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So I moved out of my flat yesterday. Normally that wouldn’t mean much, but it was a little special, because it was the first place I’ve lived and been truly on my own and living within my own means.
I’m surprised by how little I care though. That little one bedroom place in a shitty area of Cambridge represented so much promise. So many hopes and optimistic dreams. It was the freedom to do exactly as I wanted, when I wanted and with who I wanted.
Yet I’ve left with a sour taste in my mouth. Despite everything that little flat facilitated (using it as a base for numerous gigs and Slamdunk, people travelling and crashing all over my living room floor, the Euro 2012 gatherings, jamming like geeks all over Rocksmith in pairs and so many other days of note), I can’t help concentrating on one particularly crushing day.
So Waterhouse, sorry, but you simply will not be missed. On to bigger and better things.
So I was having a fairly silly conversation with a friend of mine in preparation for a fairly significant night out. I came up with a scenario which cracked us both, so I thought I’d share.
Here we go:
So the night starts off in inauspicious fashion. You’re standing in front of the mirror, feeling a little nervous, feeling quite a bit excited, wondering whether you look the part or not. You’ve no time to worry any more. The taxi has arrived and it’s time to move out.
You head out into town. Whichever town you want it to be. You go into a bar and get the drinks in. You and your friend stand at the side, people watching, in some ways shamelessly checking everyone of the opposite sex out. No one catches your eye.
Then she wanders in and catches your eye with a hook. She walks right by and you don’t say a thing. Your friend laughs at you for being such a complete and utter coward. It matters little, because you’re moving on to the club anyway.
The club is good. It’s not too full, but it’s not empty either. The situation is similar to the bar; no one is catching your eye, but you’re enjoying yourself anyway.
Then she appears again. She walks to a spot on the dance floor just to your side. Your friend sees too and gives you a look you know all too well. If you don’t make a move, you will never, ever, hear the end of it.
So you walk over. You’re trying not to stumble, you’re nervous, what on earth are you going to say? Amazingly, you casually (at least it appears casual to anyone who doesn’t know you’re suffering a mild heart attack) walk over and ask some innocuous question. She smiles and answers you. You ask if she’d like a drink. She beams. “Absolutely”.
So you take her to the bar. You talk. She laughs. You laugh. She’s even better looking close up.
The night wears on. You talk and dance and drink, but she never moves from your side. You ask if she’d like to move on somewhere else. She says she lives nearby.
So SHE takes YOU home. You go back to her place and you spend the rest of the night doing whatever would make you happiest on the first night.
Come the morning, the light is streaming in from behind the curtains. It’s cold in there, but that only makes her feel that much better lying against you. You roll over and find her looking right back at you. She’s still beautiful.
She says she’s going to make some tea.Your mind wanders to where all this could lead.
You wander to the bathroom, wash your face, wash out your mouth and check out the lipstick smeared on your throat. You’re pretty fucking pleased with how things have changed since you last looked in the mirror.
You can hear her still pottering around in the kitchen. You decide that you’ll go and ‘help’. You’re only wearing your jeans and have every intention of coaxing her back to her room.
As you approach the kitchen, you start to hear a truly awful sound. You can tell by the compression that the radio must be on, but what is that terrible sound?
You push the door to the kitchen open and now you know what the awful sound is. She’s listening to Coldplay as she makes the tea. Has she just turned the radio on and left it on? Is it all a happy accident or does she like this? A million terrible thoughts are swirling in your mind and you’re on the verge of making a joke about how she can’t possibly like Coldplay…
She starts to sing along. There’s been a mistake. An awful, terrible mistake. She’s singing to Clocks and her voice is as captivating as the rest of her, but it’s fucking Coldplay.
You start to feel sick. You ask if you can use the shower.
You run to the bathroom and start the shower going. The lipstick is now a terrible scar and you feel like a cheap prostitute.
You leave the shower running and creep to the bedroom. You quietly dress and sneak out of the front door. You run.
The only explanation she gets is the strange graffiti on her steamed up bathroom mirror.
Head on over to NervousEnergies.com now and check out the new Broadway Calls session!
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22 notes (via broadwaycalls & nosleeprecords)
So I’ve had my ramble about how my year went, which wasn’t a lot of fun. This post should be more enjoyable for all concerned. I’ve done this a couple of years running now and 2012 has produced some real favourites.
I think I have an absolute favourite for the year (it claims both best album and song in one swoop), but the others aren’t in any particular order.
So I’ll start off with the records that caught my attention. A few of my favourite bands popped out records this year and I don’t think any of them disappointed. The Gaslight Anthem, The Used, Hot Water Music, Cancer Bats, The Chariot and Every Time I Die all released records this year and they all hit the spot. Handwritten (Gaslight Anthem) is typical Gaslight Anthem; they haven’t changed anything, they’ve just written really catchy, heartfelt songs. 45 is a real cracker, while Here Comes My Man and Too Much Blood seem to get stuck in my head for days at a time.
Vulnerable (The Used) doesn’t reach the heights of Lies For Liars, but despite some quite mediocre offerings they’ve also pumped in a couple of songs which stand up with anything else they have done. I Come Alive and Now You’re Dead both stand out for me, with Getting Over You proving a particularly soppy song for the bad days.
Exister (Hot Water Music) and Dead Set on Living (Cancer Bats) also proved very worthwhile purchases. Hot Water Music were on form for me with this release and I don’t think there’s any question that Dead Set… is the best Cancer Bats album at this point. It’s by far the most consistent and is just stuffed full of catchy, bruising riffs and shout along lines.
The final two records I’m going to mention before dishing out some ‘awards’ were both contenders for my favourite album of the year. The first of the two is Ex Lives (ETID) and I very nearly had to go into a dark room and lie down when I first spun that up. It’s a 40 minute assault on the senses. It’s by far their most melodic album, but at the same time it might be the heaviest too. It’s also got some serious guitar hero moments going on. The whole record leaves me somewhere between wanting to dance or kill something. Just how I like it. Stand out tracks are Underwater Bimbos From Outer Space, Typical Miracle, I Suck (Blood) and Revival Mode (a contender for my song of the year). Picking favourites is hard though, because pretty much every song is out of the top drawer.
The second of these two larger mentions is One Wing (The Chariot). The Chariot never fail to amaze me. They play such a crippling, uncompromising form of music and yet they manage to release records which feel like a work of art rather than an attempt at being as heavy as possible, at the expense of everything else. It’s hard to say where this record sits in terms of other releases by The Chariot. For me, they have 3 real stand out albums and I cannot put them in any order. If I try to elevate one above the others, then I end up thinking “Well, this has that and that has this.” about the other two records. There are 3 which are real favourites of mine, but for slightly different reasons. One Wing is really up there though. The moment that a woman starts singing in Your is a real shock, followed by the madness of First (you’ll understand what I mean if you listen to it) and then there is Speak, which is just rage and a piano.
So, now it’s time to move onto the ‘awards’. If anyone wants to stick a post it note to their album cover with “2012 Album Of The Year - Anon Intermittent Blogger”, I will be hugely amused.
Album Of The Year
In the end, there was no question for me. I had barely even heard of Make Do And Mend at the turn of the year. I ended up going to watch them at Slam Dunk and despite being deaf (not their fault) in one ear by the end, I was very impressed. During the summer they released Everything You Ever Loved. It did not take long for it to become a favourite. It coincided with a difficult time for me and the combination of emotionally charged (in a completely genuine way) lyrics, throaty vocals and melodic sensibility provided a killer blow. St. Anne, Stay In The Sun and Desert Lily leapt out and have stayed out in front for the rest of the year, but that’s not to say that the rest of the album is filler. The record is absolutely stuffed with hooks. I don’t know if 41 minutes can pass any faster.
Song Of The Year
Make Do and Mend - St Anne. There’s nothing more I need to add. Find it on Youtube or Spotify (or buy it *gasps*) and you’ll see exactly what I mean.
Gig Of The Year
Polar Bear Club at the Borderline (London). I’ve already written a fairly large post explaining that particular evening. It was one of those nights that I won’t ever forget. It’s rare that I can say that about spending an evening in a basement, watching 5 guys getting very sweaty.
Grim Video Moment Of The Year
This has Every Time I Die written all over it. Not content with the video for Underwater Bimbos From Outer Space (may technically be a 2011 release) containing all sorts of un-pleasantry, they followed it up with the down right creepy video to Revival Mode. They weren’t done there though. To complete the hat trick, they released a video (for I Suck (Blood)) about a pervert-come-stalker seemingly having the table turned on him by getting stalked and then raped themselves by the original female victim. I may have misunderstood the context, but it makes for some uncomfortable watching all the same. I have to assume that their next video release will involve Ian Watkins.
Blast From The Past (Of The Year??)
This goes to Pantera. Their breakthrough record may be nearly as old as me and they were at their peak when I was less than 10 years old, but those guys knew how to write huge, lasting, heavy songs. Cowboys from hell indeed.
Best Fucking News Of The Year Award
Crime In Stereo have reformed and are due to tour in 2013. Get me a ticket. Get me all the tickets.
And Finally (The Honourable Mentions Award)
I don’t know where to fit these in, so I’ll just stuff them in at the end. Polar Bear Club’s Live At The Montage (of which I have a signed copy) contains one of the most moving songs I’ve ever heard. It’s a cover, called Left and Leaving. A complete gem.
I also have to mention that absolutely insane cover of Call Me Maybe from the most recent Punk Goes Pop record. On the first listen, I didn’t know whether to laugh or change my underwear, such was my shock when the band really kicks in.
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