In the midst of the swine flu mania that I’m sure everyone is blogging about, I can’t help but be reminded of Kula Shaker’s heroic* Mystical Machine Gun. Released at the height of pre-millenial hysteria, it was a rambling psychedlic epic about the eclipse (“watch the skies…”), which, if I remember correctly, Crispian Mills believed would bring about the return of King Arthur and a new, joyous age. Via a revolution for fun.
Either that, or he was taking the piss out of the assorted media panics of the age. The song is stuffed with screams, sirens and consumer items. But who, or what, is the wizard in a blizzard with a mystical machine gun?
Now I don’t buy the weekly music press any more, because it doesn’t speak for me as it once did; and now I don’t go to gigs all the time; and now I don’t listen to the radio enough; and because the internet is too disparate (or because I haven’t got enough eyes); and because I’m generally not very together: album releases can pass me by. I’ve only just realised that the new Bill Callahan album has been out for some weeks already. It’s an album I’ve really been looking forward to, ever since I heard a song off it on the radio back in January.
The DJ assured me “this isn’t out for ages but I’m going to play it anyway”; I realise ‘ages’ is a vague measurement of time, but I felt pretty certain it meant longer than two months. So I’ve been excitedly anticipating something I could already have had. I suppose what I am trying to convey here is my general sensation that everything is speeding up, while I am slowing down.
Pondering this, I got a song stuck in my head from the last ‘proper’ smog album, A river ain’t too much to love. He has released another album since then, but it was ruined by the fact he was going out with Joanna Newsom at the time, and so he was happy. And, ruined as he was* by love and contentment, the songs were like Dracula at a funfair eating candyfloss and trying to win at hook a duck. They didn’t make sense.
So. While I’m waiting for the new album to arrive, I have this. It mainly reminds me of walking along the Thames in 2005. Like all the best songs, it made me terribly happy and terribly sad at the same time. I kept walking, and staring at the depths, and wishing that there was a career for me as a professional riverwalker. But never once did I go diving, diving, diving into the murk.
* She is a lady of many crimes, but this I feel to be her most unforgiveable
Back to the commuter world this week: the train, the robot shouting at you to look out for terrorists, the dead eyed expressions.
Things I had forgotten – first, that people are awake enough to have loud, personal mobile phone conversations at 7:30am. Second, that 90% of people on the train hide behind crap right-wing freepaper The Metro, and at least 4% of the rag-less remainder covet it with expressions of sheer naked desire. I know reading The Metro is the path of least resistance, but then so is shitting yourself. Resist, people – resist!
For the past hour I have been dimly aware of something going on in the back of my head – something causing me to bounce my head around like a crazy person. Or rather, like an ageing mosher at a gig – the type stood at the side of the stage with a pint in hand and knees aching, wishing he was young enough to still be bashing around in the bruising melee of the writhing pit.
And then I realised. My brain has had the genius intro to Another Girl, Another Planet on a loop.
You get under my skin / I don’t find it irritating…
“It’s good to see you, it’s been a while. You’ve had your life, and I’ve had mine”
This song has been floating around my head for the past few weeks, and the opening line is pretty appropriate – Clearlake are one of those bands I loved, then completely lost track of.
Hearing this was like stumbling into an old friend in a bar, and finding they still had wonderful things to say.
