your album ready, then you've got to come back with a whole load of press – a whole load of bang, bang, bang – or people forget.

I think being at Number Five is a nice thing, because it’s slow and gradual. But I don’t think it makes any fucking difference whatsoever. Yeah, it’s important, and we wouldn’t have had as much awareness without that poll. But in terms of meaning anything real, it’s not going to affect record sales or anything like that. It doesn’t matter whether you’re in the poll not; if you’ve got strong songs and a good label behind you and good management, it’s gonna work.

Do you still keep tabs on what people are saying about you in the press, or is that a bad idea at this stage? Do you Google yourself, for instance?

No, no, no, no, no, no, no, no. Do you know what? I have absolutely no interest. I don’t go on YouTube. I check my front page messages on MySpace, but that is literally it. You only have to read one nasty thing about you on the Internet to make you never want to look for it again. It’s just not worth it. For every five people who like you, there’s gonna be five people who don’t like you.

And anyway, it’s all losers on the Internet. Anyone who’s got enough time to fucking sit there and comment and slag people off… It’s nice to write positive things, and if people feel compelled to write positive things, that’s different. I don’t think that means you’re a loser or anything…

It’s easy to hate...

How much of a sad bastard have you got to be to fucking sit there and slag people off on the Internet all day? Get a life, seriously!

What stage are you at with the album?

Oh, the album’s finished. It’s all done. It’s out in June. We’ve been writing it for four years.

Is that four years as a duo with Ben [Langmaid]?

Yeah. It was essentially a solo act, until we realised that it wasn’t a solo act – in that it’s not just a producer/singer situation. We produce together, and we write the lyrics together, and so it was more of a Goldfrapp thing. The songs are all about my life, and I’m the front woman, and I am “La Roux” – but in the studio, we are a band and it’s like Goldfrapp.

[Ben] doesn’t come out live or anything. He’s just not really interested, and I am the “face”, as it were, of La Roux.

I mean, I am La Roux – but we are La Roux at the same time. It’s kind of confusing.

The Goldfrapp thing helps to settle it in my mind, actually.

Yeah, I don’t know what I’d do without Goldfrapp, in order to explain things. I don’t know how they explain things; you’ll have to read some old interviews of theirs.

But you’ve gone in an opposite direction from Goldfrapp. They’ve moved from electronica into a more acoustic singer-songwriter vein, whereas you’ve done the reverse. Was there a moment of revelation, when you discovered the joys of the synthesiser?

Yeah, there was. I started fucking about on the synths one afternoon at a mate’s house. He used to make tunes in his bedroom. He dabbles in various areas of the industry – a bit of tour managing here and there – and we used to hang out. I used to go up to Dalston and not leave for days on end. He got me to play guitar on someone’s track and he said: do you wanna start making a tune, just for fun? And I was like: yeah, OK. Then he gave me a synth and he was like, do you wanna put some chords down on this? And then I was like, fucking hell, this is amazing!

Then I wrote “Colourless Colour”, which is on the album. It kinda spurred off my synth love. Then I went back to Ben and said: I wanna do this instead.

Did you junk all songs that you’d written beforehand?

No, no, no. “Fascination” was the first song me and Ben ever wrote together on guitar.

Did it change the way you put songs together?

We don’t write on guitar anymore, but we still go through the same process. You get four or five chords that you really like, and then you start humming over them. And you find some lyrics, and find a melody, and go from there really. So it’s the same process, but on a different instrument.

I was reading some old interviews, and in one of them you were asked to pick five words to describe your music. One of the first words you picked was “cheap”. People don’t normally describe music as “cheap” in a positive way, so what are its virtues?

We have one of these synthesizers called a Matrix. It’s by Oberheim and it’s fucking brilliant. It’s not like a keyboard synth. It’s just a rack with a plus and minus button to go through the presets. And it comes out with these noises that… there is no other way to describe them, apart from cheap and nasty. They’re just really tinny and thin and tacky and scratchy and plonky, and I love sounds like that. Really angular.

Obviously it doesn’t sound cheap now, because it’s been mixed and mastered and stuff. But some of our early demos were like old tracks from “Speak and Spell”. Really, really, really dry and beepy and angular. Then as the album grows, it starts to become more and more expensive… (Laughs)

Do you see yourself retaining that certain cheapness in your sound? Or could you ever imagine yourself hiring an orchestra and going for that whole epic, widescreen production?

No, I’m probably gonna go really epic, I reckon! (Laughs) But hopefully still with those cheap sounds in it. Songs like “Tigerlily” have that. They’ve got that slightly epic thing, but they’ve also got a cheap kind of Caribbean feel.

Do your songs come directly from personal experience, or do you like to invent characters and situations?

No, I can’t do that. I’m really good at lying (laughs), but I’m really bad at making stuff up. So it’s all totally from personal experience.

So how much of La Roux is a mask, and how much are we getting the real you, baring her soul on stage?

When you see me on stage, that is totally me: baring my most personal, most upset, most tragic moments, as it were. That really is what you’re getting. I really mean that, as well.

The character of “La Roux” came after the songs, so the songs are totally and utterly me and they always will be. La Roux is the hair, La Roux is the clothes, La Roux is the stage persona as it were – but it’s just a slight exaggeration of what I actually am. It’s not a massive acting job, or anything.

Your first live show was only in early February: at the Notting Hill Arts Club, where you had a short residency. Then just over a month later, you were supporting Lily Allen on tour, and so playing in much larger venues. You must have had to scale up pretty quickly, so how did that go?

It was kind of weird. I remember the first night of the Lily Allen tour: being backstage in the dressing room and just kind of… not being nervous. And then being nervous about not being nervous. But there were about 2000 people out there, and I could hear them. And I was like: I’ve got to go from 200 to 2000 in the space of two weeks, with no extra rehearsal either.

It could have gone so wrong. But it didn’t! I fucking loved it! It was brilliant! I think I was just really ready for it, and now I’ll probably be slightly disappointed to be back on small stages.

In a strange sort of way, it might be easier in a larger venue – because you haven’t quite got that intimacy with your audience. If you’re playing the Notting Hill Arts Club, you can see the whites of their eyes – but if you’re playing the Glasgow Apollo or wherever, there’s just a dark mass in front of you.

Oh, exactly. It is much easier. You can be that character a lot more, and you can over-perform. You can’t over-perform in a venue with 150 people in it, because it doesn’t have quite the same impact. It just looks like you’re over-performing for the size of the venue. So you have to bring it back down again. I was really enjoying performing, and really getting into that persona of La Roux – and La Roux doesn’t really like small stages much. (Laughs)

You can retain a mystique in larger venues – whereas in a tiny venue, you’ve got to hop off the stage at the end, and go to the bar with everyone else. So there’s a bit of a disconnect there.

I like that distance, and it can be hard to maintain that distance. Last night [at a small showcase gig in Toronto] I literally had to walk off the side of the stage, pretty much into the crowd, and this girl just showed me her tits.

She was like: I’m just going to show you my tits. And I was like: can you please not? I really don’t want to see them. At all. And that’s really… woah, it’s in your face.

And you can hear everyone talking and stuff! They’re right there in front of you, so you can practically hear what they’re saying. You can go to the front of the stage and drop down to do a kind of emotional bit – and literally, their face is where your crotch is. It’s just a bit weird!

What’s the biggest lesson that you’ve learned from these past four months?

(Long pause) I think it’s the stuff you learn from doing live shows every night. It’s stuff that you can’t really pinpoint, or that you’ve specifically learnt – but you find yourself being more and more comfortable on stage every night. And the people that have seen you from the beginning really notice the changes.

Every night you go: hmm, tomorrow night, I think I’m gonna walk right over to the left of the stage. Or I’m gonna use up a bit more of the stage. It’s little things about a performance, that really make a difference. You start to learn through experience and practice. There’s no other way of learning, apart from just doing it.

It must be a period of very rapid personal growth.

Yeah, and also just learning about interview technique: what’s going to be taken in the wrong context, and what’s going to be taken in the right context.

And learning not to get bored with the same old questions?

Yeah, totally: to give the same passionate answers, just as you would the first time you were asked the question. Because it’s not going to be the same people reading it. It’s going to be different people.

Well, we appreciate that. Finally, a friend of mine is concerned about the grammatical inaccuracy of “La Roux”. He says that it should be “Le Roux” for a man, or “La Rousse” for a woman.

I dunno, it was in this baby name book! It was their fault! Obviously, “La Roux” looks much better written down. Also, I didn’t know it was wrong until about a month after I chose it. And I just didn’t give a shit, really. I just didn’t care. It’s so irrelevant.

To me, it means “red-haired one” – and it does, vaguely. It’s just a male version of “red-haired one”, which I think is even cooler, because I’m well androgynous anyway. So it kind of makes sense.

And Depeche Mode doesn’t make any sense! And loads of English bands, or any bands all over the world, they call themselves… you know, a name like… I dunno, I’m trying to think of something. (Pause) Well, the Eurythmics isn’t a real word, is it?

No, I suppose not.

Exactly! But no one goes on about that!

My friend thought it might be a conspiracy. Because “la” and “roux” aren’t meant to go together, and because they haven’t been used together before, he said you’d show up quicker on Google.

[Stunned] Really? Oh, that’s amazing.

But then the French for wheel is “la roue”, and the French for street is “la rue”, so you can defend it on those grounds. And the famous female impersonator is also called Danny La Rue.

I thought he was a transvestite? No, I was wrong?

I don’t think he likes that, no. He’s a female impersonator.

Oh, never mind! (Laughter)

Labels: eveningpost, interviews, popmusic

Two and a half years on from their last album, it feels like Basement Jaxx are itching to get back in the game. Instead of waiting for their forthcoming album Scars to be released (it's due in May or June), they've broken with convention, touring the new material before anyone has a chance to hear it elsewhere.

Perhaps the purpose of this tour, which kicked off the night before in Newcastle, is simply to remind us that Basement Jaxx are still a going concern, and anything but a spent force? If so, then it's a canny if unusual move.

The new stuff sounds good enough – particularly the addictively thumping new single "Raindrops", which the band had only performed once before – and appetites were duly whetted for the recorded versions, which will include guest spots from the likes of Yoko Ono and Lightspeed Champion.

But it was the band's sterling back catalogue which the capacity crowd had come to hear, and it was songs like the strident "Good Luck" (which opened the show), the ridiculously cheery 1920s throwback "Do Your Thing" and the relentlessly building momentum of Slarta John's "Jump N' Shout" which drew the loudest cheers from the surprisingly youthful audience.

The ten-strong line-up divided equally between the musicians and a fluctuating team of up to five guest vocalists, whose every re-appearance signalled yet another change of outfit. The outfits drew heavily on early 1980s hip hop influences, with plenty of bold primary colours, and the brilliant computer-generated animations at the back of the stage continued this bright, colourful theme.

As ever, the core creative duo of Simon Ratcliffe and Felix Buxton kept a relatively low profile, allowing free rein to the crew at the front of the stage. The diva-esque Vula Malinga was as loveably sassy as ever, the more lithe Joy Malcolm busted some amazing dance moves, and the interaction between all the performers felt fresh, spontaneous, sometimes cheekily provocative, and always full of fun.

The 100-minute set peaked with a thunderous, roof-raising "Where's Your Head At", which had pretty much everyone in the room pogoing on the spot and furiously pumping their fists. Bizarrely, it was prefaced by the opening lines of "Three Times A Lady", which cut off just as Lionel Richie was telling us that "there's something I must say out loud". The Jaxx are never anything less than eclectic, and their spirit of inclusion and open-mindedness is one of their greatest strengths – but who would have guessed that dear old Lionel would rank as one of their muses?

Labels: eveningpost, gigs, popmusic

Last night, I attended the big Eurovision preview party at the Marcanti club in Amsterdam, where around half of this year's contestants performed their entries. Cue much frantic, hasty and altogether "over-excited" tweeting:

Labels: eurovision2009

Over at The Art Of Noise, Ben has been running a series of fortnightly guest posts, in which contributors are invited to construct the line-up for their ultimate all-star supergroup.

This week it was my turn, giving me the opportunity to revive a line-up which I first put together at the age of twelve.

And so, ladies and gentlemen, I offer you... KING CONSTANTINE!

Labels: linkage, popmusic

(Click here to view all of this year's Which Decade posts on one page.)

Yes, folks: after seven years of judicious voting and meticulous tabulation, which have seen us examine 362 different singles from 37 different singles charts (allowing for a couple of tie-break rounds), I can now reveal the ULTIMATE answer to the question which I first posed to my readers in February 2003.

In fifth place, with a cumulative score of 172 points, it's The 1990s.


Never finishing higher than fourth place at the end of our seven annual "Which Decade" episodes, The 1990s have endured a rough ride. In 70 rounds of voting, our least popular decade has placed first on just eight occasions - a pitiful showing indeed. Let's list them again, shall we?

1993: Sweet Harmony - The Beloved.
1993: Ordinary World - Duran Duran.
1994: Girls And Boys - Blur.
1995: Reach Up - Perfecto Allstarz.
1995: No More I Love You's - Annie Lennox.
1996: Slight Return - The Bluetones.
1998: Never Ever - All Saints.
1999: Pretty Fly (For A White Guy) - The Offspring.

And in fourth place, with a cumulative score of 196 points, it's The 2000s.


The Noughties stiffed badly between 2003 and 2006, before rallying towards the end of the decade, and peaking in second place for the chart of 2007. Here are those 2000s winners in full (and with the benefit of hindsight, some of them are strange choices indeed).

2003: Lose Yourself - Eminem.
2004: Amazing - George Michael.
2004: Red Blooded Woman - Kylie Minogue.
2004: Toxic - Britney Spears.
2006: You Got The Love (New Voyager mix) - The Source featuring Candi Staton.
2007: Same Jeans - The View.
2007: Grace Kelly - Mika.
2008: A&E - Goldfrapp.

Now, here's a surprise: just like the 1990s, the 2000s only managed to notch up 8 winners out of 70. Instead, the mid-table was their natural stamping ground - placing them 24 points clear of fifth place, but a mere 15 points short of third place.

And in third place, with a cumulative score of 211 points, it's The 1980s.


The Eighties finished on top in just one annual round, and in the most unlikely year of all: 1985, which I have long considered to be one of the worst years in singles chart history. Its least popular year - and again, this comes as a surprise - was the fifth placing for 1988 in last year's contest. So, which Eighties records came out on top? Let's list them...

1983: You Can't Hurry Love - Phil Collins.
1983: Too Shy - Kajagoogoo.
1984: Jump - Van Halen.
1984: Relax - Frankie Goes To Hollywood.
1984: 99 Red Balloons - Nena.
1985: 1999/Little Red Corvette - Prince.
1985: You Spin Me Round (Like A Record) - Dead Or Alive.
1985: Dancing In The Dark - Bruce Springsteen.
1986: Borderline - Madonna.
1986: Chain Reaction - Diana Ross.
1987: Male Stripper - Man 2 Man featuring Man Parrish.
1988: I Think We're Alone Now - Tiffany.

Yes, that's still just 12 winning songs out of 70 - meaning that our two most popular decades have notched up 42 winning songs between them. Decisive, or what?

There's a big jump in the scoring between our third and second placed decades - but most nail-bitingly of all, a mere 4 points separate the winner from the runner-up.

So, who's in second place? Why, it's The 1970s, with a cumulative score of 235 points.


The Seventies won two annual rounds - but only 1976 enjoyed a clear, outright victory. On two other occasions, the Seventies were forced to go to a supplementary tie-break round. Last year, 1978 lost out to our winning decade on tie-break - but their luck was better in Year One, when they beat off a challenge from the 1980s. And the 19 winning songs were:

1973: Wishing Well - Free.
1973: Daniel - Elton John.
1973: You're So Vain - Carly Simon.
1973: Blockbuster - The Sweet.
1975: Angie Baby - Helen Reddy.
1975: Shame Shame Shame - Shirley & Company.
1975: Make Me Smile (Come Up And See Me) - Steve Harley & Cockney Rebel.
1976: Dat - Pluto Shervington.
1976: Mamma Mia - Abba.
1977: Daddy Cool - Boney M.
1977: Don't Leave Me This Way - Harold Melvin & The Bluenotes.
1977: Don't Cry For Me Argentina - Julie Covington.
1978: Mr. Blue Sky - Electric Light Orchestra.
1978: Uptown Top Ranking - Althea & Donna.
1978: Wishing On A Star - Rose Royce.
1978: Take A Chance On Me - Abba.
1979: Milk & Alcohol - Dr. Feelgood.
1979: Hit Me With Your Rhythm Stick - Ian Dury & the Blockheads.
1979: Heart Of Glass - Blondie.

And so to the decade which you, the readers of Troubled Diva, have judged to be the BEST! DECADE! EVAH! for pop music. Four points ahead of the 1970s, with a cumulative score of 239, it's...

THE SWINGING, THE FABULOUS, THE TOPPER-MOST, POPPER-MOST... NINETEEN SIXTIES!


The 1960s were the first-placed decade in four of our seven annual rounds, with three consecutive victories in the last three years. 1963 might have scored a comparatively low third place in Year One - but since then, it's been Top Two all the way. Over and over again, your votes have confirmed the increasingly inevitable: that the music of forty years ago will always be dearest to your pop-loving hearts.

Looking at the final scores once again, there's another clear conclusion to be drawn: that the quality of chart pop music steadily deteriorated from the Sixties to the Nineties, before rallying slightly in the Noughties. Can this be true? Is popular culture forever destined to be on a downward slide - or are there glory days yet to come?

There's only one way to find out - but it might take us another ten years to draw our next set of conclusions. So the question is this: have I got in me to reset the counters to zero, and to start the exercise all over again next year, with six decades instead of five to evaluate?

And the answer is this: maybe. Let's see how I feel in a year's time, eh? And if "Which Decade" is indeed to be reborn, then I'll have to move from my birthday week in mid-February to another month. Maybe I'll pick K's birthday week, in late May?

We shall see, readers. We shall see. But for now, let's sign off by thanking all of this year's voters: Adrian, Alan, Amanda, Andy, An Unreliable Witness, asta, betty, Billy Smart, bob, Chig, Clare, diamond geezer, Dymbel, Erithian, Geoff Mild Peril, Geoff Itinerant Londoner, Gert, Hedgie, Hg, jo, John, JonnyB, LB, Lena, Lizzy, LKSN, Marcello Carlin, Matthew, NiC, Nottingham's 'Mr Sex', Oliver, Raw P, Richard, Sarah, Simon, Simon C, Stereoboard, Sue Bailey, suz, SwissToni, The Lurker, Tina, Tom, Will and Z. Special thanks go to Gert, who has provided mini-reviews of all 356 songs over the years, and also to Marcello for his truly exceptional and magnificently interesting contributions in the comments box.

We conclude "Which Decade" with a lap of honour for our winner, whose 23 winning songs are listed below.

1963: Please Please Me - The Beatles.
1964: Needles And Pins - The Searchers.
1964: Not Fade Away - The Rolling Stones.
1964: Anyone Who Had A Heart - Cilla Black.
1965: Don't Let Me Be Misunderstood - The Animals.
1965: You've Lost That Loving Feeling - The Righteous Brothers.
1966: Keep On Running - Spencer Davis Group.
1966: You Were On My Mind - Crispian St Peters.
1966: 19th Nervous Breakdown - Rolling Stones.
1966: These Boots Are Made For Walking - Nancy Sinatra.
1967: Mellow Yellow - Donovan.
1967: Let's Spend The Night Together - Rolling Stones.
1967: Strawberry Fields Forever/Penny Lane - The Beatles.
1967: I'm A Believer - The Monkees.
1968: Judy In Disguise (With Glasses) - John Fred & His Playboy Band.
1968: Bend Me Shape Me - Amen Corner.
1968: Everlasting Love - The Love Affair.
1969: For Once In My Life - Stevie Wonder.
1969: Dancing In The Street - Martha Reeves & the Vandellas.
1969: Albatross - Fleetwood Mac.
1969: Blackberry Way - The Move.
1969: I'm Gonna Make You Love Me - Diana Ross & The Supremes & The Temptations.
1969: Where Do You Go To My Lovely - Peter Sarstedt.

Those archive links in full:
Which Decade 2003
Which Decade 2004
Which Decade 2005
Which Decade 2006
Which Decade 2007
Which Decade 2008
Which Decade 2009

Update: Listen to the winning songs on Spotify (UK readers only).

People, it's been an honour. Thank you once again! I love you all! XXX

Labels: whichdecade09

For the sake of completeness, and as these were never voted on at the time, let's take a quick peek at the Top Threes from the first three years of each decade.

First up, here are the top threes from 1960, 1970, 1980, 1990 and 2000. I'm going to highlight my favourites in green.

Number Threes:
Freddie Cannon - Way Down Yonder In New Orleans
Canned Heat - Let's Work Together
The Whispers - And The Beat Goes On
Beats International featuring Lindy Layton - Dub Be Good To Me
Oasis - Go Let It Out

Number Twos:
Cliff Richard & The Shadows - Voice In The Wilderness
The Specials - Too Much Too Young
Technotronic featuring Ya Kid K - Get Up (Before The Night Is Over)
Peter Paul & Mary - Leavin' On A Jet Plane
Sash! - Adelante

Number Ones:
Anthony Newley - Why
Edison Lighthouse - Love Grows (Where My Rosemary Grows)
Kenny Rogers - Coward Of The County
Sinead O'Connor - Nothing Compares 2 U
Gabrielle - Rise

So that's 2 points to the 1980s, and 1 point to the 1990s.
Let's move on to 1961, 1971, 1981, 1991 and 2001.

Number Threes:
Johnny Burnette - You're Sixteen
Ashton, Gardner & Dyke - Resurrection Shuffle
Ultravox - Vienna
Nomad featuring MC Mikee Freedom - (I Wanna Give You) Devotion
Limp Bizkit - Rollin'

Number Twos:
Petula Clark - Sailor
The Mixtures - Pushbike Song
John Lennon - Woman
The KLF featuring The Children Of The Revolution - 3AM Eternal
Wheatus - Teenage Dirtbag

Number Ones:
Elvis Presley - Are You Lonesome Tonight?
George Harrison - My Sweet Lord
Joe Dolce Music Theatre - Shaddup You Face
The Simpsons - Do The Bartman
Atomic Kitten - Whole Again

The 1980s now have 3 points, the 1990s have 2 points, and the 1970s have one point.
Finally, let's see what 1962, 1972, 1982, 1992 and 2002 have to offer.

Number Threes:
Let’s Twist Again – Chubby Checker
Son Of My Father – Chicory Tip
A Town Called Malice – The Jam
I Love Your Smile - Shanice
Hero – Enrique Iglesias

Number Twos:
The Young Ones – Cliff Richard
American Pie – Don McLean
Mickey – Toni Basil
My Girl - Temptations disqualified as a reissue, and replaced by Goodbye Girl - Wet Wet Wet
Whenever Wherever - Shakira

Number Ones:
Can’t Help Falling In Love / Rock-A-Hula-Baby – Elvis Presley
Without You - Nilsson
The Lion Sleeps Tonight – Tight Fit
Stay – Shakespears Sister
Evergreen / Anything Is Possible – Will Young

This gives us final scores - and remember folks, these are just for fun! - as follows:

1980s - 4 points
1970s and 1990s - 2 points
2000s - 1 point
1960s - 0 points

As might have been suspected, the early 1980s convincingly take the prize. And HA! Take that, 1960s! You weren't ALWAYS wonderful!

That's the interlude act over with, then. Next up, later today: THE FINAL RESULTS.

Can you contain your excitement? No, but can you though?

Labels: whichdecade09

Before I announce the final results of our seven-year quest, and the ultimate answer to our oft-asked question, here's our customary round-up of the songs which you loved and loathed the most.

As always, scores are derived by dividing the total scores for each song by the number of people who voted for it, thus producing an average score.

(Note: This is where 1969's popularity asserts itself most clearly, with six songs placed within the Top Ten.)

1. Heart Of Glass - Blondie.
2. Hit Me With Your Rhythm Stick - Ian Dury & the Blockheads.
3. Dancing In The Street - Martha Reeves & the Vandellas.
4. For Once In My Life - Stevie Wonder.
5. Blackberry Way - The Move.
6. Albatross - Fleetwood Mac.
7. I'm Gonna Make You Love Me - Diana Ross & The Supremes & The Temptations.
8. Pretty Fly (For A White Guy) - The Offspring.
9. Where Do You Go To My Lovely - Peter Sarstedt.
10. You Got It - Roy Orbison.

46. (If Paradise Is) Half As Nice - Amen Corner.
47. Enjoy Yourself - A+.
48. Belfast Child - Simple Minds.
49. Don't Cry For Me Argentina - The Shadows.
50. Heartbeat/Tragedy - Steps.

Labels: whichdecade09

ist place - The 1960s. (34 points)

2008: 1st place, 36 points + 1 tiebreak point.
2007: 1st place, 34 points.
2006: 2nd place, 37 points.
2005: 2nd place, 33 points.
2004: 1st place, 36 points.
2003: 3rd place, 28 points.

10. For Once In My Life - Stevie Wonder. 5 points.
9. The Way It Used To Be - Engelbert Humperdinck. 1 point.
8. You Got Soul - Johnny Nash. 1 point.
7. Dancing In The Street - Martha Reeves & the Vandellas. 5 points, most popular.
6. Albatross - Fleetwood Mac. 5 points.
5. Blackberry Way - The Move. 5 points.
4. Please Don't Go - Donald Peers. 1 point.
3. I'm Gonna Make You Love Me - Diana Ross & The Supremes & The Temptations. 5 points.
2. Where Do You Go To My Lovely - Peter Sarstedt. 5 points.
1. (If Paradise Is) Half As Nice - Amen Corner. 1 point, least popular.

If you ask me, there's something special about years ending in 9. In pop-historical terms, they're habitually overlooked, most likely because they tend not to fit neatly into decade-based summaries. By the time that you get to them, the overall "sound" of each decade has already been identified - and it's usually centred around the music from a quarter of the way through (Merseybeat, Glam, New Pop, Rave/Grunge), or the three-quarter point (Psychedelia, Punk/Disco, House/SAW, Britpop/the "superclub" Dance boom).

But in those years-with-a-nine-on-the-end, you'll often find clear pointers to the music which will go on to define the decade to come. In 1979, we see the dawn of the more heavily image-based video era. In 1989, Madchester is the big story: placing indie guitar bands back into the equation, and setting in motion the chain of events which would lead to Britpop. Even in 1999, we can find the roots of pure pop's resurgence: your Britneys, your Christinas, your S Clubs.

But what of 1969? Ah, I wish you hadn't asked me that - for this is where my already shaky theory starts to fall apart. The Beatles, The Stones and The Who were still riding high; Marmalade, The Move, Amen Corner and Herman's Hermits represented business as usual for home-grown pop; and while Motown provided many of the year's most durable classics - three of which are represented here, although we're stretching the term "classic" for one of them - the label's success was largely founded on re-issues, and its new hits offered few clues to the direction that soul music would take in the 1970s.

None of which is to play down the many glories of the 1969 singles charts, which have been thoroughly and lovingly catalogued and celebrated by Marcello in this outstanding piece of writing (scroll down to April 07) - but I still can't help feeling that the Sixties have fluked it this time round.

Look at those day-by-day scores, and you'll see what I mean. For in 1969, there were no half measures where your voting was concerned. Six songs won outright, four songs placed last - and there was nothing - absolutely nothing - in between.

Yes, you loved your Motown - and rightly so. And there's no arguing with the unique "Albatross", or with the wonky psych-pop of "Blackberry Way". But did the chart which contained the out-of-time Donald Peers, the perpetually irksome Engelbert Humperdinck, the utterly forgettable "You Got Soul" (bet you'd forgotten it already, right?) or the laboured ho-hummery of Amen Corner really deserve this year's crown?

Or am I just pissed off because my beloved 1979 was pipped at the post, by one measly little point?

Ah, there's the rub. 1969, I congratulate you - but this time, it's through gritted teeth.

Labels: whichdecade09

2nd place - The 1970s. (33 points)

2008: 2nd place, 36 points.
2007: 3rd place, 31 points.
2006: 1st place, 38 points.
2005: 3rd place, 30 points.
2004: 2nd place, 31 points.
2003: 1st place, 35 points + 1 tiebreak point.

10. Car 67 - Driver 67. 2 points.
9. Milk & Alcohol - Dr. Feelgood. 5 points.
8. Hit Me With Your Rhythm Stick - Ian Dury & the Blockheads. 5 points.
7. Tragedy - The Bee Gees. 3 points.
6. Contact - Edwin Starr. 4 points.
5. Don't Cry For Me Argentina - The Shadows. 1 point, least popular.
4. I Was Made For Dancin' - Leif Garrett. 2 points.
3. Woman In Love - The Three Degrees. 2 points.
2. Chiquitita - Abba. 4 points.
1. Heart Of Glass - Blondie. 5 points, most popular.

Over the course of "Which Decade", we've examined the charts of thirty-five different years. And of these thirty-five, the single year that I've been looking forward to the most is this one: the golden, glorious year of 1979.

For my money, the singles charts of the final year of the Seventies have never been bettered - and as if to illustrate the point, this was also a high-water mark for the 7-inch single, with UK sales for 1979 peaking at a whopping 89 million.

Not only had pop music never been more popular; it had also never been so creative, with any of number of acts rising from the underground to the mainstream without compromising their vision. The new wave reached maturity (Oliver's Army, Eton Rifles, Heart Of Glass), the first ripples of synth-pop began to erupt (Are 'Friends' Electric, Pop Muzik, Video Killed The Radio Star), disco reached its commercial peak (Good Times, We Are Family, Ain't No Stoppin' Us Now), while the autumn of 1979 saw the 2-Tone movement blowing up from nowhere, and rap music scoring its first hit single. And was there ever a finer selection of UK Number Ones? Oh, I very much doubt it.

That said, I remained nervous about the quality of this particular Top Ten, which I felt didn't quite show 1979 in the best possible light. Driver 67? The Shadows? Leif Garrett? One of my least favourite Abba songs? "Woman In Love"? This could be a tough one.

I needn't have worried. The Feelgoods, The Blockheads and Blondie won their respective rounds; "Chiquitita" proved more popular than I had expected; Edwin Starr and The Bee Gees did just fine; and only The Shadows found themselves settling for bottom place. And in the final reckoning, 1979 finished just one point short of winning the match.

In personal terms, February 1979 - and specifically the night of my 17th birthday - marked the moment when I began to turn the corner on a particularly nasty and debilitating bout of teenage angst. Six months earlier, I had been isolated, friendless and deeply f**ked up. But now - with A-levels approaching, and the prospect of independence and escape looming ever larger on the horizon - I somehow found the strength and resolve to begin a conscious process of re-invention.

If I were ranking these five years in terms of personal growth, then 1979 would definitely come out on top. And if I were undemocratically ranking them in terms of their pop music, then the result would be the same. As it is, I'll have to settle for second-best placing, for an altogether first-rate year.

Labels: whichdecade09

3rd place - The 2000s. (32 points)

2008: 3rd place, 31 points.
2007: 2nd place, 32 points.
2006: Equal 4th place, 21 points.
2005: 4th place, 27 points.
2004: 5th place, 26 points.
2003: 4th place, 27 points.

10. T-Shirt - Shontelle. 3 points.
9. Day 'n' Nite - Kid Cudi vs. Crookers. 4 points.
8. Omen - The Prodigy. 3 points.
7. Single Ladies (Put A Ring On It) - Beyonce. 2 points.
6. Broken Strings - James Morrison featuring Nelly Furtado. 2 points, least popular.
5. Take Me Back - Tinchy Stryder featuring Taio Cruz. 3 points.
4. Crack A Bottle - Eminem featuring Dr Dre & 50 Cent. 4 points.
3. Breathe Slow - Alesha Dixon. 4 points.
2. Just Dance - Lady GaGa featuring Colby O'Donis. 3 points.
1. The Fear - Lily Allen. 4 points, most popular.

So, it's official then: you quite like 2009.

You don't exactly love 2009: none of this year's Top Ten polled higher than second place, although Kid Cudi's "Day 'n' Nite" led the voting in the Number Nines for most of the way. And you certainly don't loathe 2009: nothing polled in last place, although none of you had anything very nice to say about James Morrison's "Broken Strings". And again, the luck of the draw played its part: many of you expressed frustration at not being able to place Beyonce's "Single Ladies" higher, and Lily Allen's "The Fear" drew almost unanimous praise, despite being soundly trounced by Blondie's "Heart Of Glass".

It's been heartening to see the once-reviled 2000s doing so well in recent years, compared to its dismal showing from 2003 to 2006. As regular readers will know, I'm strongly in favour of giving all due weight to the contemporary, despite its in-built disadvantage of being untested by posterity. And this was a good crop, from what has been a strong year for pop hits (but a slow year for equally strong albums, it has to be said).

As for my own personal experience of 2009: it's been a busy, exciting and energising first three months, with plenty of challenging and satisfying projects already completed, and still more to come. A natural progression from the equally engaged optimism of 1989, with the mid-life misery of 1999 looking all the more like a distant blip of misfortune, poor judgement and self-defeating self-indulgence.

If I were ranking these five years in terms of personal achievement, then 2009 would definitely come out on top. But a closely fought third place on "Which Decade"? Well, that ain't too shoddy.

Labels: whichdecade09