The book pile, post Christmas and after a visit to the library

The book pile has been fed...

The book pile, post Christmas

Songs of the year: Number 1

It was very tough deciding my song of the year for 2018. It was also very tough deciding my favourite Florence + The Machine track of the year. Was it going to be the incredibly brave, self exposing anthem that is 'Hunger'? The June 2016 swan song 'June'? the breathtaking 'The End Of Love'? 'Sky Full of Song' was a contender for a while, mainly because it was the soundtrack to a particularly tumultuous period in my life but, in the end, I settled on '100 Years'.

'100 Years' is one of the tracks on High As Hope that Florence Welch wrote on her own. It's got a very interesting, idiosyncratic approach to melody and rhythm, which only adds to it's charm. There's also that intriguing contrast between the sections describing a burgeoning relationship and those describing the horrors of the wider world outside.

When it was performed live, both here on Jools Holland but also on the High As Hope tour, it took on a life of it's own, with a greater clarity and sense of purpose perhaps than the recorded version. This one will endure I think, and will stand the test of time.

Songs of the year: Number 2

Let's Eat Grandma's 'Falling into me' has come very, very close to being my number one song of the year. It felt like such an exciting, refreshing listen when it was released.

The product of two teenage geniuses from Norwich, already releasing their second album, 'Falling into me' combines everything that is good about pop music, electro, and creativity. It's a sprawling sonic landscape of possibility that seems to take in and reinterpret every possible aspect of dance music possible. It's an exhilarating ride.

Great things continue to be expected of this duo.

Songs of the year: Number 3

Self Esteem is the new project of Slow Club's Rebecca Taylor. Every song has been a winner so far, with irresistible hooks and hypnotic beats. She seems to be on a mission to recreate R&B into something altogether more arch and knowing while not losing the danceability of the thing.

'Rollout' is the standout track in a run of incredibly high quality tunes, and it will absolutely make your dancefloor this party season.

Songs of the year: Number 4

In many ways, 'Deadbody' was the perfect anthem for the #MeToo era. It seemed to be about everything that that particular movement was fighting against.

Folick's rage is apparent from the start, but it's a thoroughly controlled performance, albeit one with a blistering delivery. She has been equipped with a voice that can travel to the higher octaves and bewitch just as she has been given the gift of roaring with the best of them and, in this case, she is choosing to roar. It's an exhilarating listen.

Songs of the year: Number 5

Tancred's album, Nightstand, is a slick, interrogative record underpinned by fine observational songwriting on the part of Jess Abbott.

'Underwear', with it's swaggering sense of lust coupled with self loathing, harks right back to the glory days of artist such as Juliana Hatfield, Mary Lou Lord and Liz Phair. It swings in all the right places, and stuns with it's impeccable riffs and frankness.

Songs of the year: Number 6

Laura Gibson's 'Domestication' came as something of a surprise, but perhaps it shouldn't have done. Last year's single 'The Cause' showed a definite tilt towards feminism and, while 'Domestication' is a very different song, it does share that sense of observation if not a campaigning spirit. This song is so very 2018, and the video was pitch perfect as well.

Songs of the year: Number 7

We started 2018 with Mint Field's bewitching Sophia Coppola esque video for 'Ojos En El Carro', and it's remained a favourite of mine throughout the year. There's a dreamy quality to the post rock soundscape they create here, and the soaring vocals perfectly compliment the thrash of the guitars. It is beautiful.

Songs of the year: Number 8

North London streetwise edge meets crunchy electro beats and a post party weariness in a young up and coming voice.

'Taken care of' was blessed with a catchy hook, and Wu has been similarly blessed with the kind of rough edges that create charm rather than caution. She's been picked up by BBC Introducing in 2018 and should go on to do well thanks to the laconic and imaginative nature of her songwriting.

Songs of the year: Number 9

SOAK's 'Everybody Loves You' has the easy charm of a great slice of pop, coupled with a fragility of vocal that puts her more on the post twee indie pop spectrum. There are swirling strings, lovely melodies, a bit of sweariness, and the result is utterly beguiling and bewitching. 6music fell in love with it as soon as it came out, and many a critic did too.

Songs of the year: Number 10

Lydmor has been a comparatively recent discovery for me. Her song 'Vild' is blessed with a catchy melody, pounding drums, and a kind of fierce intensity of vocal to keep you listening. I think she's a lot bigger in her native Denmark than she is in the UK, but that could change.

Songs of the year: Number 11

Santigold seems to have been quiet for a while. 2015's 99 cents didn't engage me, and I felt rather disappointed by it. I've been longing for a return to the days of her 2009 debut and it's 2012 follow up, Master of My Make Believe, ever since and I don't want: The Gold Fire sessions seemed to hit the spot. 'Run the road' stood out as a favourite for me right from the first listen, with it's loping reggae charm, and I'm looking forward to hearing more.

Songs of the year: Number 12

It seems impossible to sonically describe The Orielles. There are so many different influences going on in there that they sound like they could burst. Imagine a post punk inspired Pigbag esque global rave and you're some way to imagining what 'It Makes You Forget (Itgehane)' sounds like. This will be a good track for any parties you might have planned this month.

Songs of the year: Number 13

Ruston Kelly has that real world weary tone to his voice, the voice of experience, the troubadour on the road. He makes me think of a young Bruce Springsteen and, of the songs released this year, 'Big Brown Bus' was my favourite slice of his particular brand of Americana. It's a tough life on the road.

Songs of the year: Number 14

Another slice of beguiling and slightly woozy electro pop. This time courtesy of Becky and the Birds. 'Concept Store' was the standout track from the self titled E.P, it was also a chapter in the accompanying film which, in itself, challenged the perceptions of what you can do with a piece of promo footage.

On this track she comes across like a more jazz tinged FKA Twigs, which is not her usual sound, so it will be interesting to see what develops. I'm looking forward to hearing more.

Songs of the year: Number 15

Farao's 'The Ghost Ship' has a similar beguiling and dreamy quality to it as Jenny Hval's 'Spells'. In both cases, the songs in question transport you to a different world, a sonic landscape you can inhabit and live within for the duration of the song.

'The Ghost Ship' starts modestly enough but it's soon spiralling off into ever dizzying landscapes of sound, so that it almost feels like a surprise when the song ends.

Of the other songs she's released this year, I don't think any of them came close to touching this one for me, but I am ever hopeful.

Songs of the year: Number 16

While I did enjoy Tracey Thorn's solo album, Record, I didn't like it enough to buy. I suspect I probably just need to listen to it more though. This song, 'Dancefloor', is one of the tracks I did particularly like.

Thorn's voice works well with electro, just as it did in the 90s with drum 'n' bass and jungle. There's a sort of wistful nostalgia to this track that contrasts well with the bass and slightly chilly melodies. It feels like 80s period Dusty Springfield, vocally speaking, but is bang up to date, ultimately transcending categories.

Songs of the year: Number 17

Freya Ridings is one of those artists who has been blessed with a particularly arresting and powerful voice. 'Ultraviolet' is not the song that really took off for her this year (three of her songs were used on the soundtrack to Love Island apparently...) but it is the one I like the best. It builds and builds into a sonic tour de force, and it also showcases her voice well.

She could be one of those artists who travels down the MOR pop route, but she could also be the kind of songwriter who decides to pursue a more idiosyncratic path. It will be interesting to see what happens next.

Songs of the year: Number 18

I interviewed Emma Back earlier this year, about her (then) upcoming album Little World. Of the tracks on the album, 'Shadow' was the one that I liked the most. There's a real edge to it and a sense of barely contained anger that works really well with Back's violin and loop pedal. The result is intense and emotionally charged, and it feels like it will be a song that transcends this moment and stands the test of time.

Songs of the year: Number 19

Photo by eberhard grossgasteiger on Unsplash

Rié's creative electro masterpiece, 'Blood in the water', isn't available on YouTube, but I can refer you to Spotify in this instance to listen to it.

It's an abrasive mix of modern electro pop, hypnotic vocals, glitchy effects, harp sounds, and is the sound of a young musician really coming into her own.

I expect great things from her in 2019.

Songs of the year: Number 20

Jenny Hval's 'Spells' stood out for me this year, not just because of the video, but because it has a real woozy wonkiness to it. A sort of sweet sense of vague unease and weirdness that is hard to quantify. It's baroque pop with a sinister, hypnotic edge. Utterly absorbing.

End of year roundup: Music

Welcome to part two of this years end of year roundup!

Today we're covering music.

Favourite breaking artist of the year:

Miya Folick

Premonitions was surely the most casually announced debut album ever? But when you've been quietly releasing songs as strong as 'God is a woman', 'Talking with strangers' and 'Deadbody' for the past year and a bit, you can afford to be confident. Folick is going to be a stealth artist I think, creeping up on people...

Favourite video of the year

Laura Gibson, 'Domestication'

There's some subtle Handmaid's Tale stuff going on in this video... Making it very timely as well as very powerful.

Favourite gig of the year

Florence + The Machine, Manchester Arena, 23 November

As discussed previously, I didn't write a gig review, I wrote a fan essay instead. If you'd like to read a proper review, you can do so here. 

Artist to watch in 2019

Suzi Wu

One of this years BBC Introducing alumni, and a sharply acerbic artist with great attitude and beats. Worth keeping an eye on if 'Taken Care Of' and 'Teenage Witch' are anything to go by. 

Albums of the year

10) Guttfull, Tits and Nails
9) Virginmarys, Northern Sun Sessions
8) She Makes War, Brace For Impact
7) Emma Back, Little World
6) Tami Neilson, Sassafrass
5) Santigold, I don’t want: The Goldfire Sessions
4) Tancred, Nightstand
3) Let’s Eat Grandma, I’m All Ears
2) Miya Folick, Premonitions
1) Florence + The Machine, High As Hope


Songs of the year will follow in separate posts, starting tomorrow...

End of year round up: Reading and writing

Welcome to the first of this years end of year roundup posts!

Today's post is focusing on reading and writing. 

Photo by Susan Yin on Unsplash

12 Books I’ve enjoyed reading this year:

Normal People, Sally Rooney

The Lonely City, Olivia Laing

The Bling Ring, Nancy Jo Sales

A beginner’s guide to being mental: An A-Z from anxiety to zero fucks given, Natasha Devon

Sunbathing in the rain: A cheerful book about depression, Gwyneth Lewis

How to be champion, Sarah Millican

The angry chef: Bad science and the truth about healthy eating, Anthony Warner

Useless Magic, Florence Welch

Sunny Side Up, Susan Calman

100 Acts of Miner Dissent, Mark Thomas

Along for the ride, Sarah Dessen

This is going to hurt: Secret diaries of a Junior doctor, Adam Kay

Stuff I’ve written this year:

For The F-Word:

“And I can stay as long as I like, ‘cos no one’s calling me to come back inside” (Honeyblood live in Manchester)

“We really wanted to be part of the solution rather than the problem” (Interview with Viv Jones, Kookie magazine)

In the land of the milk and the honey (Review of Hot Brown Honey at HOME)

The endurance factor (Review of Tancred's Nightstand album)

First in the world somewhere (Review of Penny Pepper's memoir First in the world somewhere)

Sassy as (Review of Tami Neilson's Sassafrass album)

A whirlwind of creativity (Review of Florence + The Machine's High As Hope album and Florence Welch's book of lyrics and poetry, Useless Magic)

Singing out loud (Interview with Emma Back)

Upgrade, advance, repeat: Future Bodies at HOME (Review of Future Bodies at HOME)

Stories of the She-punks (Interview with Helen McCookerybook and Gina Birch about their film Stories from the She-Punks: Music with a different agenda)

State of total independence (Interview with She Makes War)

For Medium:

The humble cassette pet: An ode to home taping (Piece written for Cassette Store Day)

A 1990s teenage soundtrack… on vinyl (How the nostalgia soundtrack of the 1990s revival doesn't match up to the contents of my record collection)

For Louder Than War:

Tancred, Gulliver’s Manchester - Live review

Virginmarys, Club Academy, Manchester - Live review

Articles and short pieces I’ve read and enjoyed this year:

Jackpot by Amanda Oliver (Medium)

I Gave My Facebook Password to the Whole Internet by Joe Veix (Medium)

2018 Depression Olympics (Revamped for Winter) by Amanda Roseberg (Medium)

A guide to giving your cats their annual performance review by Thryn (Hacker Noon, via Medium) 

“Just like Ibiza in the 1990s” Welcome to Love Island for the over 30’s by Emma Kernahan (The F-Word)

Kenickie’s ‘Get In’ Is Still The Ultimate Burn-Out Album by Alex Widgard (Noisey)

Fun Home: Reading it first vs watching it first by Ellie Wilson and Emily Zinken (The F-Word) 

Logged off: Meet the teens who refuse to use social media by Sirin Kale (The Guardian)

Neil Gaiman and Chris Riddell on why we need libraries - an essay in pictures (The Guardian)

A Guide To Making New Friends by Snippets (Medium)

From Newcastle and New Zealand to the Killing Fields of Cambodia by Holly Baxter (The Independent)

Grammy’s Preview: At home with Florence Welch, who may finally win after eight nominations by Nick Duerden (Billboard)

“Stop coming for me”: How popstars are fighting burnout by Rebecca Liu (The Guardian)

The Haunting of Hill House’s author Shirley Jackson was an overlooked genius by Moya Crockett (Stylist)

Lucy O’Brien - The Catholic Girls (punkgirldiaries)

8 Harry Potter films we want to see more than Crimes of Grindelwald by Robyn Vinter (The Overtake)

Grrrl Power: female musicians in the 21st century - A special exclusive report! by DJ Gremlin and Nick Linazasoro (Brighton & Hove News) 

Who will believe thee? by Ellie Pilcher (The F-Word)

Six things I learned from six years working in retail by Kate Crudgington (The Huffington Post) 

What does working class even mean? by Phil McDuff (The Overtake)

I wouldn't be a writer without Rookie by Hazel Cills (Jezebel)

Favourite Podcasts of the year:

Made of Human and Page 94

End of year roundup: Introduction

After the dizzying success of last years, somewhat frivolous, End of year roundup, I've decided to do another one this year.

In compiling the 2018 list, I have found myself ditching some of last years more specific categories (Best sweary ear worm, best anti Donald Trump record...). I've also decided to feature more on books, and stuff I've read, as well as music and, as such, it seemed to make sense to divide the roundup into a series of posts rather than dump it all into one mammoth post.

We start tomorrow with the stuff I've read/written post, which will be followed by the stuff I've listened to post. After that, we will be counting down my twenty favourite songs of the year one by one in daily posts.

Hopefully the result will be enjoyable, rather than annoying, and - as with last year - I have no idea whether 2019's list will in any way resemble 2018's, category wise...

Florence + The Machine High As Hope tour: A fan essay

Florence Welch by Lillie Eiger

Upon leaving my day job at the end of July, one of my goals was to go to all of the Florence + The Machine High As Hope UK dates, and to write something about following the band around on tour, ideally meeting other fans as I travelled from gig to gig.

That didn't happen, for a number of reasons, and maybe it was just as well given that I went on to be very poorly in-between the two gigs I did go to. At least I had a great time though.

The band began their tour in Leeds on Thursday 15 November, and my first encounter with them came the day after on the Friday night in Birmingham. I'd been comparatively late getting my ticket for this gig, thanks to having already purchased two tickets for the Manchester Arena gig. For financial reasons, I then needed to wait a couple of weeks for my friend Bethany to refund me for her ticket so that I would have the money to buy myself a ticket for one of the other shows.

I had been aiming for Glasgow, purely on the basis that I've never been to Glasgow and always wanted to go, but it was sold out, as were most of the other shows by then. The only ones that weren't were Leeds, both nights in London, and the gig in Birmingham. In each case, there were hardly any tickets left and the remaining tickets were all for seats right at the top of the upper tier.

I considered Leeds, it being geographically the nearest of the three locations and, at a push, it might not have required a hotel booking because a late night train journey would have been doable. But the seat that was left didn't look worth it. It was a similar situation with the O2 in London, plus the hotel bill would have been huge in that case. The remaining seat in Birmingham looked marginally closer to the stage in the seating plan, and I felt that the hotel bill was likely to be cheaper as well so I went with that.

One of the problems with depression (and to a certain extent with anxiety as well) is that there are tasks, often relatively straightforward tasks, that you keep putting off and putting off because you just can't face doing them. There was a Twitter thread in the summer that someone put together on this theme, and the writer dubbed it The Impossible Task: You know you have to do it, it's not that hard, but for some reason, you just can't bring yourself to do it. Booking a hotel in Birmingham was my Impossible Task. While booking the gig ticket was relatively straightforward for me, working out my hotel and booking it took me a month. Which meant that most of the hotels near the Genting Arena had already been booked up by then, what with the gig selling out and everything.

I think my dread of travelling to Birmingham might have had something to do with it, in that Birmingham is one of those cities that tends to defeat me geographically. I find it very easy to, if not actually get lost, lose locations in. I've only been to the city once but I vividly remember spending an entire Saturday morning wandering around the city centre, trying to find their big new library. I kept going round and round the Bullring, getting further and further away from where I was meant to be going. Given that the Genting Arena is located in the complex around Birmingham International Airport, rather than in the city itself, I was hoping that the whole experience would be less of a geographical headfuck.

Needless to say, I was wrong: It was probably worse. I won't go into all the details but I will say that it took me a good hour to find my hotel, which is quite something given it's located about ten minutes from the train station. In my defence though, the route you have to take to it is not exactly obvious.

A lot of Florence fans were staying at my hotel, and the staff were evidently used to this, and to the corresponding rush on food ahead of the gig. I left for the Arena at about 7pm, hoping like hell that I could A) Remember the way to the Arena and B) Remember the way back to the hotel after the show.

The Genting Arena is rather like Manchester Arena inside, albeit with a different floorpan. There were food stalls everywhere, and the merch stand was all over flowers and looked lovely. After much deliberation I purchased the tour t-shirt because I really love that Pre-Raphaelite esque Tom Beard shot of Florence Welch in her pink dress.

Florence + The Machine, High As Hope. Cover by Tom Beard.

My seat was four rows down from the very top to the right of the stage, and getting up to my seat was such a faff that I found myself thinking 'I'd better stay here to the end of the show, no bloody way will I ever be able to locate this seat again'.

Florence + The Machine came on around 8:45pm, to much roaring and applause, particularly when Florence emerged wearing an ankle length pink chiffon dress, her hair down. They started with the epic and atmospheric 'June', then went straight into 'Hunger' and 'Between Two Lungs'. I think Florence was feeling nervous as she didn't speak until after the third song, when she said hello and asked everyone to stand up (hurrah!), just before going into 'Only If For A Night' and 'Queen of Peace'.

She talked to us for longer just before 'South London Forever' when she started to explain, and apologise, for talking quietly, but that she was shy "You wouldn't know it to watch me, but I am". She was explaining that she was trying to get better at the talking thing when someone yelled something and she broke off, laughing. Apparently he'd yelled "SEXY BITCH!" which she found funny rather than offensive, and she dealt with lightly and with good humour.

She then talked about 'South London Forever' and it's theme of teenage debauchery: "In the US when I say 'teenage' they think '18', but over here we know we mean '13'" as well as it being a home town salute to Camberwell. She also made an earnest, sweet, slightly bumbling speech about how much has changed since she saw us three years ago, but how hope is a force for good, and she got us to hold hands "Just to make it as hippy as possible".

Later, in my diary, I wrote "I love Florence Welch. She is amazing. Even when you've got a seat nearly at the very top of an arena, she makes you feel like she's singing and talking to you alone." Which really represents the atmosphere of the show, but particularly during 'South London Forever'.

The band followed 'South London Forever' with a mesmerising semi acoustic take on 'Patricia'. Before the song commenced, Florence made the Patti Smith connection explicit, and she also explained that the bit in the middle is about "toxic masculinity", which "isn't a problem in here" Earlier she'd remarked that there was a "very good energy, a very female energy" in the arena, which she liked, and in the speech before 'Patricia' she made it clear that she feels Florence + The Machine fans don't have any problems supporting women, which went down well.

The perennial anthem that is 'Dog Days Are Over' was dazzling and euphoric, with mass audience participation in the way of clapping and singing along. Florence asked us to put our phones away and to hug each other, which, amazingly, my section of the audience did.

'100 Years' and 'The End of Love' both stood out as being particularly mesmerising, and there was a suitably rousing version of 'Ship To Wreck' in-between the two. Florence got everyone to switch their phones on and hold them up to create a sky or stars for 'Cosmic Love', and the result was very pretty: A sea of little white 'stars'.

She went crowd running during 'Delilah' and followed it with some crowd bonding during 'What Kind Of Man'. It was interesting to watch those two songs on this tour compared to last, as I got a sense of how the songs have changed emotionally for her. She seems free of that time now and, as such, those two songs don't feel as visceral or as dark as they did three years ago.

Birmingham's Genting Arena, a sky full of stars for 'Cosmic Love'

When they left the stage at the end of the set, there was so much drumming of feet and clapping of hands that it sounded like an earthquake. You could feel the floor shaking beneath our feet.

They came back on and did the brooding 'Big God' and uplifting 'Shake It Out', and Florence persuaded the audience to be her choir in the latter case, which added to the sense of euphoria.

It took so long to get out of the seated section that we could see men in hard hats and hi vis dismantling all the gear on stage as the Arena staff swept glitter and plastic pint pots across the floor in the standing area with huge industrial brushes.

Then it was the slow moving hum of the crowd through the Arena, to the outside air, while trying to figure out which way to turn in order to get back to the train station. I followed the crowd, and studied various signposts while thinking "This doesn't look like the way I came in." At last I spotted a familiar bit of scenery and was relieved to realise that I was going the right way. Then it was up the stairs into the station, across the bridge, down the escalator and out again, now trying to remember how I'd successfully found my hotel in the end. I made it fairly quickly, but I'm pretty sure it wasn't the same route as last time.

The Florence + The Machine gig tiara in Birmingham, with diary

Following just over a week of medieval plague (or a particularly virulent throat infection if we're being accurate) combined with vertigo, I started Friday 23 November on a very low point, standing hunched over the kitchen sink, having a major coughing fit that ended with me being sick. A horrible way to start the day.

I had travelled to Birmingham for the previous week's Florence gig knowing I was coming down with a throat infection, but it hadn't really started by Friday morning so I expected that I'd be OK. And I was. Until the wee small hours of Saturday morning when the infection kicked in with a vengeance and I experienced a perfect storm of symptoms.

Needless to say, I didn't get much sleep in Birmingham on Friday night/Saturday morning and, what with having an extremely sensitive throat by morning, approached the serve yourself breakfast area with definite wariness: When you're at the hypersensitive throat stage of a throat infection, you tend to divide foods up into soft and scratchy foods. That said, even a single red lentil can cause merry hell with my throat when I'm really bad, so beyond yoghurt, blended soups, and ice-cream the world of food can become very unfriendly indeed.

I managed a weird breakfast of fruit, very carefully eaten cereal with lots of milk, and shedloads of fruit juice and mint tea. Then I got ambitious and nearly choked on a yoghurt.

Feeling decidedly fed up now, I figured I might as well pack and get a slightly earlier train home than I'd planned. I don't think I really saved much time by doing that though because I had to wait 40 minutes for a direct train to Manchester from Birmingham International, and when it arrived it was rammed to the gills. And remained so until Stoke.

You know it's a bad train when you can't even sit in the luggage rack because people have beaten you to it. I thought the worst was over after Stoke but, no, because what seemed like the entire population of Macclesfield under the age of 25 got on at that station and I then had to fight my way through them all to get off at Stockport.

A Virgin Cross Country train coming into Stockport in 1998. By Ryan Taylor, via flickr.
Used according to a creative commons licence. 

Just under a week later and I was feeling moderately better, despite the coughing fits, oh, and I had hardly any voice whatsoever, making communication a major challenge.

I'd booked the two tickets for Manchester Arena way back in May, in the fan pre-sale that took place two days before tickets went on sale. I was still working my day job at that point and, because both the pre-sale and the actual sale started on weekdays at 10am, I'd concocted a plan that involved diving onto a staff laptop at morning break and hoping like hell there would still be some tickets left.

In the end though, I was off sick on the day of the pre-sale and was so exhausted that I wasn't sure I could drag myself out of bed in time for it. The result being that I booked my tickets for Manchester Arena at the table in the kitchen, in my dressing gown, after breakfast, bang on 10am. "That was easy" I thought, feeling too relieved to be excited, and promptly went back to bed.

Bethany, who I was going with, had wanted seated tickets whereas I'd wanted standing. I was happy to accommodate her but, in the end, the decision was made for us by the pre-sale: By the time I got to the ticket selection stage of the process there were no two seated tickets left for Manchester Arena that were next to each other. Standing it was.

Bethany happened to be off sick that day too so she didn't get my email until the next day when we were both back in work. We'd already spent an entire day a few weeks previously deconstructing the video to 'Hunger' when we should have been working, now we were both very excited about the Arena gig.

As it turns out though, it wasn't Bethany who I ended up going to the Arena with. A few weeks before the gig, she texted me to let me know that she couldn't come. I did consider selling her ticket for her but she was adamant that I should take someone else. I decided to ask David.

Earlier in the year we'd spent a happy afternoon at Pear Mill, ogling vintage that neither of us could afford, and one of my first social engagements after I left my job in the summer had been a day out in Marple with David. It ended with us sitting outside in the sunshine in his back garden, reflecting on the simple things in life.

8th Day were holding a Christmas Meal in December and, while texting him about that, I asked "Would you like to see Florence + The Machine at Manchester Arena on the 23 November?" It felt like a bit of a long shot but, on the other hand, he does really, really like Patrick Wolf, and I've always felt that Florence + The Machine and Patrick Wolf are essentially two sides of the same coin.

"I'd totally be up for it" he replied "I haven't been to a gig in ages, never mind an Arena show".

We were on.

David hadn't seen Florence before and, because I felt it would help him to enjoy it more if it was a surprise, I deliberately didn't tell him what to expect. I just said "They are not your typical Arena band". Which might have been a bit wrong of me, given that I've yet to see anyone else in an Arena setting. But somehow, I do think I'm right. I really don't think anyone else approaches an Arena show in quite the same way as Florence + The Machine.

Florence Welch by Vincent Haycock

On the morning of the 23rd I had some back and forth with David via text re what you can/can't take into the Arena, and the day disappeared quite quickly after that. He was teaching that day so I'd arranged to meet him at 8th Day at 5pm for tea and we'd walk over to the Arena at 6pm, which is when the doors opened.

Once in we admired the merch and people watched for a bit before watching Wet. We were nearish the front, but not too near. We didn't want to push and shove our way through.

Florence + The Machine came on at 8:45pm and, as I expected, it was the same set as at Birmingham. While Florence was her usual sparkling self, I think the energy was different to Birmingham, probably because Birmingham was only the second date on the tour, but also because the crowd energy wasn't quite as wild in Manchester as it was in Birmingham. It was still high, just not quite as wild.

Florence very sweetly mentioned in her intro to 'South London Forever' that her brother in law is from Manchester and that her two year old niece was here: They were introducing her to her Mancunian roots. It was interesting hearing Florence talk about how it's been "A bad few years" since she last saw us, as it had a different kind of connotation in Manchester Arena than in Birmingham. It felt much more about the Arena bombing than about Brexit and Trump. I'm not sure how well her message of hope went over in that context, because thinking about the Arena bombing probably put people on edge in a way that Brexit and Trump probably don't (ie; you can be furious about both but the pain is different), but her message was clearly sincerely meant and, I think, appreciated.

The crowd in the standing section were great. David made friends with a guy with two women in front of me, and I made friends with the girl next to me when we held hands during 'South London Forever' and I hugged her during 'Dog Days'. Everyone was fully into it and going for it. Which is ultimately why I wanted to be in the standing section in the first place, truth be told.

Florence talked, both in Manchester and in Birmingham, about how grateful she was to the fans for taking and understanding her songs over the past ten years, and how it means a lot to her because we understand even when her family, friends, partners don't.

I think a great example in Manchester of that understanding was the rapturous response 'Hunger' received in the standing section, with everyone singing along and jumping up and down. Given the subject matter of the song, and Florence's initial hesitancy to release it, that felt very powerful. In the same way that the collective singalong of 'Shake It Out' is pure joy, and Florence orchestrating the perfect in the moment bit, minus phones, in 'Dog Days' is lifting it up to a higher plane.

When Florence went crowd running during 'Delilah' we spotted her a couple of times in the seated sections, then she re-appeared at the back of the standing section, raised up above the crowd, possibly on someone's shoulders. Afterwards she went down to the front of the standing section for 'What Kind of Man', pressing heads with members of the audience.

The encores were 'Big God' and 'Shake It Out'. After 'Shake It Out', and after Florence had said goodnight and look after each other, we could see her hugging and talking to people at the very front of the standing section, closely watched over by security.

Afterwards, David said how much he'd enjoyed it. He loved what Florence was trying to do by way of creating a collective emotional experience, and he loved how into it the crowd were. The whole thing seemed to have moved him very profoundly and we talked about it as we walked back to Piccadilly.

It's very hard to put the impact of a Florence + The Machine gig into words, but it is a deeply emotional experience, which is why I think it resonates so much with those of us in emotional and mental turmoil. It's also perhaps why a lot of (especially male) music critics don't get it: Florence Welch is moving us on an emotional level, in a sincere and non manipulative way, by saying and singing about things that often feel very personal. Pain. Rage. Hurt. Delirium. Fear. All the extremes, including extreme joy and being out of control. Anyone with anxiety and depression can relate to that.

She has changed since I last saw her live: She seems more comfortable with herself, happier, less scared, less hurting. Not everything has changed though: She is still the politest person I've ever seen on stage, and she still comes across as someone who can't quite believe that they get to do this for a living.

Florence Welch by Vincent Haycock

It is interesting to watch her being explicitly feminist and slightly political. I don't know if the events of the past two years have driven her to it, or if it's that she now feels established enough to risk saying what she thinks. It could be both. It's not as though she's spoken about #MeToo on stage, or said "Fuck Brexit, Fuck Trump", but she's said enough, on stage, in song, on social media, in interviews for the fans to know how she feels. And that's OK.

There is something almost slyly subversive about watching her running about the stage in a sea of chiffon, her hair streaming out behind her, and having her talk about toxic masculinity and female energy.

In addition to The Voice, there's also that slightly lopsided charm about her that includes the ability to fall over on stage stylishly and a grin that lights up her whole face. The flaws, and the relatable realness of Florence Welch, are equally as much part of the charm as the talent is. And I think that's a good thing.

The book pile: Going down, getting ready to be fed again...

The book pile this morning...

Virginmarys and Hands Off Gretel review now up on Louder Than War

It's taken me a couple of days to post this, but... My review of Virginmarys and Hands Off Gretel at Club Academy last Saturday is now up on Louder Than War.

This was such a fun gig to review, even though it took place the night after Florence at the Arena and I was poorly and knackered. They really gave me a lift. Two incredible, energetic, lively bands.

I hadn't really encountered Virginmarys before and was thrilled to discover that they are from Macclesfield and seem to have the same chest beating affection for their home town as Blossoms do for Stockport. That was a nice surprise.

I also liked that Lauren Tate, singer in Hands Off Gretal, has black and white hair a'la Corinne Burns in Ladies And Gentlemen, The Fabulous Stains! Although whether that's a conscious reference I don't know.

You can read my review on the Louder Than War site. 

Tancred live review now up!

I am feeling very proud today as my first piece for Louder Than War has just gone up.

It's a live review of the excellent Tancred, who I saw play at Gullivers on Monday night. Because I have been felled by an annoyingly persistent throat infection since the wee small hours of Saturday morning, I opted to just see Tancred and skip the support band, The Winter Passing. Which I feel a little bit guilty about as I'm usually a big cheerleader for support acts on a (sometimes misplaced) underdog principle. I also felt a bit guilty about dragging photographer Shari Denson out on such a horrible night, weather wise, but she enjoyed the band so it was worth it.

Anyway, Tancred were fantastic and really lifted me out of myself, which was just what I needed. They played a tight set of impeccable indie rock, which reinforced for me just how good Nightstand is as an album. I'll be compiling my end of year lists soon and it should make an appearance somewhere I'd say.

Louder Than Words 2018

2018 marks the sixth year of Manchester's annual Louder Than Words music literary festival, and my fourth year of attending. Whereas for the previous two years the opening night has clashed with leaving do's at work, this time there were no conflicting events scheduled for the Friday. Instead, I was torn to discover that the Saturday night of the festival would clash with the London premiere of Gina Birch and Helen McCookerybook's excellent punk women documentary, Stories from the She-Punks, at Doc'N'Roll Fest. I really hope they manage to tour the film, and that it comes to Manchester, because I really want to see it.

The Principal hotel on Oxford Road was observing it's annual ritual of office workers in black tie and evening dress on a festive works night out when I arrived. This can be quite unnerving to walk into if you're new to Louder Than Words but, thankfully, event volunteers are on hand in the foyer, ready to steer attendees through this bewilderingly posh hotel, and up to the Directors Suite on the 2nd floor for the evenings events.

Friday night:

Gemma Cairney from Radio One was our opening speaker. She was interviewed by two teams of 3rd year Journalism students from Manchester Metropolitan University (MMU) working in pairs. MMU and Louder Than Words having formed a partnership of sorts, which is helpful in terms of seeing that students get some industry experience as part of their degrees. The students were a little stiff, but that was probably due to nerves. They were certainly all very professional and clearly well prepared and, overall, they did a good job. Cairney came across as someone who's grown up in public, which might account in part for the sense I got of her being a bit of a wise old soul. It does seem as though millennials are doing their 30's well, and she is no exception to that, though her role as an agony aunt who's written a series of wellbeing related books might account for that as well. I found her to be very likeable.

Afterwards I got talking to two young women who'd been at the event. One of them had asked me to take a picture on her phone of them with Cairney, which I did quite badly unfortunately. They were sweet about it and we got talking by the lift in the corridor afterwards. They'd been to a poetry workshop and the tutor had given them tickets for the Cairney event. They were planning to attend the Slam poetry session on Sunday morning.

While waiting for Guy Pratt to come on I got speaking to Amy, one of the students who had interviewed Gemma Cairney, who was staying on to review the Pratt event. We'd both come along not really knowing much about him or what to expect, and we both ended up enjoying it. I'm not surprised that he was recommended to Louder Than Words after someone saw him performing in Edinburgh because his show (and it was very much A Show) felt a bit Edinburgh Fringe. It's quite an experimental concept in some ways in that he's telling rock'n'roll anecdotes, using guitar to demonstrate certain riffs and points, but he's doing it on his own as stand up essentially.

The show, and it's cultural references, are rooted very much in the Classic Rock oevre, which tends to attract a very particular demographic. It tends to be quite chin stroking and inclined to take itself very seriously. To have a wildly energetic, slightly manic, bass player running about doing impressions of David Coverdale and telling funny stories about Pink Floyd gigs is something of a surprise in that context. It was a marathon, high energy, two hour performance, with an impromptu interval we weren't expecting. Declaring ourselves tired afterwards, Amy and I went our separate ways for home, and bed.

Saturday:

I didn't fancy either of the 10am events on the Saturday but I had some errands to run before heading over to the Principal so stayed on the bus until Piccadilly then headed towards Market Street to finish my Christmas shopping, walking past the Piccadilly Rats in the process. They seemed to be on fine form, with a healthy crowd watching, and very much in rockabilly mode. I couldn't see how the Bez dancers were taking to that as I couldn't see them amidst the crowd watching.

I had two books to return to Central Library in St Peter's Square after that and decided to check out the Manchester music photo exhibition next to the music library while I was there. It is well worth a visit. I liked the punk and post punk images, though I had seen some of the Joy Division ones before, but the bit I liked the best was the montage of Manchester 2018 artists, a series of snapshots that really showcased the diversity of the current scene here. The closing images in the exhibition are two massive enlarged photos from 2017. The first is the One Love concert at Old Trafford in May 2017 and the final one is of the We Love Manchester concert at the re-opening of Manchester Arena in September 2017. Very powerful.

My first Louder Than Words event of the day was 'Writing about music is like dancing about architecture: Music writing panel discussion'. It was a bloody big panel, but I think that was a strength in this case. Said panel was made up of a mix of students, academics, starting out and well established journalists. Martin James, Lucy O'Brien, Simon Morrison and Everett True represented the established journalists, and academia. Emily Oldfield from Louder Than War, Georgia Rawson (formerly of Kerrang!) and a woman who's more on the PR/copywriting side of things, and whose name I can't recall, represented the new. There was also a student from the Chester music journalism course.

My MMU student pal, Amy, from Friday night was there covering it and MMU's journalism department in general were well represented in the audience. It was a wide ranging discussion that took in many facets, including the craft of music journalism versus the perception of music journalism within journalism itself, how music journalism isn't taken seriously, the oppositional working environment of musician's vs journalists, the decline of rigorous, critical journalism*, whether music journalism can be taught at degree level, the blurring of the lines between PR and journalism... Some of these issues are industry wide in terms of journalism, some are specific to the music industry, but they're all important. Initially the discussion felt quite nervy, like everyone was holding their guard a bit, then people relaxed and it became a lot franker and the conversations flowed naturally.

A comment I found very interesting was the assertion that you can't be a music journalist unless you're out there at gigs several nights a week. It made me ask myself a question I've been pondering for a while now: Is what I'm doing music journalism? Increasingly I find myself writing about the stuff that goes on around the music as much as, or sometimes more than, the music itself. I do ingest a lot of new music, but my gig going declined sharply with the rise of the smartphone (and associated dickish behaviour at gigs) and is only really starting to recover in the past year or so. As such, I can go for weeks, or even months in a dry period of inspiration, without going to a single gig.

Even when I was a gig going fanzine writer in the 1990's I tended to prefer no more than two gigs a week and I think that's because I like to pick and savour my gigs, which possibly isn't that helpful an approach as a music journalist, even if it has some logic as a fan. Maybe it's because my access to gigs was slightly delayed and very hard won and, as such, I still tend to view a gig as an event. There is also the financial aspect, it has to be admitted.

My second event of the day was the Madonna: Like A Gay Icon panel discussion next door with Lucy O'Brien (Madonna: Like An Icon), Matt Cain (The Madonna of Bolton) and Darryl W. Bullock (David Bowie Made Me Gay: 100 years of LGBT music). It felt very unusual to be attending a panel discussion that had, at it's heart, an unashamedly pop icon as opposed to an icon of rock or electronic music, let alone a panel discussing LGBT artists and allies.

I really liked this panel, not only because all three panellists were very well informed, likeable and funny, but also because while they may have started with Madonna, they didn't talk entirely about her.  Darryl W. Bullock's book seems to be building on John Gill's Queer Noises book of many years ago, and I was interested to hear how far back he'd been able to trace the LGBT trail of influence and representation in music. I also loved Matt Cain's anecdote about the customary opening conversation gambit at Attitude magazine when meeting new starters: 'Which Diva are you?' There was a Mariah camp, a Britney camp... This related to a discussion about gay men and diva's and the long term symbiotic relationship of.

I was flagging a bit after this so I went to 8th Day for a very late dinner and returned to the Principal with a vegan brownie in a box and a bottle of rose lemonade, feeling much, much better. It did mean that I ended up missing Jeanette Lee and Geoff Travis in conversation, but at least I got to people watch some of the attendees of the annual Doki Doki Fest (also in it's sixth year) as they made their way, in full lolita fashion and cosplay attire, to and from Sugden Sports Hall.

My next event was the excellent Jordan and Cathi Unsworth in conversation with John Robb upstairs in the Directors Suite. I was late to arrive to this event and, as such, got a crap view which I tried not to let spoil my enjoyment.  Jordan and Cathi Unsworth are two very intelligent, independent, likeable women, each with their own unique look and personality. Jordan's memoir, which she wrote with Unsworth, is due out in April 2019, and it sounds like it's going to be really, really good. Jordan has only recently re-engaged with punk, but she has a lot to say, and not just about punk. Both of them talked a lot about the pre-punk world and I liked the idea of overlapping worlds and scenes. It sounds as though the book will be quite analytical, but in a good way.

I could have gone to see the Arena: Punk And The Pistols film afterwards, which featured Jordan in it's cast, but I didn't in the end because I had it on video for years and have watched it so often that there's bits I can quote verbatim, even now. I also really, really dislike the ending, for reasons too long to discuss here. Instead I went to the annual club culture's panel: Do Ravers Dream of Electric Beats?

Although this panel discussion took me way outside my musical comfort zone, I really enjoyed it. The idea this year was to take a snapshot/health check of where the UK dance scene is in 2018, 30 years on from the UK's 'Second summer of love'. As the panellists were discussing where they had been in 1988, and what they were doing at the time, I had a flashback to 1990 and my 4th year juniors leaving do at primary school. Said do being an acid house homage done as badly as only well meaning teachers and eleven year old kids can do. We only had one acid house record anyway and, after we'd played it, it was back to Kylie and the 'Lambada'. Needless to say, the panel had far more interesting memories to import.

One of the panellists was Dr Beate Peter, an academic from Germany who now lives in Manchester, and it was really interesting to hear her talk about the cultural differences between Berlin techno and Manchester techno. There was also a guy who'd been DJing in Manchester in the 80s who talked of the three tiers of exposure that had once existed for DJ's whereas now you're either massive or minuscule, no in-between.

I didn't understand everything, but I broadened my understanding a bit.

Sunday:

I ended up going to bed very late on Saturday night/Sunday morning and, as such, was glad of a lie in. Clearly a veggie fried breakfast and a shower were called for.

Because I was leaving the flat later than usual on the Sunday, I'd forgotten that the buses on the A6 would be diverted for the Armistice Day Remembrance event at the town hall and war memorial in Stockport, and that this would impact on my getting into Manchester. It didn't help that all the 192's seemed to be travelling in pairs that morning, meaning there were quite long gaps between buses.

As such, I only just made it to the Principal in time for Stuart Cosgrove, who was talking about the third of his soul trilogy, Harlem 69: The Future of Soul, with Daryl Easlea. Easlea proved to be an adept interviewer who had a good rapport with Cosgrove, and being the master storyteller that he is, Cosgrove was on great form. He  mentioned the significant club heritage on Manchester's Whitworth Street, and ventured to suggest that the whole history of club culture is on that street (Twisted Wheel, The Ritz, Hacienda...) and that a book could be written about it. His knowledge of soul is absolutely forensic, but it's his passion for his subject and his storytelling capacity and interest in characters that's able to sweep an audience along, and hold them.

I went to part of Sheila Rock's conversation with Rudi Esch but left part way through because I wasn't feeling great and wasn't sure about the event itself. Not long after that I decided a sandwich and fresh air were both required.

As such, my final event of the weekend was punk fanzine editor Tony Drayton (Tony D of Ripped and Torn), who was being interviewed by John Robb. Tony D provided an introduction to a book of punk essays I contributed to earlier this year, so I felt inclined to go out of a sense of loyalty, but I also wanted to go because it was a fanzine related event and there haven't been so many of them at Louder Than Words this year. I enjoyed Tony D as much as I'd enjoyed Stuart Cosgrove earlier, albeit for very different reasons. Drayton is a good interviewee, candid and slightly self effacing, and he has really good stories, not just about punk but about the stuff going on around punk, such as squat culture in London.

When I did my British Library punk fanzine research a few years ago now, Ripped and Torn wasn't one of the fanzines that I felt a lot of affection for, but I would say that it served as a good document of the times. I think I like him (as a person) more now than I would have done at the time. It was certainly an absorbing conversation, giving a take on punk that felt fresh. Because John Robb is from a fanzine background as well, he knew to ask about production and distribution/sales, which I liked.

There was a real end of the event feel to things when I emerged from the room. Not as many people were about and there was a definite sense of post event fatigue and tidying going on. I headed back to Piccadilly and caught the bus home.

* - I am guilty of this: Because I don't get paid for most of my work I am considerably un-inclined to waste precious time on the chore of reviewing and writing about artists I don't like, especially when there is so much good stuff out there that I don't have time to write about.

An interview with Gina Birch and Helen McCookerybook

I didn't get chance to write about this last week, mainly because I was in a hurry to get the piece posted on The F-Word before our site re-design went live.

Anyway, it's been two years in the making, but... (Drumroll please...)

I have interviewed Helen McCookerybook and Gina Birch about their excellent women and punk documentary, Stories of the She-Punks: Music with a different agenda.

Folk who've been reading this blog for a few years may remember that I blogged about the work in progress version of the She-Punks film back in 2016, when times were simpler, there was still hope in the world (erm, a bit of hope? Maybe?) and Boris Johnson was still Mayor of London (I think we can all spot the odd one out in that sentence...) That was when it was shown at the British Library's conference centre in St Pancras to a rapturous response during London's 40 Years of Punk celebrations.

The finished film receives it's London premiere at Doc'N'Roll Fest on Saturday, and it is well worth seeing. Gina and Helen were very generous with their time and gave me a brilliant interview.

We did the interview at the British Library in the cafe on the ground floor, which I settled in earlier in the day having dragged myself away from the £35 plush toy snake in the gift shop. Then Helen and I walked back to Euston together and I honed my 'Finding things to do at Euston station' skills for an hour and a half.

It was good fun and well worth the wait.

Spooky (but not in a Halloween sense) playlist compiling

This month's F-Word Music blog post is now up on the site. Because we are well into the period I like to think of as Peak Touring (new university term, end of year lists pending, Christmas wish lists being compiled...) there has been an awful lot of stuff to cram in this time. 

By comparison, the playlist was pretty easy and came together almost immediately. I think I had to move, maybe, two songs around and that was it, it was done.

It was when I was listening to it back that I realised how very apt a lot of the songs are in terms of the past year. A lot are very pertinent to the #MeToo era and, most recently, the Kavanagh appointment in the US. I feel as though I've been stockpiling these songs in my mind, and in my Spotify lists, just waiting for the right moment to put them all together. 

Some are from new artists, some are from established artists. Some were recorded for major labels, some were self released. But what they all seem to share is a kind of conscious or unconscious commentary on the state of womanhood and the world in 2018. 

I'm really pleased that so many artists have tapped into their inner rage this year. It would be nice to live in a utopian world, or at least a more restful one, but that seems remote and, as with all art, music reflects that. And provides a source of inspiration and solace in a fucked up world.

Image is the cover image for Laura Gibson's new album Goners. It is out now.