Another year rolls by, and, late at night, sitting at home watching our erratically flashing Christmas-tree lights, I’m thinking: once again I’ve failed to get in everything I wanted to. As I’m sure I’ve noted before, the problem with not finding time to do a broadcast every month means the back-log of records to be played is so vast that the gaps between the shows can get longer just thinking about what to play; what to drop. So this month, in attempt to get as much in as possible, there is no featured book, just plenty of new stuff and plenty of new old stuff, and probably, at 14 minutes, the longest track I’ve ever featured — so please make a cup of tea and zone out to Laurie Spiegel, and think of New York in 1976, and the sun rising over the East River . . .
Traditionally at this time of year, I’m one of those lunatics who tries to impose some kind of meaning on their life by spreading out a 100 or so lps and cds over the front-room carpet in an attempt to produce my records of the year list. The kids roll their eyes, but I suppose it’s some kind of diary, and despite every year promising not to go there, I’m sure the fruits of my labour will be posted up here soon for anyone really struggling with 10 minutes to fill on a gloomy winter afternoon . . . In the mean time here’s another track from the great new Hannah Lou and Trevor Moss lp
He was 40 when he recorded it, and it’s tempting to think of Scott Walker’s Climate of Hunter as his mid-life crisis album, but then again you could argue he was making mid-life-crisis albums well before that, in his twenties. Damon Krukowski certainly views Climate of H through the lens of ‘late style’ in his piece in The Wire magazine’s new anthology of writing about Scott Walker; and Ian Penman makes a convincing case for a reappraisal of Scott’s middle years — or, rather, there are far worse ways to spend a wet autumn afternoon than luxuriating in the strings and mellow moods of Til the Band Comes in or The Moviegoer. Read more…
This month’s Third Light Home kicks off with a recording of wind howling across a prarie somewhere from a HMV weather effects album, and closes with footsteps walking on snow and ‘thin underbrush’ from 1936. In between there are earthy new sounds from today’s folky explorers (Meg Baird; Siskyiou; Peter Broderik), gnarly old dons (Tom Waits; Lee ‘Scratch’ Perry) and beautiful crumbly ambience (Colophon/Jefre Cantu Ledesma; Charlatan). In short, more folk, ambience, reggae and blue tunes, all with added sound effects and original vinyl crackle . . .
Read the sleeve notes, and see some images from this month’s featured book here.
The Antiswarm likes to visualise it’s latest show as like watching a school of fish
being unsuccessfully chased by a very angry killer whale whilst sipping a cocktail
& shooting a flare gun at an iceberg….or something. Also there’s the second part
of an interview with the wonderful Tim Kirkby where he talks about a film called
Unwan, Wittering and Zigo and what his cat like to watch. Also there’s a James
Blake deluxe album competition because the CD is cluttering up it’s desk.
The dark nights are drawing in and Jim plays the newest, pre-designated “top 40 hits”. There’s also a story about a trip to the woods that goes wrong and a story about a ship’s piano. The words ‘poetry’ and ‘madchester’ rear their ugly heads – much like an indie hydra. But however you look at it Jim delivers the equivalent of a toasty log fire – something to keep you warm now it’s getting colder.