Archive for the ‘Music’ Category


Almost Daily – 20/3/07

March 20, 2007

Photo Sharing and Video Hosting at Photobucket

Lots happened. Wedding, drunk, dissertation, drunk in film screening, little money, Malcom Middleton, Hungover, gave Girlfriend house-key, got invited to Birthdays, made friends, sorted more of the Soundgenerator thing, no money, got my Astoria feature article published (e-mail me if you want a copy), met nice people, fell utterly in love with After Murder Park after Paulie at Rough Trade ordered me a copy, realised that just thinking about how beautiful In The Aeroplane Over The Sea is brings me close to tears.

Warren Ellis – Gift Card Writer


Almost Daily – 5/3/07

March 5, 2007

In The City It’s The Only Light

Just want to begin with an ode to the beauty of the latest update of Mozilla Firefox.
Get it.
Got it?

Stag Weekend in Cork was bloody brilliant. Highlights included a scary Japanese Prostitute making a move on Ray’s Kidneys, Conor’s reminiscences of Ireland, meeting Pat and the Irish boys again (some for the first time actually), not thinking in more than token terms about work, thinking a bit about journalism, GOING GO-KARTING (coming close to last), stomping a team of eleven young children during a cinematic game of Quaser (Final score 470 to us, -60 to them), drinking, eating and sleeping away three days.


Here’s what the internet throws up in my absence:

Preview of the penultimate issue of Phonogram…

Foggy Notions, a fantastic music magazine Conor showed me in Cork…

Article on post-Britpop music, glitter and all…


Sleepytime Gorilla Museum…

Steampunk Magazine

The tour video for Radio Protector by 65daysofstatic…

Retreat, Retreat live in Japan (65daysofstatic, again… I guess now that Neon Bible is out and in my hands, in its beautiful packaging with all of its gorgeous music, I’m going to start getting excited about The Destruction of Small Ideas)…

Bestival is going to make me orgasmically happy this year…


Almost Daily – 21/02/07

February 21, 2007

The Long Blondes, Astoria – 20th February 2007

I’ve heard Pixies’ Doolittle, and have listened to men telling jokes, so there was little surprising about Brakes live set this evening. Abandoning the sonic precision of their records they tonight suffer from the performance equivalent of A.D.D., leaving me craving a band open to the concept of rehearsal. Enter The Long Blondes.

I wish I’d lost my Pop-music cherry to The Long Blondes. Imagine that first gig, the thrill of a partner with a fiery sexuality, guitar hooks growling with experience and intensity, barely held back by the staccato rhythm section. The songs, like ‘Lust in the Movies’ and ‘Fulwood Babylon’, barely scratch that rampant teenage itch, and when it slows down (‘Heaven Help the New Girl’) you know what comes afterwards will only be more exciting. Recognition sparks in both young and jaded, delivered by the most beautiful five-piece to grace the stage.

The climax comes during the one-two punch of ‘You Could Have Both’ and ‘Giddy Stratospheres’. It makes the raucous set seem like foreplay. Sultry singer Kate Jackson and crowd alike feed off of renewed energy, bodies moving in time before being bathed in applause and afterglow (B-side ‘Five Ways to End It’ the appropriate closer). Exhausting.

Doves were my first live gig, setting a course of dour clothes and scruffy hair: The Secondary School-ers in tonight’s show will grow up to be the best dressed matinee idols in the land, mark my words.

© Matthew Sheret – 2007


Also go here: Of Montreal acoustic session


Almost Daily – 12/2/07

February 12, 2007


* I realised while sending Adam a text that I haven’t seen anyone socially since I left my girlfriend’s house on Friday morning. This is seriously weak. I intend to live again come next Monday, with a possible gap tomorrow as I re-enter emodom for one night only at Brand New.

* Buy me the lyric book here (and also have a gander at one of the ugliest websites for a major label band I’ve yet to find…

* In ‘On the impression of reality in the cinema’ Metz suggests a “psychological credibility” of the moving image that structures our impression of events. Movement, Metz argues, is critical to our impression of reality for two key reasons: Firstly, movement connotes a spatial presence. The people and objects within the image clearly inhabit their own environment and can interact within the frame to prove the ‘reality’ of the environment they have been filmed in. “Movement,” Metz states “brings us volume, and volume suggests life”. The second reason relates to the corporeality generated by the act of movement in itself, something the photograph cannot replicate. He posits that movement is never something that is tangible, it is something that is only ever experienced in the visual – one can only see movement, not touch it – so to replicate the sight of movement is to infer reality. He examines the clear distinction between the temporal reality generated by the still image of Barthes’ analysis and the moving image, by placing their treatment of the subject side by side. The photograph captures a moment that has passed, and the viewer is left with the psychological impression of it ‘having been’. PHOTOGRAPHY ESSAY BOY WHOSE NAME I FORGET looks at a photo of a prisoner on death row and points out the temporal inconistency of seeing a man alive who is now dead. The mind can only settle on the impression ‘He was alive’. By re-animating this moment, the filmic image creates a greater impression of reality, masking the subject’s ‘real movements’ as a moment in the past and allowing the audience to engage with it in the ‘real’ present.

* Go to this…

* Watch The Duloks…

* Hear the Duloks…

* The Arcade Fire cover The Clash…

* One for my American friends…

* 65daysofstatic are touring around my Birthday. Please come with…


Almost Daily – 7/2/07

February 7, 2007

Music and Lyrics

The Rakes, last night, were really quite dissappointing. The music was good, the band were good, but the venue is fucking horrible. Tutu’s has the acoustic qualities of a broom cupborad. A broom cupboard filled with awkward shaped walls that makes the sound bounce like an absolute bastard and sound guys who understand the correct level to be “let’s drown the vocalist under a wave of bass and distortion”. As for the audience, after the Jamie T debacle (though, to be fair, I should have seen that coming, and it’s not like I like him anyway), I’m convinced that guitar music is poised to dissappear up its own arsehole for at least another decade. Thugs and bastards to a man, it was like they’d stumbled into Dad’s ‘special cabinet’ and had their first sniff of whisky before running off to fuck a speaker stack. Who starts a mosh pit at anything less than a metal gig? Who does that? Kids at Green day or another nameless emo band, I get that, but who is dull enough (dare I say it, who is White/Middle Class enough) to mosh at a band who sing about going to work? They aren’t exactly asking for a revolution. Po-go-ing I get. ‘Going mad for it’ I get. ACTUALLY moshing?

Anyway, my rage is tempered by things:
1. Yesterday friends and loves secured me various MP3, leaks and torrents that delight me with their range. Neon Bible anyone?
2. The First of Fence Collective’s Picket Fence E Set cam through. Picket Fence is/will be ten CDs released over the next 10 months with a little news-sheet accompanying it. This month E01 is by Rich Amino, DIY recordings under the title (or, at least, I was). It’s pretty, bare and sweet, knocking strips of most of the acoustic shit that’s been radio bound recently.
3. In my presentation yesterday I, successfully, argued that La Jetee is not a film but, in fact, a comic book. I used Scott McCloud’s definition of Sequential Art alongside pages of Phonogram to prove it (arguing that the reader creates a soundtrack for Phonogram via the text). I’m a genius.


Almost Daily – 4/2/07

February 4, 2007

V2 – onemillionjones

History’s coming down.
On the burned-out detritus of a north London town.
There’s no flies on you or me,
And a cold snap has cleared out these once busy streets.
There’s the bells.

Snow fall is coming down.
If it melts than at this rate we’ll damn nearly drown.
It’s gone midnight here,
And I’m frozen and crazy and moved close to tears.
I’m coming down.

Stereos trickle sound,
Of a plane downed near Jersey as ghosts whirl around.
The air-raid wails loud and clear,
While the bumblebee thrum of the enemy nears.

Let ’em come.

© Matthew Sheret – 2007


So, still on a post-Arcade Fire high to be honest. So inspirational. The acoustics of the venue were not ideal, but just seeing what the ten of them were capable of was awesome. Very much enjoyed Ellie’s surpise 21st dinner last night, sad to leave early though. This afternoon I review MIKA’s album (it’s saccharine pop, that’s as much as I’ve got so far), Wolf and Cub and a few words on Arcade Fire. Oh, and I’ll be sorting my presentation for La Jetee, which you really should watch if you haven’t before.


Almost Weekly #5

February 3, 2007

Rebellion (Lies) – The Arcade Fire (live at Porchester Hall 3/2/07

It begins with feedback, drum crashes and bleak, stuttery lighting. The audience, worked up already by a blistering rendition of ‘Power Out’, can feel what’s coming, as the wall of sound ripples through the crowd. The band are lost in the notes, each bringing this terrible beast of noise to order, and slowly something begins to take shape.

A solid drum beat thumps out a heartbeat rhythm as the guitars strike up riffs familiar and welcome but still possessed of the urgent quality they had on that first listen so many months ago. Win is a huge presence, impassive and massive, commanding attention with his stature where his petit wife Regine demands it in her sylph-like stage presence, lost to drama and lyrics. You can get spend all night in their eyes. But there’s still the rest of the band, eight more tonight, who comlete the sound, making it multi-faceted, almost chaotic.

Richard screams into the megaphone while violinists twist in the stagelights, as three hundred people shout ‘Lies’, all of us gripped by a hands-in-the-air absorption. “People say that you’ll DIE!” it’s defiant, daring the authority to tell us what we can’t do. We can’t stay up for five days and spin a yarn and live like lunatics? Then fuck you. We’ll do it, and we’ll do it prettier than you, and we’ll create art that excells yours twice over, and by the time we go to sleep we’ll have an army – which will beat yours.

Clap Clap

People writhe and bounce as the songs begins its close, the insistent beat reviving bodies weary but impassioned. If anything we’re even more worked up by the final strains of piano and viola, ready for more…