Free Prog & Krautrock!

It will go down in history that the last CDs I bought were Peter Gabriel's first two solo albums. I had them on vinyl a long long time ago and my memory isn't what it is. I still like the first one but that's about it of Mr WOMAD's long, distinguished, boring solo career.

Our house is bursting with CDs, DVDs and books. There just isn't room for any more. Admittedly we have listened to the CDs at least once each. But many of the books and DVDs will have to wait for my release from that hamster wheel called work as Philip Larkin said so eloquently.

I suppose Spotify is my friend. I'm not particularly enthusiastic about it as it makes finding new and old music too easy and hardly rewards the artists for their art. But that's the modern way. They make their money from live shows nowadays. So why should I feel guilty? But I do.

I'm spending a fiver a month on Spotify's "Unlimited" package, free of those five-an-hour British Gas adverts. I suppose it's about time Rupert Murdoch got his grubby paws on it and it's incorporated into Sky Songs.

You Know This Much Is True

I was reading Gary Kemp's autobiography and, boy, did it go on!

Gary can write a mean, lean tune with concise, deep lyrics. But when he starts tapping those computer keyboard keys, well, did we really have to know EVERYTHING about his life? He only reaches his third birthday on page 147!

Three months I was at it, learning more about the Kemp brothers than I thought humanly possible and by the time they'd been through Bert Weedon's Play In A Day for 73 consecutive days I had just about had enough. I stood up from my seat in the train carriage, held the book aloft and shouted at the top of my voice "Tony Hadley is the greatest soul singer the world has ever produced!" and with palpable relief threw the book out of the open window just as we passed Millwall's football ground.

To cut a long story short I had truly lost my mind.

Middle Aged Fred

On Saturday night the conversation was about festivals and live music. I felt so old. I've reluctantly been to one festival: an awful GLC one where the highlight was The Three Johns! And my last gig was Air at the Brixton Academy, which was full of idiots talking all the way through as I kept going to the bar in frustration.

I doubt my cynicism is welcome when live music enthusiasts attempt to get me to join them down memory lane. I couldn't feel less at home if classic cars were being discussed. In fact in my twenties I would spend many hours in pubs listening to my friends enjoy themselves in this way.

I'm not good company. My glass is half-empty, ready to be knocked out of my hand by someone punching the air to Pendulum on the jukebox.