I was maybe halfway through the entirely improvised new live album by Ghost, when it occurred to me that I might have been fixating on the new psych/folk/freak jams a bit much this past week or so. It was then that I turned to the new album by Beirut, as I have done for the past two or three weeks when I feel the need for tunes, of all things.
I’ve just been reading Re-Make/Re-Model, Michael Bracewell’s new book on the formative years of Roxy Music and was particularly struck by an early passage in which Bryan Ferry – thankfully not talking about fox-hunting or the Third Reich – waxes nostalgically about a music shop in Newcastle called Windows, where as a teenager he spent many astonished hours browsing through racks of records he couldn’t always afford, but liked anyway just to spend time poring over.
Around the turn of the decade, I used to go and see a Brooklyn band called Les Savy Fav every time they played London. They were a fantastic night out. The singer, Tim Harrington, occasionally behaved like a cross between Iggy Pop, Salvador Dali and Captain Birdseye.
I could be mistaken about this, but there's a point in this really fine Six Organs Of Admittance show when Ben Chasny and his new foil, Elisa Ambrogio, appear to be whispering sweet nothings to each other. Then the hushed, gentle duet becomes clearer. "They may even eat the horse that you're riding," they're singing.
Tomorrow, I'm off to the Edinburgh Film Festival. I've got loads of fond memories of previous years -- many of them, I have to admit, caught up in Scotland's marvellous, forward-thinking policy towards pub opening times -- but this year's festival promises a bundle of fine films.
As I've mentioned before here, the marketing department next door aren't too fond of the primordial swamp jams that come out of the New Weird America, and for the past couple of weeks they've been particularly aggravated by the new album by Sunburned Hand Of The Man.
This week's new festival is, in the words of promoter Tom Baker (no, not that one), a "psychedelic Summer fete".
So, we're promised welly golf, hog roasts, a jumble sale along side some Acid Folk in the shape of Vetiver and Bat For Lashes, plus a strong mix of cutting-edge names including Battles, the Aliens and Four Tet.
Sad news of course this weekend, with the passing of Tony Wilson. I can't add much to Stephen Dalton's excellent obit. But I thought it'd be a useful tribute to put online the full Factory Catalogue that we compiled for Uncut's recent Book Of Revelations.
Such has been the drooling media focus on Kate Bush this week, it might be tough to imagine British music journalists listening to anything else these past few days. I'm not, in fairness, exempt from the hysteria: here's...