Minstrels Foraying with Charm,

I’m glad that I padded over 2007’s ignored albums. Playing music is great. Being a DJ, receiving free records, playing them, choosing the best ones, playing them again and again – it must be the best job in the world. This is the reason I cannot stand BBC 6th Music’s George Lamb, this man is a waster. If I was in his position, it wouldn’t take me so long to finally attain and enjoy some amazing music.

I heard the Opposite of Hallelujah by Jens Lekman on KEXP and went straight to its source; the album, Night Falls Over Kortedala. I guess this is what Belle & Sebastian would sound like if they were to let Stevie Jackson write and sing all the words. Of course, I can’t rank a Jens Lekman album alongside anything by the mighty Belle & Sebastian but it would be unfair to penalise Jens for that or any other melodical likenesses to the Sundays or Saint Etienne. At first, I wasn’t sure about the lyrics, I don’t find Jens particularly funny and if that is what he is aiming for, he’s irked me in the way Adam Green does. It’s straightforward pop, with string and brass section bonuses.

Another Swedish artist who can be compared to another of Scotland’s best, is Camera Obscura sound-alike, Taken by Trees or Victoria Bergsman, formerly of Concretes. Of course, the similarities are not unsurprising given that Bellyaches Music Prize 2006 nominees, Camera Obscura used Concretes’ producer for Let’s Get Out of this Country. The album starts as it goes on; minimalist strumming, light drumming centre attention on the fragile-voiced one in Tell Me, she says nothing really, it washes over in a manner that is far from inane. Julia, pronounced in the Swedish way, is more upbeat and quite typical of one of those songs about a character that Belle & Sebastian or Camera Obscura would spit out, it’s most charming. Lost and Found is a highlight; it’s a lovesick lament with a sense of movement that could easily be the soundtrack to a cinematographic amble through a forest with the quest of picking, non-endangered wild flowers – the kind of activity usually carried out by refined and beautiful girls in the woodlands of Fife. The title track, Open Field, is a quality instrumental that can tell the story of whatever, wherever the listener chooses, the flute and the euphonium are star players in this tale of nothing and everything. Open Field is lovely, Victoria Bergsman hasn’t done this all on her own but it’s hardly surprising that she would be at the heart of something so nice.

Usually, I write about stuff and it ends up being a memory of how I felt about a record at the time; although I listen to quality, I may well end up putting that record in the pile and not listen to it for a year (The Heartlight Set by Joy Zipper, anyone?). I actively try to grab a pile of random CDs to take to work everyday to give me good reason not to give them all away on EvilBay. In contrast, I can truly say that Bill Callahan’s Woke on a Whaleheart is one of my favourite albums ever. I had never heard or appreciated anything of Smog before, I must now start. It just hits me like Trials of Van Occupanter by Midlake, it has that earthy, lo-fi beauty that’s perfect for duffers like me. From the Rivers to the Ocean is the wistful opener that doesn’t make me switch off, it’s well orchestrated, it dispenses with the traditional verse-chorus-verse and is quite a journey. This album can be playful too, Footprints is just that with analysis of the ‘walkin’ dove’ on the sand. Sycamore is probably my favourite, it’s the one about teaching the kid to fight and stand tall like the sycamore (not the best tree, obviously). Day is perhaps the most politically driven, is it a statement about some people of today or of the past being ‘a sickness on this land’? Although the song feels aged, the sentiment could apply to today’s culture. Of course, Bill is right, ‘To family, is all you can do’; each family should be self-policing, and then we wouldn’t be in this mess. There are all sorts of great stuff on this album - the orchestration, the backing vocals, the gospel choir and more - it’s been a privilege.

Fellows at the Indisposition of Injustice,

Attaining success in life will never change from dependence on who you know and not what you know. It’s an ethic that has more than two sides.

I’m arrogant enough to be in the situation where I believe I am better or know best quite often. This leads to disappointment and anger. Quite often this involves an outrageously mismanaged amateur football club. I declared myself unfit for the last few weeks because I’ve had some sort of stomach riddle. I went to an SPL match on Saturday, which was a good match, but I was angered on the way home because I had heard that news from the match of my amateur team – the team selection had omitted the best player from the previous match (he then appeared as substitute and scored 3 goals). Tonight, I was incensed because of unfair criticism of another player. It wouldn’t have happened to one of the manager’s pals. The manager’s best pal is very poor, the worst player in the squad, yet he has started every match and is beyond criticism. Anyway, this is just a football team, such corruption extends to all walks of life, and perhaps being in a football team is a good way of learning to cope with it.

One of the best tricks may be to be ungallant and never stand up for others who are being unfairly treated. Aligning oneself with the victim will usually induce similar treatment, although if enough people rally around the victim, a coup might be on.

In the end, hopefully, the perpetrators will always be punished. Due to their inferiorities, they should fail to complete their task.

I wonder if I’ve ever benefited from having ‘friends’ in high places. I don’t think I have, the guilt would be too much, and I’d strive to better myself whilst I was in the advantageous position.

Another phrase that occurs to me when thinking about these injustices is, “You can fool some of the people all of the time, and all of the people some of the time, but you can not fool all of the people all of the time”, delivered by Abraham Lincoln, no less.

This is all relevant to my stomach too. I’m not sure if the stomach problem was muscular or related to some bug. Such a diagnosis could only be accompanied with an equally bizarre self-prescription if a doctor is to be avoided. My cure was to remember my lifestyle habits before I was ill and then carry them out strictly. I decided to eat only two daily meals with only fruit, seeds, nuts and yoghurts to be consumed in between. I generally drink well anyway. I’ve had to sit at my desk more often than before too so I’ve tried to increase my exercise. Inactivity or laziness from me has always been a “come and get me, illness”-plea from me anyway. It’s best to soldier through baring in mind something about going easy, stepping lightly and staying free.

Sluggish Musicologists Following Suit,

I should be cranky if I couldn’t understand or decipher the words of a song. I could be left flailing, searching for meaning and questioning the worth. Having said that I like Sigur Ros, Dungen and the like, but the incomprehension of the words is a given in these cases. Strange Death of Liberal England are from Portsmouth, there are five of them and none of them make sense on occasion.

Lead singer Adam Woolway has a style akin to that heard from groups like Modest Mouse or Clap Your Hands Say Yeah. Lyrics on Forward March! are politically wistful, it’s duffing by wailing. A aforementioned, much of the time he and the rest of the band who provide plentiful backing can’t be understood but this adds to the atmosphere – they’re so angry about the Old Fashioned War that they can’t be understood. The album is one to really stick with and through time and effort, words will be learnt and we’ll come to agree with their unhappiness. The tracks are full of layers, the bass guitar and keyboards are responsible for the grandest of these but the tinkling glockenspiel gives their compositions depth and ability to surround the listener. The final track has a quality name, Summer Brought us Sweets but Autumn Wrought Division, and is a monumental instrumental. Strange Death of Liberal England can be compared to many, on every occasion it’d be a compliment but in a way, they have their own sound and it’s one to be in awe of.

Field Music are a band that I've always been wary of. Tones of Town is full of decent pop and it's delightfully playful but I'm not sure that it's enough for me. I can't argue with the quality of many of the songs because I love different compositions and quality musicianship. I'd recommend songs: the title track, Tones of Town, House is not a Home (with it's startling anti-climaxes), Kingston is a mystic and wistful interjection, Working to Work, In Context and I can keep going and almost quote them all as great songs. The problem is that as an album it doesn't come close to anything by Belle & Sebastian, who have an advantage numerically and are better equipped to manage silence because that's what it probably the root of my quarrel. Many of the songs have quiet parts that are unrelaxing and this can be interpretated as jerky, sometimes the orchestration is too harsh and sudden. Field Music are a good outfit, I look forward to the output of School of Language, the new offshoot project.

Entranced Bulbs Sprouting Edible Kernels,

Today has been alright. I considered the merits of 6 albums whilst thinking about eeny weeny molecules, whilst sitting at my desk, which is under the hole in the roof, freezing and waiting for the rain to begin pouring through. At times, I wore my scarf, in between those times, I heated my scarf on my radiator - my only solace except from the my sandwiches and the hidden delights of these 6 records. In hindsight, it wasn't really okay.

Firstly, I must apologise as I inferred, in my message to the Children of Earth, that there was no bird sound effects on the Apollo 13 soundtrack; there is in fact some chicks chirping at the end of one of the pop tracks.

I was really looking forward to LP by Holy Fuck. I am not offended by swearing, I just do not see the need yet I do feel awkward padding Holy Fuck into an internet search engine. Gideon Coe and KEXP played the track Lovely Allen quite a lot. It's truly marvellous. It fades in with Grandaddy-like bouncy keyboards and then a synthesised violin sound, the track is full of flourishes and it reminds me of Penguin Cafe Orchestra. I can imagine this track being used to soundtrack the fast-forwarded clips of flowers and plants growing and blooming on nature programmes. It's one of the best instrumentals I have ever heard.

The album isn't bad but it disappoints me. Holy Fuck are an instrumental experimental electronica outfit from Toronto and to think that they are capable of Lovely Allen but haven't anything else that comes close to it on this release saddens me. The other eight tracks have a beat, that's all I hear; they don't have the structure or the sense of progress and adventure of the lovely Lovely Allen. If I wanted a beat, I'd throw on some Stereolab.

All is not lost because it is possible to listen to Lovely Allen more than once. More reviews shall follow and they will be more ridiculous than this effort.

Children of Earth,

This relative downtime in the record shop has given me time to listen back to things I may have missed from 2007. A round-up will follow. First, I attempted to like Robbers & Cowards by Cold War Kids. I love the song Hospital Beds, I love they reality and the moody piano of this one. I desperately want to like Cold War Kids, they have a great song, they have a great name, they pitch their piano perfectly and their compositions are generally excellent but their singer just has a voice that I can’t take. I can tolerate him whining about the Hospital Beds although I just about lose my acceptance of the number when he sings “fish and chips” in this very song. I moved on to A Weekend in the City by Bloc Party, I also desperately want to like them and I admit that they are good but I just wouldn’t choose to listen to this record when it’s amongst the choice that I do have. Their guitar-laden tunes are often too hard and quick when all I want is the ambience, the wistful ambience of the person I am. I like the idea of Bloc Party more than I like their sound, they have a great image (You wouldn’t slate them for wearing silly shoes if they said their shoes were comfortable (this isn’t about shoes)).

I made a note when listening to the Bloc Party album. It read “Records with bird/nature sound effects are very annoying”. I looked towards the window, which is a small portal along the roof in my bleak office cubicle and saw that it was grim outside. There definitely were no toucans out there and I felt depressed. I really haven’t been inspired by music lately except in one instance, where there are definitely no macaws: the Apollo 13 soundtrack.

Apollo 13 is my favourite filum alongside The Truman Show. I hate filums, they are too long but so it is an honour for all involved in these two pieces of art. I was watching Three Men in a Boat Again (or something to that effect); a light-hearted couple of programmes where Rory McGrath and Dara O’Briain attempted to help Gryff Rhys Jones win a yacht race. It was a really amusing show and it was educational. I don’t see why the BBC doesn’t turn more airtime over to intelligent people (George Lamb must would be the first for the chop). As the three in the boat when from sandbanks to weaving madly about the shipping lanes in the channel, some music from Apollo 13 was played and that’s how I came to buy the Apollo 13 soundtrack.

The music is wonderfully composed by James Horner, it is beautiful and dramatic, it inspires its listeners to have pride in the astronauts. Astronauts were military pilots and the music has that regal feel to it too. As well as the orchestra, there is some dialogue from the filum including the memorable lines such as; “failure is not an option” and “Houston, I’m hungry”. Additionally, there are some of the pop tunes from the era of the Space Race and from the filum; I think I finally found a James Brown track that I can like, it is Night Train amongst the classics from the likes of Hendrix, Jefferson Airplane and Hank Williams.

I think it’s a gem. I now have the DVD, the book and the soundtrack – can I buy any more Apollo 13 junk?

Disseminaters of Weather Bunkum,

There are probably few things more tedious than talking about the weather especially when it's not out of ordinary (it's cold in January and it might rain or snow). I suppose it's something we do to pass the time. The delivery man on Monday told me about how it wasn't raining along the coast and that the weather seemed to be clearing up, then whilst we waited on his digital keypad gadget to booting up, I tried to gazump him with "Oh, but it's going to be windy tonight." He wasn't interested, the dodgy signature had been recorded (those digital signature pads are woeful, I hope they will never be used to validate an argument) and he was gone.

I walked past two duffers who were complaining about the rain as if it was a decision made by politicians, it was apparently "awfy" and "a disgrace". I thought that this was boring at the time, but even now, I can't stop thinking about how cold I am. My status at work is still that of report writing, I can do it at home or in St Andrews. I ventured into the office there today, I lasted until lunchtime. I couldn't hug the radiator next to my desk tightly enough. The local temperature at my desk has been affected greatly by the fact that they've removed the insulating ceiling tile above my desk in order to repair the hole in the roof. Before Christmas, I was working at my desk and then water came gushing in. It was like a scene from Tom & Jerry although it wouldn't have been so comical if my laptop had been soaked just a little more. I also returned from the Christmas holiday to find my desk covered in green paper towels. I doubt that they've mended the roof yet and I left today before I required an umbrella at my desk.

The roads home were closed later in the afternoon due to flooding so I'm glad I retreated to my home office/radiator when I did.

Why are we obsessed with weather? Is it because we are bored? Do we like being shocked? Would we be so shocked if our weather bulletins were more educational? The weather forecasting in this country is of such a low standard; if it was to improve, perhaps the boring chit-chat might become high-brow and we'd all have a better understanding of basic physical and meteorological concepts.

Worthless Dregs of Society,

Society is in ruin. It won't be long before their are mass riots on our streets everyday. Government and police forces will have to fragment in order to manage the chaos on their own patch.

This idea is in my mind because of three instances that happened today. Firstly, I read Andrew Collins' blog, he wasted his time in urging people to be nicer to each other. The only people who agree with him are probably people who aren't really part of the problem. Unless readers of the site post his writings elsewhere, the only effect his article would have is to have whiled away some of his leisure time. Would he mind if I posted his guide to etiquette elsewhere to see how people react?

East Fife defeated Stranraer 2-1. Such is the weather, those icy gusts from Siberia, the smoke from the smoker's corner did blow into the stand. How inconsiderate can smokers be? Couldn't they have stayed downwind of the public. Technically, it is illegal for East Fife FC to allow people to smoke within their stadium. We've had the debate before but the law is never enforced.

This evening we were dosed with horrendous noise from our upstairs neighbours. They are boors who have no consideration for anyone. Playing music loudly is an annoyance of a kind but when it is done so in their schizophrenic way, tolerance can only last so long. Everyone was irritated by this and I decided to act. I'm not the senior person of this household but I have this delusion that because I act calmly, thoughtfully and rarely, my words might carry more value. I hammered at their door. They did not answer. I went round the front of the house and shouted up. They appeared at the window but did not look at me - they being the members of the lesbian party I seeked to change the course of - and stared (with pointing) into the distance. They almost seemed wistful, that'd be stealing a trick: I have ruined many photographs over the years by covering my face, however, my new tactic is to gaze out to the distance and appear wistful. Anyway, the music was turned off for a while. Later, the started stomping on the floor for our delectation. When they finally left in a taxi, to attend some overweight lesbian function, they decided to give our door a few bangs. Now, if all their energy burnt in the pursuit of our annoyance was channelled into good intentions, the world would be a better place.

There are few ways to defeat nasty neighbours. Some people are just trash, there's little they care for but themselves. The police don't care and the council don't care. In the past, they'd all be kept together in one horrible estate, where they could annoy and kill each other. These days, the council likes to disperse them, this only leads to them dragging every area down to their level. They shall never be rehabilitated.

Neglected Massive on Their Merry Way,

I have survived the festive period. Last year, I said I would never do another. If I had the strength of character, I'd have gone away - left before Christmas and not arrived home yet - with a few books and a plan to stay in the spot where I landed until it was time to return.

For me, Christmas is about not offending anyone. I probably have failed to do that. Non-attendence was probably my crime on more than one occasion. At least, I didn't cause offence by words, although I did try mind games. Two sides of the family need to be appeased - the mother's and the father's - and they each root for their own. My job is to treat both sides with the right amount of contempt my parents deserve for causing the contest. I cracked when the job was half done and let my father win the contest - my least desirable, but always the most probable, outcome - by attending his side's Christmas dinner and not the other side's Boxing Day gathering. I haven't the stamina for tolerating fuss over a calender event.

In any case, I have to manage my metabolism during any holiday period. If I'm not burning energy, I have to reduce my food intake, otherwise I incur stomach problems. Perhaps I require medical attention. At this rate, I have little chance of gaining any more than 0% body fat (my dream).

I have spent most of Christmas watching football on the television, I've seen games for all sorts of leagues. I will use my experience when I resume my amateur football career - once the manager recovers from the harsh words I may have to gift him and restores me to the team.

At this time, as a football fan, things are in perspective. That's what they say, and it's true. Phil O'Donnell's death affects me. Phil was a great player for Celtic in the 1990s and he continued to be an inspirational player for Motherwell. The shock of the news is one thing to suffer and then there's the sense of loss.

2008 already seems different from 2007 but I'll still be hopeless in managing the events and appointments that have already begun to collect. Maybe I'll improve or become a more moderate person (although, that'd never be an aim).