Hello, Jack White

Blogger provides me with some stats about how many visits my blog gets, which posts get the most views and where readers come from.  I'm not entirely sure how reliable or useful they are.  I will admit to being slightly thrilled that I had 53 visitors on Monday, but I am slightly bemused at finding that no post has been read more than twice this week.

Up until quite recently, one of my most viewed posts was, apparently, a slight thing I wrote 6 years ago, pointing out a passing similarity between the White Stripes and the Black Keys.  I must admit, I thought I was stating the obvious at the time, but now it seems that Jack White has got into a spot of bother for pointing out the similarity in a private email.

I don't want to start a feud with Jack White for obvious reasons, and I'm not suggesting for one minute that he got the idea that the Black Keys ripped him off from my blog - as I've already said, I thought that was obvious.  I'd just like to note that Jack White has now issued an apology.  Jack, if you are reading this, you might want to check out a previous post about the misguidedness of the public apology.

West Midlands Folk Lounge

On Saturday, I visited the West Midlands Folk Lounge.  I generally feel uneasy with any kind of generic approach to - well, anything.  I can't like or dislike music on the basis of what label it has.  'Folk' seems the most nebulous genre, with the possible exception of 'indie' and of course the sub-genre from Hell, 'indie folk'.  What I find most upsetting about the whole thing is that I played in an acoustic duo in the late 90s, that I jokingly described as 'indie folk' because I couldn't think of a better description.  As self-delusions go, 'I could've been a contender' is one of the more ridiculous, but knowing discovering fifteen years after the event that you might have been in the forefront of something moderately interesting is rather galling.

Enough of my middle-aged frustrations.  The most interesting of last Saturday's act were Jenny Went Away. The three band members sing in various combinations and play guitar, violin, cajon and ukulele.  They look and sound like 'indie folk' might have done had it been around in the 1940s.  They lack the technique to be totally convincing, but that is easily remedied.

The most affecting were Driftwood Store, or rather a combination of Driftwood Store and The Mistakings - there is some overlap between the two group and Saturday's lineup contained members of both.  Again, there were three singers, arranging vocal harmonies in various combinations.  They also had a violin and one guitar, shared between two guitarists.  The vocals are ethereal and shockingly beautiful; the guitar was rudimentary, but none the worse for it.

What both acts share is a willingness to move away from the tired drums/bass/rhythm/lead/vocal formula that has dominated music for about a million years.  Did I enjoy the evening?  Apart from the unpleasant envy I felt at realising  some of these musicians are young enough to be my children, yes.

A blog that might require sponsorship

As regular readers will know, this blog does not, as a rule, advertise. I occasionally look at the 'monetise' option at the top of this page and think about clicking it. The chance to make a bit of extra money out of something I write for fun is quite tempting, but I worry that I might find myself plunged into a capitalist purgatorio in which I am expected to sell my own grandmother, or perhaps link to a certain online retailer. It's a risk I've avoided - until now. For now, I feel I have to mention a brand name.

I am part of the Walkman™ generation. I was a pre-pubescent youth when a large electronics conglomerate introduces the personal stereo. They were ubiquitous when I was a teenager, and the long-term result is that many people my age (I have just turned 40) find it more-or-less impossible to spend more than an hour without being engulfed in music. Ok, we're hardly unique in listening to music on headphones - my own dad (some years older than I am) owned one before I did - but, we may be the first generation to expect to be occupied constantly while awake. Equally, although plenty of other manufacturers made similar devices, the power of the brand was so strong that it became a generic name for that particular device.

The device in question has now been discontinued, however the brand name survives. A friend of mine had a mobile phone - I suppose I see the connection - that used the brand, while I own an MP3 player. There are two ironies here, one personal one general: on a personal level, the MP3 player is the first device with that brandname that I have owned (previously I have had to make do with cheaper brands); an a broader level, the generic name now belongs to another brand (no plug for this).

Despite firmly reaching middle age, I still walk with earphones in. I have always told myself that this is because of my love of music: over the years I have spent a good proportion of my money on CDs, tapes and legal downloads; I also own several musical instruments, that I play with varying degrees of incompetence. It occurred to me recently, however, that the real reason is to shut myself away from reality. Putting the earphones in the moment I leave the house and not removing them until I reach my destination saves me the hassle of interacting with the world. Not anymore: I have decided to renounce the Walkman.

Well, maybe not. I still listen to it, because I love music; from now on that will be the only reason. I will no longer put the earphones in automatically; I will try to live without constant stimulation; I will take the time to listen to my surroundings. I don't think this will change the planet or make me a better person, but it might stop me going completely deaf for a couple of years.

Killing X-Factor?

So Rage Against the Machine's 'Killing in the Name' has triumphed over - you know I'm not even sure I can be bothered to find out what the X-Factor offering is called. There have been plenty of comments elsewhere on the chart battle, and the American band's victory. Some objections to the X-Factor campaign seem more relevant than others: both tracks are ultimately distributed by Sony; there are better ways to upset Simon Cowell's applecart than backing an outdated and irrelevant rock tune; X-Factor will continue anyway. For me the most cogent argument was made by the NME's Luke Lewis. Along with a number of other points, Lewis suggests that the campaign trivialises a song that addresses important issues in American society. Curiously, the band themselves don't seem to object.

My own opinion is probably obvious already, but for the record I downloaded 'Killing in the Name' and am therefore partly responsible for it being number one. There seems little point in rehashing arguments that have been, and are being, fought out all over the web. What springs to my mind is a quote from Benjamin Disraeli's Sybil, or the Two Nations. Disraeli writes of "Two nations between whom there is no intercourse and no sympathy; who are ignorant of each other's habits, thoughts and feelings, as if they were dwellers in different zones or inhabitants of different planets".

This is my main reason for not wanting to rehash the argument: most people already have entrenched positions on the debate, and don't understand the other side. Joe McElderry may have a vested interest, but he probably spoke for many when he described 'Killing in the Name' as 'dreadful'. For others, me included, the bland pop and associated manipulation churned out by X-Factor is similarly abhorrent. McElderry doesn't understand this, and I wouldn't expect him to.

Ultimately, this is why 'Killing in the Name' is the perfect song for the anti X-Factor campaign. It is a big slab of angry, confrontational rock that is bound to polarise people. There is a time and a place for unity and consensus; there is a time and a place to be reasonable and subtle; but when you are fighting something as pervasively anodyne as 'The Climb' you've got to be obnoxious about it.

Nick Hornby, Melvyn Bragg and James Joyce

Over the last fifteen years or so, I have enjoyed an occasional relationship with The South Bank Show. I have caught it from time-to-time simply looking around for something to watch on a Sunday night. As show times vary I have sometimes come in at the beginning of something I've enjoyed very much; frustratingly I've also come in at the end of something I'd have made a point of seeing had I have known it was on - most galling was catching the final five minutes of a programme on Elvis Costello.

Recently, particularly as I've matured into my thirties, I've learned how to use a TV guide, and can now look for shows I think will be interesting. The show's broad coverage means that I frequently find myself skipping episodes, particularly when I want to see Match of The Day 2. As it seems that the present series will be the last, I've been determined to find something to watch before it goes for good.

Yesterday's travesty at Anfield meant I was happy to miss the football last night; fortuitously, this coincided with a show about Nick Hornby. I had been planning to watch the show anyway. I'm generally happy enough to watch documentaries about writers, whether I like their stuff or not - Jeffrey Archer being the one dishonourable exception. As it happens, I've read Hornby's first three novels and enjoyed them.

He's published two more since the last time I read him, the most recent was released last month. I haven't got round to reading either, but possibly will at some point. The show didn't inspire me to rush out and buy the books I haven't read, not least because of a comment Hornby made himself. He says that he occasionally meets people who tell him they've read High Fidelity ten or fifteen times; he longs, he says, to tell them to stop: "there are other things you could be reading". It's a fair point, and sums up my own feelings: Nick, if you're reading this, I've enjoyed what I've read so far, but the rest of your oeuvre will have to wait until I've finished Finnegans Wake.

New Favourite Music Shop

I have been there before, but today I visited Hobgoblin in Birmingham, and had a great time. The selection of traditional instruments is fantastic, as I already knew, but so is the customer service.

There was a woman in the store, who had got there ahead of me. She had no experience of playing a musical instrument, and wanted to know what instrument would be the easiest place to start. The man working in the shop couldn't have been more helpful. He discussed what kind of music she was interested in - Cajun, as it happened - and went through various instruments, demonstrating each one, and telling her about ease of use, price, and how easy it would be to move on to another instrument.

When it was my turn to be served, they didn't have the mandola strings I was after in stock. They have ordered them for me, and promised they would be dispatched from the warehouse today. All in all, a good trip.

The Black Keys

I came across The Black Keys on Channel 4's Live from Abbey Road, and I have to confess to mixed feelings. It was nice to hear something raw and immediate after the anodyne Hoosiers, and they certainly kick up a fair racket, but I still have reservations.

I fought the temptation to compare them with The White Stripes, simply because of their lineup: if they were a bogstandard four-piece, I wouldn't feel the need to make any invidious comparisons. But, then there was the rather similar musical territory, minus Meg White's rudimentary approach to drums - arguably a large part of The White Stripes' appeal.

Call me slow on the uptake, but they were a couple of songs into their set, before I clocked the name: The Black Keys, The White Stripes - someone somewhere is taking the mick.

Augie March

Augie March are not well known outside their native Australia. In fact, I'm not sure how well known they are in Australia. I received their third album, Moo You Bloody Choir to review in 2007.

The main focus of the band is singer/songwriter Glenn Richards. I have to say, I am ambivalent about singer/songwriters, singer-songwriters, and singersongwriters: I am a huge fan of Dylan, Costello, Waits & Cohen, but these artists have also inspired a million whimpy wannabes - James Blunt, you are one of many. Augie March knocked me out from the off.

Firstly, they are so much more than a songwriter's backing band. Moo You Bloody Choir ranges from the jazz-tinged 'The Honey Month', through the garage rock of 'Just Passing Through', and on to 'Vernoona', which is as strange sounding as its title.

The highpoint is found in the lyrics to opening track 'One Crowded Hour':

Did you expect to see something that you'd never seen,
in somebody you'd known since you were sixteen?
And if love is just a bolt from the blue,
then what is that bolt but a glorified screw,
that doesn't hold nothing together?

Many albums start with a fantastic opener (often released as a first single), before trailing into mediocrity. Moo You Bloody Choir, however, presents highlight after highlight.

http://www.augiemarch.com/

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DWEahIQGsZY

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mRgKaH4nDP4&feature=related