East Enders Christmas Special

 I've been back to Benfield for the first time in 5 years, and it was a wonderful experience -:

I know the summer was lousy, costing us well over a third of our cricket fixtures because of the amount of rain, but the football season hasn’t been too bad in comparison, thus far. Other than a couple of storms at the end of November and early in December, that caused the cancellation of fixtures away to Ponteland and at home to Shields Athletic respectively, Percy Main Amateurs haven’t been hit too badly. In fact, we’ve played 17 league games of the 30 required which, allied to our traditional disinclination to participate in cup competitions beyond the opening round, means we’re on schedule to finish our season around the time the clocks go forward, if the Good Lord’s willing and the Coble Dene don’t rise. Presumably, as well as the complete shutdown scheduled for 28th December, this is why the Alliance also gave us Saturday 21st December off.

Thankfully, there were plenty of other games scheduled for that day to keep me out of mischief. In fact, I could have grabbed myself a tick by visiting Darlington Town in the Northern League Second Division, for their 2-2 draw with sunderland West End, although the fact kick off was moved to 1.30, reason unknown, did make the idea of travelling down there a theoretical rather than practical one. In the Alliance, both Ovingham, 4-0 winners over Wideopen Reserves and Wrekenton Blue Star, who lost 3-1 to Prudhoe Youth Club Seniors Reserves, were at home with 2pm kick offs. The big problem for me with either of those was getting across the river. While the latter two grounds are both served by regular Go North East services, the intense bottleneck caused by the closure of the A167 flyover and the related cancellation of all Metro services from the south, augmented by insane levels of shoppers on account of it being the last Saturday before Christmas, meant I had to pick something reasonably easy to get to. After dismissing thoughts of Blyth Town v Shildon in Northern League Division 1 on account of it being a bit glamorous for my tastes, I settled on the competitive sounding contest between Newcastle East End and Burradon & New Fordley in the Alliance top division.

I’ve a lot of time for both clubs; East End have reached where they are by a whole load of hard graft taking them up from the Tyneside Amateur League and Fordley are probably the favourites in the title race in the Alliance Premier. Additionally, I’d not seen East End since they moved to Coach Lane from Walker College. I thought, wrongly as it turns out, they’d be using what was Team Northumbria’s old pitch, but they were actually on the 4G pitch that Newcastle Independent have recently vacated for their bizarre move to Kingston Park rugby ground. After Stagecoach failed to send a number 1 in a timeous fashion, I only entered the ground as play got underway. From my angle, it seemed as if East End took the lead with 5 seconds of the start of play, but it actually transpired that it was 2 minutes into the game, and I’d actually been late. Mea culpa for that. In my defence, I subsequently never took my eyes off proceedings, other than to check out NUFC goals at Ipswich and Hibs beating Ross County at the Leith San Siro.

What I saw, despite a blustery north to south wind, blowing from one end of the pitch to the other, was a good, tight, competitive contest that Fordley edged 3-2, probably fairly on the balance of play, though the result was in the balance right until the final whistle. It’s always good to see a former student doing well. Trae Rowlandson seems to have really settled down at Burradon and appears to be enjoying his football. He slammed in a quality equaliser, via a slight deflection, and basically tormented East End’s left flank all game. Well done to him. Well done to everyone else for a top quality contest. I’m even prepared to congratulate Go North East for dropping me home in time to see the last knockings of Newcastle’s evisceration of Ipswich.

Boxing Day is one of the red letter days in the football calendar, but over the past few years I’ve not seen many games on this date. Partly because of the weather and partly because of the Alliance’s annual Saturnalian cessation. This year, I was determined to haul myself out my pit to take in Benfield versus Blue Star at Sam Smith’s Park. It would be my first time back at the ground in 5 years, since before COVID-19 in fact. That feels such a long time ago. Almost a lifetime in fact. Sadly, many of those involved in the club back then, such as the wonderful Johnny Innes and Dave Robson, are no longer with us. What I must say is that both the Chair, Craig Bell and the Secretary, my dear friend Gary Thompson, have been urging me since the end of last season to get myself back along to the ground and see how the Lions are progressing.

Heading down Benfield Road and along Chesterwood, I must admit to a level of nervous anticipation as the turnstile approached. However, I paid in, quickly spotted Gary and took my place on the terracing behind the goal, for the visit of Newcastle Blue Star and their charming, unintentionally amusing Ultras. Over the past few seasons, I’ve been to plenty of Benfield away games, but to be back in the home ground of my still beloved Northern League side, who I followed devotedly from their accession to the Northern League in 2003, was a joy and an honour. The place has been improved immeasurably and it is a real credit to the club and the league as a whole. 

It was particularly touching to welcomed back by so many people I’d not seen in so long, from Big Mark to David Robson and Syd Phelan, as well as Craig and Gary of course. I felt immediately among friends and people I deeply respect. And I tell you what, the team aren’t bad these days either, deservedly taking all three points with a clever, deceptive free kick from captain Andre Bennett. Massive credit also goes out to keeper Thomas Shanley, once of Burradon of course, who appeared to be the first credible replacement between the sticks for the godlike genius of Andrew Grainger, who at the age of 42, may not return from his latest injury. One goal was enough, and I celebrated lustily with everyone around me at full time. It felt so special, and I was so honoured to be there.

Indeed, things got even better for Benfield on Saturday 28 December, when they saw off the title challenge of Redcar Athletic, beating them 2-1. Unfortunately, I’d opted to go to Whitley Bay 2 West Auckland 1 instead, which was a largely sterile affair, made amusing by Bay’s 94th minute winner from a free kick where the wall crumbled like a concrete flyover next to the Felling By-Pass. 

Quelques chansons et livres dans ma vie

2024 books and music; the last round-up...

And so, we come to the end of another year, which means I am required to discuss my latest cultural adventures that date from October 1st onwards. A couple of years ago, I decided not to rank books and music, whether newly released or from the past, in any order of merit, so the lists here that follow the discussion of recent events and releases, are purely chronological in form. As an aside, TQ #74 included lists of what several of the contributors had read in 2024, with mine being edited for reasons of space to end by saying “38 books by Ian Rankin,” which amused me greatly. Anyway, here goes

BOOKS:

The first thing I read in October was a choice made by serendipity; Organic Music Societies, by various American and Scandinavian musicologists, was a book I found in Sainsbury's car park when dropping off a load of recycling. It is a fascinating, extensive but decidedly niche account of Don Cherry and his wife Moki's experimental music and lifestyle activities. Set mainly in Sweden during the early 70s, it details Cherry's attempts to blend African, Asian and other “pure” musical elements to his own improvisational practice, while living in a kind of artistic commune with likeminded souls. At times, it's a tough, almost academic read, but you're probably aware that Don's music can be an equally tough listen at times. An interesting and committed retelling of a story that existed far beyond the mainstream more than half a century ago.

The 38th Ian Rankin book I read this year was Midnight and Blue, the 25th and I'd guess, penultimate Rebus book. This time around, the old curmudgeon is in the nick for killing Big Ger Cafferty and while incarcerated, he is up to his usual tricks, namely solving seemingly insoluble murder mysteries and getting under the skin of authority. On the outside, Siobhan Clarke is looking into the disappearance of a schoolgirl, leading us into a world of online pornography, pseudo-celebrities and exploitation. Inside, one of Rebus's fellow prisoners is found with his throat slashed in his locked cell, his cellmate having been thumped unconscious to boot. The victim was banged up after leaving his own blood at a break-in that conveniently showed the premises were being used by a major southern drug dealer. One of the advantages of Rankin's Edinburgh quasi-village setting is that the connections between the cases do not seem forced.

Rankin is good in detail, which seems as if it is there merely to make the novel seem authentic but proves instrumental in the denouement. As Rankin's books have become more character than plot focused, the reader stands a fighting chance of solving both the murders, and in some ways it is the ease and fluidity of Rankin's prose that allows him to smuggle crucial points past all but the most attentive of readers. It's not a spoiler to say that there will most likely be a Rebus #26, as this ends with a cliffhanger and unfinished business. And that's fine for me.

I've adopted the title for this blog from Michel Houellebecq, whose latest (and as yet untranslated) work of non-fiction is the story of him getting involved in another unseemly argument about Islam with a leading French intellectual. Entitled Quelques mois dans ma vie, I await its English publication with bated breath. This is especially true because all I had heard about his latest (and supposedly last) novel, Annihilation was that Houellebecq had gone soft and sentimental in his old age. Therefore, to prepare myself, I firstly read the anthology Interventions 2020; the third iteration of the original book, brought up to date with accounts of more unnecessary contemporary feuding, snide digs and deliberately obtuse interviews. The tone is best captured by his prediction about life after the COVID lockdown; “Everything will be the same, but worse.”

Annihilation is supposed to be Houellebecq's final foray into fiction. It is certainly his longest and, arguably, it is his best. Certainly, other than the portrayal of a dislikeable sister-in-law it has the smallest serving of bile of any of his books, not to mention a complete lack of snide nastiness. The novel's protagonist, Paul Raison, a French equivalent of a Whitehall Mandarin, finds himself at the beck and call of the workaholic Finance Minister, which suits Paul just fine. Although he lives with his wife Prudence, they lead separate lives and seem unable to work up enough passion to dislike each other. 

While France sleepwalks into another presidential election, a terrorist group with unclear motives posts online videos of both fake and real acts of violence, including a lifelike video of Paul's boss losing his head by guillotine. The terrorists do not explain their actions or issue lists of demands. French intelligence cannot even place the group on a political map, as they firstly seem left wing, then right wing, subsequently Catholic traditionalist and eventually neo-pagan. 

Paul's father, a retired intelligence officer, suffers a stroke and loses his ability to communicate. Although distanced from his family, Paul works with his siblings and his father's partner to put together a care plan. When they see their father is trapped in a nursing home whose austerity policies usher patients towards death, they turn in despair to Paul's working-class brother-in-law, who knows people who may or may not be part of a cadre of French nationalist / Catholic traditionalist paramilitaries. Whoever they are, Paul's friends oppose the modern state and operate very efficiently. 

With one part of his family life resolved, a further plot development unheard of in Houellebecq novels, sees Paul and Prudence slowly fall back in love. It seems Prudence is helped in her efforts to revive her marriage by her new interest in Wicca. Houellebecq keeps the plot moving, but in the final act he brings to the fore a storyline only hinted at earlier: Paul learns he is at least as sick as his father and will likely die within a year. Annihilation, however, does not end with Paul's diagnosis, but with his death. Houellebecq hints at questions of violence, politics, and economics that continue to confront France and the rest of the world. No part of life stops to give way to any other part. Some questions are solved, some go unanswered, and some will not find the answers until after they die. This, for Houellebecq, is a happy ending.

The last book I've consumed this year is Porridge: The Complete Scripts and Series Guide. This is a wonderfully nostalgic, enormously enjoyable and hugely detailed treasure trove about one of the most iconic sitcoms of all time. All the various characters come back to life magically on the page and, having seen the original episodes about a million times each, you hear their voices. It's a lovely read and, contrary to expectations, the I used to think I was working class until I went to Glasgow, and I realized I was middle class joke, only appears twice. Perhaps my familiarity with it could be explained away, if Clement and La Frenais also used it in The Likely Lads?

Finally, on a literary note, the highlight of the years for me was having a couple of pints in the Station Bar in Durham with David Peace. I'd gone to see him at the Gala Theater discussing Munichs as part of the Durham Book Festival, which was a fascinating and well-attended event. Afterwards, we sampled some Wylam Ales and had a chinwag. He's a lovely bloke with more fascinating projects ahead, although the long-awaited Yorkshire CCC five act tragedy may not see the light of day, I'm sad to report.

 

John King London Country Fiction

Ian Rankin Let it Bleed Fiction

Ian Rankin Black & Blue Fiction

Ian Rankin Knots & Crosses Fiction

Magnus Mills The Cure for Disgruntlement Fiction

Ian Rankin The Hanging Garden Fiction

Kim Gordon Girl in a Band Non-Fiction

Duncan Stone Different Class Non-Fiction

Various Nightwatchman 43 Non-Fiction

Various Nightwatchman 44 Non-Fiction

Ian Rankin West Wind Fiction

Ian Rankin The Complaints Fiction

Ian Rankin A Cool Head Fiction

Ian Rankin Tooth & Nail Fiction

Ian Rankin Standing in Another Man's Grave Fiction

Ian Rankin The Flood Fiction

Ian Rankin Watchman Fiction

Ian Rankin Rebus's Scotland Non-Fiction

Ian Rankin Long Shadows Play

Ian Rankin Dark Entries Fiction

Ian Rankin Dark Road Play

Ian Rankin Beggars Banquet Fiction

Ian Rankin Dark Remains Fiction

Ian Rankin A Game Called Malice Play

Ian Rankin Witch Hunt Fiction

Ian Rankin Bleeding Hearts Fiction

Ian Rankin Blood Hunt Fiction

Duncan Steer Cricket: The Golden Age Non-Fiction

David Underdown Start of Play Non-Fiction

Ian Rankin The Impossible Dead Fiction

Ian Rankin Hide & Seek Fiction

Ian Rankin Strip Jack Fiction

Ian Rankin The Black Book Fiction

Ian Rankin Mortal Causes Fiction

Various Nightwatchman 45 Non-Fiction

Ian Rankin Dead Souls Fiction

Ian Rankin Set in Darkness Fiction

Moby Then It Fell Apart Non-Fiction

Ian Rankin The Falls Fiction

Rory Waterman Come Here to this Gate Poetry

Rory Waterman Sarajevo Roses Poetry

Ian Rankin Resurrection Men Fiction

Ian Rankin A Question of Blood Fiction

Ian Rankin Fleshmarket Close Fiction

Ronnie Spector Be My Baby Non-Fiction

Marc Nash The Death of the Author (In Triplicate) Fiction

Magnus Mills The Encouragment of Others Fiction

Ian Rankin Even Dogs in the Wild Fiction

Paul Hanley Sixteen Again Non-Fiction

Ian Rankin Rather Be the Devil Fiction

Robert Winder Hell for Leather Non-Fiction

Colin Larkin The Guinness Who's Who of Folk Music Non-Fiction

Ian Rankin In A House of Lies Fiction

Ian Rankin A Song for the Dark Times Fiction

John Burnside The Dumb House Fiction

Harry Crews Scar Lover Fiction

CLR James Beyond A Boundary Non-Fiction

Joe England Lone Moor Road Fiction

Gotthold Ephraim Lessing Nathan the Wise Play

Will Woolard Cricket's Crazy Moments Non-Fiction

Irvine Welsh Resolution Fiction

Peter Handke The Left Handed Woman Fiction

William Faulkner As I Lay Dying Fiction

ee cummings The Enormous Room Non-Fiction

Nick J Brown To Rise in the Dark Fiction

Roddy Doyle The Women Behind the Doors Fiction

David Peace Munich's Fiction

Various Don & Moki Cherry's Organic Music Societies Non-Fiction

Ian Rankin Midnight & Blue Fiction

Michel Houellebecq Interventions 2020 Non-Fiction

Michel Houellebecq Annihilation Fiction

Dick Clement & Ian La Frenais Porridge: The Complete Scripts Play

MUSIC:

October began with a trip to Manchester to see Godspeed You! Black Emperor at the Ritz. It was an incredible performance. The film projections before the band starts up, show oil refineries burning as wildfires rage; the word “hope” flickers as if to show the precariousness of the concept, introducing Hope Drone. The message is we are living in a state of emergency, one they remain committed to facing head on. The new album, No Title as of 13 February 2024, 28,340 Dead is a reference to the estimated death toll in Gaza at the time of the record's completion. The fact they play four songs from it in an eight-song set list which only once reaches back pre-reunion suggests a band intent on pushing forward, remaining relevant. Over almost two hours the drama, textures and violence is gripping. This is grand-scale music; cathartic, magisterial, elegiac if you will, but it is the detail and sensitivity of their interplay that fuels it. The star of the show is violinist Sophie Trudeau, who plays a lament as drums begin to vibrate in frenzy. The brimming guitar gradually slows and stretches out gorgeously to allow tumbling fills within each beat, climaxing in a furious rally of cavernous, clarion noise, as the three guitarists play a cascading refrain from somewhere deep within the noise.

The mid-section is where the violence really hits. As oil refinery images rage, Fire at Static Valley approaches metal territory, with an impressive guitar figure through the churn. The unruly, vaulting riff feeds into Gray Rubble Green Shoots, which starts in a state of static desolation, until the spark catches. Trudeau's violin sounds particularly beautiful. Only Piss Crowns Are Trebled, from 2015's Asunder, Sweet and Other Distress, sounds almost conventional, a thought destroyed by the closing Sad Mafioso. Desolate, bent guitar notes ring out amid flurries of noise before the song races to a dense, squalling conclusion, Trudeau's violin cutting through the tumult. As it crashes to an end, GY!BE keep the drone feedback going for at least 10 minutes, creating a space for awe and contemplation that's just as impactful as the previous, battering two hours.

Ever since they first appeared with 1997's stunning F♯ A♯ ∞, Godspeed You! Black Emperor have been at their most potent when embellishing apocalyptic post-rock soundscapes with incongruous flashes of vulnerability and beauty. It perhaps isn't hugely surprising that their first album in three years sees them become one of the few acts to release music that explicitly references the genocide in Gaza. Musically, this is their strongest set since 2002's Yanqui UXO, with the three songs that pass the 10-minute mark particularly stirring. Raindrops Cast in Lead builds slowly via a repeating motif on distorted guitar, before a gentle interlude precedes a squalling climax. Album closer Gray Rubble Green Shoots ends more contemplatively, with Sophie Trudeau's violin to the fore, the band taking a step back from the abyss. Bold, brave and brilliant.

Almost as loud, but not quite as subtle are Bardo Pond. Feeling flush when I got my retirement bit, I immediately ordered the Matador re-release of Set & Setting and the 1990s B-sides compilation Melt Away. The 25th anniversary edition of the former is a masterful, immense slab of lazy, stoned post rock, that begins with the 11-minute epic Walking Stick Man. It sets the tone with a heavy Hendrix sonic wall of drone. The dual guitars are played at a drugged pace, developing only slightly around a single riff. The similarities to late 60's/early 70's heavy psych rock and stoner rock is striking. There are moments in this 11-minute tune where we get brief, varied guitar excursions but overall, it just blasts its way along in a linear fashion with Isobel's tortured, beautiful vocals, howling incomprehensible lyrics. Datura is one of my favorite tracks featuring layers of texture for added variety and resulting in a gorgeous fuzzed out space trip. Another strong track is Crawl Away which has the stoner feel of Walking Stick Man, and some of the freakiest spaced-out guitars on the disc. This Time (So Fucked) is an interesting tune with a melody (yes, there's actually a melody), though of course the wall of sound is present and Isobel's vocals represent anguish. Cross Current caught my attention with its trancey violin intro that is joined by a massive guitar assault slowly fading in as the violin continues its melody in the background.

What I love about Bardo Pond is their repetitive nature; incessant jamming around single themes with little variation in hypnotic and there's no questioning the beauty of the heavily dosed acid guitars on this disc. Double-LP compilation Melt Away was released in tandem with the 25th anniversary reissue of Set & Setting. It comprises one LP of material that previously appeared on various comps and a split 10-inch with Mogwai, and another of late 1990s ephemera. Some might complain that Melt Away comes with no liner notes and only the best information about the sourcing of this material, but let's face it, no one puts on Bardo Pond in order to read. The Philadelphia band's slow-motion maelstrom of sound is designed to put a stop to such activity. Just turn the music up and lay your head down or, at least, confine it to up-and-down motion; the Sabbath-worthy, slow-motion stumble of Shadow Puppet practically demands that you explore the middle zone between head-nodding and head-banging. Previously available as a digital single, its appearance on a physical format feels like the restoration of a cosmic imbalance.

Certain of these songs have been available before, but not in these versions. There's a shorter, more guitar-focused take of 1997's Anadamide that gives the listener more time to get swallowed in looping, decaying sonic quicksand. Tapir Dub achieves peak wooziness by stripping a thick layer of guitars off 1996's Tapir Song to focus on its unhurried rhythm and Isobel's murmuring vocal. Nowadays, archival material is all that Bardo Pond offers. The heavy-psychedelic combo played its last gig before the lockdown, and rumors within give little hope that anything new will be recorded. Tragically, I never got to see them.

Fortunately, that is not the case for Clock DVA, but any hope I had that they would be running through Thirst or White Souls in Black Suits was soon dispelled in front of a sizeable crowd at The Lubber Fiend at the back end of October. Sole original member and innovative driving force behind the project, Adi Newton, has resolutely plowed a furrow, despite zero commercial potential in his oeuvre. That said, this strong, muscular synth pop, that thankfully never threatened to deafen us with power electronics, kept me interested and alert on a dreary Tuesday evening. I didn't buy anything from the merch stall, as I didn't know where to begin, but I'll keep an eye on these in the future.

At the other end of the spectrum, Shunyata Improvisation Group barely speak above a whisper, and this is what makes their Profound Subtlety album, recorded at The Globe last December, just that bit subtle too. Over the course of 50 minutes, nothing much happens, and the piece draws to a close with the listener surprised that any time has passed at all, so modest are the aims of the performers in this piece. However, the acoustic grandeur of Shovel Dance Collective's self-titled album is a constant joy. The fact this is one of 2024's best releases is best personified by the joyous, uplifting Rolling Wave instrumental and the rousing maritime singalong, Merry Golden Tree. I was impressed by them in April at The Lubber Fiend, but this blows that performance out of the water. Steeleye Span meets Here & Now. 

Even better in terms of this year's albums was Macdara Yeates's sublime Traditional Singing from Dublin, which is so brilliant a record that Shelley and I took the rattler down the Durham coastline one Sunday afternoon in October to catch the fella himself as part of the Hartlepool Folk Festival. Having been forced to take lunch at McDonald's and noticing that almost every citizen of Hartlepool looks like a drug addict, child molester or victim of domestic violence, we were glad to take a bus out of the dismal town center to the Headland where music was playing . I'd happily stay the night out there, if I could drink deeply in the Fisherman's Arms, where Macdara played. He did a chronological run through the album, with The Shores of Lough Bran still being the highlight and One Starry Night not being so far behind, but the whole album sounds so much more vibrant and muscular live. He's a grand fella to talk to as well and I sincerely hope to make it to The Night Before Larry Got Stretched at The Cobblestone in Smithfield at some point. The only drawback to this gig was the ignorance of the English. Hey-nonny-nonny types wandering in the pub mid-song, standing in the way and talking over the music. Pricks. Say what you want about Kneecap, but they'd not tolerate that.

I actually was offered a ticket to see Kneecap the other week but, same as the offer to see The Jesus & Mary Chain, I had to turn them down. You'll not believe how much this new bathroom and new kitchen installation has been taking out of me. I've hardly had a chance to get acquainted with Jill Lorean's new album, Peace Cult, which is an absolute crying shame. The project was heralded by the release of the sublime, sludgy drawl of Crushing the Campsies, but that isn't indicative of the album as a whole. As strong as their debut This Rock, Peace Cult shows that Jill Lorean is a real band; a powerful power trio and not just some mates helping Jill out on a solo record. Andy Monaghan (bass) and Pete Kelly (drums) are teachers. The bonds between the musicians are strong; instinctive and unbreakable. When the Bell Stopped Ringing is one of the songs of the year, with a set of lyrics we should all take note of. I absolutely love this band. Them and Dragged Up continue to show that Glasgow is the center of the world for guitar driven indie. Long live Byers Road and Forza Kelvingrove!!

Up in Ashington, they're partying like it's 1964 with the return of the railway linking the world's biggest pit village with civilization. A good soundtrack to the celebrations should be St. James Infirmary's fantastic homage to the world of the Velvet Underground, Can and others of that ilk, All Will Be Well. Trying to keep track of all of Gary Lang's musical adventures is a fond ask, but this is as crucial as At Second Avenue. A whole album of stuff that reminds you of What Goes On (Live 69 version) or Hallogallo but isn't. A tremendous set of earworms. 

The same can be said of Wormhole World's seasonal triple CD. Undoubtedly the least pretentious, most gregarious and undyingly supportive of all the underground micro labels releasing stuff currently in this country, they have assembled 80 tracks from acts as varied as Gidouille, St James Infirmary and some joker called ian cusack that are tangentially associated with the festive season. I think it's a magnificent project and one that you really should support.

The same is true of absolutely everything Andy Wood does with TQ magazine. His final gig of the year at The Globe saw a superbly curated complementary series of 3 acts. First up were Ammonites from Whitby, who were spine-tinglingly macabre and nightmare provoking spooky. Inspired by the writings of Arthur Machen, sinister synth work augmented quasi Victorian mythological and psychological horror (no gore necessary). I'm really glad they weren't on top of the bill as I'd have had nightmares after that. Next up we had the live debut of All the Heavens Were a Bell, a kind of Tyneside NAU supergroup. A ditzy preppy lass on guitar alternatively declaimed intensely personal prose poetry and sex and that sort of thing, while incessantly pushing her hair back behind her ears while wrestling peals of feedback. The other participant was a beady longhair playing a whole selection of effects pedals and some steel wire strapped to a bit of wood the size of an ironing board. It was loud and I loved it immensely. Top of the bill were a shorthanded TSR2 who reanimated the analogue synth with a superb evocation of the worlds of Tangerine Dream and Jean Michel Jarre, meets Adamski and early Depeche Mode. They're a great act, making pretty sounds that fit perfectly together. All in all, a super final live event of the year. 

Finally, I'd like to talk about going to see Wrest at The Grove on December 6th. I've long been used to attending gigs with Ben (I think The Pigeon Detectives in October 2008 was our first and Godspeed You! Black Emperor in Manchester our most recent), but this was the first time I'd had the privilege of seeing a band with Chloe and Lewis. Obviously Shelley and I saw Wrest at Barrowlands at the beginning of September, but this was better. Partly because I felt Wrest worked better in the more intimate surroundings of The Grove, which I'm starting to think is one of Newcastle's best venues, but mainly because Lew and Chloe had such a brilliant time, as did Shelley, who spent most of the evening screaming like a teenybopper and poiuring Two by Two Snake Eyes down her throat. Nah, in all seriousness, Wrest's delicate, crafter, anthemic pop, the seems to plow a course between Belle & Sebastian and Big Country just gets better, and catchier, on repeated hearings. They may not be Falkirk's finest, as Arab Strap still surely hold that title, but they are the most melodic of bands not to have come from Bellshill that I'm aware of. Eventually they will be huge, I guarantee it.

Muireann Bradley I Kept These Old Blues 2023

Dermot O'Brien Spancil Hill 1974

Sean O'Se The Boys of Kilmichael 1968

Peony Live at TQ Live 2024

Dragged Up Missing Person 2024

Various Any Love is Good Love 2021

The Mekons Existentialism 2016

Neil Young Before & After 2023

Kim Gordon The Collective 2024

Milkweed Folklore 1979-2024

The Tiller Boys Big Noise in the Jungle 1979

Isolated Community The Rock, The Watcher, The Stranger 2024

Dragged Up High on Ripple 2024

Milkweed Myths & Legends of Wales 2022

Milkweed The Mound People 2023

Dragged Up D/U 2020

House Proud Live EP 2024

Jon Langford & the Bright Shiners Where It Really Starts 2024

Shellac To All Trains 2024

Shovel Dance Collective Offcuts & Oddities 2024

Thomas McCarthy Last Man Standing 2020

Deaf German Tyres 2021

John the Postman Still Above God 2014

Gerry Mandarin Oddrophenia 2024

Deafbed Birth. School. Work. Death 2024

Stephen Pastel & Gavin Thomson This is Memorial Device 2024

Dirty 3 Love Changes Everything 2024

Dove's Vagaries Goodness & Guile 2024

The McPeake Family Will Ye Go, Lassie Go? 1962

Royal Trux Accelerator 1998

Drooping Finger Arthur's Hell 2024

Drooping Finger Arthur's Hell Reimagined 2024

Gerry Mandarin Sound Affects 2024

Lovable Wholes Show Your Working Out 2024

Various Field Trip 1993

Various Creation for the Nation 1997

Various Brat Pack 1994

Various The Mutha of Creation 1994

Various USA Today 1995

Various WEA NME C30 1994

Macdara Yeates Traditional Singing from Dublin 2024

Godspeed You! Black Emperor NO TITLE AS OF 13 FEBRUARY 2024 28,340 DEAD 2024

Shovel Dance Collective The Shovel Dance 2024

Shunyata Improvisation Group Profound Subtlety 2024

Bardo Pond Melt Away 1999

Bardo Pond Set & Setting 1999

Jill Lorean Peace Cult 2024

St James Infirmary All Will Be Well 2024

Various Wormhole Xmas 2024

THEATRICAL PERFORMANCES:

As well as the readings and the gigs, Shelley and I have been broadening our horizons. First with a trip to Northern Stage to see Please Right Back, Theater 1927's intriguing tale about a missing father who struggles to tell his children the truth. Four actors juggle more than 20 parts in a story of a family whose father is apparently on a madcap odyssey which he relays though letters to his teenage daughter, Kim and son, Davey. The latter is a screen animation who feels as magically real and characterful as his older sister. Folded into this is the drama of their mother, trying to fend off Sally, who might be a harmless busy-body or someone altogether more sinister.

Darkness strains against childlike make-believe but what seems like whimsy or dream logic at first reveals itself to be part of a controlled story, inspired by the childhood of writer, Suzanne Andrade. It is about the role that fiction can play for children processing trauma and facing difficult experiences safely. Reality collides with fantasy, memories are enacted before zipping forward again to the story at hand, and animated characters interact with live actors, along with delightful breakouts into song, dance, comedy and psychedelic make-believe. The set is a triptych of screens, and the animation keeps to black-and-white imagery with occasional, glorious, bursts of colour, flipping from naive joy to nightmarish. Sometimes it looks like actors have jumped inside the pages of a graphic novel, other times as if the animation is extending itself into their world. It is all wonderfully tongue-in-cheek, but the tension and emotion build alongside this archness. I'm so glad we went to see this.

The same is true of a trip to Odeon Silverlink to see a production of Swan Lake by the English National Ballet. I had never seen ballet before, and I hold my hands up and exclaim that I'm delighted Shelley took me to this. It was a 4-act play, with the full Tchaikovsky experience diluted by the removal of the tragic final act. Instead, it ends up as a gloriously happy ending as Siegfried marries Odette / Odile, rather than mourning her passing. This production, a revival of Derek Deane's 1997 production in-the-round was filmed at the Royal Albert Hall. A fully immersive experience, it transports us to the lakeside, a unique take on a ballet that was first performed in Moscow in 1877.

Perhaps we might take in some opera in 2025. Who knows? I do know I'll be taking in Mogwai, Orange Claw Hammer, Lindisfarne, The Mekons, Gang of Four and Teenage Fanclub in 2025, with hopefully many others to be added as well.

Shu+E23+A2:D23+A2:D24+A2:D23 The Globe Jan-18

Poor Things ODEON Silverlink Jan-20

Shunyata Improvisation Group Cullercoats Watch House Mar-08

BRB Voicecoil Depletion Lubber Fiend Mar-23

Shovel Dance Collective Milkweed Lubber Fiend Apr-12

L Devine Wylam Brewery Apr-24

Dragged Up House Proud Museum Vaults, sunderland May-05

Jon Langford & the Bright Shiners Broken Chanter The Central May-18

Deafbed Me & Earl John Charlton Blyth Headway Jun-14

Peony Ruaridh Law The Globe Jun-20

Dragged Up The Cumberland Jul-27

Lovable Wholes Sybil Ends The Globe Aug-13

Wrest Barrowlands, Glasgow Aug-31

The Critic Cineworld The Gate Sep-20

Modulator ESP St James Infirmary The Globe Sep-26

Godspeed You! Black Emperor Manchester Ritz Oct-01

Please Right Back Northern Stage Oct-03

Macdara Yeates Hartlepool Fisherman's Arms Oct-06

David Peace Durham Gala Theater Oct-12

Clock DVA Burnthouse Lane Lubber Fiend Oct-26

Wrest Tired of Fighting The Grove Dec-06

TSR 2 Ammonites The Globe Dec-19