I really wanted to see The June Brides play last night. I had heard some new songs from them, thin and reedy and wistful and wastrel. Tender and melancholy and so fragile, almost not existing. Last night I dreamed I was living in a futuristic nightmare-scape where everyone’s virtual avatars were real and friendly, conjured […]
Like washing a woman’s feet with champagne. It’s the anti-Adele.
This new song swings, it soars. It hurts. It echoes with distant and dismay and hope, and oh yes. The beauty is in the mistakes.
Can it really come down to simple tribalism, familiarity? It could, you know. It could.
Who couldn’t relate to a stiff upper lyric like that?
More broken songs of hope and self-belief played on broken record players.
There’s nothing like a three-minute spoken word intro to set the blood racing. There’s nothing like a space-birth scene to really get those dance muscles pumping.
Julian says: “Everybody’s always like, ‘Oh yeah the music used to be better in the 80s’. No it fucking didn’t.” So what current bands are as good as The Fall, Joy Division, Buzzcocks, The Birthday Party or Dexy’s [sic] in their prime? Not to mention Blondie, Ramones, Jonathan Richman… (This comment originated on another post. I think it’s […]