Tag Archives: James Blake

Triple J is a bit of a waste of time…

28 Aug

…because it’s totally mainstream and all that. But this came up in their feed and I feel that it is kind of a big deal.



9 Aug

I have a secret project that I can’t tell you about, internet.

Because that’s the way things have ended up. I’ve reached an impasse with this blog. I’ve run out of things to say that are interesting and engaging and worthy of being read by the wider public, but I’m not really keen on going too far in the other direction either. I don’t want to have a full-blown emo web-journal. That’s far too 2008.

Whoa, second shoddy paint-graph in 2 posts.

So I’ll revert to music chatter.

I’ve crafted an amazing playlist packed full of unbridled joy and rainbows, and I don’t even care that there are songs on it that old-me might have been ashamed of. Screw you, old-me.

I recognise CMYK doesn’t really scream ‘happy joy joy’ but my fifteen year old sister’s reaction to it amuses me to no end (she’s utterly terrified of it, not in an ‘over-the-top-to-be-humorous’ way, in a proper completely freaked out by it way) and seeing James play it live was a little bit special, so it counts as happy for me.

Other stand-out tracks at the moment are this:

And this:

If you’re the type of person who feels no joy at the ‘c’mon Ginger slam’ line, you are the type of person I shall henceforth avoid.

It speaks to me.

I was thinking about getting a tumblr to combat my horrible blogging of late. BUT if I got a tumblr (which will never happen) (except I do have one, mostly as a place-holder for a name) I would only ever post GIFs of Kit Harington (Jon Snow, Westeros Hipster) and answer hundreds and hundreds of questionnaires about myself, like the one below.

I can’t get to sleep without: 6 pillows, 2 blankets, a fan running, 2 cups of tea, upwards of a hundred glow-in-the-dark stars 

If I were a doll, the accessories packaged with me would be: labcoat, sensible shoes (not in the lesbian sense), an iPod, a strawberry?

I have an irrational fear of: eels

At my grandparents house I usually eat: cake and potatoes

When I was born I weighed: less than I do now

I am most opposed to: extremists, you know, the kind who jump off bridges with parachutes.

On myspace I like to stalk: ha. myspace. but yes, I like to stalk.

I am too old to be: on myspace. 

I find the thought of childbirth: terrifying.

Next door to my house is: another house.

My feet are: room temperature.

My preferred style of jeans are: skinny, for I am a hipster, and it is a requirement of my people.

I know how to cook: lemons and olives (with pasta)

I am annoyed at: english classes.

Men should always: wash.

Women should never: be impolite in company. ’tisn’t proper.

The scariest sea creature is: eel

The world is over populated with: eels

I recently broke: my fruit ninja record.

I last cried because: I felt sad.

I would like to be in an advertisement for: British tourism

My favorite shoes are: my rainbow heels, but they’re impractical for lab-work, so Cons are good too.

My mothers’ greatest fear is: aeroplanes.

And so on and so forth. So really, consider yourselves lucky I haven’t entered the world of tumblr properly (though if anyone can pick which tumblr account I created, I’ll reward them… hint; it’s pretentious and slightly Blur-themed)…

Think I’ll watch British panel shows and knit some things.

Love to your mothers.


Dugongs and Hipsters

1 Aug

If there’s one thing I can say for sure after this past weekend, it is that if given the chance, I would hug the following people:

Guy Garvey

James Blake

A dugong

Obviously there is a variety of reasons I would initiate hugs with these people/sea cows, but I think I can separate the key motivating factors into the following Venn Diagram.

Close your eyes for a moment, and imagine this scene;

(Can you read with your eyes shut?)

You’re swimming through crystal clear water, feeling content and cool, when you suddenly spy a dugong. You take a deep breath of air and dive down to greet your soon-to-be-friend. The dugong looks puzzled at first, but when you hold your arms open and beckon, it glides towards you and embraces you with its stubby little flippers. You can see a smile on its big face as you both think yes, this is a friend for life. 

That is my dream. And why wouldn’t it be? Look at this big guy:

I struggle to take photos of big things moving quite quickly through thick glass, but I think these shots convey the adorableness.

This one is a little simpler logistically (no swimming gear required). I would hug Guy Garvey because he made an entire audience of loud Aussies (and a lot of Mancunians, apparently…) weep with his story about turning to his friend (and Elbow drummer) Richard Jupp for support when he was going through some really tough times…

Hugging in that scenario seems almost as natural/required as embracing a dugong.


You’d expect an audience gathered to watch someone like James Blake play would consist mostly of mellow (if a little pretentious) types wearing lenseless glasses and skinny jeans. You’d expect a crowd of people moving slowly for fear of bumping into each other (for vision would surely be impaired by those fringes), and sparks of static electricity arcing across cardigans and vests. You’d expect a sea of iPhones with Instagram open, snapping really arty shots of James hunched over his synth.

You would not expect drunkards, preps, and bogans. At least, not in the number that they seemed to turn up in.

I guess James isn’t exactly underground, and anyone who reads Pitchfork knows how ‘cool’ it is to like him, (especially his EPs, because we all know how much cooler people are before they release albums), but I was still slightly amazed by the dichotomy presented; people not shutting up in the quiet, mournful, negative space moments, but going MAD for tracks off his EPs because these people had done their research.

It was like they knew that the quiet hipsters would be leaning against walls, foreign beer in hand, moaning about how his new music really doesn’t capture the same raw simplicity of his old stuff, so the preps and bogans said “enough of this! We will appreciate his old music ALL THE MORE, removing the only weapon you have against us, foul hipster hoard!”

But it doesn’t matter, because the music was loud and drowned out the worst of the crowd, and James looked genuinely happy the few times he looked up from his keys and smiled, so it all worked out.

And we were up the front, so the worst people were behind us.

And then this happened:

It was a good weekend.