A conversation with Laura in the car got me thinking about how I use this blog. Laura said she had ‘borrowed’ an idea from Steve Lawson…although I think technically it’s stealing! The idea is to talk about five things you think are great…something you’ve seen or attended, that kind of thing.

So I thought I’d have a go myself, the only difference being that this is about things that are on their way and I’m just going to do three of them, to ease myself in gently.

Here we go then:

1. A new book by my favourite author:

A boy at school once told me that I hadn’t lived because I hadn’t eaten instant mashed potato. I suspect he’s wrong, but if you haven’t read a book by Dan Rhodes then you really haven’t lived. He is funny, tear jerky and brilliant. I first read Timolean Vieta Come Home - a story that sits an odd genre division. Imagine if Lassie turned up on the doorstep of Oscar Lomax’s house from Psychoville. He writes wonderful books. I am excited. I still haven’t ever eaten instant mashed potato though.

2. An exciting and innovative festival:

This is one of those wonderful things about teaching. Good students find out about stuff that you should really have known about yourself! Thanks to @whatsername , a third year degree student at Northbrook College, I will be heading along to the event scheduled for Sunday as I have lovely gigs in Essex on the 9th March and in Crawley on the 10th (that was a surreptitious plug – you barely noticed…). To be honest, I’m not normally a huge fan of the self-satisfied smugness that accompanies some festies, this looks to be totally the opposite. I’m most looking forward to the inevitable nuclear fallout when someone claims that Margaret Thatcher is a feminist icon.

3. Figuring out the ending of Sherlock and an exciting third series on the horizon:

I might as well have a notepad by my side and wear a deerstalker when re-watching the six beautifully crafted episodes of Sherlock on the BBC. I’ve got one episode to go, which if all going well I will watch on my train journey for a house concert down to Cornwall next week. It’ll make the journey a bit edgy, I’ll feel like Poirot but most likely look a bit like Columbo. Like most TV series, I was late to the party on how brilliant this show is. Funny that we all know that Call The Midwife just isn’t going to be one of those kinds of programmes.

STOP PRESS:

4. Unlikely band reforming

It’s not that the recording industry is in crisis…oh no. It’s just that ‘Music Week’ the industry newspaper, chose to run this as one of the most important stories to come out of the UK music industry. Yes…it’s official that East 17 are making a ‘soft rock’ album. Even though they’ve not got Brian Harvey and his brilliant hat in the band, I cannot wait to hear this. Look, they’ve got tattoos and quite hairy arms. Great news.

In my last post, I talked about my fears in taking on such a huge commitment, a Masters degree, at such a pivotal point in my life. In short, in the past 12 months I’ve released my first album and toured quite a lot, I have loved (and continue to love), pretty much every second of it. But something was missing in my little life and after a weird set of serendipitous events (which I won’t bore you with here), meant that in October I began an MA in Gender & Media.

I should explain that the MA is made up of 4 x 5000 word term paper and an 18,000 word dissertation at the end of the course. As I’m a part time student, this was my first term paper and you’ll know if you read my last tiny blog, to say I felt rusty is an understatement.

During the first term, one particular reading jolted. Adorno and Horkheimer’s ‘The Culture Industry: Enlightenment as Mass Deception’ is difficult, dense and awkward.

But I liked it.

Perhaps rather oddly, I liked it because I had read it at the same time that the final stages of The X Factor were being broadcast on ITV. What would Adorno make of Simon Cowell?

And so, while I toyed with the idea of writing a first term paper with a feminist or gender studies slant, I actually ended up dissecting The X Factor with Adorno and Horkheimer.

This sent me slowly insane and by the deadline I became convinced that I had come nowhere close to passing, that I would fail my first submission of the course. I cried a little bit. Hence the silence until now.

Nobody was more shocked than me when I found out that I didn’t fail at all. In fact, I did pretty well. When I tweeted about that the other day, some people have asked to have a read of it, so I figured this would be a good place to share.

Just to reiterate, this document is by no means perfect…but I hope you agree, it’s a start.

So, here it is then:

The X Factor: ‘The (disposable) winning ticket’ and the illusion of Enlightenment.

Let me know what you reckon x

Well, in short, no…it’s not easy, not easy at all.

It appears that the two sides of the human brain can be easily defined if we examine the travelling musician with a desire to rekindle a academic dream. I’m not sure how many of us there are but I’m pretty sure now that it’s impossible to take Adorno on the road (you see, I’ve even started doing ‘academic jokes’…this is awful). The two simply cannot function at the same time!

So I thought I would come back to wordpress (as I never really understood posterous anyway) and blog more about my experiences on this somewhat unique and sometimes lonely journey.

This term at University we’ve been looking at media theory, which has been a huge refresher for me but more importantly a massive wake up call about the industry that I work in.

For my term paper I’ll be applying the work of the Frankfurt School to the X Factor and while I’m not totally sure of my angle, the more I read around the subject, I increasingly think it’ll be something from a feminist perspective. The (re)presentation of women in the show is an interesting one, how each woman (contestant or judge) is categorised and often is caricatured.

I’ll blog here about how it’s shaping up and also about how/ why I think it’s important that we don’t just write off the X Factor as a nonsense.

Such a huge phenomenon, an old fashioned talent show except shinier and with autotune:

Talent 2.0 perhaps (?!). Where we become totally consumed in the journey of a few ‘lucky’ winning ticket holders for a shot at ‘stardom’. Where we get overwhelmed with the contestants transition from ordinary to extraordinary, from mere mortal to pop star.

‘Twas ever thus, it’s nothing new…but it is interesting.

I’d love to hear your thoughts about it too.

So back to the books for now – I’ll also be posting new gigs later this week so keep an eye out.

xx

So this is me trying out a new place to manage stuffs. I hope that it’ll provide a more interactive home for us all.

Today was a big day, in 48 hours I’ll be registering properly as a student again – starting an MA in Gender & Media. It feeds my geeky side, I’m excited and yet terrified all at once.

To celebrate, I took myself down to the ‘Bagelman’ shop in Brighton and ordered my all time favourite, which I’ve not had since graduating back in 2003. The ‘Funky Tuna’.

Let me talk you through it…

Sesame Bagel (although this is a personal choice, you can choose plain, poppy seed, onion or chilli)

Tuna with a light smearing of mayo.

Avocado

Mixed Olives

Lemon Juice

Seasoning.

I forgot to take a photo. 

I have to write a song for a presentation tomorrow. It’s the first of its kind I’ve ever done. Excited…

It’s a strange thing being a musician, much of 2011 has been eying up the interior of various Travelodge’s or on more lucky days an actual B&B. This reality, in tandem with the fact that I am broke, all the time, means that ‘staying in: the new going out’ is an enforced, though often welcome pleasure in my funny little existence.

What with one thing and another (my birthday) I was lucky enough to be in receipt of tickets to see two of my favourite bands in August. This was big news, this was two nights out.

The first gig then, was seeing the Fleet Foxes at their sold out gig at The Dome in Brighton. The air of anticipation in the foyer was thick and was being physically represented by more chaps with beards than I think I’ve ever seen before. What is a collection of beards called? A gaggle? A Brevity? A Wholesale?

Thick rimmed tortoiseshell spectacles with smattering of lumberjack shirts, the kind of deck shoes people only used to wear on boats and row upon row of comfortable knit wear; that’s what this gig was all about.

Now, depending on the show, I’m not ashamed to say I’ve reached an age where sometimes I will take a seat instead of standing. I don’t like leg rot and unless the gig is small and vibey I’m alright sat upstairs (not a euphemism) thanks. So off we popped to our seats to listen to the support act which came in the shape of ‘The Bees’ from the Isle Of Wight of all places. From the second they took to the stage I was totally transfixed and hooked into their sound. This was eclectic, eccentric and it seemed a rich tapestry of my record collection. This was old school soul and funk meeting Crosby, Stills and Nash in the sixth form common room discovering acid jazz for the first time; Otis Redding on Brighton Pier trying to win Dolphin Derby and asking if you wanted to play. AND…I’ll just remind you, they’re from the Isle Of Wight – I’m not sure why this is significant, perhaps because it just seems so desperately unlikely.

Buy their album, support them. I don’t know them, I wish I did – they are brilliant.

Here’s their song ‘Mystery Man’ :

So then, I headed back to the bar with the beards to prepare myslef to the main event.

The Fleet Foxes’ rise to fame has been swift and all encompassing, unless you’ve been buried under a rock in a farm it’s more than likely you’ve heard them, even if you didn’t know who they were. Brighton, you could sense, was on the edge of it’s seat and it celebrated this by buying vast quantities of beer.

The minutes ticked by and we all took to our places.

The band had set up in a long line across the stage. There appeared to be no monitoring, I wondered if they might be using ‘in ears’ instead (you know, where you see performers with headphones in) but thought that was a bit techy for chaps in itchy shirts and floor length hair. I was excited nonetheless.

Then they started.

Three part harmonies arranged beautifully, with unexpected changes in meter and phrasing and while they mostly employ the pentatonic scale, they seem to get away with it. That’s the Fleet Foxes, or at least that’s what my take on them was.

But, it would seem that seeing them live provokes another response. The Fleet Foxes are a VERY loud band.

Now, I’ve lived in Brighton for a little while now, about a decade to be almost precise. I’ve been completely wasted in dirty little clubs along the seafront, bopping the night away to drum & bass, I’ve even stuck it out so long at club nights that they played Gabba until we all convulsed out the door. I saw the Chemical Brothers in Portsmouth, remember them coming to the stage and then dancing A LOT. The next thing I remember is making a den under a kitchen table in a strangers house. In my teens, my first ever gig was Skunk Anansie in Southampton where I pushed my little face to the front of the gig only to scuttle away when people started punching each other in the face for fun (I’ve never understood this phenomenon).

None of these gigs came even close in volume to the noise coming out of a folk band.

I had at first thought it was a mix issue – there seemed to be little or no distinction from the lowest frequency emitted from the kick drum right up to the middle of the very loud acoustic and electric guitars. It didn’t come as a huge surprise to see the sound engineer wearing the kind of ear protection you see when men are using those pneumatic things to dig up a road! On record, the band drops out and leave the three angelic vocals to sit on top of our ears with god like status. In the flesh it felt like a continued attack to the senses but from a different angle, the high end left my ears a-howling. And so, to preserve both my love for their recordings and my ability to hear things I left the gig.

I’ve only ever walked out on a gig once before – when Ryan Adams (one of my favourite songwriters of all time) started swearing at the audience for daring to shout out songs that they would like to hear because they loved him.

Being the geek I am, I checked out Twitter to see what other people thought of the the gig. It would appear that I was on my own about my feelings for the show. Brighton loved them. But, having played Brighton a lot in my little career, Brighton often decides that they’re going to like/ loathe a gig before it’s even taken place.

And so, it was with a sense of real fear that I took my second night out to see another of my favourite writers the night before last. Ron Sexsmith at The Komedia.

I walked past Ron Sexsmith once at The Folk Alliance in Memphis, he was taking a bit of time out from a set he did with Amy Speace. I was full of chest infection and so star struck that I couldn’t speak.

Nothing could prepare me for how much I would love this gig. Sexsmith came to the stage with a two pockets, one full of the best crafted songs your ever likely to hear, the other stuffed with humility. I’m not sure if there were any musical highlights as such – the band is a well crafted machine, the relationship Ron has with his drummer is incredibly special ‘we’ve been singing together since the 80′s, he’s like a brother to me’. The set brought light and shade, with the constant of Ron’s melancholic honey vocal tying it all together. He was suffering from a cold. You would never have known and even on the notes that were in need of some assistance because they were so high, the band stacked underneath him like the most comforting safety blanket and covered for him.

This wasn’t a gig about posing, having the right shaped beard, the most obscure ways of playing your guitar and it wasn’t about how loud you could play to set yourself apart from other folksy bands. Ron Sexsmith gigs are a lesson in incredible songwriting, great musicianship and all tied together with a great sense of humour.

When he introduced this song he said ‘They made a movie about me…it was called ‘Shrek the third’ and we all laughed…then he blew us away with this.

If Ron Sexsmith or The Bees are your opportunity to get out the house this year…make it so.

It’s odd then, that in recent days – my mind keeps taking me back to a bus journey from the centre of Brighton to the stop nearest my house, on Lewes Road. It’s a short journey, about 10 minutes by bus. It was 2006, I had a Sony Ericsson phone that I still consider to be pretty cool in a kind of ‘£4.99 watch from Argos’ kind of a way. Chunky and apparently unbreakable, the best bit about the phone was I could listen to the radio on it.

If I have to take the bus at all, I like to sit at the top on the drivers side. This is mainly for two reasons, the first being that I’m a huge control freak and don’t like the idea of not seeing what’s on the horizon; the second is because I’m very nosy and like looking inside people’s flats/ houses/ gardens. As the bus started to pull away, I saw my favourite seat was free and as I slouched into the velour seat, the FM radio on the phone hummed into action.

With no DJ introduction, I was first hit with Fender Rhodes, tone still warm with tremolo but with a the attack of a Wurlitzer. It pumped out a soulful familiar bass line. Drum sticks hit the rim of a snare drum, flamming and making you want to immediately clap along, even though you’d never heard the song before. Then a tubular bell sporadically rang out, while a baritone sax provided a cartoon wink into the chorus…I became utterly absorbed.

This had all the hallmarks of a great Northern Soul tune – with the passion of Gloria Jones’ ‘Tainted Love. But this seemed to have a freshness – the vocals were like nothing I’d ever heard before. Typically for me, the first thing I loved about it was the texture of the backing vocals, rich and reminiscent of the girl groups of the 1960′s, the kind you heard again on Carole King’s ‘Tapestry’ album.

Lyrically ambitious, understated and conversational. I recognised the voice, but couldn’t place it. It carried soul via tongue in cheek nod at the pop culture obsession of ‘glamorous’ trips to The Priory. While I know a good few people who have had their lives turned round by the brilliant work at The Priory, I read somewhere recently it has all the interior design beauty of a run down Travelodge, not quite so glam after all.

I am talking, of course about the lead single from Amy Winehouse’s second (and as fate would have it, final) album ‘Back To Back’. ‘Rehab’ knocked my little socks off and with a hop, skip and a beehive jump I raced off the bus to make the short walk home up to my little terraced house on a hill.

It struck me instantaneously that by penning ‘Rehab’ herself and by delivering it such an awe inspiring performance, Winehouse was destined to start shaping our culture. Sure enough, soon afterwards, pop records did that thing they always do and followed her lead. Not only were there Winehouse inspired (or cheap imitations?) vocal deliveries, melodies and grooves to hear but equally we saw interpretations of her new signature beehive, thick liquid eye liner and 50′s inspired tattoos. By all accounts, we had experienced ‘Winehouse-lite’ during her first album ‘Frank’. This was something entirely different. This was more concentrated, dangerous and exciting.

Obsession with celebrity has always been, and watching Amy Winehouse’s precarious position at the centre of our attention for the last few years has certainly made uncomfortable viewing. I can’t and won’t claim to have been the biggest Amy Winehouse fan, I didn’t follow her career as such nor did I chase the tabloid interest into her soap opera life. That said I’ve always admired her wonderful vocal ability and was saddened when increasingly it seemed that addiction took such a hold over her life that her voice became so ‘quiet’. I for one was incredibly sad to hear the news of her death last weekend and I keep being reminded of that bus journey and how it changed my state of consciousness, not only that day but forever more.

so last week i had a birthday and as a result i had a bit of time out. significant sightings/ moments:

- i actually said the words ‘oh good, woman’s hour’ on the day of my birthday. it is safe to say i’ve reached a certain age.

- two of my most dear friends are going to get married to each other. huzzah!

- a picnic in a castle was punctuated by men in faded sport socks and sandals making verbal lists. i stopped listening to them after the second item.

- there are 76 steps to the top of the tower where you could wave at old ladies and watch posh people play polo.

- there are some old dead villages hidden in the hills behind brighton. i went to see one of them, this freaked me out…lots.

- some music is best listened to in the back of a ‘G Reg’ gun metal Montego Estate. Nik Kershaw’s ‘The Riddle’ and ‘The Greatest Rock Album In The World Ever…’ are two such records. upon reflection it’s not necessarily the ‘best’ music that is best listened to in this environment, though it is music i have a soft spot for.

- my car is starting to smell like the inside of a tent and yet it is not a G Reg Montego. I kind of wish it was.

- this week i do some radio things and then play in a gorgeous bakery place in Edinburgh called Loudens. Then I’m playing at Kens house.

- I did an interviewy and live performance thing at the offices of Holy Moly in London, our rich and cultured capital city. ironically, the offices were next to Shepherds Bush’s least cultured place, Westfield Shopping Centre.

Here’s a reason for a subsection!

Holy Moly was quite exciting really.

1. i got to meet a nice man called Tim, who it turned out had his first snog with my friend Jane.

2. Holy Moly’s offices are part of Endemol TV production office things. I didn’t know this would the the case. there were pictures of noel edmonds on the wall, dressed as a gnome.

3. Actually, maybe that’s just Noel’s normal get up.

4. I clocked Dermot O’Leary in the room next door and managed to miss putting a copy of ‘House Of Cards’ in his hand by approximately 43 seconds. This, dear reader…is the story of my life.

5. The session began with thunder in the background and ended with sunshine breaking through the clouds, upon reflection this was pretty beautiful. It’s not up online yet…but when it is it’ll be here

—-

Here is a brilliant song about a monkey…on a pedestal:

Today’s run was roasting hot but with huge powerful waves beating into the Undercliff Walk here in Brighton. Loved it…

Here was today’s randomly generated running playlist:

Rufus Wainwright – Shadows

Sheryl Crow – Wildflower (Acoustic)

A Girl Called Eddie – Somebody Hurt You

Jamiroquoi – Whatever It Is, I Just Can’t Stop

John Martyn – The Easy Blues (Jelly Roll Blues/Gentle Blues)

KT Tunstall – Stoppin The Love

Thom Yorke – Black Swan

The Shins – New Slang

Rufus Wainwright – Damn Ladies

Hancock’s Half Hour – Let Me In! Let Me In! (from The Poetry Society)

Pulp – Bar Italia

Dylan LeBlanc – If Time Was For Wasting

Elliott Smith – Color Bars

The Whitest Boy Alive – Burning

Amy Wadge – Here In My Hands

I should perhaps add that Nigel is a teacher of something creative. You can tell this because he has slightly weathered hands that hold a pint glass with a real sense of purpose. On Tuesday night we were talking about gigging and touring and such like, I was explaining that I’d wanted to tour for ages and that like busses – two had popped up in succession. *chortle*

Yes, the first half of Amy Wadge and Pete Riley’s tour in the can, its time to commence The Lost Highway Tour (then back to Wadge & Riley later this month).

click on the pig below to check out the tour dates. I will be coming to a place near you…and you should come and sing-a-long or just say hi or something

Anyway, back to Nigel.

Nigel it transpired was in a band in the 70′s that had once supported the Bonzo Dog Doo Dah Band. Nigel’s band was ‘Walter Wall Carpeting and the Electronic Blancmanges’ – I think this is one of the greatest band names I’ve ever heard.

I should also add that I’ve just received word that I appear to have psychic midwifery powers and made a colleagues water break while I was on the phone to her. I like to think this is because I’m super interesting…I fear it’s because she couldn’t wait for me to get off the phone…

Brighton was beautiful today, I keep having moments of such excitement that this is my home. My route started in the South Downs then along the seafront where I saw a great big wood pigeon slumped on a fence post like it was a really comfy DFS sofa. This made me smile.

I could do with a bit more running music – in the vein of ‘The Whitest Boy Alive’ as its just about perfect for my geeky brain.

Any recommendations greatly received please!

Earlier on we (me and Jo…) were on the radio. Twas a ‘BBC Introducing: The South’ session and you can listen to it here if you missed it. 4 songs, the shortest interview in the world (or at least thats how it felt) and a cardboard cut out of a darlek.

weird.

Please come and see me on tour – there are loads of dates listed here and it’s my first proper tour so I’m a bit nervous.

And so the wood steps to Bedfordshire call my aching ears and road weary legs for me to ascend. With a heavy and yet warm glow I shall do so, dressed head to do in raffia and tweed, black cat under one arm and a copy of Gardeners’ World in the other.

It must be spring what has sprung.