Ho appena finito di leggere Rock Trip di Kevin Sampson (titolo originale Powder), storia di una fantomatica band di Liverpool, i Grams, dal successo dirompente quanto effimero. Non è un capolavoro, anzi, ma la storia è coinvolgente, soprattutto nella parte iniziale, quella dell’ascesa, il declino è trattato in modo un po’ frettoloso.
Comunque, è un libro intriso di britpop, pubblicato nel 1999, quando il britpop, almeno per quanto riguarda la sua ondata originale, era già morto. Ho amato gran parte di quel movimento, da buon beatlesiano mi piaceva cogliere le citazioni, gli omaggi. Mi sono appassionato alla sfida Blur/Oasis e, allora con un po’ di dubbi dovuti forse all’età e alle chitarre rumorose degli Oasis, ora più convintamente tenevo per i Blur, più creativi, più Ray Davies, più tutto.
Questa cassettina da weekend è dedicata al britpop, non sono i miei dieci pezzi preferiti, non sono i dieci pezzi migliori, non sono dieci pezzi dei dieci artisti più rappresentativi del movimento. Sono dieci pezzi che mi piacciono e per questo vanno presi. Ma anche no. Buon weekend. Play.

Beautiful ones – Suede

Country house – Blur

Live forever – Oasis

Common people – Pulp

This is the one – Stone Roses

What do I do now? – Sleeper

Bittersweet Symphony – Verve

Come back to what you know – Embrace

Connection – Elastica

The day we caught the train  – Ocean Colour Scene

Day 2 was destined to be a long day, and with the line-up holding little in terms of interest I wasn’t overly enthusiastic. We arrived late afternoon to complete silence. No DJ. No band. A very subdued crowd. Due to the close proximity of a mosque the organisers had been requested to show respect by not playing music during prayer-times. Fine, that was to be expected. However, the organisers clearly hadn’t considered this when they had put together the schedule since they were way behind. Coupled with the fact that De La Soul had cancelled, the crowd wasn’t in a particularly buoyant mood.

De La Soul dropping off the bill didn’t worry me. But the long periods of silence which permeated throughout the afternoon and evening certainly contributed to the flat atmosphere.

Off to the bar. First drinks of the afternoon. The Murphy’s had floored me the evening before so I was switching to the more “pop-like” Strongbow (UK English “pop” = deviant English “soda”). I’m a very observant chap, and as I stood waiting for my beverages to arrive I couldn’t help noticing a gentlemen chatting to 2 young ladies.

Him = a cross between Steven Tyler/Mika/Cedric Bixler-Zavala. Tight jeans. Pashmina. Suede/velvet jacket. Levantine origin (maybe). Precious. Goatee. (Ok, my goatee looks masculine).

The conversation fragment I overheard -

Him “yeah, I was at a party, he was there”

Them “ooooooh”, giggle, blush

Him “you know Marc Bolan”

Them “erm”

Him “T-Rex”

Them “oh, yeah, yeah, yeah” (no clue)

Him ” well he said I was the next Marc Bolan……..with a beard”

Them “oooooooh”

Marc Bolan wasn’t the image that appeared in my mind, the beard was closer. Off he strutted, his pashmina dancing along the ground behind him – oh, and he wore Converse without laces. (Very punk-rock!).

The first band we saw up was “We Have Band”. Entire band in white. Drummer/vocalist without shoes. Lady vocalist cling-film wrapped legs in white latex. Lena Lovitch lookalike? Some other guy. Rubbish. More post-post-punk-revivalist-elctro-art-school-toss. Get off. I’d rather listen to Kylie. (And she has far better outfits!)

Then something very strange happened. The DJ (iPod) kicked in at the same time as a shadowy figure started moving around on stage. I noticed a pashmina being wrapped around a mic stand and a bit of dance-like posturing (Steven Tyler/Mick Jagger). Mrs. P made the ridiculous suggestion that the shadowy apparition was singing. Further concentration proved her correct.  An undercurrent of beats started to surface and so did a vocal (barely). It was Marc Bolan with a beard! Still don’t know who he was – but his set ended with him complaining about the sound quality, knocking over his mike stand and storming off stage in a huff! Precious. Oh, most definately. Marc Bolan – my arse!

Who was that pashmina’d man?

Gabriella Climi. No photos. What was that about? Great voice. No musical style. She started like a cleaned up Amy Whinehouse and metamorphosed into Avril Lavigne. But I’m sure there were plenty of young bucks down the front who wished they’ve not put on skin-tight jeans!

The switches between bands were now beginning to get slower and slower (or so it seemed). Given the quality of most of the music it wouldn’t have mattered if they set up the microphones in a tin bath. But it further contributed to the stop-start nature of the evening.

The Automatic are from Wales. They looked a bit like The Futureheads, tried to emulate the same type of (copied) sound, but weren’t as good. But 10/10 for effort. They certainly kept the crowd bouncing. Call me an old-fart if you will, but I grew up on lyrics penned by the likes of Ian Curtis, Morrissey, Mark E Smith (??), Edwyn Collins, David Gedge etc. What does “what’s that coming over the hill, it’s a monster” mean? Basically, pick a riff, make it fast, wear tight jeans, and sing after me ….. “there’s a onion in my pocket and it sounds like tom jones, tom jones, tom jones”.  Oh, dear. The state of British music.

I was really hoping The Courteeners would do something for me. They were ok. File under non-challenging-indie-jingly-jangly. End of discussion.

Me and Keith sat out Ocean Colour Scene in the bar. Oh dear. We didn’t even realise they were on. But who wants to see Paul Weller’s backing band? It’s like Chas without Dave.

Onto the grand finale! The Happy Mondays. Or, not. It was a sad sight. Poor old Shaun William Ryder shuffling around in the background while Rowetta (was it Rowetta or a stand in?) fronted. No Bez – passport problems. Poor. Of course the stock-brokers and real-estate agents loved it, reliving their e-fuelled heady days of 1989. (Do the math – you were all 6 at the time!).

Home to bed. Hope Day 3 is better, Day 2 was atrocious.

OCS. Omul cu Şobolani.

http://www.omulcusobolani.ro/

Noi pe ei îi cunoaştem.

Dar de aceştia aţi auzit?

…

OCS Band. Oakland Christian School Band. California. SUA

http://www.facebook.com/pages/OCS-Band/77351094908?v=feed&story_fbid=75342188033

…

OCS Band. Malaysia

http://www.myspace.com/orangecherry

…

OCS. Ocean Colour Scene. UK

http://www.oceancolourscene.com

…

aici am găsit o listă completă de acronime OCS

http://www.acronymfinder.com/OCS.html

Ocean Colour Scene: Up On The Downside

This england made me
Between the war and a rockets flying
You found the crib that saves me
And teach me wrong and right

Then the world was talking
It never got its chance to say
When theres too much talking
Nobody hears the words you say

You wont see
Baby now I want you
These blind communications
Only last throughout the year
And half of what were saying
Is halfway in a truth
And blind communications
For a million hearts and fools

I am a witness
To a land of a million fools
All placing bets on life
Then hate the ones you lose
And all the lonely
Never get the chance to say
That their one and only
Would be the chance to even play

Hello monday
The week is just a blur
Ive been burning bridges
And now Im begging at your door
So I keep on working
cause its a chance for me to pay
But too much talking
When you believe the words I say

There’s always being something about music that inspires local pride.

Artists invariably attract strong fan bases from their home town, born in part by the fact they worked their way to stardom through playing regularly at nearby venues – a few years ago I witnessed a pre-famous Kasier Chiefs acting as a support band at the Leeds Cockpit, a regular occurrence in those days – but also due to the connections that can be felt with a band who grew up in the same part of the world, however many Ferraris they now own.

When it comes to gigs and festivals, similar local pride applies. Seeing famous bands play within a few miles of your home provides excitement that watching Hollywood stars in the latest blockbuster at the nearest cinema can never invoke. Bands of stature playing in your town help you to believe your town is a significant part of the wider world we view daily, through our TV screens and on the internet.

Which is why, despite the fact I live 13 miles away in Skipton, Bingley Music Live delivers a strong sense of goodwill within me before the year’s line up is even announced. True we have a world class festival in the Leeds Festival almost on our doorstep, but even that is on the ‘wrong side’ of Leeds and getting to and from it would involve journey times little different to crossing the border for a gig in Manchester.

It took me less than an hour from leaving my front door to entering the Myrtle Park Bingley festival site on Saturday, and even then it was because there was a 20 minute queue to get in. Hop on the train, pass a few stops and then I’m in a place where I can watch a credible festival bill. I’ve grown up in this area, so Bingley holds memories that touch childhood through to more recent visits for evenings venturing around its pubs. And as I walked around the site spotting people I know here and there, that feeling of local pride surged.

Pride which helps me to overlook the minor imperfections which continue to blight this fledgling festival. This year the capacity was increased from 6,500 to 15,000, but the already inadequate facilities were not upgraded in line. There were around 20 portaloos for the capacity crowd to queue up to use, a factor which left males and some desperate females perching by the nearby riverbank to relieve themselves – ironically avoiding p**sing in the wind. The bar was slightly better with more than one queue, but still our wait was over 30 minutes, leaving everyone with the dilemma of stocking up or facing the same long wait an hour later. Needless to say, people took the former option.

The queue left limited focus for promising Leeds band The Sunshine Underground, who had taken to the stage just as we arrived and belted out a series of indie-friendly anthems that had an already heaving-looking crowd looking suitably engaged. We had taken a dent into our pile of alcohol by the time Ocean Colour Scene came on, but it would have taken a hefty chunk more beer and cider to be able to overlook the fact this was a past-it band most people are past caring about.

Three years ago they’d taken a headline slot for this event and delighted if not enthralled, but the festival has outgrown them in terms of the size of artists it can attract. Of course ‘The day we caught the train’ is always going to guarantee a sing-a-long, but how the band must look green-eyed towards the re-birth of bands like The Verve and reflect on how the good old days now seem especially old.

The Zutons in contrast impressed with their range of poppy hits, and I probably wasn’t the only person in the crowd surprised at how many of them I knew. Once lauded as quirky and the next big thing, like with Ocean Colour Scene success hasn’t quite followed in the anticipated way. They still managed to put on a decent show as the sun began to descend away from troubling our vision, to settling behind the picturesque backdrop ready for the main event.

Doves are back after a four year break, sounding as vibrant as ever with their new album ‘Kingdom of Rust’. Known for putting on a good show, the trio treated the crowd to a near two-hour long set that waded through their strong back catalogue and recent offerings. Clearly most people have being waiting for them, with the crowd reaction turning from moderately warm to hot as each song belted out. After finishing with a rousing encore that included ‘The Cedar Room’, ‘Here it comes’ and ‘There goes the fear’ we all began to trundle home happy, only for a further surprise. Doves came on again to perform a classic, ‘Spaceface‘, from their days as rave band ‘Sub Sub’. Retro in an exciting, joyful manner that Ocean Colour Scene failed to come close to. Everyone charged forward to the front again, the reaction turned up further to scorching.

And then it was time to go home, and though the train system didn’t seem set up to cope with the masses heading back towards Leeds and Bradford, the volume of people heading Skipton way was low enough for us to get the next train back and be home within minutes. I was even back on my sofa in time for the Football League Show, still buzzing at the fact this increasingly worthy festival is growing on my doorstep and that Jimi Goodwin said ‘Bingley’.

See you at the front next year.

OK – gently casting aside the fact that V festival is the festival for people who shouldn’t go to festivals – and also that the line-up is worse than a Top of The Pops show a few months prior to getting the axe (good job we were there) – here’s our little account of we ran tings.

When the We Are Not A Rock Band DJ’s (Matt Barker and The Veev) got a call asking if they could play at (cha)V, they had no idea what they were getting themselves into. Initially, they were booked to play on the Arena stage filling the slot between every band. This meant warming up for the likes of 2manydj’s, MGMT, Lady Gaga, Sneaky Soundsystem amongst many others (including Will Young!). Little did they know that the promoters had bigger plans. Yes, they were to play a 4 hour set on the Friday – meaning they were the ONLY act playing music at the festival on that day (it’s a Sat/Sun festival). The results were immense.

The Arena Stage at 7pm... What happened next?

Here you see The Veev on the decks just as they started (about 7pm). Click on the link to see what happened next…

Check out the circle pits in the Rage video! We’re a very proud bunch here at WANARB. Well done chaps.

Here are some photo’s of the festival:

V Style transport

Arena tent

Instant party, just add WANARB.

WANARB's Matt Barker

You wish you were there...

Mattatat, HazMat, The Veev + better halves

Our view of 2manydj's

Backstage at Ocean Colour Scene

HazMat

P.S. Super super SUPER limited edition WANARB T-Shirts (as seen in the pics) are gonna go on sale soon. To reserve yourself one email us at wearenotarockband@googlemail.com. Get em quick, there aren’t many!

Just seen that there is a new series of X-Factor on the box, this is depressing news as I can remember talking about X-Factor very early on in this journey which means it has taken me far longer than I originally anticipated. I’ve never sniffed glue, but I reckon watching all these episodes is a lot like it. I mean, you can’t do it every single day because you will just end up with a blocked nose, a sense of shame and your nose glued to a moist plastic bag.

Anyway, this episode – utter garbage. Whilst this show is usually terrible in every way, there are often many things for me to get annoyed about, be it all the girls acting like idiots, or Gay Stanfords increasingly disturbing taste in blazers, but I’m just feeling empty at the moment. Carrie was feeling empty and worried as well, due to her book being reviewed in an up scale New York newspaper. She felt a touch better when someone recognised her in the toilets of a restaurant, but it transpired that the woman she saw had dated Aidan after Carrie, and the disapproving look she shot Carrie sent Carrie shivering. None of this makes any sense does it?

I’ve been thinking about Aidan a lot recently. Actually, that’s a lie – I haven’t.

Miranda’s child wouldn’t stop crying, and Miranda was unsure as to why. A little bit of the old anger came back at this point. Imagine if you’re a baby, a ginger baby sure, but still a baby and you’re lying in your crib when your mum walks in the room, and it’s Miranda. Her jowly, forever miserable face peering over you like a severely pinched nipple as she joylessly shakes you about a little bit. I always knew she’d be a terrible mother, and this episode showed me no difference to my initial prediction.

Miranda also made friends with some of the other mothers in her building, after ignoring them for some time. Since this is Sex And The City, the television equivalent of the Guardian newspaper, the woman who finally helped Miranda stop her bastard crying was yet another jive talking, street walkin’ black woman. The stereotypes in this show are just ghastly, as if the two gays – Stanford and Anthony weren’t bad enough in putting back perceptions of gay people twenty five years, we are also treated to every black person in the world acting like they’ve just come a Spike Jonze film. What ever happened to strong  African-American role models on telly? Bring back Bill Cosby.

Charlotte was in the final negotiations for her divorce with Trey, and so needed a lawyer to set the ball rolling. After initially seeing a thick haired, granite chinned good looking lawyer, she realised she needed someone a bit less beautiful for her mind to be fully on the case, and not on the cock. Enter a small, bald motherfucker called Harry Goldenblatt, who I labelled as a ‘bald eagle’ on my notes. Seriously, the guy is bald. Apparently all the time I’ve been calling Trey’s mum as ‘Bonnie’ I’ve been sorely mistaken, I received an email the other day informing me it was ‘Bunny’ which makes me feel a bit sick.

In the end, Trey came to the rescue and decided to give Charlotte everything she wanted, which ultimately was the apartment she had been living in for some time. Just a shame Trey’s pathetic limp dick couldn’t give Charlotte the child she dearly craved, but then I suppose nobody is perfect, apart from David Beckham.

I’ll be honest friends, I’m struggling to fill this review up with anything. Nothing is happening here! Carrie got her book review which was mainly positive, but also said that she saw men as disposable. How could she disagree with that? Every man in her life has gone away in the end, and unlike the Nine Inch Nails song it doesn’t seem to have made her hurt. Here’s my review of her book: ‘if you like this book, you’re a cunt. If you enjoy it, you’re a cunt. Actually, chances are, if you can read this, you’re a cunt.’ And they say word smiths are dead.

What more to say pals, what more to say. Samantha took back a vibrator to a shop, and found it that it was actually a back massager.She then proceeded to give advice to women on which was the best back massager to stick up their crown jewels. I think this has genuinely been the worse episode of this I’ve ever watched, which frustrates me somewhat because it’s not even as if it’s offensive, it’s just so desperately boring.To reward the faithful readers, I’m gonna treat you all to the end of this review. Byeeeeeeeeee!

I’ve been listening to a fair bit of music from the 90s over the last few days. I suppose it was inspired by my last blog entry. As a result, I compiled this little playlist on Spotify. You are more than welcome to have a listen – see how many of these you can remember (and yes, I have included another Geneva track in there).  And if you don’t have spotify, I’m sure a few of them are on youtube.

Anyway, here’s what’s on it:

Longpigs – She Said

Echobelly – King Of The Kerb

Kula Shaker – Tattva

Sleeper – Inbetweener

Menswear – Sleeping In

The Bluetones – Cut Some Rug

Embrace – All You Good Good People

Dodgy – In A Room

Shed Seven – Going For Gold

Space – Female of The Species

Catatonia – Mulder And Scully

Ocean Colour Scene – The Day We Caught The Train

Geneva – Best Regrets

Suede – The Drowners

Lightning Seeds – Change

The Boo Radleys – What’s In The Box? (See Watcha Got)

This will probably be the first part of a much longer playlist. Still you can follow this link to listen to it:

My 90s indie playlist

EDIT: I have added a few more songs to the playlist:

Gene – Olympian

Kenickie – In Your Car

Marion – Sleep

Mansun – Wide Open Space

The Supernaturals – Prepare To Land

Em 1997 com o lançamento do seu terceiro album o grupo estorou e conseguiu a impressionante marca de mais de 1 milhão de copias vendidas e desbancou o todo poderoso Oasis do topo das paradas, então Noel Gallagher com toda sua arrogância mandou uma placa parabenizando a ” segunda melhor banda da inglaterra “. Mas Steve Cradock com toda sua humildade agradeceu ao colega com essa pérola:  “it’s an honour to be described as Britain’s second best band, ahead of Oasis but behind the Beatles”. 

1. “Hundred Mile High City” – 3:58
2. “Better Day” – 3:45
3. “Travellers Tune” – 3:41
4. “Big Star” – 3:11
5. “Debris Road” – 3:09
6. “Besides Yourself” – 3:14
7. “Get Blown Away” – 4:42
8. “Tele He’s Not Talking” – 3:01
9. “Foxy’s Folk Faced” – 2:10
10. “All Up” – 2:48
11. “Spark and Cindy” – 4:00
12. “Half a Dream Away” – 4:21
13. “It’s a Beautiful Thing” – 6:30

download

You’ve heard of Blur — you’ve jammed to the Verve — you’ve probably sung “Wonderwall” in the shower.   But if someone asked you to reel off your favorite bands from the Britpop movement, you’d have little choice but to “Slide Away” or “Stutter,” Elastica style.

Here at 20 Watts, we understand your pain.  There’s so much music in the world — and only so much hard drive space!  That’s why we’ve recruited a team of music fanatics to write comprehensive, 20-album guides to all their favorite genres.  Our exhaustive, brand-new feature, THE 20, is more than a curated list — it’s the absolute best of a style or movement, condensed to a form you can play in one sitting.

So what’s the very best in Britpop?  20 Watts’ DAN KAPLAN has the answer in our first 20 installment.  Watch for 20s each Thursday — only on 20 Watts.

I watched the film ‘Broken Arrow’ on television last night.  Despite the fact I went to see it at the cinema in 1996, I could remember nothing of it.  After watching it again I realized why – it is absolute garbage.  Still, the film did get me thinking.    It started me off on a nostalgia trip to my salad days, and in particular my life in 1996, and how it evolved over the following few years.

In 1996 I was 24 and earning VERY good money with British Gas as a service engineer.   I had a pension, and was also the regular recipient of dividend cheques from a multitude of shares that British Gas kept throwing my way.  I also had a £21,000 mortgage on a little flat on Castlegreen Street in Dumbarton.  Life seemed a complete doddle.

Broken Arrow was released in the UK during April of 1996, and it would have been there or thereabouts that I first saw it.  I remember going to see it with my then girlfriend Fiona, at the UCI multiplex in Clydebank.    I’ll admit now that it wasn’t one of my better ideas for a date.  Whether she had a thing for John Travolta I can’t recall, though I can’t imagine anyone fancying Travolta in that movie.  His girning alone would be enough to give any woman nightmares.

Life seemed so easy in those days.  The only clouds on my horizon were generally the product of my lovelife.  I had no real awareness of the wider world outside my own social circle, and had no thoughts or opinions on anything ‘political’.  My life revolved around work and beer, with increasing forays into dope, and guitar-generated rock and roll.

It was in about 1996 that I started to become a regular concert go-er.  Looking at my collection of ticket stubs, I can see how my musical tastes gradually changed.  In 1996 I was paying to see Bon Jovi, Oasis, Del Amitri, Reef, and Ocean Colour Scene.  By 1997 I was watching the Verve, Skunk Anansie, Live, Primal Scream, Radiohead, Smashing Pumpkins, and Beck.

The late 90’s went on to become, for me, something akin to a ‘perfect storm’.   I had moved away from Dumbarton to live in Rothesay on the sunny Isle of Bute.   For the first time in my adult life the Labour Party had won election to Government.  My formerly apolitical nature had been eroded by exposure to the music of Public Enemy and Rage Against the Machine.  And possibly most significant of all was the new time I found for reading.   I started reading broadsheet newspapers, particularly the Glasgow Herald, and a new work colleague was introducing me to the works of Noam Chomsky, Richard Brautigan, Kurt Vonnegut, Tom Waits, and Hunter Thompson.  I developed strong views on nuclear weapons, on the 1998 Gulf War, and the 1999 Kosovo bombing.  Almost despite myself, I was slowly turning into some kind of political black sheep.

And suddenly life seemed not so simple.   I saw in the millenium listening to Godspeed You Black Emperor and Mogwai.  

Before long I was resigning from British Gas and getting arrested in front of nuclear submarine bases.

I wish I’d never saw that damn film

Day We Caught The Train 1996

Excerpt ~ Def 1000 songs: Their ascent was greatly aided by Paul Weller and Oasis’ Noel Gallagher, who both publicly praised Ocean Colour Scene for keeping the flame of real rock & roll burning during the ’90s. And, according to one specific definition, they were right, since Ocean Colour Scene was nothing if not rock & roll traditionalists, drawing heavily from British Invasion pop, psychedelia, soul, R&B, and blues-rock to create a reverential homage to classic rock. Their devotion to trad rock may have earned them decidedly mixed reviews  …… more

Number 855 - Ocean Colour Scene – 1996 – ENG – Genre: Brit Pop - Play Song – Vote Now!

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Belladrum Logo

It’s a little over 4 weeks til this year’s Belladrum Festival. (We’ve started to do sun dances already!) Always one to try something a little different, yesterday saw Bella release details of their attempts to lower their carbon footprint at this year’s festival, by recycling up to 5 tonnes of food waste.

 The Green Dream Machine will clock up another first at this year’s festival by collecting up to 5 tonnes of food waste. Not only will this reduce the festival’s land-fill but the food waste will be converted into a high quality compost.

The Green Dream Machine was formed by volunteers at Belladrum in 2006 and have gone on to create a range of projects to reduce waste and promote recycling at outdoor events – a new project is currently being designed and will be unveiled at this year’s Belladrum.

“Compost Corner” as it has been dubbed is a simple system and will be managed by Bella’s own green champion and GDM volunteer, Catriona MacLeod. Catriona explained, “This year we will have dedicated wheelie bins and skips for all the caterers’ food waste. This waste will be taken off-site to a nearby in-vessel composter and within a few weeks this waste will be converted into a rich, high quality compost.”

In these days of climate change and global warming, it’s good to see a festival taking such a innovative approach – if Bella expects to save 5 tonnes from going to landfill, how much could this weekend’s T in the Park save?

Belladrum 2009 takes place in the beautiful Highland surroundings of Belladrum Estate, near Beauly in Inverness-shire. The independent festival has built a reputation for its eclectic line-ups, its off-beat non-musical entertainments and its all-ages approach. Capacity will remain what it was in 2008 at 12,000. At the UK Festival Awards Ceremony in October – the festival industry’s ‘oscars’ – Bella was awarded the Grassroots Festival Award.

Award-winning Belladrum has announced headliners  Editors and Ocean Colour Scene plus a raft of other acts including: The Saw Doctors; Shed Seven; British Sea Power; Seth Lakeman; Alabama 3; Sons & Daughters; Glen Tilbrook & The Fluffers; The Peatbog Faeries; Lau; Toploader; Treacherous Orchestra; Transglobal Underground; Tommy Reilly; De Votchka; The Phantom Band; 3 Daft Monkeys; Edward II; The Wallbirds; Kid Carpet; Sam Isaac;  Broken Records; Magistrates; Healthy Minds Collapse; Sparrow & The Workshop; The Lost Brothers; and Scooty & The Skyhooks.

Of course, Belladrum isn’t simply about the music. This year sees another first, with the introduction of Sweaty Bella, a mountain bike race on the Saturday morning, which is open to festival ticket holders only – buy your entry ticket along with your festival ticket!

If that sounds too energetic then there is plenty more on offer, from debates and writing workshops to the world’s number one Billy Connolly tribute act, Silly Connoly.

There’s also plenty for the kids at Belladrum, making it one of the most family friendly festivals around. From facepainting to kids theatre, there’s somthing for everyone, including a visit from Mr Boom!

Tickets for this year’s Bella are available now from www.thebooth.co.uk

Ham Sandwich - Mitchelstown bound.

Saturday 1st of August – Bavaria Stage – Indiependance Festival

One of our favourite festivals of the circuit is the Indiependance Festival, it’s a great chance for us to meet up with bands and musicians we know. This is the first year that the festival has moved off the square, and there’s camping, lot’s of shennanigans.

We’re playing the Saturday of the festival, on the Bavaria stage with Fight Like Apes, Vesto Varro, The Chapters, Travega and OCS.

Once upon a time on the mythical, mystical and muddy plains of Glastonbury there was a great battle between indie’s greatest wrestlers, Podge ‘Rhino Right Arm’ McNamee and Jamie ‘Pockets of Punches’ Fox, this battle went unwon with a swear of ‘until next time!’ as holy man made elixirs weakened their resolve. Is this the next time? Could fermented cheese drive these two monsters of mangle together. A few bottles of Buckfast and we’ll see.

Looking forward to it!

Well I guess this is now my second ever blog, so hopefully I’ll start to get into the swing of this shit soon enough. I’m not planning it to be a daily event, but a second blog is here as I seem to be at a lose end surprisingly tonight.

The title of this blog is an ode to some truly great bands, great tunes – in a way it’s a lot of things that involve my youth (now that I’m the ripe old age of 27). Firstly, my music taste has barely progressed since I was 16 or 17. By that time I had truly found my music taste, my musical niche as it were. Since then there have only been a handful of new bands that have actually made it into my CD collection. These are the likes of The Go! Team, The Futureheads, Yeah Yeah Yeahs, The Long Blondes, and that’s pretty much it. So, that being said, I’ve been mainly listening to the same bulk of music for over a decade now. This has all been summed up beautifully in the current Collector’s Edition of Mojo magazine that is out – a Britpop special.

It’s a comprehensive guide to the whole Britpop movement of the ’90’s, with multi-page spreads and interviews on the likes of Oasis, Blur, Pulp, Suede, Supergrass, Elastica, Sleeper and Menswe@r. It’s got a break down of each month of the mid-late ’90’s, with album reviews and “then and now” interviews with all the key players. Now I’ve been reading this magazine in fits and starts, like on the way to and from work, or on my breaks in work. That means that I’ve literally been reading one story about a certain band per day. It just automatically puts you in the mood to listen to certain albums again. For instance, Wednesday I spent my day reading all about Suede, then got home and slapped on Coming Up, while putting about 4 Suede albums on to my iPod as a result. Thursday I spent reading about Pulp, so inevitably came home and had a play through Pulp’s back catalogue. Today was the turn of Supergrass, with me now sat here listening to In It For The Money on my laptop, while debating a more Gaz Coombes style haircut from Clive on my next visit to the barber shop. Basically, it’s just a great read that inspires memories of far more innocent, wide-eyed times. Times of first going out with your mates, getting pissed as a fart, dancing around like a twat to your favourite songs in the ever-sticky floored Tiv, drinking £1 bottles of Rolling Rock, having a fondle of boob, exploring the menu at the local kebab house. In that sense I was lucky that as Britpop came into the ascendandcy, I was at the perfect age and with the perfect outlook on life. I always wished that I’d been just a year or 2 older, in order to see the whole “stealing the mantle” from the Seattle based grunge scene, but in hindsight I think it was perfect timing. First memories of the whole thing involve getting albums like Different Class, All Change and Definitely Maybe as presents. Or sitting at Richie’s house listening to this random single he’d bought off the cuff, on the cheap, by a no-name band called Super Furry Animals – that single being Something 4 The Weekend, and us overplaying it for a good 12 months solid. Stuff like that made for great experiences. It also proved as a great bonding time for you and your mates; something that you all had in common and something that you could all relate to and enjoy at the same time. Sadly, that still happens to this day, such as whenever Pounding by Doves comes on in a club – you can guarantee a drunken gaggle of 27 year olds with their fists in the air, with arms slouched around each other, spilling beer all over the place. Ah yes, good times indeed.

Anyways, as is likely to often be the case with these blogs, there wasn’t much of a point to this one. I just fancied a slight tribute to all things Britpop; a force that sums up my teenage years perfectly. As Britpop was dying out, sadly so were my teenage years. I mean, back then I was wearing cord flares, with silly Indie hair, geeky glasses, and raving on and on about how the Stone Roses were the best band of all time. I’ve so changed since then…

If something’s good then it’s good – “simples”, as the Meerkat says. I can still appreciate an album like Maximum High or Moseley Shoals just as well nowadays as I could a decade ago. You can’t beat a nice Summer album full of tunes, sat with a cold beer and your mates in a field.

Britpop, I salute you.

Jeg har alltid vært (og er) en stor tilhenger av rock n roll! Led Zeppelin er mine favoritter, og jeg digger The Black Crowes, Black Sabbath, Jimi Hendrix, gammalt Clapton og Bowie og mye, mye annet godt fra 60- og 70-tallet.

Det meste av dette har jeg fått gjennom broren min (takk, Jænitch!), og som god lillebror er det ikke alltid lett å “bryte” med sitt forbilde og like noe annet.
Etter hvert har jeg funnet ut at jeg liker litt annen musikk også, stort sett i pop, rock, og hardrock-sjangerne.
En god kjæreste (nå kone) og gode venner har bidratt med innspill, og intens lytting til radio har åpnet opp for (for meg) skjulte skatter, som Ocean Colour Scene, Ben Harper, Jack Johnson, tidligere omtalt Antony & The Johnsons, The Black Keys + + +

Noe som var litt mer problematisk å godta var at jeg synes Eminiem hørtes litt kult ut, da den første plata hans kom. Jeg kunne ikke helt tillate meg å like verken ham eller musikken hans, men jeg ble likevel tiltrukket av musikken på et vis.
Hver gang det har blitt spilt Eminem-låter på radioen har jeg tenkt at

dette var kult…han er litt rå han fyren der…

for i neste øyeblikk å tenke:

uff nei, hip-hop og rap…blææ…

Men nå er det slutt!!
Etter å ha nevnt det for kona, har jeg nå fått den siste Eminem-plata i burdagspresang. Og jeg liker det.

Jeg liker Eminem! Verden får akseptere meg for den jeg er!

Eminem - Relapse