Novel indeed

Billed as the world's premier new music convention, In The City has been chugging along for close to 14 years now. Founded in 1992 by Yvette Livesey and Factory Records honcho Tony Wilson, the event serves two purposes: during the day, music industry bigwigs gather to talk shop -- and twist their moustaches and hatch schemes to further destroy pop music; at night, the shindig becomes a music festival (allegedly the biggest city-based music festival in Europe), as unsigned artists are showcased at various venues throughout the host city (which is typically held in Manchester; one-time sites have included Glasgow in 1997).

In The City has helped launch the careers of countless acts, including Oasis, Doves, Suede, and The Stereophonics. More recently, the festival played a hand in kickstarting the career of Glasgow's My Latest Novel. Since performing at In The City back in October of '05, this five-piece outfit has performed at the 2006 T In The Park, done a support slot for The Pixies, and inked a deal with Bella Union Records. But not in that order.

I discussed My Latest Novel rather briefly back in July, but felt the need to revisit them after finally landing their debut album, Wolves (thanks Joel!).

"There is without doubt, a character to Scottish music because we tend to still be very much a Scottish race and don't have a large immigrant population," Graham Weir, a lecturer in popular music at Napier University, said in this article. "So Scotland tends to have its own kind of music -- usually guitar-based."

My Latest Novel, however, aren't bridled by their six-strings; they build upon that ancient guitar template, garnishing their sound with violins, xylophones, peculiar percussion instruments. The result is a work fraught with anxiety and absolution -- an album that fills the listener with a heightened tension, rewards with a much-ached-for release, then starts the cycle anew before one's had time to bask in the afterglow. Scotland hasn't heard a release this labyrinthine in years.

Hear it for yourself. Download: Wrongfully, I Rested" and "Learning Lego" by My Latest Novel.

To a sweetheart, a bodhran

So the teetotalers were assigned to one particular table: right smack-dab in the middle of the reception hall, the furthest point from either bar. The alcohol was flowing like the Liffey, but we didn't care. We made exotic animals out of our cloth napkins, oogled the bridesmaids, and conquered the dance floor.

One hour left before we were all to be evicted, we extended our campaign to include the band. While the thirsty lads satiated themselves, we hefted their instruments and began to belt out a tune. Behold, The Temperates! Never, in the history of Ireland, has a wedding band sounded so mellifluous. Of course, we were of the sober sort and our crowd was in fine fluthered form -- this helped immensely. Regardless, when all was sung and done, even the band applauded our efforts.

These old hands come alive when playing the bodhran. I pretend its an overgrown bottlecap and I'm lumping up some grotesque demons. Later, the owner told me the instrument was made with kangaroo skin, which is what I learned many of the newer models are being outfitted with. I couldn't contain my smile. "Oh my, next you'll tell me your uilleann pipes are crafted from koala." He was stricken with laughter; he was drunk.

We belted out a handful of spry ditties, all picked on account of the special occasion. Two are listed here, played infinitely better than us by the much acclaimed Boys Of The Lough: "Hillswick Wedding/Robertson's Reel" and "La Grande Chaine/The Newlyweds' Reel."

Love that live stuff

Quick update with some live material I've got on the ole hard drive.

Awhile back, one of our loyal readers emailed me mp3s from an Orange Juice gig that took place at Keele University in Staffordshire. The date was Nov. 24, 1982, the same month the band released its second album, Rip It Up.

I've also uploaded some tracks from a Jesus And Mary Chain show that took place Nov. 5, 1985, at a venue known as The Loft in Berlin -- just eight months after the infamous "riot" gig at North London Polytechnic.

Hear it for yourself. Download: "Poor Old Soul" and "Flesh Of My Flesh" by Orange Juice, and "Inside Me" and "In A Hole" by The Jesus And Mary Chain.

(Note: Nabbed the above photo from New Wave Photos. Terrific web site -- check it out.)

Come, take the waters

In the 1800s, folks from all over England flocked to Leamington, to soothe their various aches and pains in pools filled with salty spa waters. In the 1980s, bands flocked to this quaint town nestled in The Midlands for a different reason: To record.

Leamington was the home of John A. Rivers' Woodbine Street Studios, one of the U.K.'s oldest independent studios. Rivers -- who has worked with everyone from The Specials to Swell Maps to Love And Rockets -- became the producer of choice for many indie bands in the '80s.

To quote Martin Whitehead, from TweeNet: "Most engineers in small local studios had little grasp of what these bands were trying to do at the time and were still trying to produce booming drums, slappy bass, and choppy funk guitars. In the mid 80s, indie bands were very much on the fringe of what was happening and were pretty obscure. A producer who understood them was worth travelling for. Even to Leamington Spa."

Back in the late 90s, TweeNet began compiling tracks from various indie artists that had once recorded at Woodbine Street, as well as other unknown groups with the same infectious guitar pop sound. The result was the The Sound Of Leamington Spa series, which is currently five volumes in length. The series has drawn frequent comparisons to the late 1970s Pebbles compilations, which highlighted hard-to-find Sixties garage rock.

Two Scottish acts featured on the The Sound Of Leamington Spa, Vol. 4 were Glasgow's The Clouds and Paisley's The Church Grims, who I discussed back in early July.

Hear it for yourself. Download: "Get Out My Dream" by The Clouds and "Plaster Saint" by The Church Grims.

Music to slosh paint to

For a country known for such unparalleled beauty, Ireland hasn't produced its share of noteworthy painters. There's the impressionist Walter Osborne, the war artist John Lavery, the great colorist William John Leech, the lauded Paul Henry, the man who did for Irish landscape painting what William Butler Yeats did for the Celtic Revival. I struggle to come up with more names; it seems our all-consuming bursts of creative frenzy are inspired by the blank page, rather than the blank canvas.

All this danced through my head as I painted the shed this weekend. I could be a decent colorist, methinks; I wanted to give the old structure something other than the customary coat of white, but the old hag wouldn't have it. "Fuchsia?" she shouted at me. "Are you mad?" I doubt Leech's aspirations were squashed in such a manner.

The great artists were likely inspired by song, but for me, songs serve another purpose, as they make labor's monotony tolerable. The Bothy Band -- which, like the aforementioned Yeats and Henry, were quite influential within its particular genre -- are terrific to paint to. Lively, ferocious, and vivacious, the music keeps my hands moving and my heart thumping.

And you do know what a bothy is, don't you? They are rather simple cottages where, many generations ago, single lads would dwell together. Oftentimes, the young men would hold musical nights, entertaining folks from all over the surrounding region.

Can't say I've ever painted a bothy.

Enough gabbing . . . . Here are two favorites by The Bothy Band: "Old Hag You Have Killed Me" and "Farewell To Erin."