We have sound. A plugged-in affair, the sonics lined-up – sequestered, then arranged into some kind of holding pattern; the aviation industry has just grown funky. Songs bubbling about like the contents of your parent’s lava lamp…
Feckin’ giz uz sum toones, pal – or ah’ll pit yer feckin’ windaes in
(which we can roughly translate as)
Kind Sir, would you be so good as to fire up the old gramophone?
… and thus the needle is deployed, static crackles across the evening’s landscape, and the wholesome, earthy bass track powers away under its own steam. Serenaded by shellac (the material, not the band – although come to think of it, some of the latter might not go amiss, later on). Transfixed by twelve inches (and that’s a vinyl reference – if you want to make penis jokes, you can do so elsewhere). Sometimes we need to check it all out – to calibrate, to suss the lay of the land. And in this instance I can honourably state – ladies and gentlemen: we have sound.
Below the words… well, I should be fielding something from the début Tom Vek album, considering the number of times I’m mentioning We Have Sound in this word splurge. Even though I’m still terribly, terribly uncertain about the whole Tom Vek thing. All these many years, a great dealing of prompting from more than a few musical comrades-in-arms, and I’m still scratching at my think like a concussed débutante.
Plus I can be terribly fickle when it comes to aural incitement. Divorced from records by the same old bands I’m always banging on about, and I flit between overload, overdose and over-exposure as if some sort of erotic vulture… or a gratuitous Pixies lyric (even if I can’t for the life of me recall which song the ‘erotic vulture’ line comes from… was from the disappointing Trompe Le Monde, aye? The record with the disfiguring and maladroit cover of ‘Head On’ by The Jesus And Mary Chain’… oh yes, ‘Subbacultcha, that’s it – as I mentioned, not their finest moment).
And fuck, I’m gibbering. Headphones on, the whatever in the bottle decreasing in quantity with each completed sentence (and incidentally, the photo at the top of the page is of the lovely Aidan Moffat , being drunk and webcam and lovely with headphones, on Twitter. I have no beard and no balloons, although my shelving units might be just as cluttered). Time to wrap this rubbish all up me thinks – at least for tonight. Have – likesae – a record. Below the words and all that; we have sound!
Battles / Rolls Bayce (Hudson Mohawke Remix)