Low - In Concert

There was a point, during Low's performance at the Norwich Arts Centre a couple of nights ago, when I became aware of having no idea how long I'd been watching the band, or indeed how long they had been playing for. It could have been ten minutes or ten hours. I was lost in music. It was as if the passage of time had been rendered immaterial.

Standing a couple of feet away from me, a man struggled to control his emotions as the evening progressed. He wasn't alone. At the conclusion of 'Just Make it Stop' he snapped, yelping an involuntary, 'Perfect!', ahead of the cascade of applause that filled the hall, dismantling the audience's breath-held rapture. Nicely put Sir.

The Furrow Collective

'Hirta Songs', the fine new collaborative album by Alasdair Roberts and poet Robin Robertson, has barely had time to seep into my consciousness since the CD dropped onto my doormat late last week and yet already comes news of Alasdair's next project, The Furrow Collective. The Collective, who tackle 'the obscure world of balladry at its darkest and quirkiest', consists of folk luminaries Lucy Farrell, Emily Portman, Rachel Newton as well as Alasdair himself and their debut LP, 'At Our Next Meeting' is scheduled for a February 2014 release. A couple of teasers from the record have already been unleashed, one of which is 'Hind Horn'.

Cate Le Bon

Cate Le Bon's terrific new LP, 'Mug Museum', featuring contributions from Sweet Baboo and H.Hawkline, is her third full length release and first since relocating from Cardiff to Los Angeles. After just a couple of plays it's looking odds on to feature in my top ten albums of the year. Here's Cate, demonstrating another string to her bow, with 'Are You With Me Now?'.

Version City #20 - Christmas Number One

I note that a Facebook campaign has recently been launched, with the admirable aim of getting AC/DC's 'Highway to Hell' to the Christmas No.1 spot. All well and good and no doubt infinitely preferable to any of the likely alternatives on offer, but give me Ed Kuepper's interpretation any day. Ed Kuepper for Christmas No.1? Where do I sign up?

Version City #19 - Hamadth Kah sings The Police

For the past couple of days I've been immersed in the varied musics of West Africa, courtesy of Sahel Sounds. The label's output is diverse, ranging from raw, atmospheric field recordings to pitch-bending, auto-tuned experimentation and beyond. The best stuff is very good indeed and I'll be featuring more in the future, that's for sure.

For now, here's a familiar tune by Hamadth Kah, taken from the 'Laila Je T'Aime' compilation of field recordings.



As a bonus, my favourite cut from the same LP, the mesmerising 'Kaounare' by Alkibar Gignor.

Own Up Time

Old Pa, over at Tune Doctor, recently regaled us with the story of Steve, a man convinced of his own irresistibility to the opposite sex. The tale reminded me of Mark, a guy I knew when we were both about 18. Much like Steve, Mark thought he was God's gift to all women. He drove a souped up Ford Escort complete with the inevitable furry dice and whenever he spied a young lady he wanted to try and impress, he would sit at traffic lights in 1st gear revving and revving to get their attention, then let the clutch up as the lights changed and screech off, wheels spinning, down the street. He must've spent a fortune on tyres.

One day I was sitting in the passenger seat of his car, as Mark pulled up to red traffic lights and commenced his party piece for the millionth time. I just couldn't take it anymore. My right arm was leaning on the central armrest, so as he held the clutch down and revved the engine to attract the eye of a lady he'd spotted, I was able to pull the gear-stick back from 1st to neutral with a quick flick of my fingers. Unaware, he continued to rev, winking and smiling at the young lady in question as she crossed the road in front of us, until the lights changed, at which point he let the clutch up and floored the throttle. Except, of course, we didn't move an inch. It did, however, make a hell of a racket and everyone in the vicinity turned to see what was going on. The engine roar echoed around the narrow streets as Mark, red-faced, frantically tried to find a gear in which to slink away from the traffic lights. It was a glorious moment. Amusingly, after recovering from his embarrassment, he assumed that he'd missed the gear himself and never suspected me! 35 years later - I confess!

Portrait Gallery

A splendid figure of a man don't you agree? I'm assuming he's a butcher and that it might be a leg or thigh wrapped up and tucked away under his arm. Whatever his trade, I wouldn't like to mess with him - he doesn't look the sort to suffer fools gladly. He's a recent car-boot sale acquisition.

The majority of my small collection of old photos are tucked away in boxes and albums, but a select few grace the wall I face as I type these words - including my friend the pipe smoking butcher. My very own private portrait gallery. If you think that's a cue for a song, you're bang on. Here's Luke Howard with a beautiful piece from his recent album 'Sun, Cloud'.