Toasting Restricted Code

He once traveled throughout the U.K., his band doing opening gigs for synth pop superstars The Human League. Today, as his web site puts it, he "travels to Bordeaux, and the magnificent Chateau Beychevelle, to taste through 50 years of wine history."

During a March of '81 Peel session, he busted through a rendition of "Yakov Bok," a song that takes its title from The Fixer, a novel about a rural Ukrainian handyman jailed for a crime he did not commit. Now, he's tasting (and writing about) wine such as the Ukraine's Massandra Pink Muscat.

Yeah, Tom Cannavan has come a long way since his days fronting the Scottish post-punk band Restricted Code. He's since put away the guitar and departed the indie music scene. (Though he is still listening; his "Best of 2005" picks listed Antony & The Johnsons' I Am A Bird Now as his favorite "thing" from last year.)

Today, Cannavan dedicates his creative energies to wine, which he admitted has been a fancy of his since his school days. He's been running wine-pages.com since 1995, making it one of the Internet's oldest wine sites. He's editor of Fine Expressions, a bi-monthly magazine dedicated to wine and other spirits. He's also penned a book.

The song presented here is "From The Top," which was Restricted Code's first single on Bob Last's Pop: Aural label. It's a danceable number with a robotic-sounding bass and bursts of jangly guitar. Think latter-day countrymen APB, only with darker tones. Of course, one can't help but wonder what wine Cannavan would suggest to compliment it.

Hear it for yourself. Download: "From The Top" by Restricted Code.

Hit The Skids

Rather fittingly, he shared a name with the technical term for the growing pains commonly found in young breed dogs. Because Pano was on board with the Dunfermline punk outfit The Skids while they were experiencing . . . well, growing pains.

Pano was the band's heid bummer for a bit. And honestly, how could he not be? He was a Hell's Angel from Fife, a pedigree that meant he was prone to dispensing a sound skull-thumping every now and then. One can imagine it was often in the defense of Ricky Jobson, The Skids' extroverted, ostentatious lead singer, who apparently was quite deft at raising the hackles of others. "I'd dyed my hair black and white," Jobson told Brian Hogg for his book, All That Ever Mattered, "and wasn't afraid to do anything."

During those early days, Pano flexed his managerial muscles, securing the band a rehearsal hall, landing gigs. The Skids debut took place at Bellvue in front of several hundred punk zealots. It was a nervous affair, Jobson on stage, a tattered piece of notebook paper in hand with his lyrics. U.K. punk shows had earned a deserved reputation for being a tad unruly. Did Pano need to size-up a lad getting too chippy with the fledgling act, bellow a "Ah'll stoat yer wallies," and then change from manager to enforcer with one thunderous punch?

We're not quite sure. While information on The Skids is quite plentiful, information on Pano is sparse. Thankfully, the music is still with us.

Hear it for yourself. Download: "Integral Plot" by The Skids.

Note: I conducted numerous Internet searches in an effort to track down more information on Pano. All I found was a summary on Google that read: "Mike Douglas (Pano) the Skids manager stayed with me though in Gardeners St. when the Skids first started, so the band were basically in and out of my house." However, the link to the site wasn't functional. Further searches involving the above name turned up nothing. Any further info regarding Pano would be appreciated.

Summer lovin', had me a blast

Aberfeldy took their name from a holiday resort set in the Perthshire Highlands. A tiny hamlet where vacationing folks take part in activities like walking the Birks of Aberfeldy, popping by the Aberfeldy Watermill, and downing spirits at the tantalizingly sounding Dewar's World of Whisky. A town where Maw and Dad recharge the batteries, while the lads and lasses dabble in what every other teenager dabbles in during summer respite: puppy love.

On the Young Forever track, "Summer's Gone," this Edinburgh act deftly captures -- both in its simple lyrics and mish-mash of musical styles -- those exhilarating, awkward, and indelible moments of a summer crush.

"I could hang around," Riley Briggs sings, himself a sometimes visitor to his granddad's caravan park in Aberfeldy as a child. "'Till the leaves are brown/And the summer's gone." There's a touch of apprehension in his words, for he knows the rules involved. These infatuations always end once vacation does. Still, he won't surrender the bird to autumn just yet. "But I won't give up," Briggs continues, "and I won't give in."

Of course, he ultimately does. Bags are packed, car filled with petrol, sad goodbyes issued. And what remains is little more than sunshine-drenched memories and a lingering affection that will dissipate by Christmas. "You're giving me nothing/I can't wait anymore for you/The feeling's strong/The summer's gone."

All this is sung over a playful blend of several different musical styles: wonderful chamber pop layerings; lovely fiddles (Irish folk) meshing with a bouncing beat (reggae). Musically, it's all over the place -- much like one's thoughts when besotted.

Tossed in here and there is a bit of glockenspiel, calling to mind the carousel where you shared that dizzying kiss, and some opening synthesizers, sounding much like that penny arcade game you conquered to win her that plush stuffed animal.

Hear it for yourself. Download: "Summer's Gone" by Aberfeldy.