Needless to say, apologies for the hiatus.
I went to Manchester airport yesterday. Here’s what I learnt:
Officially the biggest airport I’ve ever been to. Which is a crap claim. I didn’t go in. Which makes it even crapper.
If I worked as a prostitute at an airport hotel I’d dress as an air hostess so I blended in.
People who work in banking look like Tory MPs or former head boys or vaguely like characters from sit-coms.
Before I start this weekend allow me to write a few lines about the last one. After leaving work a bit early on Friday me and brother Merk took our old dear to The Old Orleton for her birthday/our payday nosh up. I had reservations about the menu, it all looked a bit posh for me. I’m more of your baked bean pasta bake or infamously a sausage and carrot balti kind of man, especially when left to my own devices in the kitchen. However I do like eating animals I’ve not eaten before (like a carnivorous Noah, “my plate is my Arc”). So I settled on the game casserole. It was really really good. I’d like to have know what was in it, but I think there may have been partridge, vennison, wood pigeon and I think rabbit. There may have been minotour and griffin in it too, I just don’t know. Anyway after that and a few nice pints of Town Crier and a couple of brandies it was off home. Full and content and a bit squiffy. Oh and a bit poorer too as it weren’t cheap.
Saturday night began with a short train trip to Shifnal for another birthday meal. This time for Suzie and the food was Greek. I had a huge plate of lamb. I mean a piled plateful of sheep. It beat me too, I couldn’t finish it. I got the meat fatigue which kept me out of the race for the puddings. After that we all waddled to the Seven, which was packed as ever. So we braved the outdoors for the most of the cold cold January evening, only venturing back inside for drinks and widdles. A bravery which I think traces a proud lineage back to Scott and Oates and the rest of them. Hmmm. Anyway it was a great night, with plenty of laughs and just a hint of showing off this time (I’m told there are some photos knocking about the depths of the web, but I haven’t dared look!). Because of the huge dinner I didn’t feel very drunk at all, so me and our Merk finished off the brandy we saved from the previous night, then decided to empty our supply of beers too! Cue a big hangover on Sunday morning (well, afternoon really). Even a charcoal burger and a pint of doghair at The Beacon couldn’t shift the bastard.
Right, that’s written, now let’s get to work on this weekend’s hangover.
Christmas Eve:
Morning at work. Secret Santa brings me real ale. Banana flavoured one is still in the fridge. William Hill offering 7/4 on it’ll still be there 24th December 2009. Leave work at lunchtime, for a quick pint in the Euston Way. I couldn’t relax. I still had half my Christmas shopping to do. Got train to Wellington, bought kitchen knives and a striped apron for the budding chef, Merk (couldn’t get one of those tall hats). Got taxi to the homestead and meet up with the rest of the family. Ignored the rest of the family as I’m in the dining room wrapping all the present snarling like a hungry doberman at anyone who approaches the door.
Christmas Day:
Ate and drank. Got my dressing gown, two scarves plus some interesting books. Watched Wallace and Gromitt and helped build Merk’s lego. Later on, we watched cricket with the sound down and listened to old songs and got squiffy on decent brandy from me grandad, once we’d prised the security tag off the top of the bottle.
Boxing Day:
Don’t recall much. Think I hit the brandy again.
Day after Boxing Day:
1. Cleaning = bad
2. Party = very good
I’m pretty sure there’s myriad photos abound on this here internet.
Day after day after Boxing Day:
Bleeeuuuurrrrggghhhhhh! And cleaning. Ah, the duality of life. Yin has Yang, Paul has Barry, so it follows parties have soul-crushing senses-raping regret-filled hangovers that even a footlong Italian BMT from Subways cannot placate. While trying to tidy up for the second time in two days, every empty bottle cast into the binbags thumped like a “special” child with a drum kit. Accompanied by the stale smell of last night’s beers, like ghosts reminding and taunting me with sordid tales of showing off and dancing like a dick to Spandau Ballet. This was probably one of the most difficult days of my life! I was glad when it was over.
Day before the day before New Year’s Eve:
Had to go into work to sort out a pesky client. Hung the Christmas gonk from the roof by his leg in a noose made of a rubber band while waiting for said pesky client. Went to Frankie and Benny’s for an eff-off big bowl of pasta.
Day before New Year’s Eve:
Not a lot. Finally wrote my top ten albums (see below).
New Year’s Eve:
Went to Maggie’s fancy dress emporium in Dawley for summat to wear for the evening’s party at the Crown. Bad start when I couldn’t find the bishop and decided not to bother. Wish I had bothered. Everyone looked great. Even Walt who I think came as Batman’s nephew. Still, everyone looks fuzzy after about ten on New Year’s Eve anyway. Great party, probably the best yet at The Crown.
New Year’s Day:
And so began the International Year of Natural Fibres (s’true) with another quality hangover. This one didn’t make my very aura ache so it wasn’t as bad. I went to watch Telford United play Stafford Rangers. They must have been hungover too as they lost at home for the first time this season. I should have stayed in bed. Watched Summer Heights High (pretty good) and The Wire (epic). I made no New Year’s resolutions, I merely planted little acorns of ideas such as eat more exotic animals and go swimming more often. I slept and then that was that for another year’s yule. A pretty good one this time. Just don’t ask the liver.
I hope you’re all having a nice and lazy and indulgent Christmas break. It is 2009 in a day, so it seems an apt time to write this. Under some slightly unexpected pressure, here it is. I have compiled my ten favourite albums of the year. It wasn’t particularly easy neither, I was happy with the top seven or so, but couldn’t fit six into the last three places no matter how much I tried to bend the rules of maths.
10. The Walkmen - You & Me
I’ve always found this lot an inconsistant band, but this is their strongest album for a long time, and probably their best. The slower, latin rhythms frame the singer’s distinctive voice very well with vintage piano and moody horns. They still make a noise at times, but it’s a much better class of noise these days.
[MP3] I Lost You
9. Los Campesinos! - Hold On Now, Youngster…
A fun album with a bite. Smart-arse lyrics yelped over infectious tunes like Architecture in Helsinki playing Pavement tracks on glockenspiels. They also released a second album this year too, which although short is more than worth a spin.
[MP3] Don’t Tell Me To Do The Math(s)
8. Sigur Rós - Með Suð Í Eyrum Við Spilum Endalaust
The Icelanders returned with their fifth record (which translates as “With Buzzing in Our Ears We Play Endlessly” factfans). I’m not sure if it’s as impressive as Takk…, but it does have some of their finest moments on it. Great live too.
[MP3] Inní mér syngur vitleysingur
7. Hot Chip - Made In The Dark
Following from the great “The Warning”, this soulful and playful album is a great listen. You’ll have heard “Ready For The Floor”, maybe even danced dodgily to it, also standing out is “Wrestlers” which is easily the best love song I’ve heard that refers to cage matches and half nelsons.
[MP3] One Pure Thought
6. El Guincho - Alegranza
Here comes the curveball. All the way from the Canary Islands and dripping in sangria. With a parrot on the cover! Balearic beats, Afrobeats, curious samples crash into each other like rubber rings in a water park. Production wise it is reminiscent of Panda Bear and The Avalanches blah blah… turn it on, turn it up and dance like a lobster-hued Englishman on a Spanish beach.
[MP3] Palmitos Park
5. Bon Iver - For Emma, Forever Ago
Recorded in a cabin in the woody depths of Wisconsin on vintage equipment and anything he could get his hands on, after splitting up with his missus, this folksy record is a thing of rare tender beauty. Would it be selfish to hope he never finds love and produces another album of this quality?!
[MP3] Skinny Love
4. Vampire Weekend - Vampire Weekend
White American college boys doing Afrobeat styled indie pop, sounds awful doesn’t it? It’s not, it’s unashamedly poppy and catchy and never falls foul of pretension. The world might be going to shit, and we might all be living in poorhouses by 2009’s out, but this album will still be able to draw a smile from my face and get stuck in my head as I collect my lunch from the soup kitchen!
[MP3] M79
3. Cut Copy - In Ghost Colours
From the same label as New Young Pony Club and fellow Aussies The Avalanches, comes this year’s great indie-dance album. There’s nothing particularly new here, a lot of it sounds like missing Electronic recordings with hints of The Cure and Coming Up-era Suede, track after track flavoured with 60’s psychedelia, 80’s synths and 00’s sweaty indie-disco. Joyous nonetheless.
[MP3] Far Away
2. Fleet Foxes - Fleet Foxes
The second folk-ly album in this list. That’s quite worrying for someone who can’t grow a very good beard! This is a rich mix of West Coast harmonies and Appalachian pre-pop folk with lilting tunes and warm full vocals capable of transporting the listener to a dozen different times and places, even when listening to in a cold flat in Telford with the darts on the telly. And for that reason it makes it this high!
[MP3] White Winter Hymnal
1. TV On The Radio - Dear Science
Art-rock you can dance to? From the heart-pounding beats on the album opener “Halfway Home”, to the last distorted horns on the closer “Lover’s Day”, this is a remarkable record. It’s harder to pick a genre that it doesn’t include on it’s way to the climax And it’s all delivered in a fierce but soulful falsetto. This is twice the record of Return to Cookie Mountain, and that was fucking good. Play loud.
[MP3] Dancing Choose
The shortlist included Deerhunter, The Dodos, Ruby Suns, No Age, Beach House, Mogwai, Wolf Parade, Death Cab For Cutie, M83, Los Campesinos!, Sons & Daughters, Glasvegas, This Will Destroy You, The Hold Steady, Esau Mwamwaya and Radioclit. But it didn’t include the brilliant No Way Down by Air France, because that’s an EP and… well, you’ve got to have a code haven’t you? By the way all these great cds and more might be even cheaper soon at Zavvi! Thanks to an army of mp3 bloggers: Zýrður rjómi, Sand is Overrated, AW Music and Minneapolis Fucking Rocks for some of the mp3 links.
Have a great New Year, I’ll be in The Crown! See you in 2009.
I’m about to go Christmas shopping. Actually, I’m about to start and finish my Christmas shopping. And buy a tree. Working until Christmas Eve is no good for idle anti-shoppers like me, it really screws up the schedule! Not getting paid until the 31st takes the piss too. I’ve got to do all this shopping, get bladdered at least five times and hire a fancy dress costume for the New Year’s Eve party. At this rate it’ll be the last costume in the shop, the cheapest. A pillowcase doubling up as a Klan hood or maybe even Walt’s infamous Nazi Sergeant Pepper outfit from a couple of years ago.
Working the Monday after the Christmas Party is odd too, there’s more elephants in the room than there are on the Masai Mara national reserve. Saturday night at Shifnal’s Haughton Hall, and I’m typecast like Hugh Grant (less fop more pop, less dandy more shandy… BOOOM!) and ended up in my usual role as spare drinks minesweeper. Which led via white wine, red wine, champaigne, wifebeaters and a catholic whiskey, predictibly to oblivion and to a rather delicate Sunday. But I don’t think I embarrassed myself any more than can be expected. I have no recollection of falling over, I have no leg injuries or mysterious scars or bite marks, no tears in my clothes, I don’t think I inapporpriately felt anybody up and I didn’t throw up over anybody. No marks for effort, must do better next time.
For the thousands hundreds people two of you that are interested, the annual ego-wank about my TOP TEN ALBUMS OF THE YEAR (this year proudly sponsored by Woolworths) will be published as soon as I can be arsed.
