Features

A couple of neat psych-ish things today that I’ve been meaning to write about for a while. First up, Coconuts, an Australian group relocated to New York, whose scouring dirges make them one of the more incongruously-named I’ve come across recently.

I’m sure most of you have heard the grim news about Mark Linkous in the past few days. I can’t really add much to the memorials that have accumulated about him and his music; on the odd occasion when I met him – all well over a decade ago now – he always came across as a gentle and reserved man, who told harrowing personal stories but at the same time didn’t seem to give that much away about what he was actually like. I have, though, dug out this Sparklehorse piece I wrote for NME in 1996. As is so often the way of these things, it’s hard not to see an awful poignancy in his last couple of quotes.

Thinking back to Brass Eye’s 2001 “paedophile special”, and in particular the furore it caused among certain sections of the media, it’s easy to see how misunderstood Chris Morris often is. Typically outraged, the Daily Mail described the episode as “a spoof documentary on paedophilia.” Which is missing the point. The programme was a savage attack on the media's own thoughtless, knee-jerk reaction to a serious issue. It clearly didn’t stop, though, large sections of the press demonstrating their own thoughtless, knee-jerk reaction to the show. It seems likely, I’m afraid, that those same sections of the media will be up in arms about Four Lions, Morris’ directorial debut, a “jihadist comedy”, no less, focussing on four wannabe suicide bombers in Sheffield. Which is a pity, as Four Lions is an extremely good film; far more than **just** a comedy about suicide bombers.

At the time of writing, the Oscars are three days away, and some folks, it seems, are getting jittery. Avatar, James Cameron’s lumbering 3D epic – seen by many as a shoe-in at Sunday’s ceremony – doesn’t appear quite the sure bet it was a few weeks ago. The reason? The significant head of steam built up by Kathryn Bigelow’s bomb disposal drama, The Hurt Locker.

A nice surprise in the post yesterday, when a big box full of their beautiful CDs, records and cassettes turned up from Natural Snow Buildings. Seeing these actual objects for the first time – as opposed to just hearing their rapturous music – confirmed that they were as beautiful as their reputation suggested, further proving the meticulous craft and care with which Mehdi Ameziane and Solange Gularte go about their work.

Bad news about BBC 6Music this week, though some of the slightly moist fanboy testimonies to a station that, ultimately, fills most of its airtime with what I’d call bog standard British indie haven’t been terribly edifying.

Not one to apply layers of personal mystification to his music, the Cambridge musician C Joynes is telling the crowd at Club Uncut about his phlegm issues. Personable enough, he’s also a terrific guitarist, albeit one who it’d be more or less impossible to write about without mentioning John Fahey (which I did last time, writing about his, ahem, “Revenants, Prodigies And The Restless Dead”).

First off today, a quick reminder that Sir Richard Bishop is gracing Club Uncut at the Borderline tonight (March 1), with really strong support from Alexander Tucker and C Joynes. Tickets still available from Seetickets.com or on the door. See you there, hopefully.

This is pretty good, I think. Wasn’t terribly enamoured by the last thing I heard from Karen Elson, the Mildred & The Mice seven-inch, but this is nice, faintly menaced country pop, with some kinship, perhaps, to Neko Case.

Thanks for your forbearance and kind words with regard to Joanna Newsom; it’ll be interesting to hear your thoughts as you hear and live with “Have One On Me” for a while.