Play To Z: Plug In, Plug Out to The Reminder

Some Observations

"Two Princes" by The Spin Doctors is a pretty fantastic example of early 90s college rock and is a damned fine song, but I will never, ever be able to separate it from Third Eye Blind's "Semi-Charmed Life" in my brain. The two are musical conjoined twins as far as I'm concerned.

  I don't own anything else by Madeon, the French DJ between this inspired mash-up, but if "Pop Culture" is anything to go by, he is a demon sent from Hell to make me dance.



  I've already mentioned my cheapskate decision to make my niece and nephews mixes this Christmas in lieu of the proper presents I couldn't afford, but to be honest I'm pretty damn happy with how they turned out, especially when they include introducing my 9 year-old manic-ball-of-energy nephew to "Fast Turtle" by Anamanguchi.

  If I had to pick a single band to soundtrack my life, I would without hesitation pick The Go! Team. Proof Of Youth saw them in fine form, not only expanding on their "70s car chase through Sesame Street with Sonic Youth in pursuit" sound, but also proving they could tackle the occasional smaller, quieter song. Still, it would be nice to have a life that consisted mostly of kung-fu action spectaculars and leaping off piers to avoid explosions.

  I've never had sex while listening to Purple Rain, but if you do, I'm pretty sure it counts as a threesome by every metric that counts.

Prince will sex you now

  "Ignition (Remix)" turned 10 years old last week. 10 years of being the best party song of all time. John Darnielle of The Mountain Goats started a masterful post of 100 reasons why the song is so brilliant, which just shows that A) John Darnielle is great and B) "Ignition (Remix) crosses all boundaries. It is the Great Uniter, because everyone wants it to be the Best Party Ever, no matter what they're doing at the time.

  I bought the first two volumes of Radio One's Live Lounge collections back when my music taste wasn't as well-defined and I thought "Hey, maybe I want to hear The Kooks cover Gnarls Barkley", but there are a gems amongst the echoing void of personality. Lemar's soulful version of The Darkness' "I Believe In A Thing Called Love", Franz Ferdinand's take on Gwen Stefani's "What You Waiting For?" that slides into Billy Idol's "White Wedding" and Corinne Bailey Rae's transformation of Justin Timberlake's "Sexyback" into a 20's enfused jazz number are all worth a listen.

  I am not much of a rocker (I know you all just fell off your chairs in surprise) but "Killing In The Name" by Rage Against The Machine will always hold a special place in my heart. When it plays, I can almost feel the sticky floors and smell the thick air of our local "alternative" club, The Waterfront.

  I only recently picked up (i.e. rented from the library and burnt onto my laptop) Taylor Swift's masterful Red, and as such, I've only listened to most of the songs once. That said, the other day I listened to "I Knew You Were Trouble" maybe 30 times on repeat, so I feel fairly secure in saying it's a spectacular example of a pop album. There are some missteps, of course, but alongside "I Knew You Were Trouble" and the peerless "We Are Never Ever Getting Back Together", "State Of Grace", "All Too Well", "22" and "Begin Again" all leapt out on first listen as stellar examples of Swift's brand of country pop, managing to push the envelope of her sound while still feel classic and effortless.

  Sleigh Bells' sophomore effort Reign Of Terror wasn't quite as assured as Treats, and skewed a little harder towards the big stadium sound of bands like Slayer and Iron Maiden, but it stilled produced songs like "Born To Lose" and "Comeback Kid", and the way it moves from a big anthemic beginning to a more subdued ending feels like the hangover slowly creeping in as you wander home at 5 in the morning, watching the sun rise.

Coming Back To The Shins; or, Street Level Versus Cosmic

  Listening to Port Of Morrow, The Shins long-time-coming 2012 album, it never clicked in the same way their earlier records did. I could point the finger at the long gap between albums or the almost complete change in the band's line-up, but in truth I'm not the same listener as I was when I first discovered the band 10 years ago.

  To me, my defining Shins experience was indelibly linking the song "Turn A Square" to a girl I had a massive crush on in the second year of Sixth Form. When I heard the song, I pictured her, and when I saw her the song would be on the tip of my tongue. The crush ended up going nowhere - I harboured it through the rest of Sixth Form, and finally drunkenly confessed it to her towards the end of the first year of university, just before she left a club with another guy.

  As much as I can still appreciate the skill and artistry of The Shins' work, their songs have a certain amount of idealism and naivete to them, not just in the lyrics but in their whole atmosphere. It's not an exaggeration to say they were my favourite band at one point, but they've been replaced (with a few steps in between) by Los Campesinos!, a band you could never accuse of naivete. Their songs are filled with telling details that root them in real heartbreak, all bloodied knees and walking home in the cold, and when they aren't tragic, they're still founded in the knowledge that the happiness is fleeting.


  This all sounds very bleak, but that's all a matter of perspective. Acknowledging that most relationships end and most people aren't perfect doesn't mean you can't enjoy the good times. After a particularly drama-filled Hallowe'en last year, I awoke with an almost Zen-like sense of enlightenment at the thought that I am friends with so many hot messes. Our beauty is in our imperfections, our glory is in our flaws.

  This line of thought ties closely to something my housemate and I have been discussing for some while (and several of our friends have been dragged into), which we call the Street Level/Cosmic Spectrum. In Marvel comics*, heroes run the gamut in power levels, from characters like The Punisher who are non-powered humans fighting muggers and drug dealers, up through Captain America and Iron Man to figures like the Silver Surfer and Nova, who fight epic space battles against foes like Annihilus and Ego The Living Planet.

Indeed he is

  As well as the difference in the power of their respective protagonists, these stories also have distinctly varying tones. When a reasonably mid-powered Spider-Woman showed up in the street level title Alias, it was because she was being used as a source of superpower-granting drugs. When a regular human appears in a cosmic level story, they become a Flash Gordan-style figure, holding their own against the aliens and abstract universal manifestations.

  We've started applying these distinctions to our outlooks on life, and more specifically relationships. Street level denotes a certain amount of realism and an embracing of life's scummier elements. It's about grabbing hold of the whole of life, dirty parts included, and diving in head first. Cosmic level means taking a slightly more romantic view on life (it doesn't necessarily mean idealistic - an entrenched cynic who sees the worst in everything can be just as cosmic) and a tendency to see your own life in narrative terms. Cosmic types get their heart broken more often, because they fall in love harder and more readily. Street level types take love's slings and arrows with a weary shrug and move on.

  Of course, the whole thing is a spectrum. Most of the superheroes in the Marvel universe are not purely street level or cosmic: they sit somewhere in between. It's the same with most people - we're a mix of hard-worn realism and starry-eyed romance (usually the latter kicks in during crushes, the start of relationships and break-ups). The whole theory is a work-in-progress, but my own move from cosmic level teen to street level adult is definitely reflected in my evolving music taste.

*To be fair, this also applies to DC, but their universe tends to be more "cosmic" overall, so the metaphor doesn't work as well

Rediscovered Gem

Neon Indian - Psychic Chasms (The Phenomenal Handclap Band Remix)

Play To Z: Odelay to Please Please Me

Random Observations

Odelay is one of my favourite albums, and one of the few where every track is considered a favourite. I love all of Beck's albums to some degree or another, but I'm not sure he'll ever surpass this one. It's a perfect realisation of his early "junkyard mash-up" sound that still carries a lot of heart underneath all the samples and white noise.

  I've talked about where my musical taste comes from, and how my family have had very little impact on my choices, but one figure who has is my half-brother Jeff. Almost 30 years my elder and seen for perhaps 4 or 5 days a year, he has nonetheless managed to steer me towards some great artists, such as Martin Grech, who's Open Heart Zoo I would describe as "a howl of rage and sadness by a robot conducting an orchestra in a metalwork factory".

  It's a stupid complaint, because in theory it's an easy fix, but I've always been annoyed at myself for not being more involved in our local music scene. I don't know why I'm not - Norwich has a pretty vibrant musical culture, and I've even got friends who dabble in it, but I've just never got into the swing of it. One of the bands I have come across is The Brownies, an excellent indie rock band following in the steps of the Riot Grrl movement. Their album, Ourknife Yourback, is a great record filled with fantastically spiky tunes.

  Jamie T's Panic Prevention is one of those albums that I'll forever associate with the time I spent in America, not that it's at all American. In fact, it's one of those albums that I find amazingly evocative of London. It's kind of the flip side to The Good, The Bad and The Queen, which feels rooted in London's history and mythology. Panic Prevention is about the reality - dance floors and minor tragedies and lap dancers and getting the last tube home. It feels like a good collection of short stories, giving momentary glances into people's lives, filled with rich detail and a lived-in quality.

  Parallel Lines. 'Nuff said.

  When I was around 8 or 9, my sister taped me a copy of Blur's Parklife with, inexplicably, "Gangsta's Paradise" added on before and after the album. It was one of the few albums from that time in my life that I still listen to, although unfortunately it's no longer on my turquoise Sony Walkman, sandwiched in between Coolio.

  Paul's Boutique. 'Nuff said.

  I find all The Decemberists' albums enjoyable to some extent, but I think Picaresque might be my favourite.  There's a wonderful seam of tragedy running through the whole thing, from the adolescent embarrassment of "The Sporting Life" to the grotesque vengeance of "The Mariner's Revenge Song". Perhaps the saddest of the lot, I would rate "On The Bus Mall" amongst my all-time favourite songs, even though it's the tale of two homeless teenage runaways forced into prostitution to survive.

Rediscovered Gem

"Vessel" by Zola Jesus

2012: A Pop Culture Year In Tweets

2012 started with a party, of course

After completely failing to celebrate my birthday the previous year, 2012 saw me take a whole bunch of friends down to London, where we bought comics, ran around Hamley's and the Science Museum and ate a grotesque amount of BBQ at Bodean's.

This wasn't due to anything. I just still think this is funny.

I stand by my original assessment. Michael Fassbender's penis is gigantic. Also, Shame was very good. Probably the best looking film I saw all year, and with tremendous performances from all.

A good couple of days - the never-ending gift that was Maya Rudolph hosting SNL, the announcement of Phonogram's approaching third series, and Helena Shepherd kicked ass.

The Warriors is a great film, but watching an original print of it at midnight then wandering back through the deserted city makes it even better.

Saga has been one of the consistently great comics of the year - smart, funny, original and heartfelt, with astonishingly good art from Fiona Staples, who combines flawless storytelling, great character design and a flair for conveying emotion to brilliant effect.

Los Campesinos! are my favourite band, and their shows are always great: amazing energy, great banter and stellar performances. Plus, I got to hang out with the now sadly departed Ellen afterwards and chat about podcasts and stuff.

New Girl took a while to win me over, and definitely had a shaky start, but its slowly proved itself to be funny week in, week out, often reaching the heights of hilarious. Plus I've realised I share Schmidt's control issues in the kitchen.

I can't even remember why we were throwing a party on this particular night, but I think we can definitely call this The Year Tim and Bret Perfected Their House Party Skills

 It may not be high art, or even among what I consider my Top 5 films of the year, but Avengers was the most fun I've had at the cinema for a long, long while, and isn't that what really matters.

This still saddens me to think about. I think it may be the first celebrity death I can honestly say I've felt affected me. We miss you, MCA.

Parks and Recreation continues to be amazing. This, the final episode of Season 4, saw Amy Poehler's Leslie Knope elected as a city councilwoman, and honestly had me welling up alongside her as she cast her ballot.

 

Race issues aside*, Girls has proved itself to be pretty damn good. It feels a lot like a series of short stories at times, but that doesn't put me off of it - in fact, more television could do with doing smaller, better observed stories. Still needs more Shoshanna though.

*My two cents: yes, it's awfully white. So is most TV, but for what is meant to be an honest portrayal of contemporary New York, that is either a massive oversight or says a lot about Lena Dunham's world, and when she says she doesn't care about those sorts of things, she sounds like an idiot.

 

 Always a pleasure to see official Friend of the Blog Alex Spencer, and finally meeting Robin and Michael in person was great. Had a lot of fun recording a podcast with them, and it was a great taster for Thought Bubble in November...

The Dark Knight Rises wasn't good. Deal with it. Neither was Spider-Man 3, but at least it had a sequence in which James Franco danced and made an omelette.

 

Shut Up And Play The Hits was one of those bittersweet experiences, watching a band you love perform their last ever show, knowing they're finishing on a high. So glad I got to see it on a big screen.

 I didn't watch nearly as many classic films as I should have in my quest to watch 100 films I'd never seen before this year, but at least I got round to watching The Godfather. Maybe this year, I'll watch Part 2.

 Another trip down to London town, this time to see the talented Michael Eckett perform in his own quickfire play that runs through the history of comics, and drink with Alex Spencer. In addition, I got to spend the next day walking around London, taking reference photos for The Broken City.

This was also the Year We Started Bros & Cons, our frequently anarchic comedy advice podcast. If you're reading this and you haven't already listened to it, go now! What are you waiting for?

My housemate Bret managed to devise a version of fantasy football that used actual fantasy figures - my team included Doctor Doom, Lion-O, the Creature from the Black Lagoon and River Tam. Our group of friends are not sports people, but for nine weeks we talked tactics, passing strategy and whether Deadpool is a good goalkeeper.

My friends in Cheesemint outdid themselves this year in producing a hilarious, ambitious web-series in "Unlocked". I can't wait to see what they do in the future.

Hallowe'en is the best holiday. Drunk Hallowe'en is the besht holiday.

Finally got round to watching the rest of Breaking Bad this year after watching seasons one and two in fits and starts. After about midway through S2, watching the next episode became an obsession that kept me up way to late way too often. Cannot wait to see how Vince Gilligan and company end the series this year.

I stayed up until 7.30AM watching the election coverage, but, as a US politics nerd, it was totally worth it. Obama is a long way from perfect, but he's a hell of a lot better than Romney.

We rocked Thought Bubble pretty damn hard this year. As always, the mid-con party was the highlight, but sketches from Emma Rios and Kate Beaton, Kieron Gillen's "1000 Words" keynote speech and just the general atmosphere of the weekend were all wonderful.

As the year has gone on, we've been regularly dragging people back to ours to drink and sing impromptu karaoke via Rock Band 2. It's been a trend I approve of.

It ended up being Point Break.

And the first tweet of 2013?

Wise words, Drunk Tim. Wise words indeed.

Person of the Year - Pete Holmes

Originally posted as part of Alex "Cultural Icon" Spencer's ongoing end of the year round-up, this has become an annual tradition between mine and his blog/tumblr/whatever. I highly, HIGHLY recommend going and reading his film, music, game and comics analysis - he's one of the best critical voices I've had the honour to meet and his look back at 2012's music has already pointed me towards several bands I should have been listening to.
 
Once again, my choice for Person of the Year revolves around someone from the world of comedy, but as this year’s choice would say, comedy is a ministry, and it can have a tremendous impact on how we view the world. 

  Pete Holmes is an American stand-up comedian, and a very funny one at that. His album, Impregnated with Wonder, is filled with brilliant observations and manages to combine a whimsical sense of fun with real human honesty. He’s appeared on various talk shows and Comedy Central specials, and this year recorded some pilot episodes of a talk show that would follow Conan O’Brien’s show on TBS (this hasn’t aired yet, and is still waiting for confirmation over whether it’s been picked up, but is still an impressive achievement) but the real reason he’s my Person of the Year is for his podcast on the Nerdist network, You Made It Weird.

“I’m thinking about getting off of Facebook and Twitter, all of that, and just signing up for a service that every 30 minutes texts me the phrase ‘You’re Not Alone’.”

   You Made It Weird started out with a very loose interview format that revolved around “weird things” Holmes knew about the guests, who tended to be other comedians from the LA comedy scene, but evolved very quickly into a more wide ranging discussion that tended to focus on three areas: comedy, sex and God. The guests interviewed Holmes as much as he interviewed them and his honesty about various aspects of his life, from his youth as an evangelical Christian to his experiments with becoming a “fuck person”, via his divorce from his wife, is both rare and infectious.

  We live in an age when everything we do is shared on the Internet, which creates an odd mix of openness and image management in most people. Holmes bypasses this by moving beyond the 140-character limit and getting into deeper conversations that last long enough to find recurring themes and patterns in people’s lives (the average episode length is about 90 minutes and longer episodes get up to 2 and a half hours). He is remarkably unguarded in how he presents his thoughts, and this in turn encourages his guests to be the same.

“This is a weird little part of your life, isn’t it? Feels like we’re snowed in together. There’s only one bathroom and there’s so many of us! ‘What do we do? Put on a show! Beats getting to know each other, right?’ It sure does.” 

  Holmes’ approach to religion and spirituality follows the same approach as his discussions of his personal life – honest and infinitely curious. His guests span from the strongly atheist to the deeply spiritual (his talk with Duncan Trussell gets into some truly esoteric areas) and Holmes himself claims that he can believe everything from a godless universe to one where every action has meaning and purpose. There’s a very open-minded, non-judgemental approach to talking about faith, and a profound acceptance that not really knowing the truth is inevitable, but thinking about these ideas is important.

 
  The ultimate strength of You Made It Weird, and by extension Holmes’ comedy, is that you are listening to someone smart who has accepted that he doesn’t have all the answers about faith, relationships and life explore these issues with equally smart people, all of whom happen to be hilarious. I listen to a great number of podcasts at work and You Made It Weird is the one that gets me the most funny looks for suddenly bursting into giggles. The weightiest subjects are always going to be the most fertile ground for comedy, and Holmes isn’t afraid to dig into the most profound questions there are. He has a child-like glee and enthusiasm for the strangeness that reveals itself when people start opening up about what really drives them and what’s important to them, and it results in some achingly funny but deeply thoughtful conversations.

Play To Z: Mono Beatles to Odd Blood

It's been another long gap, but hey, there was Christmas and all kinds of shenanigans in that time, so what do you want from me?

  I'm aiming to get some standard "end of year" posts done over this weekend, including my "Person of the Year", which will pop up first on Alex Spencer's blog as part of his own, far superior annual review.

Random Observations

  I've mentioned this before, but it is a sign of The Beatles' enduring appeal that Iistened to 60 of their tracks in a row at the start of this batch of albums, and never once thought "this is nice and everything, but I'm getting bored of The Beatles". I can't think of many other musical acts that could match that level of innovation and variety.

  The first 68 seconds of Rafael Casal's "Bay Area Slang Top 100" is pretty much perfect, which makes it all the sadder when the rest of it quickly loses hold of the beat and descends into clumsiness.

  I hadn't really listened to Rilo Kiley before about 18 months ago, but "Portions for Foxes" has rapidly become one of my favourite songs of all time. Witty, sexy, incisive and beautifully constructed, it's a true marvel.

  Speaking of perfect songs, the Motown 50 collection contains some of the best songwriting and vocal performances of the 20th century, but let's single "Ain't No Mountain High Enough" out for special attention. There's that opening build-up, like a transition from another song, telling you to stop and pay attention to what's happening without announcing itself too boastfully. There's that first vocal harmony, like the song is opening up it's arms to greet you. Then it stands back and lets Diana Ross' angelic, irresistible voice talk for a while, easing you in even further. The structure isn't shackled to verse-chorus-verse; it builds and fades, relying on harmonies and Ross' charisma as a performer, and the iconic chorus doesn't appear until the last quarter of the song, when it hits like an atom bomb going off. Simply masterful.

  This set of albums included My Beautiful Dark Twisted Fantasy, which I've started to write about several times, but it feels a little bit to big for my brain. It's a work of tremendous ambition that actually lives up to the promise, and cements Kanye West as one of the primary musical talents of today. It goes without saying that he has an uncontrollable ego, but the album addresses that, along with various other personal issues, with an honesty and forthrightness that's admirable. I could probably fill the rest of this post talking about it, but people a lot wiser than I have already pulled it apart with considerable critical gusto, so I'll spare you.

  I got officially diagnosed with depression in May 2011, but it's been haunting me for a lot longer. At the time, I was attempting to complete a post-graduate degree in Early Years Childcare, a pretty high-stakes, high pressure environment that, a few months into, I started worrying I didn't actually want to do. What I initially thought was laziness or lack of motivation grew into something heavy and crippling that left me in bed for days on end, paralysed by both the fear of failure and anxiety at my own lack of action. Eventually, I sought help, left the course, and thanks to medication and therapy, I'm a hell of a lot healthier than I was. Part of what inspired me to seek action was a line on Patton Oswalt's My Weakness Is Strong album, where he describes his depression making him "watch The Princess Bride eleven times in a row". I'd always associated depression with sadness, but at the time I wasn't feeling sad - I was feeling nothing in particular. Even the thought of failing my course wasn't stirring me into action, it was just making me worry. Realising that this absence of emotion was as bad, if not worse, than true despair finally made me do something about it. I actually e-mailed Patton to thank him for his part in turning my life around before things got too bad, and he graciously replied, wishing me well. What a swell guy.

  On a lighter note, do you know how hard it is to listen to "Never Forget" by Take That without a) singing along and b) doing the hands in the air bit in the chorus? Stupid office job stifling my groove...

  I like the Futureheads - in my opinion they were the best of the bands to come out of the post-Franz Ferdinand guitar pop explosion of 2004/5 (see Kaiser Chiefs, Hard-Fi, Maximo Park, Editors), but every time I've been to see them I've ended up having a miserable night. The first time, they were supporting the Zutons and afterwards I ended up at a party where I knew one other person who was nowhere to be seen, and people were launching fireworks out of the arseholes. The second time, off the album News And Tributes, I got semi-mugged by a crackhead and his 9 year old son on the way home (he punched me in the face, but I didn't give him any money). I'm not going to risk a third gig.

Rediscovered Gem

"SWATE" by HEEMS

Play To Z: Lost In Space to The Moldy Peaches

Some Observations

Listening through Love & Happiness, the Al Green best of compilation, you realise how many fantastic songs the man has given the world, but I don't think anything will ever compare with "Let's Stay Together", which manages to stand head and shoulders above an impressive discography.

I'm still waiting for the Justice League film/TV show I have in my head to be made, which features Florence and the Machine's "Kiss With A Fist" sound-tracking Batman and Wonder Woman having a sparring session that turns into a make-out session. Warner Bros, I'm here when you need me.

Because I have no money but a plentiful supply of blank CDs and cardboard, I'm making mix CDs for my two nephews and niece this Christmas. My niece's is a ladies-only mix, ranging from Nina Simone and Taylor Swift to The Breeders and X-Ray Spex. One artist I couldn't fit on there was Kate Nash, but after re-listening to Made Of Bricks, I'm hoping my niece catches the music bug enough to come to me for more recommendations, because this will be high on my list.

An Internal Dialogue
Tim: Eugh, why do you still have The Magic Numbers album, self? It's by-the-numbers folk pop. Walking down this road will only lead you to Mumford & Sons.
Tim: But listen to the vocal harmonies! They're so pretty!
Tim: I don't know how I put up with you.
Tim: *too busy dancing to respond*

I'm very lucky to have wonderful friends who occasionally send me mixes of their own. One I listened to recently was from university friend Tom (who's been mentioned on here before) called Make Sure You Know What An Off-Colour Sea Lion Looks Like (named for a Blue Jam sketch that was included on there), which is a wonderful selection of tunes from artists like Stars, The Hold Steady, Beirut and The National. It also included on of the oddest songs I own, "The Centaur" by Buck 65. It's well worth a listen.

Sitting at my desk at work and listening to Passion Pit's Manners without jumping up and starting a one-person dance party was extremely hard.

One off my all time ultimate party tunes will always be "Sweet Home Country Grammar", a mash-up of Lynyrd Skynyrd's "Sweet Home Alabama" and Nelly's "Country Grammar" by DJ Mei-Lwun. It hits the perfect balance of laid-back summer cool and hyped-up party starter.

Ssshhhh...apart from "My Girls", I don't actually like Merriweather Post Pavilion that much. Don't tell any of the cool kids, or they'll kick me out of their club.

Midnite Vultures wasn't the most well-received of Beck's albums, with a lot of people dismissing it as a featherweight homage to Prince shot through with Beck's typical genre-fusing madcappery. What people failed to appreciate how goddamn fun it was; a bizarro electric cyclone ripping through a sci-fi orgy. It's a masterpiece of both lyrical gymnastics and musical artistry.

Getting Lost In Space

I wrote last time about my period of finding wonderful new artists through rather circuitous routes, and Aimee Mann was no different. Two of her songs were featured on an episode of Buffy The Vampire Slayer (in fact she performed live at The Bronze and mentions that she "hates playing vampire towns") and at around the same time, I saw Magnolia for the first time, my introduction to the work of Paul Thomas Anderson and one of my favourite films. Mann worked extensively with Anderson on the film's soundtrack and the centrepiece of the film's second act sees the cast breaking the fourth wall to perform a version of Mann's "Wise Up".

After this one-two punch of an introduction, I couldn't help but check out one of her albums, and Lost In Space was where I started. It's a hell of an album, a set of perfectly constructed songs written with a novelist's eye for detail, and built around a series of simple but effective melodies that carry the emotional weight of the songs. Mann's voice is wry and intelligent, and can run the gamut from heartbroken to hopeful.

My favourite of Mann's albums, however, is The Forgotten Arm, which I was going to write about at the time I listened to it on this run (a couple of months back, I reckon) but wasn't able to, so we'll talk about it here. The Forgotten Arm is every bit as brilliant as Lost In Space, with the added layer of a story that runs through the album, telling the tale of two star-crossed lovers dealing with addiction and heartbreak.

Mann isn't well known either side of the pond beyond the Magnolia soundtrack, which was over ten years ago now. She's well-connected with the LA comedy scene and has been putting out albums regularly (including a Christmas record of both original songs and classics that's festive without getting treacly) but deserves a much wider audience. I suggest checking out her song "Little Bombs" here - it's one of my favourites and a great introduction to her work.

Rediscovered Gem

"Soul Of A Man" by Beck

Play To Z: Where Does It All Come From?

We're halfway through my music collection now (baring any sudden donations or downloading sprees) and as I was writing up my last few entries I began thinking about a very fundamental question - where did my music taste come from?

I didn't grow up in a musical house. Neither of my parents care much about music; I think between them they own perhaps 40 albums, and rarely listen to any of them, and as far as radio goes, the dial moves between Radio 4 and Radio Norfolk with little deviation. Back in her youth, my mum saw bands like The Rolling Stones and Dave Dee, Dozy, Beaky, Mick and Tich live but never spoke a great deal about them, and my dad grew up in a pre-pop music era.

My sister did listen to music, but she was (and remains) seven years older than me, and we've always had very different taste in pretty much everything. My memories of her musical taste in my formative years go East 17 -> Guns 'n' Roses -> Anything the Ministry of Sound recommended. None of them exactly exploded my young mind with the possibilities of music.

One of the biggest impacts on my young brain was the radio. I remember getting a clock radio when I was about 8 and tuning it in for the first time, looking for the first station that played anything "modern". I ended up on Broadland 102.4, our local commercial radio station (who knows how life would have been if I'd turned the dial the other way and ended up on Radio 1) and stuck with them for several years. They played a pretty standard mix of chart pop and 80s/early 90s hits, and laid the foundations for me coming back to pop music several years later after some misguided teenage rockism.

My love of music only really took off in sixth form (that's 16-18 for non-Brits). Before that, I'd listened to what friends said was good or mainstream rock without really ever giving it any thought, or feeling inspired by it (this was the age of nu-metal, so there wasn't exactly anything inspiring out there).

Once I'd escaped my old high school and some not-exactly-healthy friendships, I started exploring music a little. I went through a phase of buying albums by artists I didn't know on the strength of one song. I watched High Fidelity and Grosse Point Blank, both of which informed my taste a lot. I started going to gigs, mainly thanks to friends who knew more than me, and discovered the joys of live music.

Still, my taste has ended up very different to a lot of my friends, even though I take their recommendations to heart. Some of my favourite bands and artists were discovered in most unusual ways. I found Broken Social Scene based on a webcartoonist's recommendation; Beck came from watching the Futurama episode he was in; Death Cab For Cutie was due to, I think, hearing their name mentioned in The OC. It's not exactly the opening scene to Almost Famous.

I can only say that my taste in music matches my taste in most other things: I like emotional honesty that doesn't stray too far into melodrama or naked exhibitionism. I like intelligent writing that thinks about themes and patterns. I like people who don't take themselves too seriously. And I think you can make something exciting, accessible and popular without sacrificing any of those things.

And I'll never stop looking for new things to love.