THAT list

And so it was. I started work as a music journalist on Nov 26 1999. The job was effectively handed to me outside what was the original Barfly Club at a since-demolished pub called The Falcon on Camden's Royal College St. I was invited into the back of a van by the then editor of The Fly magazine to meet an upcoming band he was championing and their A&R man. The band and A&R man joked I was wearing a coat that could have belonged to a secretary in the 50s and seemingly, because I took that in good spirit (well, it seemed like a compliment to me), I got the job. Such is the nature of the music industry. The job was two days a week as an editorial assistant for no pay, only access to as much music and as many concert tickets as I could ever dream of. Lucky me, I was promoted to dep ed after six months on the handsome, and needless to say, much-welcome, sum of £9K a year.
What I didn't think possible was that a decade later, I'd still be working as a writer/editor in the music industry (now, more interestingly for me, writing about the biz, as opposed to the music itself). I have been extraordinarily lucky - I have witnessed and reported on a time in the music industry whereby it has undergone drastic changes neither predicted, nor, of course, ever seen before.
This all forms the backdrop for THE LIST - my albums of the past decade. I'm not sure the list would read the same if my life had taken a different course. I am sure I have missed out some albums along the way - no doubt. There are also albums which I had crushes on - those which I don't listen to now, but did at some point for a prolonged amount of time - but those aren't included. These are the albums that I find myself repreatedly returning to. Three acts get a special mention: Wilco, TV On The Radio and Modest Mouse. Those are the bands I have cherished the most, hence they have more than one entry.

Wilco - A Ghost Is Born/Yankee Hotel Foxtrot
Modest Mouse – We Were Dead.../Good News for People Who Love Bad News
TV On The Radio - Desperate Youth, Blood Thirsty Babes/Return to Cookie Mountain/Dear, Science
Calexico – Hot Rail
Nick Cave and The Bad Seeds - Lyre of Orpheus/Abattoir Blues
My Morning Jacket – It Still Moves
The National –Alligator
Richmond Fontaine - Post To Wire
NERD – In Search Of....
Bloc Party – Silent Alarm
The Kills – No Wow
Electrelane – Axes
Gorillaz – Demon Days
Sufjan Stevens – Illinoise
Pulp – We Love Life
Viva Voce – The Heat Can Melt Your Brain
Clap Your Hands Say Yeah - Clap Your Hands Say Yeah
Primal Scream – XTMNTR
Sun Kil Moon – Tiny Cities
Sona Fariq – Sona Fariq
Elliot Smith – Figure 8
Gemma Hayes – Night On My Side
The Walkmen – Bows and Arrows
Badly Drawn Boy – The Hour of Bewilderbeast
Nelly Furtado – Loose
Mermaid Avenue I& II – Billy Bragg and Wilco
PJ Harvey – Stories from the City, Stories from the Sea
Brendan Benson – Lapalco
At The Drive-In – Relationship of Command
The Coral – The Coral
Department of Eagles - Whitey on the Moon
Kelis - Tasty
Blur - Think Tank
Manu Chao - Clandestino

When The Devil's Loose

Last year I went to SxSW for the first and what might the only time (given how much I disliked Texas). The saving grace of the trip was seeing 2 different acts: Frank Smith (a band not a man) and AA Bondy, who I wrote about here and profiled in Music Publisher's Assoc. 'Impact' magazine. His latest album (When The Devil's Loose) has been released here and he is finally getting the attention I think he deserves: Guardian, Independent. Some of the tracks are here on his MySpace.

I'm chuffed about this - this year has produced little in the way of amazing albums for me (Will everyone get over The xx and Grizzly Bear, or Frightened Rabbit, or any other animal-centric band name?), so maybe he'll make it to number one of my favourite list.

How is it that all of a sudden I get the Arctic Monkeys?

I never fell for the Arctic Monkeys like the rest of the world did. I appreciated their obvious musical talent. I enjoyed the much-lauded lyrics to a point, often finding them too obviously British, a bit too kitchen-sink drama. I'm probably unusual in that I don't particularly like lyrics which are focused on the toils and tribulations of the everyday, or the ordinary, prefering instead (on the whole) lyrics which are more enlightening, more philosophical - those containing references which force me to think. Musically, the Arctic's brand of jangly, spiky, 60s guitars didn't hit the spot neither, so the first two albums never made it into my collection.
Fast forward to this month and Arctic Monkeys' 'Crying Lightning' is probably my favourite song of the year. I'm a total sucker for American music, so I was hoping Josh Homme would inject the band with the substance I believe they were previously lacking. So far, so good - the producer seems to have done the trick.
The reviews for 'Humbug' haven't been bad, far from it, but all of those I have read seem to say the same thing: Arctic Monkeys have taken a new direction which is going to upset their massive fan-base; that the lyrics are different, that the sound is harder. I'm happy about this. I wanted them to shed their British indie skin in favour of something more gripping, more forceful, more sleazy and judging from the few tracks I've heard so far, they've accomplished it. Good on them.
It got me to thinking about why I always seem to get into my favourite bands after the release of their third album. Kings of Leon are another example. Just before the release of their first album, people recommended it to me claiming it was 'right up my street'. I didn't like it at all, same with the second album. However, "Because of the Times" arrived and I fell in love with it. It's a similar pattern with some of my favourite bands:
u2 - I prefer War over Boy and October.
Modest Mouse - they got me on 4th album, Good News....
Nick Cave - bit different, but it wasn't until Boatman's Call that I suddenly started tuning in.
Wilco - the 4th album ‘Yankee Hotel Foxtrot’ - the first three are OK, but don't touch the beauty of that 4th record.
The National – 3rd album, ‘Alligator’ - still their best record in my opinion.
I think this might make me a bad talent spotter. So many people in this industry seem to fall in love with the first record, complain about the 'difficult second album' and forget the bands by their third attempt, at which point I'm re-evaluating my opinions of such bands.
It just goes to show that to hit people like me, bands do need to be given ample time to develop. It's a strange pattern....

Last-minute notes before the packing starts....

My last night here. It's 6.30pm and a thunderstorm has started - watching it from high up in my hotel room is incredible.
Shinjuku called again today. I discovered where all the record shops are. It's ridiculous - there's so so so much available here - vinyl, CD, DVD, bootlegs which are just too tempting. Disc Union is like a more down-at-heel Fopp and luckily, all the staff speak English. I just can't get my head around why British people stopped visiting them, regardless of the digital revolution. I've missed wondering around such shops so very much.
So - some quick observations (this is all for my own benefit so I never forget what has happened here!)....anyhow:
I found a bootleg DVD of a U2 show around the time of the Vertigo tour. They called it "How to dispatch an ageing band," as opposed to the official album title, "How to dismantle an atomic bomb". I wonder if the Japanese realise how right they were in their re-naming?
I haven't heard any police sirens here. Only once an ambulance went by with its sirens less wailing, but more whispering.
Women wear Wellies in 34 degree heat as a fashion statement (they're often pink or white). The humidity is close to torture - I don't know how they do it.
People never bump into eachother (from what I can tell), which is ridiculous given its the most over-populated city on the planet. Bikes whizz by pedestrians on the pavement and no-one gets in eachother's way. It's as though they are all positive ends of magnets - creating a forceful space that can't be interrupted.
I saw a boy wearing one of those Nike "Do It" slogan t-shirts. His had the Nike logo, but it said "Don't do it." Brilliant.
Picked up some stickers in the Tokyu Hands department store: one of them says, "I was late for the cattle mutilation." Yeah, so was I......gutted.
Am looking forward to seeing the people I have missed, but this city already has a hold on me. Shame to be leaving at 8am tomorrow.

Naked sword-fighting and phallic structures

It’s strange what music sounds good in different locations. I find that when I’m travelling, I make different playlists, but on arrival in whatever country it is, the music simply doesn’t ‘fit’. For example, I never want to listen to Americana bands when I’m in the Mediterranean, preferring instead to go all out for the pop music I wouldn’t normally listen to in London. It’s a mindset thing, I suppose. The two artists I’ve loved listening to while wandering the streets of Tokyo are, rather bizarrely, Nick Cave (the Grinderman project – my boyfriend will be pleased, he’s been long urging me to give it a go) and Mel Torme. They may sit at complete odds with each other, but like Tokyo, there’s just no explaining it. One lyric from a Mel Torme song stood out: “I’ve seen a lot of big cities; I’ve heard a lot of big talk.”
Yesterday was one of those days that I hope I never forget. I travelled out to a place called Asukusa, 25 mins from Shibuya at the end of the Ginza line. Asukusa really came to prominence in the Meiji Restoration period, when the Emperor first decided to let Westerners and Western culture into the city. It was the first place to house cinemas and music halls and allow strip clubs to open. Amusingly, strip joints in the area replaced a different form of ‘erotic’ entertainment: naked female sword-fighting. Asukusa is a mixture of many things: somehow it has retained an air of what I would imagine is traditional Tokyo – a sprawl of temples, statues and pagodas, all incidentally reconstructed after the bombings in1945. The area is also cluttered with a million stalls and shops selling anything you could ever want: kitchenware, clothes, toys, pets etc etc. Tokyo and particularly Asukusa shares something with California: although the architecture is grey and drab, every effort is made to make it look attractive. Flowers, ribbons, ornaments, carefully-designed signage in array of pretty colours. Those who live there clearly take pride in their surroundings. It works the opposite in London. We’re so spoilt with incredible architecture from all manner of periods that we don’t bother to make an effort ‘beautifying’ the place. It’s beginning to sink in just how lazy us British folks can be.
I spent three hours wandering the streets of Asukusa – delighting in the smells, sounds and the visual feast, avoiding the rickshaws, the bicycles, the other mass of tourists. One major pull for the tourists outside the temple is...and I don’t know the official name for it....the fortune telling stand. The procedure is as follows: you chuck some money into an honesty box, shake a cylinder box from which a chopstick falls. The signs on the chopsticks match signs on about 200 wooden draws, from which you pull a piece of paper which tells your fortune. Mine was shockingly awful: “Bad fortune: Thunderbolt hit and sound is breaking the sky, it is real dark and terrible. A man of good sense of humour stay within a house closing the gate and door. All looks really lonesome.” I nearly fell over laughing, which clearly frightened the Japanese people who took steps to get away from me. What amused me even more is that they undertake this ritual, then walk into the temple to banish their sins by wafting incense over themselves and praying to the shrine. Superstition and spiritualism are bed fellows here.
Asukusa sits on the river and over the bridge is the Asahi beer building. It’s apparently meant to depict a glass of beer, but I have a feeling some phallic symbolism is going on. It’s best to just check the picture on my Flickr account and make up your own mind about it.
The “Edo gawa-ku Hanabi Taikai” fireworks took place last night. Paid for by the government, they go on for an hour (puts the London New Year’s shindig to shame!) from a stadium in the centre of town. I was taken by a companion here to the Park Hyatt hotel in Shinjuku to watch them: the amazing five-star hotel where they filmed “Lost In Translation”. We sat in the bar on the 45th floor (just along from where Bill Murray made cloaked advances to Scarlett Johanssen), sipped cocktails and watched the fireworks explode below us. My companion recounted a story about meeting Lou Reed in Paris, which had me in stitches. Forget my bad fortune, I’m a lucky girl.
I’m starting to get my head around the Japanese mindset....a little. They are amazing copyists. Someone quite crudely suggested that genuine, original creativity is thin on the ground here. I don’t believe it. Throwing your own slant on something that has gone before does not mean you are void of creativity. The Japanese are, however, incredibly child-like. Those under 25 or so express themselves so strongly: particularly in their style. They desperately want to differentiate themselves from the rest of the crowd by concocting their own dress sense – it’s brilliant to watch. The adults are slightly different – given they all work in a highly corporate society, they are obliged to do the suit and tie thing, much in the same way as the Western world does. But underneath that veneer, they still hold on to child-like traits. For example, a man on the tube yesterday was wearing a suit, but hanging from the top pocket was a chain carrying a fluffy, miniature bear. Maybe the freedom we are granted in the West means we inevitably mature...if you are kept suppressed, maybe that supposed ‘maturity’ never kicks in. I’m only beginning to get my head around this idea. I’m sure I will travel around the city today and what I notice will contradict this. To the streets it is.....

Mode Gakuen Cocoon Tower - an hour spent in Shinjuku

Much of today has been taken up with work at the British Embassy and an organised trip with the other delegates to see Kasabian at the Shibuya Ax venue, but I managed to grab a couple of hours of time to myself this morning. Since getting slightly older, I thought some of my courage had disappeared with the firmness of my skin, but somehow, when I'm alone and abroad the 18-year-old in me returns to the fore and my sense of adventure overrides all sense of caution - for which I am grateful. Fortunately, my renewed sense of bravery (and some helpful notes from a friend who lived here for 3 years) sent me into the chaos that is Shinjuku station. In the Forbidden Planet guide book Shinjuku is described as the most "vigorous" part of Tokyo. What they mean by "vigorous," I have no idea. However, it is the largest and most complicated station I have ever witnessed. To describe it as a maze barely does it justice. Yet, I made it out of the west entrance into the area where all the skyscrapers are and the Tokyo government building, where I travelled up to the 45th floor observation tower. The government building is pretty remarkable: two connected towers, which are dazzling in terms of scale. Designed by Kenzo Tange (a famous Japanese architect), he was also responsible for what I think is the most spectacular building on the Tokyo skyline: the Mode Gakuen Cocoon Building. Apparently he was inspired by Le Courbusier, but I fail to see it.
I came away with a smile on my face, glad that I had managed to negotiate the city and the station alone.
A couple of things amused me today. First of all, on the Ginza tube line, they have carriages for women only. I presumed this was out of decency because women don't like to be shoved around when it's busy, but it later transpired that it prevents women from being felt up by men in the rush hour. Whether that's true or not, I don't know. Japanese men, on first sight, seem extraordinarily polite.
Secondly - and this will only mean something to people who understand the goings on in music copyright - a music publisher was asked today whether the term of copyright on sound recordings in Japan will be extended from 50 to 70 years, similar to the campaign that is currently taking place in the UK (which incidentally I don't agree with). The publisher responded: "In light of the work of Lawrence Lessig, we prefer not to call it "copyright extension" but "copyright harmony". I was the only person in the room to laugh out loud. To me, that sums up the way in which Japanese business is approached. I was pleased, however, that the chap was prepared to acknowledge the inspiring Prof. Lessig, which is far more than anyone in the UK will do.
It was my duty in the evening to accept the free ticket to see Kasabian - the UK swagger rock retro (to coin my own phrase) band, who I can't abide. Yet, all was not lost. It was eye-opening for me to see how young Japanese people react to live, British music. Their enthusiasm was almost infectious. They don't sing along word for word (obviously), instead making general, guttural noises. Nobody smoked (it was a smoking venue), no-one was drinking. Girls came dressed in pink nurses outfits (get a good picture in your head, boys). Every time the singer gave them an order - "raise your hands," "be quiet," they obeyed. Their belongings were stored outside in lockers and there weren't any security people. They filed out, quietly, in order.
I also learnt this evening that Japan has the highest rate of suicide amongst young people, but I've put that down to them watching bands like Kasabian.
Its 1am. I promised myself a trip to the fish market tomorrow - apparently the best time to arrive is 6am. It's not going to happen.

Early Tokyo Observations

Sat in my room on the 10th floor of the Shibuya Excel Hotel. Can't decide if the tiny mechanism on the ceiling is a sprinkler or CCTV - either way, I'm smoking in a non smoking room. From the window I can see Shibuya crossing - surrounded by advertisements - one of which is for the clothing brand Hachette featuring a well-dressed George Bush lookalike with a wolf between his legs, looking on lovingly.
I've been here for 48 hours. The city makes me laugh constantly, but if one thing has really tickled me it was a slogan on a t-shirt: "Every child has a silver lining."
A combination of jet lag and culture shock makes it impossible for me to construct any kind of narrative right now, so in effect, I'm going to list what I've noticed so far.
Tokyo Tower Records must be the only record shop in the world which gives prominent racking to Nouvelle Vague and Tracy Ullman, side-by-side.
Harajuku reminds me of Camden - but obviously a million times better, cleaner and less smelling of piss, but more fragrant flowers. Notices flag the street known as 'Takeshita': "Don't smoke," "Don't steal". I couldn't help but read Takeshita as "Take Shit," so the irony them asking "Don't steal" faintly amused me.
I was unsure of my route from Shibuya to Harajuku and the nearby Meiji-jingu temple, so I asked a boy who looked vaguely British. He turned out to be French Canadian - 18-years-old and fluent in Japanese after living here for 5 months on a school exhange programme. Imagine if you will a Scottish Buddy Holly - all geek specs and more slender than a Harajuku girl. He offered to show me the way, explaing en route about his time spent in Japan, living with a family who constantly watch TV. He also told me that he thinks Japanese girls are beautiful, but comes a cropper when trying to start conversations with them. "I ask them what they like doing and they always say the same thing: shopping and karaoke. Nothing else. Really, nothing else," he complained.
I've heard people say this before, but I'm inclined to, or at least, want to disbelieve it. However, there's no denying that during work hours men are absent from the streets, which are saturated with women consuming. Still, if you're into shopping, there's no place like Tokyo.
The temple fascinated me for a few reasons. As far as I understand it (and I certainly have little idea about Japanese history), the Emperor in the 15th century fought the arrival of the Spanish and subsequently banned all foreign people from entering Japan. Then, in 1860-70 or so, the Americans apparently turned up in a steam-powered boat, which freaked the Japanese out so much (ships to them were powered by sails) that the Emperor at the time - Meiji-jingu - decided to revoke the tradition and let foreigners in. The word "Meiji" means "enlightened rule". His introduction of all things Western led to Japan becoming Asia's most wealthy country, hence why he's got a shrine in his name. I apologise to those who know about Japanese history, for I'm sure I just made a pig's ear of it.
Anyhow, Patrice (the boy) and I are at the temple and he insists I pray, for it is good manners, and takes me through the ritual of washing my hands and face, clapping twice, praying and then clapping twice again, as the others appear to be doing. I admit to him that although I performed the ritual I didn't actually pray. He told me he did the same thing on another occasion because he had "nothing to ask for".
On the pathway to the temple was a series of barrels, stacked up in rows of three, donated by the Frech government and each and every one containing wine. It surprised me the French would donate such a thing, but it surprised me even more that they decided to keep them on 'spiritual soil'. It's like imagining a load of crates of beer stacked up outside St Pauls.
No-one jaywalks here under any circumstance. I crossed a road without using an official crossing - the road was empty and I'm not a child. The police whistled at me and one started to run in my direction. I ran into a shop and hid behind some clothes. Too fast for the cops, it would seem.
The men who patrol the streets and direct the traffic carry pink, yes, pink, batons.
People are so sharply dressed here I look like I should be selling the Big Issue.
I have spent most of my time here holed up in the British Embassy (an architectural let-down) and a conference room at a shopping centre called Bell Commons with a crowd of British music industry folks, many of whom have been here before. Last night we were taken to an incredible Japanese restaurant where I failed to get to grips with the chopsticks. The pork and cheese balls were great, the cold noodles less so. The night ended with an obligatory trip to a Karaoke booth. That will be the first and last time I sing "I Love Rock N Roll" overlooking a Shibuya street. In fact, I'm determined it will be the last time I involve myself in Karaoke. If I have a choice out of that and shopping, it will have to be the shopping. After all, the new Modest Mouse release (which is seemingly unavailable in the UK) is now in my possession.

Some pictures here: http://www.flickr.com/photos/47994895@N00/sets/72157621818549569/

Buddy Holly

I was commissioned a couple of months back to write a tribute feature on Buddy Holly for the Music Publisher's Assoc. magazine, Impact. I'm pretty proud of this one - trying to find something to say about an artist who has been talked about for longer than I have been alive is no easy task. Its available here:
http://www.mpaonline.org.uk/files/pdf/Impact_issue_7_Q2-09.pdf

Incidentally, while I'm here, Wilco are streaming their new album from their site. Its probably a wiser way to spend your time listening to that than reading the feature. But hey, maybe you can do two things at once. http://beta.wilcoworld.net/records/thealbum/