I was walking the streets in the rain, it had been pouring down for days – the city was full to bursting, a giant bucket of steaming piss ready to explode. I, for one, did not want a piss shower, although I know certain people are partial, or so I hear. Still no sign of G-man, the Mars photo had been a hoax, I imagined he was in a much more terrestrial orbit now, but where? Who knows.
I stared down the Liffey, into the murk. The Empire of Guinness across the quays was calling me home. Damn and blast it wasn’t even midday, maybe a whiskey would be ok. I’ll hold off till after lunch. As I turn and headed back to the office, I notice a couple of junkies shooting up behind a wall in the Croppy Acre. They stared back, carried on regardless. One of them gave me the finger. I was glad the gates were locked. At least I didn’t have to run away.
Back at base, I stitched together The Swit, the music was the one thing that gave me solace, outside of a bottle at any rate. As I listened, cigarette in one hand, glass in the other I drifted far and away to the sounds of B O K E H, Albion, Kraków Loves Adana, Gurr, Mick Harvey, Andrea Schroeder, Tappi Tíkarrass, L I M, Giovani Cidreira, Fatal Casualties, Σtella, mESMO, Malka, Dress Thèque and Jons.
I’d really enjoyed the interview with Toby Martin. I’m beginning to realise his new LP is a bit of a classic as well, there is some serious songwriting talent on display.
It wasn’t difficult to recall CJ Mirra and Adam Badí Donoval of Colour8 and rediscover their obsession with bodily parts, namely Lung Dart and Soft Hair. Maybe it’s Maybeline. Bodily parts…
Our album of the week was Skin by Animic (Bcoredisc). I said “The new album from Animic is simply outstanding, the band hold up a mirror to the modern world and the reflection is not a pretty one. The eight songs confront the uncertain times we live in and the fear that is abroad, engendered by climate change, a shift away from the liberal consensus, war, famine, the dystopian potential of technology and the atomisation of modern life. We all die alone, more so than ever. Gem repeats the line “I can’t offer you that much, except love”. Is love enough?
The songs reflect the cold, clinical atmosphere of the society it muses upon, all ominous electronics, uneasy shuddering beats, the hunting, the haunting. If it all sounds overwhelming, or indeed grim, then it isn’t at all. There are moments of quiet elegance, of reflection, of furious excitement, the vocals are beautiful, the arrangements are elegiac, suffused with humanity. The closing track, Whales, is a wonderful coda that stayed with me hours after I heard it first.”
As is my wont these evenings I make a solitary pilgrimage to the gallery and spend some time with the various works on display. Tonight it was this sketch by Xavier Boyer from Tahiti 80. The more I looked at it the more I wondered if Gerry had taken me for a mug? I stayed there for an age and just as I was about about to leave, I heard a door open and footsteps echo down the grand marble halls.