Triptych: day three

And, after seven rather dizty little years, Triptych ended with something of a bang. There was some razmatazz to bring the Last Ever Party at Arches to a close with soul singer Candi Staton, bringing the love to a rather rowdy audience. Other highlights were Four Tet, who played at eardrum-bashing volume but with consummate style, the retro-indie singalong stylings of 1990s (perfect festival fodder), and a rather touching take on Joy Division's Love Will Tear Us Apart by The Parsonage. Leaving just as Derrick May was taking command of the dancefloor, it was a fine finale to the weekend, tempered by the slight sadness that things will never again be the same... still, not such a bad way to go.

Triptych: day two

The Tramway it was yesterday for the day-long show headlined by Mogwai, though unfortunately late arrival meant that I missed the first few acts - including an apparently superb Frightened Rabbit - though I did manage to catch Errors' rousing electro-rock finale with a frenetic Mr Milk. Their upcoming first album is one to watch out for...

Dirty Projector, who recently signed to Domino Records, were a lovely, technically accomplished skewed take on pop music, complete with a mesmerisingly manic drummer. Malcolm Middleton provided a more sedate prospect, the former Arab Strap musician's songs complemented and perhaps even enhanced thanks to the sparse arrangements that had double bass and Jenny Reeve from Strike the Colours on violin. Clinic were disappointingly bland despite the bright Hawaiian shirts worn on stage, and for most of the time they seemed rather lazy, only briefly hinting at the songwriting suss that saw them championed by Radiohead some years ago.

Mogwai were as sublime as you might expect, premiering new songs which bode extremely well for their next album. Saying that they were epic is to hardly encompass the expansiveness of their sound, a breathtaking Like Herod just one highlight of the set. We'd got seats on the balcony, which made things strangely civilised, a suprisingly pleasant way to spend a Saturday night in Glasgow. It makes the thought of having to stand on my own two legs at The Arches tonight almost too much to bear...

Triptych: day one

My adventures at the final-ever Triptych kicked off in style yesterday with Sebadoh's gig at The Classic Grand. The reformed indie trio were in fine form, a belligerent burst of noise, with discussions beforehand over whether my memories of them appearing on Top of the Pops were yet another figment of my fickle imagination. But no! They were indeed on, performing Flame - according to the sloppy and carefree internet search I've just performed - meaning that I can rest easy... Copy Haho were first on, and the Stonehaven band looked right at home performing as part of such a stellar line-up, the sardonic musings of Joe bringing some welcome deadpan commentary to proceedings.

The revelation of the night were Pram, who I'd never heard before, mesmerising percussive grooves sublimated by slinking brass, the synthesis of digital and analogue suitably discombobulating, aided by unsettling accompanying visuals. If Twin Peaks was throwing a party this would be the soundtrack, as it would if David Lynch reimagined the cantina scene in Star Wars. Either way, they were sublime, a true, unexpected delight. Enjoy:

A matter of profile

Oh, last.fm seemed like such a wonderful concept when I joined not so very long ago. The music site would miraculously create my perfect radio station through the mysterious 'scrobbling' of those tracks played on my computer and MP3 player, its player providing me with the songs I already adore, mixed with unknown little gems that would lead me on to acts that I would subsequently worship and adore. Not only that, but it could recommend artists to listen to, videos to stare goggle-eyed at, gigs to go to, badges to adorn my man bag with, and other such useful things. What's not to love?

My last.fm music profile, that's what. Initially I thought it was a great idea - sometimes I still do - enabling me to easily list the musicians I actually listen to, rather than coming up with my own crummy, clumsily written attempts. (One that I'd initially have to update constantly to correct the multitude of mistakes, before then getting bored and leaving it to become increasingly, embarrassingly out of date.) Yep, I could use the power of Web 2.0 to ensure my thousands of social networking buddies - all close, close friends - could look at my 'Top Artists This Week' and, by then visiting the actual page, could then view my 'Top Artists Overall', thus providing an unadulterated, no-holds-barred account of my listening habits, good or bad.

But such transparency doesn't allow for the vicious streak of vanity that seems to splatter my guilt-sodden soul. My last.fm page became an online representation of myself, and - just as with other things of this nature, such as unflattering profile photos and revealing friend comments - suddenly the gimcrack, unedifying reality of my actual existence turned out not to be what I was wanting represented.

For instance, previously

I could quite enjoy those rare moments when I was walking around and a Limp Bizkit track came on thanks to random play (hey, there's only a couple of their tracks on my MP3 player - the one rhyming nookie with cookie and another unreleased, unintentionally hilarious dazzler about Fred Durst's 'relationship' with Britney Spears - both of which are strictly for entertainment value, you understand). Sometimes Too Funky by George Michael would gloriously introduce itself and I'd gleefully play some of his Greatest Hits, inwardly cackling at how amusing it was that no passers-by could possibly be aware of the camp ridiculousness being streamed directly into my ear drums.

No longer. Instead I worry about those anonymous, unseen spectators who - in a successful bid to boost their own sense of superiority - browse my statistics while online, only to find out that I often listen to the sort of dreck that would make even H from Steps feel a little dirty on the inside. My secret shame is there for all to see, and yet I perversely feel too honour-bound to try and manipulate the data being fed into the system, leading to an acute and painful self-awareness that I am indeed a complete dufus who can't possibly look down on anybody else's listening tastes. Ever. Again. Not even that guy who listens to Type O Negative, because now he can find out that I listen to Black No. 1 with alarming regularity.

Then there's the problem that some artists are played way more than others because of track length, or aren't even recorded because the track length was too long, such as on single-track dance mixes. Therefore Dave Clarke appears pretty much nowhere, and I dare not listen to any Napalm Death (not that I did previously though, to be fair). Indeed, DJs doing remix albums are unlikely to feature as they rarely remix their own tracks.

And those artists I listen to when I trying to get to sleep get a disproportionate airing, their records repeatedly repeating as I snore contentedly away. If no one can hear them, are they making a sound? Such cod philosophy matters not to last.fm. I mean, I do like Camille, but not nearly so much so that she has triumphantly trounced all comers to officially top my 'Top Artists Overall'. She'd be, maybe, at about 43 or so. I think. People must also think I'm a huge Battles megafan as well, when in reality I'll be asleep long before the midway point of Mirrored, so can't even name any of the latter tracks off their debut album. Goodness, I don't even own any of their famed first EPs, which is going to prove really embarrassing when the guitarist - you know, that guy with the hair - shows up on the doorstep to present me with a limited edition signed balaclava or something.

(I won't even go into how egotistical I think it must make me appear that the two acts I am a part of appear sandwiched in between Camille and Battles, right at the top of everything I've apparently ever listened to ever. Shame certainly feels like an appropriate emotion.)

Oh, plus I get uber-frustrated when putting something on a player that's not going to record my choice for posterity - you know, like one of those there car stereos that isn't hooked up to the internet. It's as though I'm being cheated out of the recognition that I so desperately feel I deserve, especially if it's something really, really cool that might just boost my flagging rep (I now get openly laughed at in the street, by gormless gonks able to glean that I've been listening to the new Korn album many, many times over). The foreknowledge infuriates me so much that sometimes I'll simply sit in silence instead, getting all cross and huffy like a stroppy, emotionally illiterate teenager, as my entire day is again ruined by the supposed evolution of our information age. Perhaps it's time to reclaim that refreshing anonymity the internet initially offered up and get rid of my profile page: at least then only I'll be aware of how rubbish my music tastes really are...

Baaaaad

Gooooood

Critic's choice - April 24

Last Ever Triptych Party

Sun, 5pm, Arches, 253 Argyle Street, Glasgow, £21, 0141 565 1000

After eight years of providing Glasgow, Edinburgh and Aberdeen with a cavalcade of intriguing artists from around the world, Triptych signs off with a shindig featuring folktronica supremo Four Tet, ex-Arab Strapper Aidan Moffat and Detroit dance pioneer Derrick May. Once it's gone, the festival is likely to be hugely missed.

(Appeared in The Herald on April 24, 2008)

Back to skool

Right, on one hand this is me just lazily copying and pasting a press release, but on the other hand it's well worth it - if you are free and available in Glasgow this Friday during the day. (I will be, so it's probably worth it just to bask in my glorious prescence.) Anyway, without further ado:

Soma Skool 2008

The Arches, Glasgow, 25th April, 12.30 - 4pm, £5/£2 Students
www. somaskool. com

One of Scotland’s leading dance labels Soma Records will be hosting a day of music and software demos, Q&A sessions and panel discussions with industry professionals next month, providing young people from across Scotland with an insight into the workings of the music industry.

Soma Skool will focus on the process of producing a finished piece of music - from demo to finished product, and covers topics such as the design and impact of visual and graphic artwork, filming and editing a video and the development of marketing and business plans.

The event which has been supported by the Scottish Arts Council’s Youth Music Initiative aims to promote the vibrancy of the Scottish creative industries in a compelling way to educate, motivate and inspire young people and present the exciting career options in the sector.Soma has put together eight highly successful day-long Soma Skool events since 2003 which have attracted over 3500 attendees.

While the event primarily targets 16-25 year olds, it attracts a wide range of age groups due to the diverse range of activities and demonstrations.This year’s event features contributions from: Dave Clarke - one of the most respected and idiosyncratic techno DJs and producers of the modern era with a brand of straightahead techno with the ferocity of hardcore, yet the sublime feelings of classic Detroit techno.

Anja Schneider – Label Owner (Mobilee Records), DJ, producer and radio presenter. Despite its short history, Mobilee has grown into one of Berlin’s most closely watched and stimulating labels.

DJ Sneak - One of the second wave of influential Chicago house producers and a legendary member of the vanguard of late-'90s American house producers, Sneak's new sound revolutionised house music with inspirational sounds and rhythms never heard before.

The Black Dog - Highly regarded as one of the most influential figures in the British electronica scene, The Black Dog are synonymous with the rise of electronic music in the UK. Their rhythmic inventiveness coupled with their deep and innovative approach to music made them pioneers of UK techno, heralding a new breed of music.

Vector Lovers - Martin Wheeler’s lovingly crafted output engages the listener with an attention to detail and emotional resonance seldom found in purely synthetic music. From derelict neon soundscapes to future robot funk, Wheeler’s fusion of deep, quirky electro and precise melodic intuition has won popularity beyond the confines of any genre.

Octogen - Pseudonym of acclaimed Glasgow producer Marco Bernardi who has made a name for himself through his association with Rotterdam’s pioneering Clone label. Prior to his association with Clone he released on Tom Churchill’s Emoticon imprint and with Claude Young on former Glasgow label Under the Counter, cementing his credentials as part of the new breed of electro-tech manipulators. He is also an established studio engineer and has worked with Percy X on his recent ‘The Separatists’ project on Soma.

Commenting on this year’s Soma Skool, David McDonald, Youth Music Manager at the Scottish Arts Council said: ‘The Scottish Arts Council’s Youth Music Initiative is delighted to support this year’s Soma Skool event which will provide a wonderful opportunity for young people to engage with the professional music industry and support their progression in independent music making.

Mystery Jets interview

The following is an audio interview with the Mystery Jets, who played Glasgow's ABC last night as part of Smirnoff Electric Cabaret, which also featured New Young Pony Club, Pete And The Pirates and other assorted entertainment (the contortionist squeezing himself through two tennis rackets and two trapeze artists swinging each other around to Welcome To The Jungle get honorary mentions). It was certainly a night unlike any other I'm likely to experience this year, and all bands were in impressive form, Mystery Jets obviously in confident mood following last month's release of new album Twenty One. I talked to the band about their sophomore effort, click below to access the interview and enjoy!

Critic's choice - April 17

Blood Red Shoes

Fri, 7pm, ABC2, 300 Sauchiehall Street, Glasgow, £7, 08444 999 990

Mixed-sex duos seem to be all the rage in the rock scene at the moment, and few come much more raging than Blood Red Shoes. Laura-Mary Carter leads the charge on guitar and vocals, backed by the thunderous jolt of Steven Ansell's drum-addled din, and within their minimalistic dynamic they're supremely adept at the sort of fuzz-ensconsed singalongs that recall a poppier take on the heady nineties heyday of grunge.

If you get there early enough, make sure you catch support act Copy Haho, the Stonehaven quartet who are gaining quite a reputation thanks to their subtle grasp of dynamics and twisting, accessible arrangements.

(Appeared in The Herald on April 17, 2008)

Ruminating on what May have been, or what should be...

Good old Brian May is back in the news today, announcing that 'Queen' are in the process of creating a follow-up to their hugely successful musical We Will Rock You.

So there we have it; one of my guitar idols, from one of my favourite bands of all time, has again set about desecrating Queen's legacy. Not only that, but he’s doing it with such consummate ease that it wouldn't surprise me if we were to lift up his luxurious bouffy hairdo and find Chesney Hawkes hunched up in there at the controls - a bit like Remy from Pixar flick Ratatouille - the 80s pop flop deciding that he hadn't damaged the world of contemporary music enough during his own personal heyday, and had to go undercover to bring down the whole shebang from the inside.

I can almost understand May and drummer Roger Taylor - bassist John Deacon gracefully bowed out of the entire shambles long ago - trying to keep their band's legacy alive, but collaborations with atrocious boy bands such as Five and dire comedians such as Ben Elton? If they had at least a modicum of taste I could perhaps understand what was going on. A hook-up with Rufus Wainwright could actually work a treat; indeed the use of Don't Stop Me Now in Shaun of the Dead was inspired, and probably brought them exactly the sort of attention they want, just like Bohemian Rhapsody did when it was featured in Wayne’s World.

But for most of the time it's Mr Elton ludicrously trying to construct a futuristic narrative out of their best-known hits, or the absurd spectacle of them recruiting Paul Rogers and disastrously deciding to record a new album with the Queen name, even though only half of the actual band are left, an act stripped of the iconic singer that everybody associated them with. And just in case you think the forthcoming long-player could actually compare to the band's best efforts, I present you with the following evidence:

Before (one small but significant reason why the 80s didn't suck):


After (as a game, see how long you can endure the painfully obvious social commentary being offered up, on Al Murray's show of all things):




The main thing that I don't understand is that Brian May is an astrophysicist and the newly installed chancellor of Liverpool John Moores, so with his evidently enormous intellect he can surely come up with something better than this tired and trite claptrap? Maybe he and the similarly smart stand-up Dimitri Martin could come up with a complex and yet side-splitting explanation as to why Queen songs actually explain the origins of the universe, or the guitar-slinging mastermind could construct a new robotic front man who'd sing the band's songs in an identical vocal timbre and with the exactly the same onstage strut as Freddie Mercury, all while simultaneously beating Gary Kasparov at chess and making the perfect Potato dauphinoise for Gordon Ramsay to salivate over. Now THAT's how you keep Queen at the cutting edge, rather than appearing like hackneyed has-beens.


Track of the week:
Copy Haho - You Are My Coal Mine

http://www.myspace.com/copyhaho

A band that seem to be playing every which way you look at the moment, I've seen Copy Haho since before they even laid claim to that name, which makes their genesis into a great alt-indie act all thesweeter - mainly because I can now tell most people I saw band before they did. Anyway, they're playing about ten bazillion shows in the next couple of months - that's a scientific estimate - so check them out if you possibly can, it'll be well worth it. You Are My Coal Mine is especially beguiling with its incessant drive and spindling guitars lines, possessing such confidence that they’ll be more than a match for Sebadoh when they support them at The Classic Grand next Friday.

The downsides of selling out

The fuss about Glastonbury not selling out straight aways pretty bemusing, with a small media meltdown meaning that we had numerous articles asking if Britain's best-known festival has 'lost it', and whether the choice of headliner Jay-Z in some way contributed to the whole darned fiasco.

But why exactly should it need to sell out so suddenly? There were many comparisons to the Leeds and Reading festivals, which sold out in hours, but little objective explanation that the complicated and extremely secure registration process for Glastonbury prevents bulk purchases, and means that those who get the tickets are actually required to use them, rather than then punting them on eBay for obscene amounts. Indeed, the increased success of the system may actually account for the slower take-up of tickets for Glastonbury compared to their competitors.

Also, more time to buy tickets means that, rather than a frenzied rush of those swept up in the hype, those who have properly surveyed the line-up will be more likely to go along - as will those younger cash-strapped kids of the generation that Michael Eavis wants to see adding vitality to his annual shindig. It seems that we need everything to be an instant smash hit sell out nowadays or else it's perceived as a failure, but surely the slow road is often the most satisfying, even if it doesn't allow for such shocking headlines.

Track of the week

Broken Records - Nearly Home
http://www.myspace.com/brokenrecordsedinburgh

A lot of people may already have latched on to the hype, but for those who haven't here's a band you're bound to hear much more of in the next year. Their string-saturated, epic sweep has drawn comparisons to Arcade Fire, but there's something quite different here, a rather satisfying Scottishness imbuing the track with a tender melancholic edge reminiscent of fellow Scots Frightened Rabbit. Billowing brass and menacing percussive hits build up the song into something of sublime beauty for a band still in the early stages of their career.

Video of the week
Crystal Castles - Courtship Dating

John Barrowman review

John Barrowman, Royal Concert Hall, Glasgow

Star Rating: 5/5

There are people who are merely multi-talented, and then there's John Barrowman. Prowling the stage like a sultry panther procured from the depths of Hades, he need only expend the energy to extend one leg outwards - during the show's opening song It Better Be Tonight - to wheedle wild whoops from an expectant audience. When he then turns his back to them to wobble an entire toned buttock a few seconds later, the consummate showman has already ensured most of the crowd have had their money's worth.

Honed from a lifetime in musicals (and later television exploits), a sharp and sparkling Barrowman - resplendent in tight grey suit - brings the sort of schmaltzy bravado that immediately enraptures those who have come to see his first solo tour. His remarkable rendition of Cyndi Lauper's Time After Time is an early showstopper, the delicate interpretation preceded by an emotional monologue about a Louisiana friend having to come out to his family while also letting them know he was HIV positive.

And despite Barrowman's bubbly nature - obviously emotional, he straight away sniffles into an audience member's tissue and tells them they can make £600 on eBay for it - it turns out to be a night filled with teary-eyed moments.

Dispensing at times with his usual American accent, the song-and-dance man's back in the town of his birth - where he lived until an early age - and reverts at times to a seamless Scottish accent. He even has his own family in attendance. In a heartbreakingly sweet moment, he takes his 73-year-old mother on stage to sing a duet for The Wedding, to an emotion-filled reception. As one avid fan notes: "JB is as JB does," and, for one glorious night, it seems that Barrowman can do what he wants with most of Glasgow cheering him on.

(Published in The Herald on April 11, 2008)

Critic's choice - April 10

Adam Green
Thu, 7pm, Oran Mor, Byres Road, Glasgow, £9
0141 357 6200

As one half of filthy anti-folk heroes The Moldy Peaches - who recently received belated recognition through the Oscar-winning indie flick Juno - the last thing anyone expected was for Adam Green to transform himself into an upmarket crooner performing the sort of songs Sinatra would have swooned over. A rich baritone meandering over melodic backing that comes criminally close to lounge-act accompaniment, his playful, charming sense of humour saves him from stooping too much into Mike Flowers-esque irony. It doesn't hurt that Green's also a natural-born entertainer, as anyone who's seen his mischevious, drunken appearance on German TV via a viral YouTube video will attest.





(Preview appeared in The Herald on April 10, 2008)

A small but significant recommendation...

Apologies for the lack of a bigger blog recently, but work has been busy busy busy... I'll try and come up with something of some significance (if of little relevance) soon.

In the meantime, here's a little recommendation for Wednesday April 9 - which in all honesty is too short to do the band involved any justice at all - if you can make it to Glasgow in time. Future of the Left formed from the ashes of the mighty, mighty McLusky, and their debut album Curses the best British rock album of 2007. Seething with vicious intent and an amazing, wry humour, it also contained some of the best pop hooks ever that you'll never hear any elderly relatives humming along to, as you can experience if you make it to the 2min 45sec mark of this relatively inoffensive little ditty:



Anyway, the price is £7 , the time is 8pm and the venue is Stereo, quite possibly the best venue of its size in the city at the moment. Hopefully I'll see some of you there - if not I'll shed a tear in silence while my ear drums are tormented in the most tremendous of fashions - in the meantime here's some compelling evidence to secure your attendance:



PS Is there a petition to stop Channel 4 showing new Shameless? It sullies the first couple of series so, so much...

Getting something for nothing

Unlike that recent 'sperm for festival tickets' fiasco, which turned out to be nothing more than a highly successful PR stunt, the Winning Sperm Party website actually follows through on its promise of offering free downloadable tracks from some of Scotland's best new bands.

Today's latest offering is the Dirty Summer EP, a blissful lo-fi clatter of buzzing synths and other unhinged instrumentation, their strangled yelps over the top of Friday Night At The JJB certainly compelling (if not a little scary when listened to with all the lights off in your flat). It'd be highly worth recommending as a paid-for release, so given that you pay nothing you really have no excuse at all not to visit the site and get your pretty little digital hands on it:

http://winningspermparty.com/dirtysummer/

Oh, and while there you should also get the Shibboleth single by rock demonoids Dead or American, who were rather fantastic at Bloc in Glasgow last Friday. You won't regret it, and even if you do, you already have your money back.

Connect line-up starts to trickle in...

After the twin headlining wonders of Bjork and Beastie Boys last year - Primal Scream were squeezed inbetween at the three-day event, but I was too ensconsed within my own personal festival madness then to notice - it was hard to see whether Connect could follow up with an equalling compelling reason to attend in 2008. Today's initial announcement isn't quite as mouthwatering yet, but there's still some intriguing acts already confirmed.

Sigur Ros alone are a very, very good reason for going along, their sweeping, epic magnificence ideally suited for the scenic surroundings of Inveraray, and their performance will likely be something of wonder, as anyone who saw them at the Academy on their last visit to Scotland will attest. The return of adopted Scottish sons Franz Ferdinand should receive a suitably unhinged reception; their upcoming third album may have by then provided a storming comeback, but even if not they have enough singalongs to thrive on the main stage.

The mere mention of Kasabian's name makes me want to throw myself out of the nearest window on to a bed of foot-long spikes, the pain providing blissful relief from the continued existence on Earth, though I'm sure some people will welcome them with slightly more positivity. Their presence is perhaps a sign that things are going a bit more mainstream after the apparently disappointing ticket sales for Connect last year, with Paolo Nutini, Duffy and Manic Street Preachers also acts dragging themselves along who are likely to attract a wider audience.

Elsewhere, Nick Cave shall be stalking the stage with Grinderman, sleazy rock'n'roll greatness seaping out of his very soul, and there's some fandabadozy female representation through Sia, Amy MacDonald, The Breeders and The Gossip, with Beth Ditto always an enthralling and wonderful spectacle even when the group's blues-tinged racket drags slightly. The return of the Club Noir and Vegas nights is welcome, their shows providing blissful post-headliner relief at Connect's debut outing, providing continued partying into the early hours without having to constantly trip over sleeping camper's tents as you stumble around the site. Other acts include:

Coral, The Levellers, The Roots, Elbow, Mercury Rev, Spiritualized, and Camera Obscura

So far it's not a stellar line-up, but there are enough indications that the festival will be well worth going along to once more acts are added to the bill, and I'll definitely be there - what an enticement, I know - just to catch some of this live:

Weekend choice - April 3

Holy Fuck
Sat Apr 5, 7.30pm, Stereo, 20-28 Renfield Lane, Glasgow, £7, 0141 222 2254

Forget the attention-grabbing appellation, once you’ve actually heard Holy Fuck you’ll discover their name is quite possibly the least interesting thing about them. An awesome electronics-focused improvisational outfit, the Toronto experimentalists build up their instrumental numbers with wondrous ease, a delirious dance-infused momentum somehow hewn from alt-indie sensibilities and an ethereal post-rock otherness. Goodness, they even became Lou Reed’s favourite new band after a peerless performance at this year’s SXSW, when it was generally assumed that he didn’t like anything any more.



DeVotchKa
Sun Apr 6, 8.30pm, King Tut's Wah Wah Hut, 272a St Vincent Street Glasgow, £8.50, 08444 999 990

Originally a backing band for burlesque shows, DeVotchKa have managed to keep things just as colourful while branching out on their own. The Denver quartet's alt-indie sound is infused with Romani, Bolero and Mariachi influences, to name just a few. This rich mix is all the more delectable thanks to a devilish drive which helps them temper accessible gypsy-punk stylings akin to Gogol Bordello with a more subtle swing reminiscent of A Hawk and a Hacksaw.
Already reputed for their soundtrack to Little Miss Sunshine, DeVotchKa's future success may not be a done deal, but their chances are certainly bright.



(Appeared in The Herald on April 3, 2008)

The rather wonderful Bon Iver...

Um, my words will add little, so just savour this and then go buy his album:

News exclusive: Michael MacLennan remixes Radiohead

The idea of me remixing Radiohead may have made a good April Fools joke, but the time has long since passed for such tomfoolery (oh, by a good half a day at least, until 2009 comes calling). So the facts are these: just over an hour ago I received an email from Radiohead’s website that went something like this (well, exactly like this actually, since I’ve lazily copied and pasted it):

To celebrate this week's single release (we still have those in England) Radiohead have broken up the song 'Nude' into pieces for you to remix.

For those of you who enjoy this sort of thing, you can buy the separate components or 'stems' (bass, voice, guitar, strings/FX and drums) and remix your own version of the song. You can do this by adding your own beats and instrumentation or just remixing the original parts. More information here: http://www.radioheadremix.com/information/

You can buy the stems here: http://www.radioheadremix.com/buy/

You can upload your finished mixes here http://www.radioheadremix.com and be judged and even voted on by 'the public'.
You can also create a widget allowing votes from your own website, Facebook or MySpace page to be sent through too.

Hope you enjoy it

For those of you who aren't that way inclined, Nude is also available in its entirety on CD and 7 inch (UK release) at the usual retail outlets.

The indie-rock demigods aren’t the first band, nor even the first global goliaths, to do such a thing. Nine Inch Nails are nowadays renowned for allowing fans to take the constituent components of many of their songs and go as wild as their feverous imaginations will allow, and I can’t even begin to describe the regret experienced when I realised far too late on that there had been a chance to massacre my favourite Peter Gabriel track Shock the Monkey, all for the chance to win a SSL Duende (I’m not entirely sure what that is, but it sure sounds impressive enough to have bragged to friends about were I to have been victorious).

However, is there really much point in presenting these possibilities? (Apart from a most-likely lucrative link-up with iTunes...) It seems a bit like Da Vinci creating the Mona Lisa, then providing a cut-out-and-paste pack of the different body parts to newsagents around the country so the general populace could try and improve upon his mesmeric masterpiece. Do there really need to be any alternate takes, doesn’t it indicate a lack of belief in the original copy by the artist(s) involved?

However, music is probably a little more open to interpretation than other art-forms; 2006’s dancefloor anthem We Are Your Friends came about as a result of Justice entering an open contest to remix Simian’s song, their rendering so vastly superior that it seemed an entirely natural result. Also, a slew of cover versions have shown that even when a track can barely be improved upon, someone else’s sensibilities can provide new meanings and/or musical moments that may in many instances be preferable.

Things seems a little more difficult in this instance though, given my stunning lack of talent combined with the small fact that I regard Nude to be one of Radiohead’s finest-ever tracks. Should I even bother paying for the track’s ‘stems’ in the first place when it shall most likely be an entirely pointless endeavour?

Actually, that should just embolden me; if it’s in human nature to be destructive, then once it all goes horribly wrong at least I can take great pleasure in applying some synthesised didgeridoo, blackboard scrapes and belligerent belches, subsequently ruining the song for anyone else unfortunate enough to hear my maniacal butchery. Beats drawing a pencil moustache on the flawless model adorning a nearby magazine cover, or knocking over a poor kid’s sandcastle once summer arrives, in terms of energy expended if nothing else. Plus it keeps me safe off the streets.

Track of the week: Super Adventure Club - ‘Built-in Redundancy’

Performing at Bloc on Saturday, Super Adventure Club were quite simply one of the most exciting and intriguing Scottish bands I’ve seen in ages. (Which admittedly shouldn’t be too hard when I mostly work night-shifts and can’t actually attend many shows, but still.) The idiosyncratic Edinburgh outfit superglue such disparate influences as Pavement, Frank Zappa and The Paper Chase together with ease, while apparently having so much fun the main post-gig regret I had was that I couldn’t be in the band myself. (Hopefully I can ruin their recorded achievements with a rubbish remix soon.)

Built-in Redundancy is a more laidback track than some of their other riff-heavy numbers, blessed with a breezy and welcome laziness that’s reminiscent of Stephen Malkmus, and replete with a slinky guitar solo that unexpectedly peppers the end of the track, provding a welcome indicator of their boisterous unpredictability. With worrying rumours of them moving to foreign climes in the near future, best catch them while you can.