Category: music

From Nothing To A Little Bit More

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New Lathums album day. And I’m enjoying it. Plenty of what they’re good at, and a little bit extra.

It’s good stuff.

And because familiarity is important, it was good to kick off with songs like Struggle, Sad Face Baby and Say My Name, all of which we knew and loved (and the last of which maybe the Tall Accountant might actually go for, as well). But then there are other tracks like Rise and Fall, Facets and Land and Sky, which I didn’t know, but which have that classic Lathums feel that makes them instantly likeable and easy to enjoy.

There’s variety too, though. Hawley-esque and Motown vibes in I Know Pt 1. Housemartins’ happiness on Lucky Bean. The epic 8 minutes plus of storytelling on Undeserving. And for me, the stand out track: Crying Out. Such power and passion.

And then – and I really don’t want this to be the thing you remember from this post about what is a very good album, but – there’s Turmoil. That’s the name of the track, as well as the effect on my feelings, because this one also sounds a bit familiar, but it’s not Lathums familiar…

And worryingly (worryingly for a number of different reasons), I was able to work out what familiar it was ever so quickly. Remember this?

Look, I really do think that it’s more a problem with me, rather than with the Lathums, to whom I apologise profusely for casting any aspersions. But music is meant to take you places, and just for a moment, I was back on the 1988 French Exchange Trip to Dornes.

Not where I was expecting to be today.

Struggle

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No. Not us with our [checks notes] 11½ hours without power today.

Although…

No. The Lathums’ new one: Struggle.

A heartfelt, personal tale of loss, with a video following the young Alex Moore growing up in his bedroom. It’s great stuff.

Arguably, the acoustic version is even better.

The new album From Nothing To A Little Bit More is out on March 3rd. I’m excited.

Salt Coast

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Down at the cottage. Braai. Beer. Beautiful evening.

I need to braai. And Spotify is doing its thing. So please allow me to share some Kae Tempest with you.

Delicious.

We’re onto Working Men’s Club and my fifteenth Milk Stout now, so I’d better get on with the cooking.

More. Tomorrow.

New Belle & Sebastian album is “really good”

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Uh-oh. First (proper) music post of the year, and it marks the unexpected release of a new Belle & Sebastian album Late Developers. As the title of this post suggests, I think that the album is “really good”, with some unashamedly poppy hits like Do You Follow and the deliciously synthy first release, I Don’t Know What You See In Me setting the tone:

The clear standout for me though, is When We Were Very Young, which takes long time listeners right back to the bands’ 90s roots and in which Stuart Murdoch yearns for an existence more exciting than the current mundanity, but instead gets “real life”, which – as we are all well aware – is actually rather rubbish.

Sadly, the band have just cancelled their upcoming North American tour, citing the need for Stuart to recover following illness at the end of last year. But that won’t stop you listening at home to what they made before he got sick.

Spotify link.

My next band

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While I’ve always enjoyed music, I’ve never really felt the need to be in a band. Of course, there was Sparky And Co., winners of my Middle School Talent Show in 19[mumbles mumbles], but those halcyon days are now long gone.

However, if I do ever be in a band again, then it’s almost certainly going to be called this:

The Karoo Lark Complex began by playing open mic nights at a local pub in Oxford, before a battle of the bands slot on the Polytechnic radio station saw them getting snapped up by Gaz Coombes’ Hot Fruit record label. Sessions for Marc Riley (obviously) followed and then mild success (not enough to contemplate giving up the day jobs, though) with several thousand streams a month. Their highlight was likely a gig on the main stage at the Witney Community Fair.
Sadly, they split up after just three years, citing artistic differences.

That fairytale aside, can we note how the larks above are named for their visual characteristics, their locality or the guy who discovered them, apart from the two with the very different song types?
Honestly, how can you be a lark and be described – named, even! – as “monotonous”.

Talk about letting the side down.