Alternative Emo - 10 songs that make me weep (almost)

When I was in the shower this Monday morning I was humming to myself and realised that the song I was humming stirred up some kind of weird tingling inside of me. I think normal rational beings call it 'emotion', but as a cold, slightly awkward and intrinsically emotionally retarded kinda guy, it's not something I'm hugely familiar with.


Or so I thought...


That song was "Sir Psycho Sexy" by rocky funksters Red Hot Chilli Peppers. Ever since a respected friend of mine (hat tip to Almachine Stenhouse) pointed out on an old Cornish music forum that the outro for this song was possibly one of the most beautiful pieces of music ever written I've found that every time I listen to, or even consider it, that haunting guitar sound of John Frusciante gets me every time. It makes me purr. 


I then followed this chain of thought, and realised there are a number of songs that probably do the same, albeit in different ways. I could name 4 right away, and as the day's gone on others have occurred to me until I came to a nice round 10. And 10's always a good number for a blog post.


Their methods are varied: some do it on whimsy and positivity, others because they represent certain parts of my life, or even other peoples' lives. There are those such as the above where the music in itself is enough, a delicateness of emotion that shows perhaps a more vulnerable side to the artist's, and by reflection my own, personality. And still others just contain that unknown quality where well crafted and personal lyrics combine with a melody that could pierce Xena's iron corset. Ok, that is quite a known quality as they go, but the point stands: Music opens me up. If only there was much to see inside...




Sir Psycho Sexy - Red Hot Chilli Peppers


If this song ended at 4 minutes or so it would still be a cool song. The portrayal of the sex-obsessed protagonist (probably a version of Kiedis himself) is dirty and funky and just too slow to comfortably dance to (a quality I enjoy in itself). As it goes on though there's a more delicate side to it with Frusciante's guitar almost telling the story of the softer side of Sir Psycho's character as it gently fades out and this is what keeps me coming back. There's a raw kind of innocence there that can't be replicated, and it represents one of the classic Frusciante moments for me.


Innuendo - Queen


Not an obvious one maybe, but for me it's Freddie Mercury's last great work. When it was being recorded he was practically a dead man walking who knew his time was close, and I think this really comes across in the strength and feeling in the vocal and lyrics. As with most Queen songs it's a little ridiculous in places but for me it gets the balance right and keeps a serious tone and slight melancholy to it throughout. Also ever since childhood I've felt that this is Freddie's last little message to the world, a classic one of courage and self belief and his own battle to maintain his dignity throughout. Oh, and yes, for those who didn't know - I am a secret Queen fan (outed).


Coming Back To Life - Pink Floyd


A personal one, this. Having discovered the Floyd at around 16, by the time I was 17 I'd gotten around to digging about their maybe less acclaimed work, and this song, from the last studio album grabbed me in an odd way. At the time I was very much smitten with a female friend of mine who had a boyfriend *, and thinking myself the mysterious and down-trodden reciprocater of the non-reciprocated I believed this song told my story ("While you were hanging yourself on someone else's words, Dying to believe in what you heard"). Of course, it's almost certainly about something else entirely, but it still brings back that perceived loneliness and self-pity to me now that always seems so ludicrous taken outside of the situation.


Little Wing - Jimi Hendrix


Ah Jimi. From that chopped first note I'm taken on a seamlessly beautiful journey that uplifts and makes me think all is good with the world. A combination of all round musical perfection including some of the most classic blues guitar and positive, encouraging lyrics blends to land me in a good place. Only tempered by that fade at the end that seems almost inexplicable in its timing as the guitar ratchets up another notch. Perhaps we were never meant to know.


Saturday Night - Suede


Britpop did a good line in the alternative tearjerker, and here's probably a classic of both genres. Again the initial guitar sets the early tone. But it's Brett Anderson's lyric that grabs the show. The way he lengthens the vowel sounds is almost perfect for the role as the melancholy, lovesick fool who'll do anything to please his beau. You know he would do anything.


Tender - Blur


An iconic festival classic, one of the great break-up songs, an excuse to scream "OH MY BABY" in a ridiculous voice? All of these. Albarn and Coxon's singing trade off as a gospel choir (almost Queen-like in it's pomposity) drag us all through it. I think Tender really peaks at the end when everyone gets involved and there's all sorts of harmonising and random shouting of "Oh my baby"s all over the shop. And despite it's cheesy soulfullness I approve and, sod it, it makes me feel good. So there.


For What Is Chatteris - Half Man Half Biscuit


Has a band ever written about actual real day to day life better than Half Man Half Biscuit? This jaunty-yet-lonely number about living in a small town without a lost love, or maybe even friend, hits a chord with my small-town/village side. I love its simple descriptions of basic amenities and lack of much else to think about. It's simple & effective, and generally reminds me of home despite Portscatho being nothing like the Chatteris described in the song. It's more a state of mind anyway, and no sleight on Portscatho (or Chatteris) intended. And if you don't get it, then piss off to Ely or St. Ives.


The Night They Drove Old Dixie Down - The Band


I love The Band. Having discovered The Last Waltz thanks to a couple of good friends who I don't see enough of I watched & rewatched the DVD of it over and over with good people from Cornwall to Madrid to Brighton. And 'Dixie' is their best song in the show. Beautifully sentimental on record, live Levon Helm's vocal takes a new level of heart. The American Civil War never seemed so real in my mind, it's such a performance. And listen to the drums as he sings, quite brilliant even without considering he's singing concurrently. If there was a civil war where you are now and your family had to make a choice this song would be your soundtrack. Breathtaking.


Daniel - Elton John


This takes me back to long car journeys with my mum to see family with but an Elton John Greatest Hits for company. This song always makes me think of the rain falling against the car windscreen thinking of some, in my case imaginary, brother who lived some imaginary life that I'd never know. And I always felt sad for Daniel without knowing why. Now I understand the words more, but to me the beauty of the song comes from that regretful melody and Elton's innocent childlike vocal. A real memory-grabber.


Take This Bread - The Felice Brothers


A happy go-lucky song to finish. The intro about the forest fires in California leads into an upbeat song about looking out for everyone around you. I think, like Dixie above, it has its roots in the American Civil War, whether real or imagined. That "Neighbour Odetta" is an angel in herself and the refrain catches the earworm in me every time. I'd love to get a group of good friends on a long trip to sing along to it. Also, incidentally, it's the song I'd like to have played at my funeral as I burn up. Preferably with everyone having a clap. But anyway, enough morbidity. It's a positive song, and I challenge you not to be uplifted by it.




Well, as emotional rollercoasters go that was up there. And then down there. And then upside down and twisting around a bit before being spat out through a tunnel covered in my own vomit and sobbing loudly. Isn't it great what music can do?


If you fancy a good weep you can listen to all 10 on the youtube playlist.




* We ended up going out for over a year in the end. It was worth the self-torture.

Lawrence Ferlinghetti - Loud Prayer

I think I should probably use this blog a little more to put 'out there' various cool stuff I find and/or think others would benefit from checking out. And thus it starts:

I'm not necessarily one for poetry or prayer myself, being both ignorant of poetry and non-religious. However, I've always enjoyed the mock Lord's Prayer from The Last Waltz and thanks to a random internet trail that started from reading a tweet by popular madman Charlie Sheen I starting reading about the poet in question, the very interesting Lawrence Ferlinghetti, who used to hang out with all the Beat poets back in 'the day'.

Anyway, his delivery on the Last Waltz of the poem, Loud Prayer (or possibly Last Prayer, online sources seem to vary) is just outstanding, and well worth a watch. I've copied the words below the video.





Loud Prayer

Our father whose art's in heaven
hollow be thy name
unless things change
Thy wigdom come and gone
thy will will be undone
on earth as it isn't heaven
Give us this day our daily bread
at least three times a day
and forgive us our trespasses
as we would forgive those lovelies
whom we wish would trespass against us
And lead us not into temptation
too often on weekdays
but deliver us from evil
whose presence remains unexplained
in thy kingdom of power and glory
oh man

(thanks to http://syntaxofthings.typepad.com)

Back from the future - whatever happened to the internet?

March 8th 2021

Ten years on from the announcement of the 'cookie monster' law that ensured that all websites that use cookies (ie. pretty much all websites) had to get explicit consent from users to track them in any way using such a thing or not track them at all, we assess the impact of the change on the world that we live in.

In 2011 the European law courts introduced a rule to restrict the use of cookies by websites to only those users that had explicitly consented to their use. So, from then on, the next time that you enter a major website - for example Google, or Amazon, or the BBC website, or the MSN network - the website had to ask you if you would allow them to collect data on your website usage using this method. It also no longer remembers your log in, who are, what it is that you like to do there. Suddenly, the internet became a mess of pop-ups, incoherent warning messages, log in boxes, confirmations, tick boxes, that seem to imply that some Big Brother was and is collecting information on their every movement. The 50% of internet users who were perhaps less savvy in how the internet works, and with it online security and privacy, suddenly became more and more concerned at what they were doing online.

Questions were being asked that hadn't been considered before: Can Bill Gates get my online banking details and make even more money for that blasted foundation of his? Will Rupert Murdoch (God rest his soul) control exactly what news that I watch to ultimately control the decisions I make throughout my day? Will the BBC start fixing sports results to suit my own browsing patterns? So is that why on whatever website I go on I get reminded of that damn dating website I created a profile on 3 years ago? Users, with some justification but only a little, suddenly became scared. A fear set in that they were being controlled by the internet, by the websites, when all along they thought they were the ones in control.

Of course, fear is exactly what the governments, multi national news corporations, massive online retailers and everyone else has striven for for years. Fear of something different. Fear of not knowing the truth. Fear of the truth. Fear of not having the latest Stieg Larsson book from beyond the grave (and what a great prank that turned out to be, 24 books later). Fear of not owning the latest Coldplay collaboration with Jim Morrison or Elvis or Har Mar Superstar. Fear of not having the T-Shirt, trainers, football shirt that you are told will make you look, like, well sexy. Fear of not meeting the right person to go on a couple of awkward dates, sleep with out of politeness and then ignore until they stop calling/texting/Facebooking you. Fear of not knowing that the kid you used to sit next to in bottom set RE like pancetta. But fear of the internet?



Fast forward to present day. What has happened to that omnipotent, all-pervading, unspeakably influential force of the internet? A whole industry had sprung up before that moment, and entire towns in the south of England had transformed their main industries from whatever quaint, twee rubbish it was before to the making and managing of profitable, fun, useful, interesting websites. Those towns are now without industry or hope, and have shrivelled into empty hulls of trendy office buildings which are now squats for those displaced by the crash - the poor web developers, marketers or content writers with only 2:2 degrees, network disconnected HTC Desires and an item or 2 of ripped holey knitwear to show for those glory years of the 'Noughties'. There they smoke roll ups and desperately save the last of the South Asian beer that they drank on their gap year and then excitedly found in Waitrose before it all happened.

Where is the internet in our lives now? It's still there of course - governments still use it to pass on information to each other, but since they can't use it to inform their citizens of anything they've had to resort to employing buskers to provide the latest directives and laws to citizens - since everyone forgot all the songs that were stored on their Spotify accounts it's the only music there is. Internet soup kitchens exist in every neighbourhood, but since no-one can remember their log in details for anything they are mostly empty and used in the main to play Hearts. The Inland Revenue, of course, still has its massive cumbersome website which everyone must use by law to record their earnings and taxes but as no-one can everyone is fined an average of £10000 a year which they don't go on to pay...

There's other wreckage of course. Boarded up Amazon shops litter every block on the high street, boxes of celebrity autobiographies blowing into the wind. The word 'Google' now solely refers to the verb of trying to bowl a particularly unusual type of ball in the new kind of street cricket played by bloggers using words and random thoughts. The BBC now has all the money it could ever want and nothing to do with it. Bill Gates is now being cared for by his own foundation.

As we drift towards a Wellsian utopia can we reflect on that one day 10 years ago where it all changed for the worse? Or is this in fact an opportunity for our culture, our society as a whole to develop again, to find a new path that is more real and less reliant on an imaginary world which we create for ourselves? One where the guy we buy our books from knows what he's talking about, one where we make the effort to go and see friends we haven't seen for ages instead of some single perfunctory remark on a website on their birthday, one where we ask and discuss and learn in a social environment where we may not have all the information but that makes us feel good about ourselves.

Now is our chance United Kingdom of Great Britain, Northern Ireland, France and Estonia, NOW is our chance to move on from being a technology-led society of individuals to a people-led society of friends. This is my plan, this is my proposal to YOU, the people.

If only there was actually anyone online to read it....

Beware white elephants - Plymouth Argyle: A lesson from the present.

Tuesday 22nd February 2011 - 12.18

I sit here early-ish on my day off listening to England crack up against the Netherlands at cricket, but it's another sporting calamity that occupies my mind. Yesterday Plymouth Argyle of League 1 were deducted 10 points for, as I understand it, showing an intention of going into administration. I'm not entirely sure of the technicalities of the league rules regarding such things, but I'm sure there's a lot of good intentions of stopping clubs from getting into this kind of mess, and I'm not here to dispute that. 

Frankly the way the club has been run in recent history it probably deserves everything it gets. As a former resident of the terrace on the old Devonport End back when we were in the old Division 3 (which was actually the older Division 4) under the chairmanship of the much-maligned Dan McCauley, with few hopes of the rise to the top of half of the Championship that soon followed under the excellent stewardship of Paul Stapleton as chairman, I wonder now if it we'd have been better off now had we stayed as we were with little ambition or hope of being side by side with any of the big boys 2 divisions above. 

Well no, don't get me wrong - I wouldn't have swapped those Championship years for the world probably. That glorious victory at Wigan in their promotion year - I believe the only loss they would suffer all season at home, the FA Cup run where we could and perhaps should have beaten Watford & the imperious Ben Foster and gone on to a big money match up against Manchester United and the players that came and went - Ebanks-Blake, Halmosi, Buszaky, Friio, Mackie, Hayles, Gosling, Norris, Coughlan, Connolly, Barnes, Wright Phillips, Noone - all promised once that the 'sleeping giant' of Home Park might actually have what it takes to wake up. We had hope, and dreams. To others it might have seemed silly but when you look at the players who have come and gone and the results we got I don't think it was too far away for a moment there. It is now.

What's gone wrong? Some might say that the clues were there when Ian Holloway defected to Leicester - apparently the club didn't have the money to match his ambition... or maybe it didn't have the ambition to match his ambition. Or was it the decision to bring ol 'Luggy' Paul Sturrock back in? I'm not sure. I think from a financial ruin point of view it could well have been the Yasuaki Kagami takeover that broke the Pilgrims' back alongside his partners in the deal (with whom he seems to have little connection), the almost as distant Sir Roy Gardner and his buddy Keith Todd. While Stapleton still remains at the club it is as Vice Chairman and his influence on proceedings, once so positive, appears to have waned. Kagami saw a potential marketing opportunity of English football in Japan and Japanese players in the English league, and it looks like Gardner thought he'd piggy back along for the ride. And then of course there were Gardner's incredible, ill-advised and ultimately ill-fated World Cup ambitions for the city and club.

The World Cup bid was the latter's baby, and even if all had gone to plan would have been at most a temporary white elephant. Its failure represented a huge waste of money, time, resources and enthusiasm which could have gone into keeping the club afloat and the Championship. As far as Kagami was concerned, it appears that he eventually wised up to the facts that a) Plymouth are a small club with a limited attraction for those not from the south-western most corner of the UK, let alone Japan, and b) Japanese players even if good enough to play Championship football would be unlikely to be granted work permits to play. It seems as soon as this realisation came to him he decided to write off the sale as a loss and forget all about it, forgetting, or perhaps just not caring, about the thousands of loyal fans that effectively invested in the club on a weekly basis with a greater proportion of their own personal fortunes. Even the players aren't being paid, and Peter Reid's paying the heating bill!

So, the lesson here? If you're a small club with a smallish but loyal fanbase hoping for the big time don't rely on random foreign investors working with so called big businessmen. The reason we did well before was a sound and prudent running of the club's finances (which started under McCauley I should point out), some excellent bargain basement buying of players and some good management from Sturrock, Williamson, Pulis and Holloway. Then a disinterested foreign owner comes in, pays for the club but injects no money into what needs financing, including tax bills, and here we are. 10 points deducted, bottom of League 1 and a struggling side with no confidence or wages and a chance of going out of business. There seems no hope right now. It's depressing, don't know what more to say....

So, to tonight. I'm off to sit in the home end at the Withdean (I live in Brighton nowadays, for logistical reasons was tough to get away end tickets) and hopefully struggle to keep my mouth shut when the Greens score.... although given this is now top vs bottom my confidence isn't high. I may be back on dreckly to discuss further,,,,



Edit - a week late but given further news worth a poke


So I went, sat in the quite frankly awful Withdean for a half with the Brighton fans, saw nothing that cheered me up on the subject. Also with this being the first time I've seen Peter Reid's Argyle in the flesh I suddenly realised (/remembered from his days at other clubs) - he is not a footballing manager. There was not even an intention from Argyle to play any proper football. I'm not sure what they were trying.

At half time I had a text from a non-Argyle supporting mate who was in the away end saying he had a spare ticket on the gate, so I legged it round and saw the 2nd half from Portsmouth. Or at least it felt that far away. Anyway, not much better aside from better singing and banter from those around me at last. We brought Fallon on who gave some focus if very little actual ability. Hard to imagine he actually played in the World Cup. It finished 4-0 Brighton - fair play to the home lot though, in the Brighton stand there was a lot of sympathy to our plight being mumbled. They know where we are, in fact probably pulled themselves back from much worse. It gives us some hope. Although their fans do need to learn to sing up a bit.

That said, some more numbers have been published that don't make for clever reading. Given the measly amounts of money flying around lower league football at the moment £5 million just to keep us going until the end of the season seems highly optimistic. And just a ridiculously huge figure for such a small club. I can't even pretend to understand the financial workings of my own meagre existence, let alone a football club, but it just seems so big. And there's that much again owed still on top of it!

Pitifully I've never taken much notice of other clubs in similar troubles, thinking to myself "well they probably screwed themselves, they deserve it", which while in some ways true doesn't in anyway reflect on the heart of a football club - the fans. I don't put myself on any sort of pedestal as a fan - I've lived away from the south west  for most of my adult life (and anyway am from 2 hours away from Home Park), and when I've lived down there have often been playing football on a Saturday rather than watching it, but from the first game I saw there (a thrilling 0-0 draw in the cup against Kidderminster Harriers) I've felt connected and I know there are tens of thousands far more worthy Argyle fans than me going through hell. The thought of there being no club is too much to consider for anyone.

Ok enough, back to listening to Half Man Half Biscuit...

There'll be days....

Well it's not been quite a year since I last wrote anything here, which is a relatively short gap by my occasional blogging standards, and my how life has changed since then. Anyone who's reading this is probably up to speed anyway, and it's of no great consequence to what I might write, so I won't detail much here. Other than to say that I'm now going to be writing a company travel blog elsewhere, and I feel I should start to get in more practice vis a vis writing things a bit more, even if it's the normal meaningless drivel I'll tend towards on these pages.

I have a vague intention to update this on a Tuesdaily basis for that is currently a day I have off from work. The central notion of this initial post was actually brought to me by the beginnings of a poem that came to me as I was trying to motivate myself to write it. I say poem. That might be too kind. Especially as I'm currently listening to The Magnetic Fields, the musical output of Stephen Merritt, a master wordsmith who makes me cower into submission whenever I listen to the small amount of his work that I own. And anyway, it's more a set of rules than anything else.

It's just about Tuesday right now (25 minutes in as I type this), so we're good on that (and maybe only that) count. The point of this is basically to answer the various excuses I'll probably try to make to not write anything in the future. You should note I've had 2.25 cans of Carlsberg Export before I attempt this:



There'll be days when I've overhung, on those days I shall be cynical and rash.
There'll be days when I feel overdone, then I will just wing it unabashed.
There'll be days when my mind is blank, I shall promote the minds of others.
There'll be days with nothing in the tank, I'll write from beneath the covers.

There'll be days I cannot trust my thoughts, so will only deal in facts.
There'll be days I'll choose a different course, but write it up with tact.
There'll be days I feel low and frown, I'll dare to let it vent.
There'll be days I have pain in my crown, I'll write until I'm spent.

There'll be days upon days of pointless self-assessment.
Those are the days I should just strive to look at what is brilliant.


I'm not sure, I might come back to it one day. It sort of works though I think.

A couple of things I've come across of late that have amused me:

The Onion's seasonally targeted report on a new type of condom (Thanks to Tim F for pointing this out)
Also my friend Tom blogs less often than he should, and his last one on the possibilities of combining dating and blood donation is an absurd touch of genius, the sort of which I'm sure our Prime Minister would snap up for his Big Society, if only he could read.


See you next Tuesday
GST (aka Matt)