This is a Recording

Little Axe is a stage name used by guitarist Skip McDonald (itself an alias for the man born Bernard Alexander). It's also the name of one of his collaborations with producer Adrian Sherwood, aided by long-term musical associates Doug Wimbish on bass and Keith LeBlanc on drums, and also in this instance by percussionist Talvin Singh. Whereas Sherwood is best-known for his Jamaican-inspired dub, this record is built on the foundations of McDonald's formative blues influences. The clever title alludes to Howlin' Wolf, whose voice is sampled on some of its tracks. While there's virtually nothing of house music per se in its musical ingredients, it does involve programming & sampling used in ways which arguably owe something to it. The feel of the album is generally dark & weighty, with its mesmerising grooves the main attraction. McDonald's bluesy guitar work blends with as tight a rhythm section as one could wish for, with Singh's tabla a fascinating addit...

As the Britpop wave crested in 1995, my albums of the year in that vein weren't by front-runners Blur or Oasis (though I did buy (What's the Story) Morning Glory? ) but those by dark horses Pulp and Supergrass, with the latter's debut full-length release I Should Coco issued that May. My head had been turned late the previous year by their first single 'Caught by the Fuzz', and I'd been keeping my eye on their progress in the meantime. It's an excellent album, fizzing with youthful energy and with plenty of good tunes. The songwriting is generally solid too, with a distinctly English lyrical sensibility on display in the vein of influences like Madness and The Kinks. The opening run of eight tracks maintains a high energy, with 'Caught by the Fuzz', 'Alright' and 'Sitting Up Straight' my favourites among them. The tail end of the running-order has a more laid-back air, with the closing triple-decker of 'Time', 'Sofa (of m...

In the Aeroplane Over the Sea has attracted a great deal of fervent praise and no small measure of derision in its time. As is to be expected, given that I own a copy, I count myself among its admirers. It was already five years old before I'd even heard of it. Come 2003, intrigued by laudatory reviews I'd found on-line like this one , I downloaded an mp3 copy via LimeWire. A first cursory listen to a few snippets failed to impress me, but my on-line peers kept going on about it, and in due course ('04) I ordered a CD copy from Amazon. On sitting down to properly listen under headphones for the first time I became a convert within its first five minutes. By the end I was deeply impressed and moved. I revisited it very often in the years that followed, and tried to spread the word among my off-line friends and acquaintances (absolutely none of whom were interested). Not only did I find it a fascinating work of art in its own right, it also served as a gateway to further won...

For a few years I was haunted by a song I could not identify. On the infrequent occasions I listened to the radio during my time in Rome, whichever station it was I'd settled upon as the least objectionable might play a jazzy-sounding number in which a deep male voice sang in Italian, but with some words of English in the chorus: "It's wonderful... good luck my baby...I dream of you... chips, chips". It was the kind of song where it seemed likelier that these were the chips one might be given in a casino, and not any potato-based foodstuff. I grew to love the song, but each of the half dozen or so times I heard it I never caught the artist or track-title being announced. I resigned myself to its remaining a mystery. But then I heard a snippet of it again a few years later in Amsterdam, issuing from a hotel-room TV as the soundtrack to an ad. On returning from that trip back to the UK, I resolved to see if the internet might be able to solve the puzzle for me. This w...

Thanks to my newfound enthusiasm for Pixies' Surfer Rosa in 1988, I soon afterwards became aware of  Throwing Muses, the two labelmates often being mentioned together in the music press. The next year I bought the latter band's third album Hunkpapa , only to find it easier to admire than enjoy. It wasn't until '91, and The Real Ramona (album #4), that I properly became a fan. The opening track 'Counting Backwards' was my favourite of its songs. Decades later & with those cassettes long gone, I was intrigued, ca. 2018, to find a vinyl copy of The Real Ramona in a Chepstow charity shop. I couldn't see a price on it, so queried the cashier who shrugged and suggested £2, which seemed like a bargain. On getting it home I found there was a price sticker, but inexplicably affixed to the inner sleeve where neither of us had seen it: £12. Having been briefly pleased at landing a good deal I then felt bad at having snatched a tenner from the hands of the needy...

The Supersuckers took a sharp turn off the rock'n'roll highway in 1997 with their fourth album Must've Been High , which saw them travel for the first time "down that old dirt road to the country". I'd previously heard 'Born With a Tail' (from The Sacrilicious Sounds Of The Supersuckers : album #3) so had an inkling of where they'd driven from to get there, but this was my first proper introduction to their music. It's far from a perfect record, but twenty-five years on I still get a kick out of playing it. Mine is a German-made CD copy. The sleeve-notes promise "Simple [...] three-chord songs, sung from experience", and that's what we get. The subject matter encompasses the pleasures of recreational drug-use ('Non-Addictive Marijuana'); the end of a long night's revelry ('One Cigarette Away)'; the morning after the night before ('Hungover Together'); the hazards of being on stage ('Barricade') ...

Jarvis Cocker and the various incarnations of Pulp famously spent years toiling in the shadows before emerging triumphantly into the spotlight in the early-to-mid '90s. I don't exactly recall, but suspect it would have been around the time the 'Lipgloss' single came out that I first became aware of them. I never did buy their His 'n' Hers album, but was good & ready to spend money on Different Class after falling for 'Common People' when it appeared in '95. I initially bought it on cassette but upgraded a couple of years later to the "Deluxe Edition" on CD, which, as well as the album proper, includes another disc ( Second Class ) featuring a collection of B-sides released between '93 and '95. So inspired were the band during this period that it's a very strong compilation in its own right, beginning with 'Mile End' which later formed part of the Trainspotting soundtrack, and ending with 'Street Lites' whi...

For about seven months in 1997 I shared an apartment in Rome with a fellow ex-pat, an Englishman with a taste for the acid jazz and neo-soul music of the day, and it was through him that I first heard the likes of Erykah Badu, D'Angelo and Maxwell. For all its merits, it was a style I couldn't seem to get a proper grip on at the time, and indeed, it was only really during the recent pandemic that I gave these artists another hearing, at last developing more of an appreciation for them. About this time last year I spotted a few Maxwell CDs in a box at the local charity shop & thought the MTV Unplugged EP might provide a digestible introduction to his work. So it proved - it's a record I very much enjoy. At over 34 minutes I'd say it's more a short album than an EP. On the strength of this disc I also acquired a copy of Maxwell's Urban Hang Suite but I found that a bit too much Maxwell for me in a single sitting, succumbing as it did to a common late-'90...

My first experience of Portishead (the place) would have been in '94 when my colleague Martin Robinson invited me to join him and his girlfriend to make up a team for a pub quiz somewhere at the edge of that town. I must have had a reputation as a bit of a know-it-all. As luck would have it, the questions played to my strengths and we won, despite most of the other teams having four or five members. I think by then I would have already experienced Portishead (the group). I first heard them on (I think) Pete Tong's Radio 1 show, 'Numb' issuing weakly from my bedside clock-radio. I took notice at once, loving what I heard, and bought Dummy on cassette as soon as I could find a copy. I played it a great deal, and got it on CD too a few years later. The CD ended up with a lot of mileage as well: though perhaps I listened to it too often, as there eventually came a point where its appeal began to fade, whereas its near-contemporary Maxinquaye has better retained my affect...

I bought Barafundle on CD when it was released: a little something Welsh while I was still in Rome. I'd become aware of Gorky's Zygotic Mynci a couple of years earlier, after the release of their Llanfwrog EP, when I heard the track 'Miss Trudy' on the radio, and had thereafter acquired a cassette copy of the Bwyd Time album. Barafundle is my favourite GZM record, hitting what is for me an ideal balance between the band's weird and whimsical sides. Barafundle Bay is an out-of-the-way beach in Pembrokeshire, and a few of the songs have an uncrowded sea-side feeling about them, including some of my favourites on the record, 'Starmoonsun' and 'Sometimes the Father is the Son', the former featuring a rare outing for the mediæval-style shawm on a pop/rock recording. Other favourite tracks of mine are 'Heywood Lane', 'Miniature Kingdoms' and 'Hwyl Fawr I Pawb'. Much as I usually enjoy this record, it doesn't suit every mood...

I bought the Buena Vista Social Club album on CD the year after its release, with a great profusion of laudatory reviews having piqued my curiosity. I'd not had any significant encounters with Cuban music up to that point (nor indeed with Latin music in general) and at first hadn't imagined it would interest me.  As so very often, I was wrong, and I did enjoy it, if only half-heartedly on first acquaintance. It took repeated listenings over several years for me to better appreciate its many charms. A major part of the record's appeal for me is its atmosphere: expert musicians playing together in a big room with joyful spontaneity.  Initial favourite songs from it were the insistent 'El Cuarto de Tula' and the wistful 'Amor de Loca Juventud'. Nowadays I love the whole thing & it still gets a few outings every year - an excellent soundtrack for a warm summer evening.

I have a vague recollection of first hearing schneider tm, aka German musician Dirk Dresselhaus, by way of a promotional compilation CD affixed to the cover of a magazine. The particular piece that caught my attention was 'Eiweiß', and, on the strength of my affection for that track, I bought Moist on CD. I'm not the biggest afficionado of electronic music, but I find this an absorbing and appealing album. The moody eponymous opening track seems to borrow something from the pioneering efforts of Cluster and their ilk, blended with more state-of-the-art ingredients (as of '98).  'Up-Tight' is uptempo & staccato, akin to an infeasibly rapid march, while 'Eiweiß' has a more liquid character with its rounded bleeps & bloops. 'Starfuck' includes buzzing electric noise and cyclically looped feedback combined to striking effect. There's a satisfying variety on the album. I also bought the second schenider tm release ( Zoomer ) but was much ...

I began buying music on cassette in the mid-'80s out of necessity: I couldn't afford a record-player, and I certainly couldn't afford a CD player. Cassette-players, however, were comparatively cheap, and, of course, tapes were compact & portable. When I was eventually able to switch to CD I didn't think twice about it and scarecely looked back: I sold or gave away all my tapes in '98 before an international move. Earlier this year I spotted a hi-fi cassette player in my local charity shop: a good-quality model in good shape. The third, fourth and fifth times I saw it there, still unclaimed, I started to think I might buy it, which, at the sixth or seventh time, I did. With the player plumbed in to my hi-fi, I needed something to play on it. My purchases included a few 'Best Of' compilations from an ebay seller, including this one, Galore , a 1995 retrospective of Kirsty MacColl's career up to that point. Its sound quality might best be termed 'ad...

When the track 'A.M. 180' was popularized by its use in the movie 28 Days Later , my inner hipster was able to stroke his chin and reflect on how he'd known and loved the song since '98, when Under The Western Freeway , Grandaddy's debut album, was released. What had happened in '98? A scenario that had played out many times, with wildly divergent outcomes: I'd read a glowing review of the album, and then bought it entirely unheard. Luckily, this proved to be one of the happier iterations of that risky process. The opening notes of 'Nonphenomenal Lineage' assured me I'd made a wise choice: and there was better to come, with the abovementioned 'A.M. 180' and the glorious 'Collective Dreamwish of Upperclass Elegance'. It was a delight to hear music with such a distinctive, fully-formed & congenial ethos. Not every track was a winner: I wasn't so fond of 'Poisoned At Hartsy Thai Food', but most of them were, and I eve...

A really good EP can make for a particularly satisfying listening experience when there are three or four first-rate tracks in snappy succession. Grant Hart's All of My Senses is just such an EP. I mentioned in an earlier post how I came to acquire it. On the A side is the title track, an expansive song which feels at once cyclical and uplifting. On the B-side the mood is altogether darker, with 'The Main', an acoustic number about heroin addiction whose melody is reminiscent of The Pogues' 'A Pair of Brown Eyes'; and the Arthur Lee song 'Signed D.C.', another tale of addiction, supposedly based on a letter sent to Lee by the original Love drummer Don Conka . The B-side tracks were originally recorded for a session broadcast by BBC Radio Scotland. Overall, it's a highly enjoyable nine-and-a-bit minutes of music. I like the photomontage on the front cover too.

The Manic Street Preachers are about my age, and grew up some seven or eight miles down the road from where I did. The first time I saw them they were on TV, and I felt an acute - misplaced - embarrassment on their behalf. They were gawkily, earnestly pretentious, gabbling away in their broad valleys accents - the same accent I'd striven to mask and suppress during my student years in London. Their presence showed up the folly of my own pretentions to urbane sophistication. I've always been interested in their career by virtue of the local-boys-made-good angle, but only some of their music has ever grabbed me - I wouldn't quite call myself a fan. I do have a soft spot for  Everything Must Go , however. I bought it on cassette soon after its release in mid-'96, which was a painfully difficult time for me. I was in Rome, ostensibly living the cosmopolitan dream, but felt isolated, stressed & depressed thanks to my awful job.  This album, together with an unwise excess...

I think it was thanks to Mark Lamarr that I first heard and saw The Jon Spencer Blues Explosion. Lamarr was an occasional guest on Mark Radcliffe & Marc Riley's Radio 1 show ca. '94/'95 - during one of his spots on it he enthusiastically sang the trio's praises & I heard 'Bellbottoms' for the first time. He was also one of the hosts of The Word on Channel 4, where the JSBX made a notable appearance in '94. I was eager to hear their then-new album Orange , and bought it on cassette. Even on my crappy Hitachi boom-box it sounded fantastic. The sound on the German-produced CD I have now strikes me as a tad lacklustre by comparison. It was never an album I loved from start to finish - between the first-rate opening run of five tracks and the excellent final four, the middle of the running order seemed to me a bit weaker. The CD hasn't had anything like the play that well-worn tape did: now and again I'll put it on in the car. Despite that, the ...

Between the chaotic noise of Boredoms' earlier material, and the percussive 'tribal' grooves that followed, lies the band's remarkable 1998 album Super Ae . I didn't find my way to it until about 2006. I would have ordered the CD from Amazon: it's a repress of the US release on Birdman Records. It seems that none of the Boredoms albums have ever been issued on vinyl. The CD booklet is decorated with colourful childlike drawings which include some handwritten snippets of text - in English, more or less - such as 'They said "SUPER æ "'; 'We RAH THE ☼'; 'WE CAN SUN' and 'HUMAN is BIRD / TO THE SUN / WiTH / PYRAMID / ACTION'. The CD itself is bright pink, with a stylized rising (or setting) sun motif in yellow. Of the music, the 25-minute stretch including the third and fourth tracks 'Super Going' and 'Super Coming' is my favourite part of the proceedings. The gear-change at the 8-minute mark of the former nu...

Morphine are another of the many bands and artists I first heard on the radio - in their case my initial exposure would have been the tracks 'Super Sex' and 'Honey White', ca.  '95 or so, promoting their third album Yes . Did I buy any Morphine albums on cassette? Probably: but not, I think, Cure For Pain , which I believe I've only ever owned on CD. My copy is no longer in its original Rykodisc green-tinted jewel-box, which must have suffered a fatal mishap at some point. Released in the apparent trough between the crests of the Grunge and Britpop waves, Cure For Pain sounds like it was drawn from some other ocean altogether. That might be partially attributable to singer & bassist Mark Sandman being half a generation older than most of his musical contemporaries. The blend of baritone sax & bass was never going to be to everyone's taste, but I'm among those who like how they kept it all down low. For all their unique atmosphere, and the excell...

The internet as it was in 2003 alerted me to the existence of In The Aeroplane Over The Sea by Neutral Milk Hotel, and, when I fell in love with that album myself the following year, the internet further explained that it had come out of something called the 'Elephant 6 Collective', an umbrella in whose shade numerous bands hand flourished, one of the most notable of them being The Olivia Tremor Control. Curious, I sought out the OTC albums on CD, acquiring them in reverse order, getting the second (and to my mind, the better) of them first. I fell for Black Foliage: Animation Music Volume One too. It's determinedly psychedelic record where Beach Boys and Beatles-inspired melodies and harmonies alternate with (or are overlain by) musique concrète- style tape manipulations, and where the lyrics recount a longing for, and a striving towards the otherworldly. I loved the songs but the sound quality on the CD left something to be desired: I imagined that may have been attribu...