COCTEAU TWINS, ranked

Cocteau Twins recorded the kind of music you discover late night, those rich and blissful and mysterious textures that envelope you and leave you speechless. You do not know what she is singing about most of the time, but ultimately it does not even matter. Songs like "Lorelei" or "Cico Buff" do not need to be decoded to remain transfixing, beguiling, utterly stupendous. 

Cocteau Twins's sound was defined by gorgeous guitar freakouts by Robin Guthrie ("Musette And Dreams", already perfect, is capped off by one of the most astonishing guitar solos in existence), otherworldly vocals by Elizabeth Fraser (how does one even begin to describe those?) and clever bass runs by Simon Raymonde (check out "Cicely", for example).

One of the most unique bands in history, they created their own sound and stuck to it until the very end. They never recorded a bad album, and their extensive EP collection Lullabies To Violaine is absolutely essential. They disbanded in late 90s due to inner turmoil, leaving behind one of the most consistent discographies I know of. They were everything that band name suggests, and more.

8. Four-Calendar Cafe (1993)

Like I said in the introduction, Cocteau Twins never released a bad album. This, though, was the closest they came to losing a bit of their identity. You would not know it from the first song, though, the dreamy (I have a feeling this is going to be the most abused word in these reviews) and achingly beautiful "Know Who You Are At Every Age". The melody is otherworldly and could fit into any of the Twins' classic albums. Other highlights include the single "Evangeline" and the closing "Pur" that wakes up from its slumber after two-minute mark and brings back the lushness and the energy of that old magic. Overall, though, while I love the sound, this feels a little diluted and uninspired after the masterpiece that was Heaven Or Las Vegas. 

Best song: "Know Who You Are At Every Age"

7. Milk And Kisses (1996)

After the relative disappointment of Four-Calendar Cafe, the band's final album was a welcome, if slight, return to form. There was more energy this time, more drive, more meat to the melodies. No, it does not have the touch of genius that was all over their 80s/early 90s albums, but you do get a few glimpses. The guitar that underpins "Serpentskirt", for instance, or Liz's vocal inflections in "Seekers Who Are Lovers" have the sort of mystique that evokes albums like Treasure and Blue Bell Knoll. The two unispited classics here are "Tishbite" and "Rilkean Heart". Plus, I'm also very partial to the heavenly "Half-Gifts" that would almost sound like a normal waltz had it been recorded by someone other than Cocteau Twins.

Best song: "Rilkean Heart"

6. Garlands (1982)

If you want to find an album in Cocteau Twins' catalogue that did not come completely out of nowhere but had some strong contemporary influences, then that album would be the debut. While Garlands still sounds unique, it is seriously indebted to the goth-punk of Siouxsie & The Banshees. You see the unnerving cover, you notice the title of the first song ("Blood Bitch"), and you think you know what to expect. Well, not entirely. Because underneath it all, you get the sonic textures that are both beautiful and deeply disturbing. There is a density to their sound that is still a little lacking in confidence - but in few months this will be fixed. The highlights include "Wax And Wane", "Blind Dumb Deaf" and the title song. 

Best song: "Wax And Wane"

5. Victorialand (1986)

Every Cocteau Twins album is a world to get lost in, and Victorialand taking that concept to absolute limits. There are times when I listen to this album and can't even tell one song from another. That is not a criticism, however. The songs are good, if perhaps a little more relaxing and less hook-filled this time (well, the hooks are there but they are less obvious this time around). It is like the cover suggests: incomprehensible yet utterly beautiful. Dreamy to the extent of hypnotism. As a side not, this was not the only Cocteau Twins associated album released in 1986. There was also a collaboration with the ambient artist Harold Budd titled The Moon And The Melodies. It is credited to Budd, Fraser, Guthrie and Raymonde, and all I can say is that the Cocteau part of it is excellent. 

Best songs: "Lazy Calm" (but that may be because it comes first)

4. Head Over Heels (1983)

Head Over Heels ends with "Musette And Drums", and I have long considered it to be among the greatest sonic experiences I've had in my life. It is just so intense, so dense, so powerful that my response to it is almost physiological. There are shivers, tears, nervous laughter. There is of course no way Head Over Heels can all be like that, but the first half comes very close. While Garlands could be accused of a certain lack of originality, this was the album that put them on the map. You could probably discern that there are ballads ("Sugar Hiccup") and rockers ("In My Angelhood") here, but really, by 1983 this became completely irrelevant. Not when the music is this strange and idiosyncratic. And while the second side can not hope to scale those height again, it absolutely destroys me with the final song.

Best song: "Musette And Drums" (see below)

3. Blue Bell Knoll (1988)

Now the next three are all pretty much immaculate. I do not believe any of them features a song I find in the least bit underwhelming. Blue Bell Knoll (the title is based on an old British legend that says the death will take you the moment you hear the blue bell's knoll) is different from Victorialand in the sense that there is more drive and energy to the songs. "Carolyn's Fingers" was a relative / deserved hit and would be a good place to start exploring the bizarre and wonderful world of Cocteau Twins. With its melody and an array of vocal hooks (Liz was always good at those), its appeal is undeniable. Stuff like the intensely dreamy "Athol-brose" or the oddly anthemic closer "Ella Megalast Burls Forever" (oh those song titles) is just as good, though. 

Best song: "Carolyn's Fingers"

2. Heaven Or Las Vegas (1990)

Preferring Treasure to Heaven Or Las Vegas is similar to choosing The Dreaming over Hounds Of Love. The latter albums are more accomplished and universally beloved, but the former ones have something extra to them, some special ingredient (call it magic, call it a spell) that pushes them beyond the limits of humanly possible perfection. And Heaven Or Las Vegas is perfect. It is masterfully composed and produced, and does not have a single misplaced note. I love it to bits. When I listen to songs like "Cherry-Coloured Funk" and "Iceblink Luck", I'm transported to a different dimension with such effortless ease it is actually frightening. You know how after a few glasses of wine you can lie down and feel your head spinning away. It is not actually a pleasant feeling. When Cocteau Twins do it, however, you never want to leave that state.

Best song: "Iceblink Luck"

1. Treasure (1984)

Really, the only thing wrong about Heaven Or Las Vegas is that Treasure was just... a little better. From the mesmerising acoustic rhythm and Liz's angelic vocals of "Ivo" and all the way to the majestic choir and sonic grandiosity of "Donimo", listening to this album is like walking through an enchanted forest and loving every second of it. I don't know what else to say about it, really. Treasure is a fucking masterpiece, and one of the strangest and most beautiful albums ever recorded. 

Best song: "Lorelei" 

LED ZEPPELIN, ranked

I have come full circle with Led Zeppelin. Back when I started listening to them, at the age of 14 or 15, I thought it was all about the fourth album. The untitled one. The classic one. The one with "Stairway To Heaven" on it. Later, I became more of a tedious purist and started to believe they never really improved on their debut. Later, that choice started to bore me and I went for the more hardcore and uncompromising second album. But even that was not enough, and soon I was in with the hipster crowd claiming the third album was the one with the best tunes. After which, somewhat inevitably, I realised that it was Physical Graffiti all along, that long, sprawling double album that was as patchy as it was powerful. Physical Graffiti was the cool choice. Now, though, I have come full circle. 

The thing about Led Zeppelin is that the music worked despite limitations. They stole their riffs from old blues musicians (or perhaps 'appropriated' is the right word?) They wrote inane Tolkien-lite lyrics (Ian Anderson once claimed that with his lyrics and Led Zeppelin's music they could be a great rock'n'roll band). They had a singer who could be obnoxious without even trying too hard (and sometimes he did try very, very hard). And yet, in spite of everything, they were among the very best. Jimmy Page was perhaps the greatest guitar player ever. They were all superior musicians, in fact, and the music oozed so much power and conviction they could almost trick you into believing "The Ocean" was a great song. They were so good, actually, that George Harrison once wanted to join them. 

9. Coda (1982)

This is by no means a controversial opinion. Coda was a bad album that was only released to fulfil contractual obligations. What saves it (kind of) is that it was not even a proper studio LP, but just a collection of outtakes from various points of the band's career. And they were all outtakes for a reason; there is not a single song here that would have improved an album they were culled from. Coda is plodding and uninspired, with only a couple of flashes of goodness (not even greatness). "Poor Tom" is a decent folk tune from Led Zeppelin III sessions, "We're Gonna Groove" is an okay cover and "Bonzo's Montreau" is an entertaining drum solo - but its only achievement, really, is that it is better than "Moby Dick".

Best song: "Poor Tom"

8. Presence (1976)

I have never felt comfortable saying that Presence is the worst Led Zeppelin album (nobody counts Coda, do they?). It features a famous Hipgnosis cover. It opens with the band's greatest song. It ends with a classic epic ballad. According to Jimmy Page (never trust an artist when they speak about their own work), this was the band at their peak. However, there's just no getting away from it: Presence is a bit of a mess. Yes, "Achilles Last Stand" is an awe-inspiring epic that never gets boring for a second during its ten and a half minutes. And yes, the sprawling, bluesy "Tea For One" is a worthy successor of "Since I've Been Loving You". I will also admit that "Nobody's Fault But Mine" succeeds through sheer force and oomph. But that's it, really. The rest ranges from awful to mediocre cock rock, and at some point you will be excused to think the shivers that went down your spine at the start of "Achilles Last Stand" were just an illusion.

Best song: "Achilles Last Stand"

7. In Through The Out Door (1979) 

While the reputation of Led Zeppelin's last album (nobody counts Coda, do they?) has never been especially great, it has always struck me as a very solid release. There are no embarrassments here, the kind you could expect from a 60s band approaching the 80s. "In The Evening", while overlong, features a timeless riff. The piano-based "South Bound Suarez" (written by Plant and John Paul Jones) is a lot of fun. The playful "Fool In The Rain" is hardly a triumph (the fast tropical part in the middle does not quite work for me) but the power and the mystique are still there. The country western "Hot Dog" is pure filler, but I love everything that follows. The epic "Carouselambra" is not great but I always find myself enjoying all 10 minutes of it, down to the disco ending. "All My Love" is one of their greatest and most touching ballads (Plant's ode to his son who had recently passed away). And the closing "I'm Gonna Crawl" is an undisputed classic, with a great guitar solo and a true claim to being one of Led Zeppelin's best songs.

Best song: "I'm Gonna Crawl"

6. Led Zeppelin II (1969)

While these days I consider the band's second album to be the weakest of the classic six (the production is muddy and murky and almost hides John Paul Jones' brilliant bass playing), I still think it is essential. Or, rather, parts of it. Led Zeppelin II starts very strongly: "Whole Lotta Love" is an experimental orgasmic rocker ("orgasmic" in every sense of the word, in fact) and "What Is And What Should Never Be" is one of their strongest ballads. "The Lemon Song" is somewhat captivating but it also feels like it was stitched together from a bunch of old blues numbers. Now "Thank You" I've never liked. It starts like it means business but then gets pretentious, boring and generic very quickly (despite, again, great musicianship). In a word - the album is patchy and for every amazing riff-rocker ("Heartbreaker") there is an uneventful drum solo ("Moby Dick") or an old blues cover that sounds like it was recorded under water ("Bring It On Home"). 

Best song: "Whole Lotta Love"

5. Physical Graffiti (1975)

Physical Graffiti is a story of two halves. It is obviously a powerhouse of an album that offers very little respite (which may be the reason why I have always loved the short instrumental "Bron-Yr-Aur" so much - Page was a brilliant acoustic guitar player). It is one pounding rocker after another, and at some point it becomes a little exhausting (which may be the reason why the second part of this double album has never stuck in my memory and remained one big blur). Still, there is enough great material here to make it worth your while. The slide-guitar infested epic "In My Time Of Dying" is paranoid and gripping. "The Rover" is one of their most effective rockers. And "Kashmir" never loses its mystical, Eastern-tinged power. I just wished there was a little more subtlety to the end of this album.

Best song: "The Rover"

4. Houses Of The Holy (1973)

Their most diverse album and the only one that has a sense of humour. Houses Of The Holy has it all, from reggae to folk rock to funk to majestic balladry to synth-based sinister goth epic. And yet it all sounds like prime Led Zeppelin. The album starts beautifully, with three memorable songs that almost deceive you into thinking this could be their songwriting peak. Sadly, they misfire with the funked up (but mercifully short) "The Crunge" but then quickly recover with the second side which is mostly all great. And that includes, yes, the ridiculous reggae-fied single "D'yer Mak'er" which is criminally catchy and an absolute delight. Still, the following "No Quarter" pretty much destroys everything else here: it is menacing, beautifully built and puts unforgettable images into your head. Those of dark knights, lonely fields and centuries-old Gothic castles. I have always loved that Hipgnosis cover, too. 

Best song: "No Quarter"

3. Led Zeppelin III (1970)

I still think sometimes that this is their best album. Melodically, they would never beat the striking folk melodies of "Tangerine", "That's The Way", "Friends", etc. There is also something remarkably unpretentious about Led Zeppelin's third album and besides, I've always loved Jimmy Page the acoustic guitar player. The big classic was, of course, the seven-minute blues epic "Since I've Been Loving You", and deservedly so. It has that smoky late-night vibe that just gets under your skin in the nicest way possible. There's that bubbling intensity, the clever build-up and those beautiful organ runs that hold it all together. But, really, it is all good, with the incredibly murky and unmelodic "Hats Off To (Roy) Harper" being the only real letdown. What a confused and confusing ending to such a special album.

Best song: "Since I've Been Loving You"

2. Led Zeppelin I (1968)

They arrived fully formed. I don't exactly love this one more than the third album, but there is something in me that folds under the pressure of the four song run that starts this album. That stuff is unimpeachable, to the extent where you won't even care who they were ripping off here. They owned these melodies, they made them their own. "Babe, I'm Gonna Leave You" is pure perfection, from the gentle acoustic opening to those classic Robert Plant outbursts that never sound obnoxious or overbearing. The rest of the album can't hope to reach those heights but "Black Mountain Side" is a beautiful acoustic guitar workout from Page, "Communication Breakdown" is a great rock'n'roll explosion and "How Many More Times" is a powerful hard blues epic that brings the whole thing to a close.

Best song: "Babe, I'm Gonna Leave You"

1. Led Zeppelin IV (1971)

Well, it was always the fourth one, wasn't it? 

While not perfect (Led Zeppelin never made a perfect album, and if I had to put a number on it, I would say this one gets a "9.5"), the Untitled LP is still the one. Somehow it all came together in 1971, and the usually uneven songwriting matched the consistently excellent musicianship. So what keeps it from being perfect? Two things, really. "Misty Mountain Hop" and "Four Sticks" - but even those are good driving rock songs (if a little oversimplistic). And as for the rest of it... well, this is some of the greatest rock music in existence.

Best song: "Going To California" (I mean, not really, but come on)

Three TV shows of 2025

I will probably have to write another small post soon about three more.

The Studio (2025)

I have never found Seth Rogan especially funny. Loud, yes. Obnoxious, too. Very on the nose. Yet now that I have finally seen all the ten episodes of The Studio, I can report that I haven't laughed this much since the last season of Veep.

The TV show is, of course, about the excess and the madness of Hollywood. The new studio head (played by Rogan himself, who is also a co-writer and co-director) is full of ideas and aspirations - but he gets stuck inside the Hollywood machine. Which is merciless and cruel but also, essentially, a lot of fun. His first assignment, given to him by the studio's CEO Griffin Mill (played, with complete abandon, by Bryan Cranston), is to make a Kool-Aid film. And that is just the beginning.

The guest cast includes everyone from Martin Scorsese to Ice Cube. The Studio is often an uncomfortable watch, but in the best way possible. Matt Remick (Rogan's character) is forever stuck between the desire to make money and remain, somehow, an artist. And that premise is a goldmine if exploited with reason and taste. The Studio succeeds, if only because it is, at its heart, about our love of cinema. 

Bookish (2025)

Bookish, on the other hand, was a major disappointment. Or maybe I shouldn't say "major" as there is nothing major about Bookish. It is a cozy little series from Britain set in post-war London. The writer is Mark Gatiss and he is also its main star, a bookshop owner (hence the title) and a private detective.

I may just tired of all these detective TV shows, but I believe there is more. The whole thing feels so contrived and so artificial it is difficult to care for any of it: the plot, the characters and who the actual culprit is in each episode. I guess if you are a big Mark Gatiss fan, this could work, but I got sick of all the mannerisms very quickly. 

It was nice to see Paul McGann in a minor role, but otherwise I saw no point in this. Bookish is basically Sherlock Holmes buried under a lot of dust and pretence. It is precious and stylish, and also unforgivably grating.

Adolescence (2025)

Interesting how several people I recommended this to got back to me saying how dissatisfied they were with the ending. Interesting, but it is easy to see why this happened: one expects a detective story from this, a mystery. Adolescence is neither, and if you are looking for the answer to the easiest question, it is given to you during the first five minutes.

Famously, all four episodes of Adolescence were made with one shot. This gives the series a real live feeling and grips you and never lets go. The show drags you through the workings of a police station, the insides of a modern-day school (horrifying, frankly), a masterful episode-long interview with a forensic psychologist and an absolutely harrowing meltdown of the finale. You will also learn a lot about the social network shenanigans, and you will probably need subtitles for that. I know I did.

We start with a 13-year old boy dragged out of bed and taken to a police station for committing a gruesome murder. The boy pisses himself out of fear. Again, do not expect a detective story. It may feel that way on occasion but what it is, essentially, is a full-on soul-crushing drama about the relationship between parents and children, masterfully conceived and executed. Also, on the off chance that you haven't heard it yet: the acting of the boy really is phenomenal.

"ЦЯГНІК ДА ПОЗНАНЯ"

Зусім хутка выходзіць мая другая кніга, "Цягнік да Познаня". Гэта пяцьдзесят польскіх партрэтаў, гісторый, эсэ. Месца дзеяння ўвесь час мяняецца, але рэдка выходзіць за межы Польшчы. Прынамсі, геаграфічна. 

Гэта вельмі эмігранцкая, вельмі асабістая кніга, дзе з дробных эпізодаў і маленькіх дэталяў я паспрабаваў стварыць свет рэальных людзей. Бо я сапраўды сустракаў кожнага з іх. Польскую піяністку, якая ў старым памяшканні грала музыку Баха. Хлопчыка, які апантана чытаў кнігу на бруднай падлозе варшаўскага аўтобуса. Маладую дзяўчыну, якая стаяла на каленях у касцёле св. Роха ў Беластоку.

"Цягнік да Познаня" перамог у літаратурным конкурсе "Шуфлядка" ў намінацыі "нон-фікшн". Перадзамову кнігі можна зрабіць на сайце выдавецтва Gutenberg: https://gutenbergpublisher.eu/shop/ciahnik/  

У продажы яна з'явіцца напрыканцы месяца. 26 ліпеня кніга будзе прадстаўлена на літаратурным фестывалі ў Кракаве.

SANDINISTA! Song by song.

It would be true to say that if Sandinista! was a single album, it would be the best album of all time. It would also be true to say that if Sandinista! was a double album, it would still be my favourite album ever. What I have finally realised, 20 years into listening to Sandinista! in all its patchy messed-up glory, is that even as a triple album featuring no less than 36 songs - it is still the single greatest musical experience I have ever had. 

People often say that about The White Album, but I've beaten that horse to death too many times now. The chorus of "The Continuing Story Of Bungalow Bill" is abysmal. "Why Don't We Do It In The Road?" is a waste of tape. "Don't Pass Me By" is just weak. There is simply too much filler. Besides, The Beatles were not even functioning as a full unit at that point (which, come to think of it, is why "Dig It" and "Maggie Mae" work and "Wild Honey Pie" does not). 

When it comes to Sandinista!, even the filler works. Every dub remix sung backwards by a kids' choir (loosely speaking) feels engaging, feels like it belongs. This was The Clash operating at the height of their songwriting / arranging / playing powers, and it certainly helps that this may well be the most stylistically diverse album ever recorded. 

Side one.

1. "The Magnificent Seven".

Disco-funk with strong shades of hip-hop to Joe Strummer's vocals. Propelled by Paul Simonon's massive bass line, "The Magnificent Seven" is, of course, an absolute classic. All through its five and a half minutes, the groove is unrelenting.

2. "Hitsville UK".

Mick Jones's classic pop song with gospel overtones. This was released as a single, but stalled at number 56. The whole thing is so engaging and feels so genuine that in an ideal world it would top any decent chart.

3. "Junco Partner".

A reggae cover! This is where we start to lose people as this might not have been something many Clash listeners signed up for when they purchased Sandinista! back in 1980. But never mind that. This is groovy and fun (full of all kinds of quirky sounds) and I have always loved that relentless violin in the background. Joe Strummer is clearly enjoying himself on the vocals. 

4. "Ivan Meets G.I. Joe".

This is, essentially, a disco tune filled with some bizarre space invaders sounds in the background - as everything else on here, this is intense and totally addictive. Killer violins, too. 

5. "The Leader".

Oddly, this was the first song from Sandinista! that I heard. A short (1:41) rockabilly tune that was probably recorded in one take. Catchy and smart.

6. "Something About England".

This one is among the greatest songs ever written. In the midst of a lovely wall of sound (pianos, strings, trumpets, backing vocals) this is Mick Jones exercising his great pop sensibilities. So good, in fact, that it would appear again on the album - albeit in a totally deranged version. But we will get to it later.

Side two.

1. "Rebel Waltz".

The Clash doing a cold, downbeat, dirge-like waltz that has always been among my absolute favourites on the album. My only complaint is that I wish it could go on for a couple of minutes longer. That subtle guitar line is gorgeous. 

2. "Look Hear".

This is a fast-paced jazz number filled with hip pianos, vibraphones, harmonicas and God knows what else. Very cool.

3. "The Crooked Beat".

Another groovy reggae song, this time sung by Paul Simonon in that inimitable menace-inducing voice of his. Dig those crazy sound effects in the background.

4. "Somebody Got Murdered".

God I love the way this one starts - like we are in for an epic pop classic. And we are. Once again, Mick Jones on the vocals, which means that we are in pop rock heaven yet again. Oddly, many people think that the man's highest point was "Lost In The Supermarket" and that he lost it after The Clash. Not true. Even his Big Audio Dynamite days are filled with occasional brilliance ("Medicine Show", "Applecart", "Innocent Child").

5. "One More Time".

This could be my favourite reggae song on the whole album. I love those dark, classy 15 seconds that open the song, but even when the song settles into its main groove - I'm all for it.

6. One More Dub".

Hilariously and (somewhat) ridiculously, they chose to follow "One More Time" with its dub remix. I still have a lot of fun listening to it (the percussion, the groove), though. Think of it as an extended coda.

Side three.

1. "Lightning Strikes (Not Once But Twice)".

The second LP opens in a very similar way to the first one, and I mean that quite literally. "Lightning Strikes" is built on pretty much the same disco/funk rhythm as "The Magnificent Seven". But with the musicianship this astounding - why not?

2. "Up In Heaven (Not Only Here").

And... we are back in Mick Jones' territory. Terrific power chords and the sort of propulsive yet lovely vocal melody the man has always been so good at. Beautiful ringing guitar hook guiding the song forward, until the very end. 

3. "Corner Soul". 

Imagine reggae mixed with gospel and sounding out-of-this-world gorgeous. Soulful, gentle, deeply affecting with a brilliant vocal hook ("Is the music calling for a river of blood?") from Strummer and the female backing vocalists. Topper Headon's drumming is exceptional, too. This is a big personal favourite.

4. "Let's Go Crazy".

Christ this side three is incredible. "Let's Go Crazy" is, what, calypso music? Well, whatever it is, I find the groove totally infectious. 

5. "If Music Could Talk".

Lots of people tend to have a problem with this sax-driven light jazz instrumental (well, technically, it has Joe Strummer saying something or other in the background - but the voice is here merely for the vibes), but I am okay with a little tasteful respite. All the more so because at this point I would trust them with dubstep or nu metal (not).

6. "The Sound Of Sinners".

Well, this one is straight-up gospel: sincere, full-blown, unforgettable. If I was Catholic, I would totally sing this one after my next sermon. Yet another highlight.

Side four.

1. "Police On My Back".

Is this the best song on the album? I can no longer tell, honestly, but play this right now and tell me what you think. This is a punk song by a band who has long outgrown the genre. The siren-like guitars, the power chords, Mick Jones's vocals, the anthemic melody. Surprisingly, this was a cover, but they totally reinvented what was originally a fairly inconspicuous mid-tempo little rock song. 

2. "Midnight Log".

Two-minute boogie? Why not. This is playful and catchy, with a memorable harmonica hook. 

3. "The Equaliser". 

This is the first true reggae song in a while - except that it isn't. It is sparse, psychedelic and rather demented. Downbeat, too. Those bizarre violin insertions are mesmerising - as is the rest of the song. 

4. "The Call Up".

Oddly, this was the biggest single from the album - oddly because I've always believed that there were a lot more options here with a much higher commercial potential. Still, it is wonderfully creepy (lyrically in particular) and the groove just never lets up. Maddening and melancholic.  

5. "Washington Bullets".

Caribbean music. Just yesterday I was walking through a small Polish town reenacting that rhythm inside my head, time and time again. One of the most infectious songs on the album, and its lyrics actually feature the word "Sandinista" (the name of the Socialist party in Nicaragua that was fighting against the US occupation). A classic, of course.

6. "Broadway".

Well, try to decipher what this is. A dark, nocturnal groove with a rather downbeat and rambling performance from Strummer. Classy piano, laidback vibes. Listen to this while walking home on a Saturday night. Also, the song ends, quite inexplicably, with a little girl (Maria Gallagher, daughter of one of the musicians on the album) singing "Guns Of Brixton". Lovely!

Side five.

1. "Lose This Skin".

The third LP starts with an intense, incessant, ridiculously brilliant violin groove and features vocals from Tymon Dogg (silly me, I always thought this was a woman singing). The passionate chorus always gets under my skin (no pun intended). An absolute delight, and one of the album's greatest highlights. 

2. "Charlie Don't Surf".

I have only recently rewatched Apocalypse Now for another time, and it was of course in Coppola's classic film where these words first appeared (spoken by Bill Kilgore in one of the cinema's most iconic scenes). Here, The Clash take these words and record a surf rock classic.

3. "Mensforth Hill".

It is worth noting that this is song number 27 on the album, so if you've made it thus far, you might as well go all the way. "Mensforth Hill" is the return of "Something About England", only recorded backwards and with crazy overdubs. I enjoy it freely, against my better judgement. 

4. "Junkie Slip".

Hardly a classic by any stretch of the imagination, this jerky little tune is still enjoyable. Remember, Sandinista! is a journey, and "Junkie Slip" is an essential part of it.   

5. "Kingston Advice". 

Another overlooked highlight - particularly good are those guitar-led parts with Mick Jones on vocals. Really catchy, and I love that "liiiife" hook.

6. "The Street Parade".

Again, I don't know what this is - but I love the downbeat nature of the verse. Plus, the brassy chorus is a subtle delight. Inessential, but I'm happy it is here. 

Side six.

1. "Version City".

The 'difficult' last side opens with this soulful, gospel-tinged groove that is as memorable as anything else on the album. But buckle up! This is the last relatively normal song on Sandinista!

2. "Living In Fame".

The truly rough patch starts here, but, again, just stick with it and get lost in the grooves. "Living In Fame" is a dub version of "If Music Could Talk". Which means: bigger bass, more reggae-fied, even groovier.

3. "Silicone on Sapphire".

Dub version of "Washington Bullets"! Even if The Clash did it to fulfil their contractual obligations, I still love it. Not least because "Washington Bullets" was so good.

4. "Version Pardner".

Dub version of "Junco Partner"! Five-plus minutes might be stretching it a little, but all that percussion and all those bizarre sound effects are so addictive, I find myself enjoying it every time I get this far (which is always).

5. "Career Opportunities".

This is a version of the punk classic sung by two little children: Luke Gallagher and Ben Gallagher. I once read a long article in Uncut about the making of this album, and as far as I remember, the kids got toy guns for doing this. Well worth it, I guess. Love this to bits.

6. "Shepherds Delight".

We end, quite fittingly, with a percussion-driven reggae instrumental. 

P.S. Do yourself a favour. Next time you go on a long trip, take this album with you. Live with it a little. Let it breathe. Get lost in it. It will soundtrack your experience, and it will deliver new wonders every time you will listen to it in the future. It is THAT good.

June Round-Up

I never thought I would ever say it, but Pulp are back. Fucking hell. And while More could hardly beat that perfect three-album run they had in the 1990s, it still met my highest expectations. The album never feels tired or laboured. It is clever, groovy, totally engaging. And it has, in the relentless "Grown Ups", one of their best songs ever. 

All things considered, Patrick Wolf's comeback felt just as unlikely. His previous album, the unashamedly poppy Lupercalia, was released back in 2011 when the world was a much different place. And, after all these years of oblivion, Crying The Neck feels like both a healing process and a rebirth. I'm delighted to report that Patrick has not lost any of his songwriting powers: the songs may at first appear somewhat meandering, but further listens reveal strong hooks. He does romantic balladry ("The Last Of England", "Hymn Of The Haar"), he does romantic pop music ("Limbo", "Dies Irae"), and it all amounts to a career peak. 

Also, new albums by two unfading rock stars of the 60s. Neil Young's Talkin' To The Trees is the usual ragged affair that teases but never quite delivers (it's been a while since I last loved a new original Neil Young album). Still, the disarmingly gorgeous "First Fire Of Winter" almost makes it all worth it. Van Morrison, for his part, has recorded his best album in years. In fact, if there is anything frustrating about Remembering Now, it's that with a little editing it could have been even better. As it is, 68 minutes is taking things a little too far. But damn it if there isn't an eight song classic in here.

Finally, my review of the new record by Comet Gain can be found here (short version: it is excellent). 

P.S. I still haven't heard the new Half Man Half Biscuit album in its entirety - but I certainly will at some point.

Songs of the month:

"Grown-Ups" by Pulp

"Down To Joy" by Van Morrison

"First Fire Of Winter" by Neil Young

"Jupiter" by Patrick Wolf

"The Ballad Of The Lives We Led" by Comet Gain

"56 Nervous Breakdowns" by Luke Haines & Peter Buck

"Jack's Been To The National" by Half Man Half Biscuit

"I Started A Joke" by Paul Weller

"A Song By Me" by Jim Bob

Rewatching VEEP

Once in a while, out of tiredness or sheer frustration, I switch on the first episode of Veep to put things right. It is, of course, absolute perfection, all 29 minutes of it. But then I know, two or three jokes into this thing: I have to watch the whole series yet again. From start to finish, from pilot to finale. All seven seasons of it. 

Which is what I have just done, all the way down to that unforgettable final footage that so beautifully brings the show full circle. Needless to say, I enjoyed it as much as ever (how many times have I done this now - five, six?). Except that this time there was one significant thing that was different. Because in the past, you see, I used to root for Selina Meyer. That's right. All through those five or six times that I had watched Veep previously, I could see what a monster she was becoming and yet through the thick and through the thin - I just wanted her to win. However many fuck-ups and betrayals, however much backstabbing and hypocrisy it took, I just wanted her to pull it off. 

Well, not this time. And it is not even because I have lost all my sense of humour all of a sudden (if anything, this time I chuckled and snickered and guffawed more than ever; that croissant joke is still one of the best things ever). It is because this latest rewatch took that old "hitting too close to home" cliché to a whole new level. I can probably even pinpoint the exact moment that it happened: when during her campaign Selina Meyer sits in her office and decides who she holds the biggest grudge against and who will fall first the moment she becomes president. And all of a sudden, I could no longer get the image of that revengeful little clown who is currently running the US out of my head.

But so much has changed. A few days ago I watched the interview with the Veep cast that was recorded during Trump's first term, and at the start of the talk all of the actors and creators of the series could not stop talking about how much they despised him. Again, that was a different time. In fact, not voicing your contempt back in 2019 or so would have appeared embarrassing. These days, most people just refuse to say anything. Interviewers don't ask the questions, artists do not give the answers. Few are willing to run the risk of alienating a huge portion of the audience. Bruce Springsteen has recently expressed his disdain for the orange cookie monster and see what fucking happened: his concert was cancelled due to the outrage of some of his supporters. Many of whom, obviously, do not go out without their red caps.

This is all too easy to explain, of course. In these times when the levels of human intelligence are falling and populism is on the rise, Trump has his support. That the guy's vocabulary is maybe a hundred words and he has no idea what he is talking about half the time, is irrelevant. He has charisma (of the lowest kind), he has the appeal. In the current climate, if the cast of the Veep gave an interview like that, we would not get such unanimity. In fact, we might just get nothing (which, admittedly, is better than the disingenuous mental gymnastics currently practiced by the likes of Douglas Murray, Ben Shapiro, Jordan Peterson et al). 

So coming back to where we started... I love Veep as much as ever (still in my top 5 favourite TV shows of all time). It is so good, in fact, that the monster it created has started to mess up with the reality a little too much. 

"Letters To Ordinary Outsiders" by Comet Gain

Comet Gain have always been a special band. I first heard them around fifteen years ago, and I believe it was "Some Of Us Don't Want To Be Saved" that sealed the deal for me. I simply refused to believe that obscurity could be this glorious, but there it was: the anthemic melody, the yearning and the desperation of David Christian's voice. I was hooked, and over the years I would listen to "Long After Tonite's Candles Are Blown" every summer morning in 2014 as I would be walking through the streets of Rome. I would make it a habit to listen to the adrenaline rush of "Just One More Summer Before I Go" at the end of May. And I sure as hell would often find myself singing "Movies" to myself at various points in my life (is there a chorus more infectious than that one?).

There are currently six ratings for the band's new album, Letters To Ordinary Outsiders (the most Comet Gain album title imaginable), on the RateYourMusic website. Not even reviews - ratings. Which is a shame, because it is another great addition to their catalogue that now encompasses 30 years. Literate, romantic, wistful indie rock music, tuneful to the point of delirium. 

Very little distinguishes this album from their previous LP, Fireraisers Forever! (2019), or from most of their work prior to that. David Christian says this is more pop and accessible but you would have to take it with a grain of salt. Comet Gain have very rarely been inaccessible (despite the dodgy sound quality on those early records and a number of self-consciously abrasive pieces like "The Punk Got Fucked"). Even when they tried to rock out (think of all that distortion on Howl Of The Lonely Crowd), there was always something inherently sweet about them. And it terms of the actual sound, Letters is as warm and and charming as Paperback Ghosts. 

There is no point in talking about individual songs. To a casual listener they would all sound either poor or amazing. Since I would definitely go for the latter, I find endless charm in this latest batch of melodies that manage to sound like twee pop without being twee. There are some timely female vocals. A couple of heady anthems. A little rock and roll. Even some fairly unexpected sonic jam towards the end of "Threads!". Essentially, though, there are twelve great songs with some of the best melodies you will hear all year. Nothing earth-shattering, nothing ground-breaking - just beautiful music all around. 

Letters To Ordinary Outsiders is not Comet Gain's best album (What is the best Comet Gain album, though? My pick would probably be City Fallen Leaves but they have been really consistent since 2002's Réalistes), but what a lovely reminder that some of the best things in life exist entirely out of time. Sometimes I think that might be the only way to be truly timeless. 

Album of the Month: STRAWBERRIES by Robert Forster

I have to confess that the moment that I heard the first single from the album ("Strawberries", released in early March), I was extremely underwhelmed. It was a decent Lovin' Spoonful pastiche, charming and inoffensive, but was it not just a piece of prime good-time filler? Did Karin (Robert's wife and also musician in her own right) not overdo the playfulness bit with her vocal performance? (And just to make sure: I'm a huge Lovin' Spoonful fan, and could extol the virtues of songs like "Coconut Grove" for days on end.) 

My apprehension, though, was crushed seconds after the first riff of "Tell It Back To Me" started playing. Christ what a relief. And what an absolute classic of an opening song. Forster has always been so good at them, especially of late: "Crazy Jane On A Judgement Day". "If It Rains". "Learn To Burn". "She's A Fighter". And "Tell It Back To Me" is among his very best. It is a narrative song (one of several), with an optimistic lyrical twist, timeless vocal melody and blissful guitar hookline. 

The second song, "Good To Cry" is an effective rock'n'roll throwback that he still likes to do on occasion (think "121" from Calling From A Country Phone), but to be honest songs like that are not the reason why I love the man. It is the charismatic lyricism ('they made love quickly once, they made love slowly twice') and the tough, intelligent melodicism that does it, and it can all be found on the eight-minute epic "Breakfast On A Train" which is the centrepiece of this album and also the longest song he has ever done. The whole thing flows quite masterfully, with tension and intrigue bubbling underneath. 

In a recent video interview Forster mentioned that it had always been a dream of his, to make his own eight song album (think of something as stylish and pure as Astral Weeks and Marquee Moon). And it is a beautiful idea, beautifully realised. Strawberries is split evenly, with four songs on each side. The second one features the upbeat "All Of The Time" (think of "Learn To Burn" from 2015, but with shades of Leonard Cohen in the vocal melody), the wistful piano-based "Such A Shame", the stark, striking ballad "Foolish I Know" (with a surprising lyrical twist) and the free-flowing "Diamonds" that starts with a "For What It's Worth"-like guitar hook and erupts at the end with a great saxophone-led explosion. 

All through the album, he is backed by what he calls his 'Swedish band'. They are fantastic, and they also going to perform with him during the European tour later this year. But coming back to Strawberries for a second... It is not his strongest album (I would go for The Evangelist or Danger In The Past), but his melodies and his lyrics still sparkle. Plus, the album features what may well be the best use of the word "fuck" in a song in recent memory.

 

May Round-Up

It would be hard for me now to explain what a shock to the senses The Seer was 13 years ago. I remember playing "Lunacy" to my Celtic folk-loving sister back in 2012, and even she was impressed. The sound was brutal, hypnotic, truly monumental. And according to Michael Gira, the two-hour-long Birthing is supposed to be the end of that run. From the minimalist cover to the gruesome drama of the first few seconds of "The Merge", this is of course classic Swans. The final "(Rope) Away", where Gira recounts the name of friends who have passed away over the years, could be the most moving thing the man has ever done. No, this is not as good as The Seer, but then very few things are. Birthing is a fitting finale.

I have probably said or written a lot of negative things about The National over the years, but the odd thing is that I quite enjoy Matt Berninger's solo stuff. Serpentine Prison in particular helped me get through the harrowing events of 2020. Back in October and November that year, I probably played that album every day. Get Sunk is not as good - but only because it lacks the killer songs like "One More Second" and especially "Loved So Little". The overall feel is much the same, though, that of sentimental chamber pop introspection in a late night cocktail bar.

Peter Doherty's latest is not among his best, and I must have heard everything the man has ever done - be that as part of The Libertines, Babyshambles or in his solo career. The latter has generally been rather low-key and inessential, but I'm always curious. I still rate him as a great songwriter, and 2022's The Fantasy Life of Poetry & Crime, for example, was an understated and unjustly ignored gem. Not so much Felt Better Alive, though, which is charming but also extremely throwawayish in nature. In between the minor delights "Calvados" and "Empty Room", there are a lot of decent folk tunes you will forget as soon as they stop playing. 

Since I have already talked about Arcade Fire's new album, Pink Elephant (rather unjustly slammed, I should say, but then try writing about it and not slamming it - full review here), so let's talk about the comeback of Stereolab instead. While it would be true to say that I have never been a huge fan, I have utmost respect for albums like Emperor Tomato Ketchup and particularly Dots and Loops (my personal favourite). Their new album, and the first in 15 years, is titled Instant Holograms on Metal Film. It is tasteful, addictive music full of beautiful guitar grooves and electronic undertones. The album won't set the world on fire, but it has a lot of warmth and style and real melodic substance. You just want to get lost in its rich textures. 

Blondshell's new album is getting good reviews from almost everywhere, and it is easy to see why: she plays solid indie rock music with hooks and melodies and attitude. The problem of If You Asked For A Picture is that I still find it all very derivative, and wouldn't pay much attention to these overly familiar power chords if I heard them played in a public place. Consistent, moderately catchy (annoyingly so on "23's a Baby"), but there's just not enough oomph. The last minute of "Change" is great, though.

Ezra Furman remains an excellent songwriter, but I just can't get excited about Goodbye Small Head to the extent that I was excited about Twelve Nudes or those brilliantly unhinged Harpoons albums. I am still a fan, though, and the strings-drenched screamer "Jump Out" and the gorgeous ballad "Veil Song" are worthy of Furman's previous work. I just need a little more catharsis, I guess. 

There's certainly some catharsis on the new LP by Sparks, but out of all their 21st century output and excluding the soundtracks, I would only rate Balls and A Steady Drip, Drip, Drip as less interesting. I could of course come up with some clever reasons for that (and mention the messy production, which I actually don't have a problem with), but I guess it is quite straightforward: the songs are slightly less good. I mean, doesn't "My Devotion" have a little too much cheese in its melody (and lyrics)? Still, the highlights are numerous ("Hit Me, Baby", "I-405 Rules", "Drowned In A Sea Of Tears", "Love Have Mercy"), and even the silly and repetitive "JanSport Backpack" features some beautiful sections. MAD! is excellent, mind you, just a little below their lofty standards. 

Finally, I've always been all for loving These New Puritans, but their brand of intellectual art rock has never really grabbed me. Crooked Wing is a good album but I just can't find enough substance here. Sorry, but Talk Talk they are not. 

Songs of the month:

"Tell It Back To Me" by Robert Forster

"Drowned In A Sea Of Tears" by Sparks

"Aerial Troubles" by Stereolab

"Veil Song" by Ezra Furman

"The Pink Floyd Research Group" by Luke Haines & Peter Buck

"Got To Have Love" by Pulp

"Empty Room" by Peter Doherty

"Bonnet Of Pins" by Matt Berninger

"Disintegrate" by Suede

"Change" by Blondshell

Its own category: "(Rope) Away" by Swans

"Tell It Back to Me" by Robert Forster

Nobody can do a classic opening song quite as well as Robert Forster does them. "Baby Stones". "If It Rains". "Crazy Jane On A Judgement Day". I will have a lot more to say about this new Robert Forster in a week or so, but for now I'll just say that "Tell It Back To Me" is one of his best ever. It is intense, intelligent, endlessly tuneful. From the melody to the lyrics, it is just about everything I have ever loved about the man. 

Pink Elephant

The tragedy of the new Arcade Fire album is that it is honestly quite okay. And it is the bleakest, most indifferent 'quite okay' I can think of. Pink Elephant is the kind of record you make when you feel like you have composed forty minutes of music. It is not the kind of record you make when you have something to say.

So how did we get here? Because it all started with a bang, back in 2004, and the bang was so loud that the reverberations are still audible. Fickle fans be damned; Funeral is one of the greatest albums that have been released this century. From there, we got Neon Bible which saw them eschew a little bit of their charisma in favour of a few Springsteen-like anthems. Still, a great album. The Suburbs was magnificent; a double album that was Arcade Fire at their most sprawling and expansive, with the rather anaemic "Wasted Hours" being its only piece of filler. Reflektor was messy and unwieldy but the ambition and the songwriting pulled it through. 

For all its patchy brilliance, Reflektor spelled trouble. There was a sense that Win Butler and company got a little too high on public and critical adoration and proclaimed themselves invincible. Well, they were not, hence the aftermath of Everything Now. I would still say it was not a worthless album, and both "Put Your Money On Me" and "We Don't Deserve Love" were excellent and I even had time for the clumsy little pop number "Peter Pan", but Christ what a career suicide it was. Everything Now was an artistic disaster, and most of the songs ended up being both banal and overwrought. Clearly the band got lost, and tried to fix the universal dismissal, if not downright hate, by releasing the consolatory WE that saw them go back to the roots with semi-successful results. "The Lightning", for instance, was great, but WE is an album that I never feel like going back to. Because I had heard it all before - but much better.

And so now, more than 20 years after Funeral, we are treated to Pink Elephant, that bloodlessly decent indie rock album that back in 2004 would have sounded like a nightmare or a bad joke. The problem is that there is no ambition to it, no sense of urgency or purpose. While Everything Now was clearly a failure, at the very least it was an ambitious failure. Pink Elephant is... just there. That said, other than the clunky "Alien Nation", there is nothing to actively dislike about the album. "Circle Of Trust" is catchy (if overlong), the title song features a decent (if terribly diluted) melody and "Year Of The Snake" is a powerful mood piece (by far the best thing on the album). Perhaps Arcade Fire just need to be ambitious, loud and anthemic to succeed. Without any of those qualities, the pink on the cover looks like a small drop of blood dissolved in big tank of water.

And I do not even want to talk about the sex scandal that Win Butler has been involved in (and which, quite annoyingly, made many people revise history and say Funeral and The Suburbs were not all that good to begin with). All I'm talking about here is creativity and artistic merit, which are in such short supply by this point that I do not see them digging themselves out of this hole. Really, the tragedy of Arcade Fire is that it feels like they will not make a great album ever again.

"Maxine's Parlour": perfect pop song

I asked Chat GPT the other day to give me some negative feedback. I actually fed it huge chunks of my writings from this blog and specifically requested harsh criticism. In the midst of the sea of bullshit that AI is known for, two things stood out: 1) I use too many personal anecdotes and 2) some of my references are too niche. 

Valid points. My own experience, though, remains the best way for me to establish the emotional connection with the work of art as well as the audience. Personality comes through the writing style as well as the stories we tell. These are not diary entries and nor are they magazine articles, but I would like to think there is a balance there. The second point is tricky in the sense that it is absolutely true and yet there is not much I can do about it. In the end, you write the sort of pieces that you yourself would like to read, and niche references as well as obscure subject matters have always intrigued me. I hate instructions and overstatements and I believe in the effort from both the creator and the beholder. 

Which is all a somewhat fitting setup to talk about a piece of music very few have heard. 

I have always been searching for the perfect pop song. For reasons too numerous to name, the focus of my attention has mostly been the 1960s. "(Do I Figure) In Your Life". "Different Drum" "Sunny Goodge Street". "Care of Cell 44". "Walk Away Renee". Countless others. This is, of course, not about the final result but, rather, about the process of searching. Because there are few things as rewarding as hearing that crackling sound of an old recording and getting something magical out of the muffled sound of your speakers. Which is exactly what happened when I heard the original version of "Maxine's Parlour" a few weeks ago. 

Interestingly, I knew this song from way before. There is a rare BBC session by Honeybus where they played this song along with a few other pop gems like "Françoise" (one of those slight masterpieces Peter Dello was so very good at) and John Phillips' "Like An Old Time Movie" (one of those lengthy and verbose choruses that actually work). In the version by Honeybus, "Maxine's Parlour" seemed like a delightful little pop song that I thought was actually written by the band. Years later, as I was reading the song credits from a Honeybus compilation, I realised that the song was actually composed by one William Fay. Moreover, the song was released as a 1968 single by a completely forgotten band with one of the worst names in existence: The Crocheted Doughnut Ring. And it was a great single, too (their sole one), except that I also realised who William Fay was.

William Fay was none other than Bill Fay, the sadly overlooked English singer-songwriter who recorded two excellent but obscure albums in the early 70s and was then rediscovered about forty (!) years later, at which point he released a handful of sweetly melodic, introspective albums that I have reviewed for my blog (Life Is People and Who Is The Sender? are especially good). Moreover, 2004 saw the release of the compilation From the Bottom of an Old Grandfather Clock that collected 25 demos and outtakes from Fay's largely unknown career in the late 60s. One of those songs was, naturally, "Maxine's Parlour", and it was utter perfection.

Now the sound quality is not great, but I have always believed that a good song will come through. And it does, and how. All that melodicism, all that yearning packed within three minutes of soaring wistfulness that reaches absolute catharsis with the unlikely slide guitar that romps through the background. The harpsichord could make it too precious and cute, but the melody is just too timeless to be hampered by the muffled noises and dodgy tape hisses - never mind the harpsichord!

I think it is telling that Dan Bejar (of Destroyer and New Pornographers) recognises that genius of that song and has performed it live a few times. Bejar, whose latest albums feature songwriting that I would call unfocused and even meandering, does know his way around a great melody. Records like Streethawk: A Seduction are simply dripping with classic tunes.

So there you have it, an article full of personal anecdotes and obscure references. Most importantly, though, it is about "Maxine's Parlour". The perfect pop song.

April Round-Up

If I come off as a hater each time when Bon Iver releases an album, don't think twice. When it comes to the music of Bon Iver, I am a hater. There are probably millions of people who will tell you that the guy has saved their life or something, but that's not me. I once wrote this piece about Bon Iver, and I'm not sure I have anything new to say here. Sable, fable is just as insipid and formulaic as ever. And if I can salvage something from the decent folk tune "Things Behind Things Behind Things" (closest in style to his first album), the second side is a total fucking disaster. Autotune, annoying falsetto and a bunch of primitive melodies that are simply no good at all. And what on Earth is with the cartoonish voice in "Walk Home"? Is that supposed to be some sort of catharsis? Because to my ears it just sounds sickening. 

I actually never cared too much for Viagra Boys and never get the urge to relisten to any of their past albums, but I really enjoyed their new LP. Viagr Aboys is ridiculous dance-punk that sounds a little like a cross between Franz Ferdinand and Captain Beefheart. Some crazy lyrics ("Uno II"), some great melodies ("Pyramid of Health") and even a couple of oddly 'normal' ballads at the end of each side. "Medicine for Horses" is very reminiscent of Arcade Fire and "River King" might actually drive you to tears. 

Sadly, I'm afraid to report that Mike Scott hasn't recorded a good album since the excellent Modern Blues from 2015. This new concept album by The Waterboys about Hollywood titled Life, Death and Dennis Hopper is an interesting idea but that's about it. There is an endless list of songs here, all of them rather short (some are instrumentals, some are interludes), many in different styles (blues, country, folk, even punk) but other than the subdued power ballad "I Don't Know How I Made It", there is not a single song here that I would care to hear again. I don't mind passion projects, I just can't accept this amount of middling songwriting.

Nothing says middle age like these latest albums by Craig Finn (whether solo or as part of Hold Steady). Always Been (God what a nondescript album title) is your classic Craig Finn fare with big heartland melodies and lyrics that balance between drama and understatement. "Luke & Leanna" is the perfect example of what I'm talking about; the melody is catchy and uplifting and the lyrics will make you break down during the next therapy session. I used to find him monotonous, but now I just simply enjoy the songs. 

Finally, now that the dust and the hype have settled, I can repeat that Forever Howlong by Black Country, New Road is an excellent album that keeps getting better with time. Each new listen reveals just how much craft and care (and overthinking, sometimes) went into these songs. Full review.

Songs of the month:

"Spike Island" by Pulp

"Drowned In A Sea Of Tears" by Sparks

"Ballad Of The Last Payphone" by The New Pornographers

"Two Horses" by Black Country, New Road

"Pyramid Of Health" by Viagra Boys

"Luke & Leanna" by Craig Finn

"I Don't Know How I Made It" by The Waterboys

"Chambermaid" by Suzanne Vega (I know, I know, but still)

On Mulholland Drive. Again.

Every time that I hear that ominous hum and step into the world of Mulholland Drive, my heart stops. Or, rather, it expands, and fills me with a rather complex feeling of warmth, dread and confusion. It is every shade of the original meaning of the word 'awesome' rolled into one perfect cinematic experience, and after all these years I still cannot get over it.

Mulholland Drive is my favourite film of all time, and this time in Warsaw, I finally got the chance to see it on the big screen. Besides the sheer joy of watching the film for the umpteenth time, I was genuinely excited about sharing this experience with those who have never seen Mulholland Drive before. I envy them. In their presence, I feel like a smoking addict who has to abstain but who can still sniff nicotine off the cigarettes of other people. I feel like a Belarusian who cannot go back but who leans closer to those who hold tickets for tomorrow.

The cinema in central Warsaw was not packed but it did not need to be. This was a special one-off screening very late in the evening, on Easter Monday, that was not heavily advertised. Which means that everyone who came simply had to be there. They gasped, they gulped, they held their breath. Every step of the way there was a sense that I knew exactly what they were going through: the thrill, the bewilderment, the inexplicable catharsis. I fed off their energy.

Not that I needed that to enjoy Mulholland Drive, of course. The world of David Lynch is so multi-dimensional you can always discover a new turn or a passage you have never seen before. The song from the Silencio club will get a new undertone. The close-up in apartment 17 will appear more shocking. The nightmare recounted in Winkie's diner will acquire a new meaning. This time, for instance, I was more impressed than ever by the clarity of Lynch's vision and how tight that surreal and seemingly confusing world really is. For every loose end disappears and every key finds its lock. Like I have always said: if you do not understand Inland Empire, it is okay. That film is not even entirely gettable, other than on a purely intuitive level. Saying that about Mulholland Drive, however, betrays a certain lack of attention.

So it was a little less dread and confusion this time, and a lot more warmth. Because even at his most shocking and brutal (it was just as brutal for the actors, too, and I remember an interview with Naomi Watts where she spoke about her frustration while the famous couch scene was being shot), you get the feeling that there is always good around the corner, not just evil. It is always there, an inherent part in David Lynch's films. And whether it is present in reality or in a dream is somewhat immaterial - because when it comes to Lynch, those two realms are of absolutely equal importance. 

"Forever Howlong" by Black Country, New Road

First of all, why do I even care? I care because over the past three years I have come to view Ants From Up There as something of a modern-day classic. Normally, it takes a little longer for that word to sink in and take shape, and yet every time I put this album on, it just keeps astounding me with its melodic intensity and Isaac Wood's mystique. Ants From Up There is nervy, rich and expansive. It is like Funeral for the 2020s. 

The live album of all new material in 2023 proved that there was, indeed, life after Isaac Wood, and I even went to see them during the European tour later that year. In a rather small club in Warsaw (certainly smaller than their current stock would suggest), they were both charming and brilliant. They refused to play anything from the first two albums, which I thought was commendable, but they did perform a few songs from their much anticipated third studio album. The new material sounded great, and I still can't forget the emotional outburst of a Polish guy standing next to me: "Your new album is going to be fire!"

And now, a year and a half later, the new album is here. It is titled Forever Howlong, and you either hate it or love it to death. 

Another incentive for this review was a snide dismissal of the album I have recently come across on the Internet. Two words, in fact, that were supposed to encapsulate everything that is wrong with Forever Howlong.  'Whimsical and convoluted'. Because, oddly, I concur. It is both incisive and absolutely true. The problem is - I still think this is a great album  and the second best thing they have ever done.

As it is customary with Black Country, New Road, the album requires multiple listens. Which I guess is a very generic thing to say but this, in fact, is where the 'convoluted' bit comes into play. Because the melodies are certainly there. Rather conventional showtime styled tunes crop up in songs like "Salem Sisters" and "The Big Spin" but it is as if they are genuinely frightened of being too accessible, too on the nose, and thus they keep twisting and bending those melodies and overriding them with new ones. Which is not necessarily a bad thing, because these guys know their way around a good vocal hookline. As a matter of fact, I was singing the somewhat throwawayish "The Big Spin" to myself earlier today. Not the full thing, mind you, but a few of those unforgettable snippets.

Alternatively, Forever Howlong can be described as progressive folk for people suffering from attention deficiency. It is fragmented and, indeed, convoluted. It is filled with the sounds of a recorder and features lyrics about apple pies and gut microbiomes. That is to say, it is very whimsical. At first, I could even understand the disappointment, it is just that the intriguing songcraft and excellent musicianship always made me come back for me.  

With that said, even after five or six listens I still do not get the title song. To my ears, it features no melody whatsoever at all and is basically just five endless minutes of cutesy cuteness (chop it off, and you get a perfectly serviceable single album). Also, I do miss the voice of the saxophone guy who, as it transpires, was originally supposed to sing "Salem Sisters". I have nothing against the three ladies who perform on Forever Howlong, but the vocal diversity of Live At Bush Hall was a great touch. Finally, there is a sense that the production is a little overwrought and deprives these songs of a certain air that made them so appealing in the live setting. 

But those complaints are, in fact, minor quibbles, because Forever Howlong just gets better with every listen. The details keep piling on, and I am not only talking about the four six-minute epics which dominate this album (one of them is, of course, titled "Socks" - clearly they are not above painting a big target on their backs (just look at that cover)). Shorter songs like "Goodbye (Don't Tell Me)" and "Happy Birthday" are all intricately played and intricately composed. Even the ballad "Mary" which may at first appear somewhat uneventful features a complex melody that you might just start singing along to. Out of the epics, my favourite is probably the gorgeous and protean "Two Horses" that masterfully transitions from sweet lyricism to the beautiful and ever-intensifying galloping rhythm (the one that comes after the majestic 'night and day' vocal hook).

Do they always deliver? Is the pay off always worth it? Is there orgasm after foreplay and endless teasing? Having lived with this album for almost a week now, I would say yes. Ants From Up There was a more cohesive and concerted statement and thus hit me harder, but the sheer amount of ideas they managed to cram into this album is still very impressive. Forever Howlong is flawed. It is, yes, whimsical and convoluted. But what a special and supremely talented band they are. I can't wait to see what they do next.

Great albums: HEARTWORM by Whipping Boy

Each time that I listen to this album it creates a lump in my throat so fucking big it threatens to rip me apart. Heartworm (what a horrible word, really, yet can you think of a more fitting title?) just keeps going through my life, soundtracking various moments and situations and wreaking beautiful havoc. I first heard this album around fifteen years ago, and I do not think there has ever been a point when it hasn't spoken to me or hasn't filled me with a new degree of affection.

Heartworm is somewhat unique in the sense that nothing in the group's previous work pointed to it. Submarine, their debut, was bog-standard shoegaze album that did not distinguish itself by anything. You could speak about those early records by Pulp, too, yet even those had some very good material on them. You could bring up The Wrens, of course, but their two 90s showed promise. Whereas the conviction and the sheer towering quality of Heartworm came completely out of nowhere. 

Quite simply, you can throw a dart into that track list and tell me this is your favourite song on the album. I will believe you. That side A by itself annihilates most albums that got critical and public acclaim in the 90s. Each song is filled with personality, intensity, catharsis. "Tripped", for instance, just doesn't stop building up and delivering. The single "We Don't Need Nobody Else" would be a timeless classic even without that middle-eight but with it, it becomes phenomenal. And how about the ending of "The Honeymoon Is Over" where each repetition just grows and grows in intensity?

Side B, though, is just as good, and there will be days when I could tell you that "Users" is their best song, to only be disproven yet again by the Dublin Symphony Orchestra creating that relentless power that is woven into the magnificent "Fiction". Or else the more lyrical, subdued magic of the strings-drenched "Personality" which could really be the best ballad-type song on the album were it not for the closing "Morning Rise" that brings the whole thing to a beautiful melodic close.  

The lyrics, too, are some of the greatest I've heard on a rock album. Real drama, and pain, and anguish, and even occasional moments of disarming romance. Some of the more acerbic gems can be found in "We Don't Need Nobody Else" (I just have to quote this part: "They built portholes for Bono, so he could gaze / Out across the bay and sing about mountains / Maybe.") "The Honeymoon Is Over" is a devastating update of Chet Baker's "The Thrill Is Gone", and the blistering lyrics of "When We Were Young" need to be posted in their hair-raising entirety (because they are that good):

"When we were young nobody died
And nobody got older
The toughest kid in the street
Could always be bought over
And the first time that you loved
You had all your life to live
At least that's what you said

The first time you got drunk
You drank pernod and dry cider
Smashed a window in as the police came round the corner
You didn't have no time to run
And your dad stood up for you
As the judge said you're a fool

Babies, sex and flagons, shifting women, getting stoned
Robbing cars, bars and pubs, rubber johnnies, poems
Starsky and Hutch gave good TV
And Starsky looked like me

The first time that you stole
You stole rubber lips and tenners
Bought a radio then ran away for ever
Never felt so good, never felt so good with you

When we were young we had no fear
Of love nor sex nor warnings
Everyone was hanging out, everyone was sorted
When we were young nobody knew
Who you were or what you'd do
Nobody had a past that catches up on you

Babies, sex and flagons, shifting women, getting stoned
Robbing cars, bars and pubs, rubber johnnies, poems
Starsky and Hutch gave good TV
And Starsky looked like me

With a start he was awoken
From the middle of a dream
He's making movies in his head
That never will be seen
He's holding Oscars in his hands
And kissing beauty queens
What might have been
What might have been
When we were young"

Heartworm is so accomplished and powerful, it actually broke the group. On the one hand, the sales were not good enough, and the album sank into obscurity and became a cult classic. On the other hand, where could they go from here? (Actually, I'm also a big fan of their posthumously released third album, even if it is more of a collection of songs rather than a cohesive statement like Heartworm). 

In truth, I don't even need to listen to this record anymore to know exactly, second by second, how it will go. That sad, lonesome violin playing a vaguely Irish tune at the start, and then that deceptively tired rhythm and Fearghal McKee powerful voice... I know it so well I can play it all in my head. And yet a moment comes and I cannot resist. I press play and the whole thing blows me away for a millionth time.