That'll be an album track on a Japan-only CD. I do have the first album, and yes, it is quite rare.
I know I said at the beginning that this round-up was in no particular order, but I did save my favourite until last. Ever since I heard it one July morning in Carrboro, I've been deeply in love with this song.
If I told you that the band seem to be a Japanese version of The Avalanches (it's been, what, five years, lads? Get back to work!), it'll probably give you a good idea as to what they sound like; lots of sound collage and blissed-out grooves. But oh, this.
I can feel a new expression on my face
I can feel a growing sensation every place
This song sounds like every crush you've ever had. Every time you've looked over at someone at a party, every time you've smiled a bit too long at somebody, or tripped over your tongue in a failed attempt not to embarrass yourself. That giddy rush when she smiles back, or when she says "hello" when walking down the street. It's all here.
I wish I could tell you how much I care
every time that you, that you, that you…
It's a song for hopeless cases, for winter nights that last into four in the morning, for mixtapes and hand-made books, and for giving yourself alcohol poisoning in an attempt to build up courage.
I can feel a new expression
every time that you that you, that you…
Hints of a Chic guitar, the British Dreambabes of the 1960s, synthesised strings, sprinklings of glitter, and those 1970s computer sounds building up into that explosion of a chorus. And than all over again. And again. And again. Then, just as you feel that the song is beginning to end, it comes back for one final time:
I wish I could tell you how much I care
every time that you, that you, that you…
Your cheeks flush red as the singer sings "I wish I could tell you how much I care" with a quiet desperation. You look over towards the other side of the room, and sigh as the song begins its stuttering conclusion.
It's a song that I can't listen to regularly, as it completely drains me. But when it crops up on random rotation, it gives me the sensation of a crush in a five-minute shot. Nothing else in 2005 even came close.
BONUS EXTRA LIFE! HYPER SONIC IMPROVEMENTS! ARTICLE POWER-UP!
This is the song that Your Blessings is based on. I think we can safely say that Handomeboy Technique's version is much better…
Tony Blair seems to be obsessed with the sanctity of his legacy. Well, if he wants to cement it into our hearts, there's only one thing he has to do:
Last year, it seemed that 2005 was going to be Annie's year. Not only did she have a sizeable following from the music blog set, she also came out very well in the Pitchfork / Stylus singles of the year polls. She looked unstoppable. As it turned out, though, 2005 was somewhat of a disappointment. Anniemal's release kept on being put back and back (I think it actually made it to the shops in early 2005, only to be recalled shortly afterwards), her singles bounced around the lower reaches of the Top 40, and soon after the relative flop of her album, the Internet backlash inevitably began (led, in part, by Pitchfork! My how fickle indiekids can be, eh, readers? "Bah! You're not popular now! I hate you - Annie is the Veronica Mars of pop, perhaps).
Which is a shame, as Anniemal is packed full of songs like Me Plus One; funny, bouncy, and full of vim. We need more songs with vim! Two other things: it's probably one of the last songs that will invoke the cultural memory of Top of The Pops (and she's not even British! Stupid BBC), and it's a thinly-veiled attack on one Geri Space, by producer/writer/torturer of small kittens with curling irons Richard X.
You can find Anniemal sitting lonely and coy in most branches of HMV. And other fine retailers. Although not Lush, because that would be silly.
M.I.A. suffered from a similar problem, as by the time Arular finally made it out on both sides of the Atlantic, the backlash was in full swing (this time led by Simon Reynolds, who resented her art-school background and the appropriation of grime. None of which stopped him from praising Ari Up in Rip It Up And Start Again, but I guess music critics get reactionary as they get older). M.I.A. had controversy, being the daughter of a Tamil Tiger leader, and as a result got acres of coverage in the music press. All for nought; Arular tanked, her singles struggled to reach the Top 50, and even a Mercury Prize nomination couldn't help. A pity, really, because Sunshowers is the best dance track about a suicide bomber in 2005. Yes, yes, it was probably the only one, but dammit, that's not the point.
If Annie showed that the blog scene isn't strong enough yet to break acts, and M.I.A.'s fate revealed that the mainstream music press wasn't all that useful either, then Rachel Stevens's woeful year just goes to show that nobody has a clue. At all. Universally acclaimed by the Internet, the mainstream press, and buttressed by a plethora of TV appearances, Come And Get It should have been one of the pop successes of the year. It wasn't. And it's still unclear as to why; was it the release of the earlier weaker singles as opposed to this fantastic Mud-inspired (and written!) track? Her walkout on Dick & Dom (you would have thought her publicist might have mentioned the gunge)? Or just that today's pop kids couldn't bring up any enthusiasm for her? It's a mystery. (Perhaps Toyah could help)
31/12/2005 EDIT NEWS! Rachel Stevens has supposedly been dropped from Polydor.
Aha! Wrong-footing you! This can't be a flop, because it's not even officially out yet! Hah! Mind you, Robyn (from Sweden) is already tipped to be 2006's Annie (from Norway). Essentially, this is Cyndi Lauper's Time After Time played at double-speed on a cello. But hey! It's really sad, complete with pouring rain! He gave her scarf away! That cad! That bounder!
Don't worry, lads, I have a fully-functional credit card again!
(I already have this coming over shortly muahahahaha)
Rumour has it that Kula Shaker will reform for 2006.
I told you that the Kaiser Chiefs could only lead to badness. But did you listen?
Why don't you FOOL me
FEED me, say you NEED me
without wicked games
Come on and HOLD me
HUG me, say you LOVE me
and not my dirty brain
I don't really need to say anymore.
(Oi! You're not getting away that easily! — Ed.)
Yes, it really is two songs bolted together in a scenario that Dr. Frankenstein could only admire. But when the bolt of lightning that is the chorus finally hits home, you can hear the giggling sound of Brian Higgins in the background, screaming "IT'S ALIVE!" as ver Aloud delve into Spice Up Your Life territory. Irresistible, unstoppable, and the best UK single of the year.
(Two things though: "I've got one Alabama return / That'll take me far away from you / Because when you take me in my arms / I turn to slave I can't be saved" Erm, yes, slightly dodgy Alabama/slave juxtaposition there, girls. Secondly: have Girls Aloud ever made a video that isn't complete bobbins?)
You may have missed MTV and Microsoft's announcement of the URGE project, a new service which will be launched next year. From the news reporting, it seems that they've decided to try and make money from the MP3blog format, recruiting some of the highest profile bloggers (Fluxblog's Matthew Perpetua and Tiny Little Genius's Jessica Hopper for starters), and, as a bonus, offering the songs in the iPod-unfriendly WMA format. Which seems fine enough, if a little pointless.
But, in a probably-unrelated, but-worth-thinking-about-manner, Poptext recently received a nastygram from the Mechanical Copyright Protection Society and the Performing Rights Society, essentially telling Abby that she needs a blanket licence to run her MP3blog (which, incidentally, still wouldn't put her in the clear for posting MP3s, but then music copyright clearance is rather dumb). This is a much bigger step than what happened to me a couple of years ago; it seems that the industry is going to put their foot down hard on the entire scene just as soon as they can claim that there's a legal alternative (and if the WMA files are set to self-destruct after seven days, then that's even better, isn't it?).
I guess it was fun while it lasted.
And while I'm here, I'll just mention that Static Multimedia are doing their albums and singles rundown of 2005 right now. I'm not in today's album count, but I'll be appearing in both that and the singles one eventually!
Or: "My God I Can't Believe It's Not Crazy In Love!" But this is better. No Jay-Z to fall back on here, no trumpets to cover up the gaps, just that relentless off-kilter drum sample, each time going deeper and deeper into your head until it's the first thing that you hear when you wake up in the morning. It needs something more than Beyoncé, who's too busy making sandwiches for her man. No, this song needs Amerie, in her clicking high heels and the glorious sound of her "bing-bong-bing-bongs". A song for crowded dancefloors, for heat, indeed, for Hell itself.
Last twenty minutes – probably the most fun thing RTD has written since Dark Season…
Okay, so with my new job (and, if I'm going to be completely honest, Mario Kart DS), this year's run-through of my favourite songs of 2005 has been a little woeful. What I plan to do is to finish running through the songs next week, before the New Year. So consider this one of those strange Advent Calendars that runs past Christmas, so greedy children can have a few extra days of chocolate (thankfully, Cadbury's seem to have resisted this temptation, so they still remain the Calendar of Gentlemen. And Ladies, of course).
Enjoy Christmas Eve, everyone!
Yes, well. Back tomorrow, I promise. For now, I leave you with action from the US Senate!
Sen. John Cornyn: "None of your civil liberties matter much after you're dead."
Sen. Russ Feingold's retort: "Give me liberty or give me death."
At least I'm not gay, or a woman
Ah, Ricky Gervais. I'm sure Mr. Fry was quaking in his boots at that witty retort, but I'm glad to have another reason to shove him into the Endemol offices before the first napalm strike rains down.
It would be here for the title alone of course, but a return to the sound of the My Favourite Game-era makes this a fine addition to this year's countdown (yes, I'm filling. Come back tomorrow for part one of my exciting three-part series: Songs From Pop Albums That Sold Approximately 5 Copies).
We need to put together a petition to stop Barney from yelling during Love Will Tear Us Apart. It really doesn't suit whoops of joy, you know.
Anyway, it would be foolish to deny that New Order haven't lost anything with the departure of Gillian from the band. It's difficult to pin it down exactly, but both Get Ready and Waiting… do seem more laddish than, say, Republic or Technique. And yes, it could be said that at this stage in their life, New Order are rearranging old songs rather than pushing boundaries like they did the 1980s.
None of that makes the final words of Waiting For The Sirens' Call any less heartbreaking. Bernard Sumner gets a lot of criticism for his lyrics, most of which is unfair (I am, of course, not going to stand up for "Here comes love/it's like honey/you can't buy/it with money"). Of course he can't compare with Ian Curtis, but then Sumner isn't trying to. New Order's lyrics are often less about how they look when written down, but how they sound when actually sung. Okay, the same could be said about pretty much any act, but New Order take it to an extreme. For them, the voice is just another instrument, and as long as it sounds right, they seem to feel that it'll all hang together in the end. Which it invariably does.
How many times must I lose my way, hey
How many words do I have to say, hey
What can I do just to make you see
That you're so good for a man like
A man like me
(Other notable New Order releases this year: Singles, which despite a few flaws, is a fine collection for people who want the hits, and the Collection, DVD set, comprising all their video promos (except True Faith '94, but that was just the original True Faith video with other New Order videos spliced in at various points, so you're not missing anything), and the documentary NewOrderStory, featuring the voiceover that I imagine Paul Morley still smiles about.)
Because this year's catchphrase should be: "BIGGIE! NO!"
our bodies are exploding / as the sky spews through our mouths
Damn him! But he has it up for download, so go and get it. The most harrowing thing that Chan Marshall has sung since You Are Free's Names. Play it at your Christmas party!
To say that we've now heard JCB Song, and despite the fact that it's so twee that even Belle & Sebastian and Heavenly regularly beat it up for its lunch money, you can't help smile (the appearance of Optimus Prime in the video helps, of course). We wholeheartedly support buying a bootload of copies (known in the trade as "doing a Louis Walsh", natch) to deny Westlife a 14th number one.
Also, Girls Aloud's cover of Merry Xmas Everybody is one of the most woeful things I've ever heard…
Thus answering that long-asked question "what would happen if you took a BBC Radiophonic Workshop TV theme, slapped a dancebeat to it, and roped in Kate Piersen from the B-52s (and obviously, of Shiny Happy People Infamy)?"
The answer turns out to be "surprisingly fun, actually."
I blame Girls Aloud's rather poor chart placing (#11), solely down to the fact that Amazon are being slackers about sending my copy out…
(although, we can hope that The Darkness joke may in fact be coming to a long-overdue end, with their album disappearing down the charts this week)
Stornoway. I was born in dismay.
I have brain-scars like scratches on an old LP
Rush, Rainbow, Ian Gillan, AC/DC
They all fall away to 'I'm telling on you' singsonged
In playgrounds that now seem haunted to me.
Look at it this way. I'm sorry.
You look at us, you listen to us
You think we're worthwhile
Because we've conquered the world
But I raise a toast to the
Local Man Who Ruins Everything.
(The Local Man Who Ruins Everything.)
Are we always destined to be frustrated?
Shall we always arrive there late?
Tell me God there's more to life.
Stornoway, I was always that way.
The girls pulled my hair, skip-rhymed away
Into something like today.
Memory's like a teacher, it never goes away.
I still believe Mac an t-Sronaich will kill me on a Sunday.
Look at it this way. I'm sorry.
Don't look at us, don't listen to us.
When they put a camera in my face
I said Caite bheil an Dalai Lama againn fhin?
And raised a toast instead to the
Local Man Who Ruins Everything.
(The Local Man Who Ruins Everything.)
Are we always destined to be frustrated?
Shall we always arrive there late?
Tell me God there's more to life.
Orange crush and cheeky chips.
The Country Dancing that brought us hip to hip
It's all gone now, we live for the kicks
Of a football team, of a national dream.
I feel lost in the losses of our relationships.
Look at it this way. I'm sorry.
You look at us, you listen to us
You think we're worthwhile
Because we've conquered the world
But I raise a toast to the
Local Man Who Ruins Everything.
(The Local Man Who Ruins Everything.)
Are we always destined to be frustrated?
Shall we always arrive there late?
Tell me God there's more to life.
The wet smell of trees and metallic beers
in the Castle Grounds those ruinous years
showed us failure's like nostalgia, just, insincere.
It happened there, it brings us here.
There is nothing but We're here. We're here.
Look at it this way. I'm sorry.
You look at us, you listen to us
You think we're worthwhile
Because we've conquered the world
But I raise a toast to the
Local Man Who Ruins Everything.
(The Local Man Who Ruins Everything.)
Are we always destined to be frustrated?
Shall we always arrive there late?
Tell me God there's more to life.
Are we always destined to be frustrated?
Shall we always arrive there late?
Tell me God there's more to life.
How long before panic-buying sets in? If there's one thing we British love to do, it's queue for hours at a petrol station…
It's Christmas, and I didn't post yesterday, so this entry has a few MP3 links, loosely based around the "thrift-shop Motown/Spector" sound currently doing the rounds in Britain.
My favourite concert of 2005 (did I really only go to four?)? Almost certainly. Stars were great, but not as intimate as SLGTM's concert at The Windmill in Brixton. The Super Furries were fun (and not on my own! Woo!), and The Go! Team were infectious, but hearing Lift Me Up live made my year. You can read all about the adventure here (and obviously, I'm linking to that review because Betty Barnes (the singer) left a comment, and well, I like shouting about things like that), and listen by clicking above. Go on!
And now! The British contingent! From the EP More Soul Than Wigan Casino on FortunaPop, this is a cover of an old Inticers record. Obviously. And it's ace!
By now, you're probably resigned to thinking that all these records are going to have female vocals. And you're right. Sorry. Anyway, The Pipettes, current indie darlings and all-round good eggs (or so I'm told). Their mission statement includes a dismissal of pop developed through the lineage of The Beatles; instead, they're drawing on Phil Spector and The Shangri-Las. Indeed, they're the current Leaders of The Pack (you're fired — Ed.).
Included solely for the bit that goes "You gave me up" *keyboard goes whooooosh*. I do feel that the break at 1:08 should be a little longer and finger-snappy though.
Tambourines! Strings! Lyrics that go "Shake. Shake. Shimmy!" Glitter and running mascara. More whooooshing sounds, "ooooooh" backing harmonies, sounding like a lost classic from a parallel 1969. "You won't tell any one, will you?"
Because Lauren blew on a melodica this morning. Or perhaps because they came first, if not actually first, then the first to make "she's filling up with amino" dance to Be My Baby. Because their favourite MP was Dennis Skinner, and they had songs about robots, spiders, drag races, and wanting to slash other girls. Because they never complained, but annoyed Kelly Jones by having the grace to give his band a support slot. Because their mates couldn't come out to play, but they had fun anyway. And, to wrap up for now, because they listened to The Pixies and thought Doo-Wop.
Today's entry is sponsored by One Kiss Can Lead To Another, and It's So Fine (Pye Girls Are Go).
Yes, I know, I'm cheating. But I couldn't pick one song from this album (although, it's easy to pick which song should be taken away and burnt in a rubbish bin - teaming up with David Essex sounded like a fabulous idea, but Relocate is abysmal). The neo-Bauhaus desires of Finisterre and the wishful escape of Tiger Bay have passed; Saint Etienne is finally at peace with the reality of London. The highlight is probably either Side Streets, a lush song celebrating the fact that you might get assaulted on the streets of the city, or the wonderful Stars Above Us, which contains echoes of former Etienne hits mixed in with Xenomania goodness.
Plus, if you can get hold of the 2CD version, Let's Build A Zoo is the best children's song of the new millennium - altogether now: "And a gnu at the end of the queue!"
The best thing he's done since Summertime. I would write more, but I'm exhausted. Just take my word for it…
A perennial favourite of Teletext's Planet Sound, you know. I'm not entirely sure why this song has found its way on to my Best of 2005 list, after all, it's an American rock band with guitars, and this year I've been in a more pop frame of mind. This song is here for the admirable bombast and sheer bloody-mindedness, but mostly for this line:
The English are coming and I don't know what to do
Oh yes, we are.
Okay, as I've said (and have said rather excitedly over the past couple of days), I have a new job that starts tomorrow. Now, one of the things I'm fairly sure I'll need is a mobile phone. Which I don't have, at least not one that works in this country.
So! Advice! Pay as you go? Monthly? Which of the 5,000 or so available phones to choose from? (Bear in mind that I have an iPod and a camera, so I don't really need my phone to duplicate those functions)
I quite like this one (I'm a sucker for being able to flip open the phone and pretend I'm in Star Trek. It's a sad affliction, I know).
Well, that was a blistering disappointment, wasn't it? The hardest questions came from Charles Kennedy…
You. Yes, you at the back. Less of it.
Just listen to how it sounds; that little bubbly synth at the beginning; Debbie Gibson by way of Kim Wilde's Kids In America fed through ProTools and coming out blindingly shiny. That rainbow effect that slides through the bridge. The way that even despite the use of Autotuner, The Duff can't quite reach the notes for "Hollywood and Vine", giving the chorus a fragile tint. And let's not forget the Vanilla Sky / Abre Los Ojos-esque whisper of "wake up" running through the song.
The lyric is also smarter than it seems. The first verse is all "woe is me…I'm a fabulous pop star and I HAVE PROBLEMS!" But after the chorus, the singer realises that nobody else is doing much better, and then finally, the song ends with the thought of "well, this is pretty fantastic, actually". Not Tolstoy, but it'll do.
Much better than that Kelly Clarkson rubbish anyway.
Okay, so still not well enough yet. See you tomorrow.
EDIT: And since writing this entry, I now have a job again.
But, while the controversy over the NME chart rages, here's the readers choice of 2005 from Q:
10 Hard To Beat - Hard-Fi
9 Speed Of Sound - Coldplay
8 Dakota - The Stereophonics
7 Do You Want To - Franz Ferdinand
6 Lyla - Oasis
5 Black Horse and The Cherry Tree - KT Tunstall
4 Oh My God! - The Kaiser Chiefs
3 I Predict A Riot - The Kaiser Chiefs
2 Fix You - Coldplay
1 The Importance Of Being Idle - Oasis
If you can come up with a more joyless list than that for this year, I'll be downright impressed. Q: Wishing It Was 1995 For Ten Years Now.