I kind of want to do something new. I’m kind of drifting around a bit, not really committed to anything in particular, finding it hard to get really excited about much of what I’m currently doing, or trying to do. The novel idea just kind of stalled because, hey, I can’t find the right voice, and I don’t know that I’m really cut out for writing fiction anyway, so maybe I should just fall back on that idea about writing a book about all my bicycles and be done with it. It’s hard to lose this, ah, ‘journalist’ voice, as in one who writes a journal, not as in the, um, ‘music journalist’ kind of filth who writes for Bang or the NME or whoever the hell. Which makes me think of Careless Talk and about how it’s so much better than anything else and how it’s also almost over, just one more issue to be written for, and hmmm, I guess everyone is going to be wanting to really pull out all the stops and do something extra special, and that’s good obviously, but it’s still sad that it’s going to end. Even though we all knew it would, and it’s great that it’s ending in the way it is, as per the plan, and not trundling on into a second season, as it were, just because it could. Twelve issues and then leave it. Do something else. There’s something immeasurably admirable, heroic even, in that. Deliver your promises, no more, no less. Then skip off to Australia, which of course is the kind of country you can pin your dreams on, isn’t it?

And then I think, geez, I’ve been doing Tangents for over seven years now, in one form or another… do I still need to do this? And although I guess yeah, I do, now more than ever maybe since CTCL will drop from our lives soon, I still can’t help feel tired with it, like it’s a bit jaded. Or that I’m a bit jaded. It’s more me. The other writers are still doing exciting stuff, and you know it would be lovely if some of those folks who write for Everett and Steve might pass things this way at some point in the future, because hey, there’s so many great voices in that magazine, and if they aren’t doing their own paper or ezines then they could maybe write for Tangents, and… losing track of myself as ever… it’s just, maybe I need something new.

I thought about starting a record label. Partly because I hate the music industry and it seems like a nicely perverse thing to do, and partly because there are records I would love to release. Do it right, you know? Do it right in the way that Esurient did it right, or that Johnny Kane did it right. Or Simple Machines, or K, or Postcard, a few others maybe. I’d love to do a July Skies record (and incidentally this summer has been much poorer without any new July Skies recordings), and I’d love to do a Richard Bell record (his new demo has a track which features ‘a Jack Kerouac haiku, the Belgian speaking clock and a piano falling in a warm bath’. I mean, how could anyone resist that? And Sethe could make a single, a 7” of course, and that would be great, she could call her band The Little Princess. And of course the Jasmine Minks records still need releasing, so… Whatever. Maybe I’ll take out another bank loan…

But then I think, oh, school starts in another two weeks, and I know that as soon as that kicks in I’ll forget all about everything else and will lose myself in the depths of wallowing around trying to run new courses, making it all up as I go along, and I know that’s going to exhaust me something rotten, and hmmm, I’m meant to start up a new school creative magazine in the coming term, and that could be fun, but will take a lot of organising and knowing my luck the curse of Tivvy High will strike and no-one smart or really interesting will be willing to commit to it, but hey ho, that’s school life. I kind of need a Max Fisher (as in Wes Anderson’s great ‘Rushmore’), although maybe a bit more together than Max, but certainly with the same kind of weird obsessive commitment. Actually I could use a whole team of Max’s.

Right, I’m off to see if I can pick up the new Shack and Broadcast albums.

posted by duke harringay at 12:06 PM

Even though I’m not much one for going out, I’m nevertheless pretty gutted to be missing the Barcelona Pavilion shows in the UK towards the end of the month… I’m going to be in Troon, of all places, the thought of which of course fills me with glee. For those less blessed, here are the dates. I suspect the show with the Gossip will be extra special.

August 19th - John Peel Session at Maida Vale
August 20th - w/ Swearing At Motorists @ The Arts Café, London.
August 22nd - Barfly at The Monarch. London
August 23rd - ROTA @Notting Hill Arts Club, London (onstage 5.00pm)
August 23rd - The Spitz w/ The Gossip (on stage about 8pm)

Oh, and it seems that the Meccico label is putting out a limited run 7” version of the 'It's The Barcelona Pavilion' EP on the 25th too, so for anyone, particularly in the UK, who hasn’t already heard the rampant delights of ‘The New Materiology’, there’s your chance.

posted by duke harringay at 9:39 AM

My voice is kind of fucked. This often happens in the holidays if I go anywhere there is loud music and I have to talk loudly. See, in the first few weeks of the holidays my voice kind of forgets how to work, particularly at high volumes. I just don’t talk that much. It’s always the same going back to school in fact, it’s a shock to be among so many people, among so many conversations. I get kind of spooked, and my throat always gets ragged after the first few days, talking to kids all the time… Well, anyway, yeah, my voice/throat feels like that today courtesy of the Cavern, and trying to communicate over noisy Pop music. I felt it go immediately I tried talking to Everett over the sound of the Playwrights soundchecking, like my vocal chords just went ‘woah!’ and packed up immediately. A bit like muscles stretching and screaming trying to sprint cold up Stoke Hill in the mornings.

Still, it’s worth it because we had a good time; seeing lovely people, hearing great sounds, and experiencing a bit of Life outside of the Geek Lair. The Playwrights were pretty stunning, very dynamic, even more like the Wolfhounds in a live context, although as ET and I agreed this morning, that comparison is almost totally useless because no-one else knows what the Wolfhounds sound like, but that’s not my fault, so sod it, I’m going to keep making the reference and then maybe people will go and check out the Cherry Red compilation that’s surely still available. So yeah, the Playwrights were earnest and Uptight, whirlpooling out their songs of 21st century suburban relapse…

Also on the bill were a local acoustic duo called The Worry Dolls who sounded beguiling and brimful of intriguing promise. If they learn to trim the excess from their songs and add more of those Kristin Hersch just-off-kilter notes then they could cut to the quick.

And then there was The Legend! Or then there were The Legend!… ET and Dania, making profoundly magical madness from a guitar, a taped piano, an upturned drum and tremulous voices that ache like angels so brimful of love and hate it overflows weeping on the weary world below, and we in turn are carried away on the torrents of raw emotion. ET hurls a tirade about wanting to fuck Vincent Gallo and waking beside a love who suddenly transfigures into the form of Courtney Love and ‘the personification of pure evil’, and in so many respects it’s all about context, and I don’t know whether to laugh or cry. Dania sings softly and I’m standing transfixed, recalling the brittle bones of Spinanes’ gorgeous ‘Entire’.

Pure… this must be… it has to be…

It is.

Later we sit in the living room and drink tea, and later still laying in bed I listen to the murmured voices of ET and Catherine drift up from the yard below our window, and I smile at the pleasure of having new special people around our house.

The little things you remember.

posted by duke harringay at 9:06 PM

I’m starting to get a bit concerned about my brother… I keep trying to call him on his mobile but all I get is redirected to a landline and then a BT answerphone. I managed to leave a message a few days ago, but now all I get is the BT message saying that the voicemailbox is full. Plus my texts go unanswered, and his work email is similarly getting no response… hmmmmm. I tell myself he’s probably away working abroad for a while, or maybe even on holiday, but I just don’t know. I talked to my Mom on the phone yesterday and mentioned it and she says he hasn’t been in touch for ages (not unusual in itself really), but the last time she texted him he texted back saying how much he hated his new job, and he sounded pretty depressed. So, well, I just don’t know. Mom is now really worried too, I think she’s going to call his work to see what’s up. I’m sure it’s all fine, but I can’t help but be a bit worried.

And having written all that I bet he’ll turn up soon saying he was off shark fishing in the Bahamas or something, wondering why everyone was so concerned. Whatever.

Anyway, I doubt he reads this but if he is, uh, John, give us a call, huh?

posted by duke harringay at 1:27 PM