My Glastonbury 2011 playlists on YouTube and Spotify

Tracks from 10 of the girls and 10 of the boys I am most excited to see live at Glastonbury this year.

Links to playlists on YouTube and Spotify:

Tracklists

Glastonbury 2011 – The Girls

  1. CocknBullKid – One Eye Closed
  2. Clare Maguire – The Shield And The Sword
  3. Oh Land – Sun Of A Gun
  4. Robyn – Indestructible
  5. Janelle Monáe – Cold War
  6. Crystal Castles – Celestica
  7. Lykke Li – I Follow Rivers
  8. Jessie J – Nobody’s Perfect
  9. Katy B – Broken Record
  10. Beyoncé – Run The World (Girls)

Glastonbury 2011 – The Boys

  1. Pendulum – The Island – Pt. 1 Dawn
  2. Friendly Fires – Skeleton Boy
  3. Fenech-Soler – Demons
  4. Caribou – Odessa
  5. Wild Beasts – Albatross
  6. Plan B – The Recluse
  7. Two Door Cinema Club – Something Good Can Work
  8. Tinie Tempah – Wonderman (feat. Ellie Goulding)
  9. Jamie Woon – Night Air
  10. Chase & Status ft. Liam Bailey – Blind Faith

They did not teach me zouk in school

It was the end of summer 1991. I’d just arrived in Paris. It was my first time in France, I’d studied French for six years but had never spoken it and so I was unable to even ask for change to make a telephone call to a friend who was putting me up while I looked for accommodation.

I soon realised that everyday spoken French is filled with slang words and expressions they did not teach me in school. I was confused. ‘Je vais au travail en voiture’ often becomes ‘Je vais au boulot en bagnole’ when chatting with friends. You can even play around with words swapping syllables (an argot called ‘verlan‘). It was like cracking a code.

The fact that this Zouk Machine song was playing everywhere did not help. My French was so bad I had not realised it was sung in Antillean Creole! Close enough to make me think it was the language I learnt, yet different enough to make me panic that I’ll never learn French – let alone write a whole dissertation in it by the end of the year!

Enjoy the video. Guaranteed to shower you with warmth and colour on a cold grey day like London today.

Un paio di tappi per le orecchie, per favore

Un paio di tappi per le orecchie, per favore
A pair of ear plugs, please
Literally: ‘A pair of corks/stoppers/plugs for the ears, for favour’.

There used to be a time when I was counting how many sleeps until the Eurovision Song Contest.

My interest has been fading ever since when I went to to see the live show in Athens in 2006. It’s not that I was disappointed, far from it, it is an excitement that I might want to experience again in the future. However, the whole anticipation and build-up to the final, starting sometimes even months in advance with the results of national selections? Well, I am afraid I am sort of missing the point now, and I regret it somehow.

Last year I was right at the beginning of a definite swerving of my musical taste towards indie rock, and I pretty much ignored the contest.

This year I was about to dip my toes in the glittering world of wind machines and mid-song costume changes, when disheartened reports from several fronts informed me that the quality of the songs had never been so bad. It puts you off a bit doesn’t it?

Because of this, when a friend suggested going to the UK Eurovision Preview Party tonight, I did my best to decline, claiming I’m broke (but it’s only 10 pounds), and tired (but it starts early), and I’d only enjoy it with a whole bunch of friends (but they were all going too), and then possibly if Dr B. came along too (and he did buy a ticket, but only once he saw the video for the Icelandic entry and was told they were performing on the night).

So in the end I am going. And I am sure it is going to be excellent fun.

See the music I listen to

This graph shows all the music I have listened to in the past six months in a pretty visualisation.

Click on the picture to view it at Flickr, then click on ‘All Sizes’ and select the original picture for maximum detail.

From lastgraph via plasticbag.



See the music I listen to, originally uploaded by bitful.

I’m on the track for a little green bag

There’s this song I’ve been humming to musically well-read (or should that be ‘well-listened’?) friends for a while now, to see if they could help me put a title and performer on it, and to tell me where I might possibly know it from.

Either I’m bad at humming, or my friends are a bit crap, or it’s a really obscure track, because so far nobody could help.

Then the other night it was playing in the background on Sugar Rush and I made a note of the only lyrics I could hear under the dialogue:

Looking back [...] on the track
[...] little green bag
got to find just the kind
I’m losing my mind
Outside in the night [...]

And thus spake Google:

Amazon’s targeted email is actually useful

Amazon.co.uk have just sent me this email:

Dear Amazon.co.uk Customer,

As you’ve recently bought or browsed dance or electronica CDs, we thought we’d let you know about our new releases and bargains. Visit our music store to find out more.

And this is how I found out that both Cross (Justice) and Attack Decay Sustain Release (Simian Mobile Disco) were released last week.

This must be the first time I have ever found an unsolicited email to be useful. It’s all in the targeting.

This proves once more how recommendations are Amazon’s killer application.

I did not think of going to Glastonbury

I have mentioned a while back that my taste in music has recently shifted towards a harder sound and darker beats.

After three or four months where I trampled all over my candyfloss pop past and listened day and night to screeching and wailing exclusively, things are a bit more moderate now. Just as well, as I was risking to become single in the process.

The final test was sitting through the Eurovision Song Contest, at a party, with friends, having a fantastic time (guests were greeted with a drinks trolley in theme with the UK entry!) but secretly counting the minutes to the end of the show. Then the end came and someone put on a Best Of Eurovision DVD. Yay.

And still the penny had not dropped that those bands, The Bands that now punctuate my waking hours (and puncture Dr B.’s eardrums), those very same bands were going to be performing, all of them, one after the other, sometimes at the same time, just a quick swim through the mud away. Only when I put on Glastonbury on the telly over the weekend did it dawn on me that yes, I’d have absolutely loved to be there. Mud and all.

Of course, I’d first have to find out where Dame Shirley Bassey got her diamante-initialled wellies. And her helicopter.

Chris Garneau – Music For Tourists

After what has been known as ‘The Mika Incident’ (I wowed the album for all of three days, then grew so tired of its repetitive songs and Scissor Sisters rip-off that even a fleeting glimpse of Mr Penniman’s bouncy curls made me jump with all my weight on the ‘Skip’ button), I swore that I would never again acquire music solely on grounds of the artist being gay (which, incidentally, Mika has never said he was, claiming that it does not matter).

Well, guess what? Mika is right. It does not matter.

And yet, I fell for it again. Enter 24-year-old openly gay Chris Garneau. A role model. Too bad his album is absolutely not my cup of tea at all. Whispered piano ballads, one after the other, no less than fourteen of them. Turns out the only thing we have in common is our sexual orientation.

The other night while I was preparing dinner I made a point of listening to his whole album, out of respect. After all, the young man has released a record, whereas it’s a major event if I manage to win my laziness long enough to post two days in a row here.

By song four I was contemplating using the kitchen knife for a much less culinary purpose than chopping tomatoes.

By song eight even Anthony and the Johnsons sounded thigh-slapping ha-ha funny in comparison.

I struggled to get to the end and I finally had to stop the last song half way through because I heard Dr B.’s key in the lock and I did not want him to think that I was killing dinner with my own bare hands (instead of simply frying it).

And by the way, those tomatoes? Imported by Tesco from ‘sunny’ Poland. Go figure.

Olivia’s kitchen sink

My 2p on the Eurovision Song Contest, for decades cherished as a solitary guilty pleasure, for a bit enjoyed with like-minded lovers of all things camp, and this year forcing myself to listen to all forty-two dreary songs and watch it for old times’ sake.

I feel very sorry for Malta. They want to win so badly they more often than not look desperate. ‘On Again, Off Again‘, anyone? My point precisely. So when I heard this year’s entry I could not help but notice that they’d trown in all the elements they thought would make a winner: a slow start, some violins, an up-tempo song, a break in the middle, key change, flamenco bits, arabian harmonies, sung in English.

I did not see the semifinal in which they failed to qualify, but saw a recorded bit in the end whey they show a few seconds of each song, and in addition to all the above elements Malta also managed to throw in topless male dancers, singer Olivia Lewis wearing lots of makeup and a long evening dress with a slit, some fan-waving and… a gong! The singer’s kitchen sink was mercifully left at home in her beautiful island that I really would not mind visiting again soon (I went twice in the Eighties and it was absolutely spectacular).

In the end, the contest was won by a soberly dressed butch lesbian in a man’s suit. The backing singers’ were so buttoned up that the only flesh they flashed was from their peep-toe shoes. The song was a ballad. It was sung in Serbo-Croat.

I hear Malta is in talks with k.d. lang to represent it next year.

Sequins and key changes and a whiff of the souk

From the ages of 7 to 17 I proudly was the one and only Italian following the Eurovision Song Contest. When I say ‘proudly’ I mean instead ‘scared gutless worrying that there must be something wrong with me.

Italy stopped broadcasting the live show long before stopping taking part, but I kept watching it on Slovenian and Croatian TV channels.

Then I moved abroad, and lo and behold, I found out I was not the only one! Needless to say, all the other fans I met were either gay or Icelandic (or both).

We previewed the songs. We had parties. We filled in scoresheets. We debated, discussed and showed outrage at the blatant regional voting.

Last year I made it to the host country for the first time, and I had a hell of a great time with a bunch of friends at the live event in Athens.

This year I listened to the songs in disbelief, and I instantly knew that it was not for me. I feel a bit like a fraud, like I’ve betrayed my own self.

You know how sometimes you wish you could go back and tell your teenage self ‘Do not worry; everything will turn out alright’? Well, I wish I could tell him ‘Go and listen to some decent music ferchrissakes!”

Having said that, tomorrow I’m going to a Eurovision Song Contest party. I have no idea who got through from last night’s semifinal (my wild guess is all the former Eastern bloc countries voted each other through). I’ve got a feeling there’s going to be a lot of Flying Your Fag (For You). I cannot wait.

Take your guitar to the gym

The purchase of an iPod nano (three days before the announcement that the hundredth million iPod had been sold – yes, that was me) changed somehow my Last.fm profile, so much so that it prompted David to exhult

PopBitful is Back! Back! Back!

when he saw the string of madonnabritneygwengirlsaloud in my ‘recently played’ list a few days ago.

That is because my gym playlists consist of light, mindless and very energetic music.

Or rather, shall I say, ‘consisted’? Because as of Wednesday, I am now working out to:

  • Kings of Leon – Charmer
  • Maxïmo Park – Our Velocity
  • Arctic Monkeys – I Bet You Look Good on the Dancefloor
  • Fall Out Boy – Thriller
  • Kaiser Chiefs – Everyday I Love You Less and Less
  • LCD Soundsystem – Daft Punk Is Playing at My House
  • The Gossip – Standing in the Way of Control
  • Hard-Fi – Living for the Weekend
  • The Killers – Somebody Told Me
  • The White Stripes – Seven Nation Army
  • LCD Soundsystem – Tribulations
  • The Arcade Fire – No Cars Go
  • Kaiser Chiefs – I Predict a Riot
  • Fall Out Boy – “The Take Over, The Breaks Over”
  • The Futureheads – Hounds of Love
  • Snow Patrol – Crazy in Love
  • Speedway – Genie in the bottle
  • Arctic Monkeys – Love Machine

I can hardly find the words to define the feeling I have when Kings of Leon start every line in Charmer with a scream and I manage to channel enough strength to lift two scary dumbbells in the air for one more rep than last week.

My new superhero power

Yesterday I wore a shirt to work.

It had short sleeves, and it was unbuttoned so I would not feel constricted, and of course, the sleeves were wrinkled, the collar was curling up, and the yoke looked like an ox had slept in it, because to me, you know, an iron is just that annoying thing I have to move out of the way to reach for the bread machine in the bottom-right kitchen cupboard. And every time Dr B. uses the iron, he sure does not look happy. So I stay away from it as much as I can.

Yesterday’s shirt also had a front pocket, so I slipped my iPod in. As I walked home from work carrying two shopping bags, I noticed slight variations of volume and realised that with a bit of effort I could control it with my left nipple.

Maybe I can train it to skip and rate songs and make playlists.

Can you headbang if you have no hair?

I used to be an average gay man, with average gay man musical tastes, i.e. I used to swear by the Madonna-Kylie-Eurovision Holy Trinity as the pinnacle of musical achievement.

I mean, people, I went to three gigs during the last twelve months: Kylie in January, Madonna last July… and The Eurovision Song Contest Live All The Way To Athens Greece last May. Ahem.

Now, My last.fm page is nothing to go by if you want long-term stats, because up until two months ago I mainly used a tiny old laptop, kept all my music on Dr B.’s desktop and streamed it to the stereo, or listened to it on my iRiver which was not supported by Audioscrobbler.

However, if you look at my last.fm stats by artist for the week ending 28 Jan 2007, when I engaged in a week-long experiment streaming music from other computers through to Windows Media Player on my laptop (making the wireless network keel over and various computers crash several times in the process), you’ll encounter the following screeching aural landscape:

  1. Kylie Minogue (23 tracks listened)
  2. Annie Lennox (22)
  3. Alcazar (10)
  4. Shakespear’s Sister (9)
  5. Girls Aloud (8)
  6. Imogen Heap (8)
  7. Mariah Carey (5)
  8. Sharam (4)
  9. Alexia (3), Sugababes (3), reel people feat angela johnson (3), Mighty Dub Katz (3)

Then on 11 February I got a nice big computer from Dr B for my birthday.

And then, one week later, it was loaded up with all my music and last.fm was scrobbling away.

And then I saw a trailer for Skins on Channel 4. I liked the song and Shazamed it. It turned out to be Standing in the Way of Control by The Gossip. I got the album and loved it. And, thanks to Twitter, I happen to know the exact watershed moment when I realised that that kind of music was sending electric charges down my spine and pumping my blood faster, because it was such a revelation that I decided it was worth twittering it to the world:

Walking to the tube listening to The Gossip. So not like me. It’s great.

08:15 AM February 23, 2007 from web

From that moment on, nothing has been the same. Week after week, my last.fm stats have been progressively cleansed of anything silly, empty, bubble-gummy, cheesy, glittery or – dare I say it? – camp. Divas, princesses and drama queens have all been exiled. Euro-pop, Euro-trash and Euro-vision now safely kept out of hearing distance on the other side of the Channel.

Today, I look at my last.fm stats for last week and this is what I see:

  1. The Strokes (116)
  2. Enter Shikari (78)
  3. Maxïmo Park (71)
  4. Kasabian (55)
  5. Bloc Party (54)
  6. Junior Boys (44)
  7. Plan B (43)
  8. The Feeling (36)
  9. Muse (32)
  10. Leftfield (30)

I feel this is something I should have done at the age of seventeen but did not know better then. And, because of that, there is still a chance that this is just a phase I am going through; let’s call it my ‘I am a rebel, an enemy of society and all I want to do is sulk in my basement wearing black lippy and listening to Marilyn Manson’ (note to self: acquire some Marilyn Manson tracks).

Who knows, perhaps I’ll manage to snap out of it just in time for next month’s Eurovision Song Contest. Because right now, frankly, I could not care less if the wind machines they use for the show got jammed and blew everyone and their comedy costumes far, far away.

Zoot Woman: success!

Week after week, my musical taste is subjected to harsh criticism by Dr B.’s delicate aural sense, and I always find it disconcerting.

I played Mika. I was told to switch that annoying falsetto off. During my early and short-lived infatuation with Life In Cartoon Motion, I was outraged. In the long run, I cannot but agree: the kid is bright but annoying and once the novelty wears off, you realise there is not much substance in his songs to sustain interest.

I believed Norah Jones’s latest was going to be the perfect soundtrack to our very first meal at our new dining table. I must admit I did not check first, I put it on blindly purely on the basis of her previous releases. I was told to turn whining woman down (to zero, possibly). Once again, he had a point; there’s a strumming quality in Not Too Late that becomes grating after a bit.

I put on old Air CDs and thought it was a safe bet. Dr B. likes Moon Safari and adores Talkie Walkie. Nope. Did not go down too well. But… but I would have bet he’d like it!

Just Jack was quickly dismissed as the bastard child of Robbie Williams and The Streets.

So the other day he asked me what we were listening to and I defensively replied ‘Zoot Woman, why, do I need to turn it off?’

Imagine my surprise when he said ‘No, I quite like it’.

So, electronic rock rates high in his books. Well, that’s a start.