So, this blog thing then

Righty ho, a couple of glasses of champagne and half a bottle of red wine into the evening, i feel that the moment is right to write something insightful on this here blog, for your collective enjoyment.

I think i have a new song in the works, or at least the opening sketches of a new song. No lyrics, i'll leave that up to one of you guys. Starts of off with that rather nice little riff that i played at the scream practice place and you may perhaps dimly recall. That floats along for a bit, with variations, and then stops with a jazzy bit (ie some chords that aren't really chords atall, but sound kinda cool). Then we have some strumming, the chords are pretty good i think, but still a work in progress for sure. G, Dm, DwithanEinit(D2perhaps?), F7(Fmaj with an E at the top), E, then back to G, Dm, D2, C, some sort of E or B thing that i am yet to be sure quite what it is (the notes are (low to high) E B Eb A B E, what is that greg?), then back to G, Dm, D2, Amaj7, B, E5(ie not major or minor, just a power chord basically). The idea that i had was that the first section (floaty bit with lots of picking) would involve a nice warm bass part and perhaps some things sustained and high up, probably not much drums and probably no vocals, then the strummy bit definitely wants some drums, and vocals. The rhythm of it i am yet to work out, but at the minute i'm playing it in a slow 6/8, possibly more like a 3/4. it could easily be a 6/8 with other bits thrown in though to make it more interesting. it finishes on an E, and feels like that wants to become the beginning of something a bit more energetic/poptastic, probably starting on Eminor. I'm not yet sure what this wants to be, but i've been playing around with chords like Em, D and A, with little inspiration so far. I think i'll record some bits, but at the minute have no mic so it may have to wait a little. When that final E5 lands, a funky driving drum beat wants to come in, probably with a groovy bass, and that should take the song all the way to its conclusion. I dont know yet what the path to this conclusion will involve though.

OK. i'll work more on it, do some recording, and you guys can see what you think. I would especially enjoy hearing anything poptastic that you've got starting on Eminor.

In other news, my trip cycling across France was a lot of fun. Three of us (Will, Tom and I) cycled 560 miles in 9 days, from Paris to a little village called Faugers, not far form Montpelier and Bezier. There we spent 8 days relaxing in the sun, reading, eating cheese, drinking wine, playing chess and table tennis, and listening to music. Although pleasant, the time spent in Faugeres is not really worthy of much note. The ride there however was packed with adventure. Each day we got up at 7am, had breakfast, packed up, and set off. After a few days we were well into the swing of it and were away before 9. We would ride about 35 miles before lunch (having purchased the days food at some point in the morning), and at least another 30 in the afternoon. The smallest distance we cycled in one day was 45 miles (day 2, cycling into a strong headwind all day, traumatic), and the most 85 (day 9, race for the prize, including a mountain ascent (over 1000m upwards), and two other serious hills, in melting heat). Generally, campsites appeared when we needed them, although occasionally we had to ask the locals. Arriving at a campsite, we lay on the ground for a bit, put up the tent, had a shower (most french campsites have showers), got changed, drank lots of water, and started to think about dinner. Eat. Sleep. Get up. Ride, Eat, Ride. Eat. Drink. Ride. Eat. Drink Ride. Eat. Drink. Sleep. Get up. Repeat. For 9 days. It was as metally exhausting as it was physically.

The first day was challenging for two reasons. Firstly i was rather hungover, and had no real sleep to speak of. Secondly we had to find our way out of Paris. What we initally thought was the Seine flowing south turned out to merely be a canal, flowing east. Not a good start. Back into Paris to find the real river. We did eventually escape the city however. First few days were mostly flat, and we made good mileage (with the exception of day 2, mentioned above). Slept little at night to begin with however, as my legs were burning. These days were tough. Legs spinning for hours at a time. Roads long. countryside uninspiring. Fueled by bananas and lion bars.

Then we hit the hills. Somewhere north of the Dordogne valley it starts to get hilly. I actually found the hills easier to deal with than the long flat stuff. A shorter period of real work to power up them is rewarded by a long exciting descent. Max speed was 40mph. On a bike this is seriously fast. Sometimes we would be pushing over 30 for 10 mins or more. Lots of fun. Panniers add a new dimension to cycling i haven't experienced before. I discovered at the airport on the way home that my frame is only a little over 8kg. Each pannier however is over 6kg. So a laden bike of over 20kg is quite a thing to ride. Hills that would be serious on an unladen bike become monsters, descents that would be fast on a light bike become rollercoasters, corners that would be exciting anyway become, well, interesting. You just have to prepare for the corner early, and leave it up to the bike. You have only minimal control over where you are heading. We didn't crash once. Amazingly.

When we found ourselves in the hills, i found myself faring better than the two others. This made a nice change. They are both pretty serious riders, and each had about double the amount of kit as me. I had one shirt, one pair of shorts. Washing kit involved leaving them out overnight and hoping that it rained (it did sometimes).

Highlights of the trip. Almost keeping up with the peleton of a local bike race we bumped in to, and being announced and cheered by the spectators as we rode through the finish. The descent into Conque. Buying £23 of pastries and cakes and eating them outside the shop, to the amusement of the shopkeeper and other customers. Escaping the dordogne valley. The two passes we made over 1000m. Keeping up with cars on the descents. The massive hills. Tree lined descents suddenly opening up onto bridges crossing large rivers. Seeing the sea, and so knowing we had almost made it. Lion bars (lots of lion bars). Bananas (lots of bananas). My Richard Veronque water bottle. Lunching on massive baguettes filled with cheese and meat every day. Calf muscles. Doing the majority of the third stage of this years tour de france, seeing the names of riders chalked on the road, and so riding the same hills that they had. Being cheered by french passers by. Overtaking people that did not have panniers. Lion bars.

One day it rained. I discovered two things. My panniers are not water proof. My waterproof jacket is not waterproof. I don't want to talk about that day.

It was an epic adventure that i enjoyed hugely. I would do something similar again, but not just yet. It was very hard work. Arriving at the destination was amazing, and bizzarre. Suddenly a group of 3 in a tent and on bikes became 10, in a house. I'm glad that we elected to fly back and not cycle back. On the plane i sat next to a Korean girl who told me that there is a good Korean restaurant near trafalgar square. Korean food is amazing.

JT

Mysterious Animals...

So, recently (in the last two years or so) I've become quite interested in cryptids. Cryptids are animals that haven't been proven to exist- such as the Loch Ness Monster- although that is a very extreme example. My personal number one cryptid is the fur-bearing trout, a cryptid that has been proven not to exist. Yet for some reason tales persist about this hairy fish. More boring is the tale of Giglioli's Whale, a beast of a mammal that Mr. Giglioli observed to have not one, but two dorsal fins whilst on an expedition in the 1800s. In a similar way to the 'Rhinoceros Dolphin', it is now generally accepted to be a genetic mutation or just a mislabelling on Giglioli's part, yet the story remains, and now so does a song.

The lyrics of this song have nothing to do with the legendary whale, and are in fact bastardized from some old Rocket Falls lyrics (Tides, for those in the know), and tweaked a little bit for maximum We Aeronauts lyricism. Any thematic relevance to all you lot pissing off to wherever you're going is purely coincidental. Like all of my lyrics back then they were about girls, or a girl, or some really sexy lady. Although they now have little resemblance to this...

The music is from an instrumental Greg did a while back. I only heard it for the first time the other day and asked Greg if I could use it. He very nicely said yes. The instrumental is called 'Run for the hills boys' and is available on the Goddess Pysartis myspace should you desire to hear it sans my wailing.

I hope you like it.

Do tell what you think of it.

We Aeronauts - Giglioli's Whale (Demo)

Promise you'll call when you return

As your feet they hit the sand tell me you're coming back home again

And as you're walking out to sea look up and admire the clearest night sky you'll ever see in this town, and as the tide starts to resign all the stars will flicker and die

scatter my thoughts, scatter my words, and leave me with them amongst the surf. It's here where I apologise, Just leave me floating in the brine

And as you walk away from me leaving a trail I can't be following, the tide raced back from around my feet. Then something happened that I hadn't planned;

my feet were back on dry land

on dry land.

x

Back where it all began

It has suprised me how lyrical the two main posts have been thus far. Well, you can whistle dixie on that I'm afraid. But whilst we have this new blog, it seems significant to comment on being back in the house where We Aeronauts began in earnest. I am currently typing this blog from the chair where Tom sat as we 7 o'clock in the morning-y figured out the bassline and guitar parts to some new song (soon to become our blockbuster number 1, "Chalon Valley House Band"). Over there I can just about not see the kitchen table where I played a select audience "The Boatswain's Cry", whilst unbeknownst to me Danielle listened on the stairs, and where we all smacked the table to "Anthems for a 17-year old girl". The white piano there where Anna hammered out "da-da-da-dada" for Ski vs. Balloons and an epic was born. Just by the book case, where Jez practiced getting off an Indian bus whilst playing Ost Rock. Yesterday, Tom and I were deconsecrating the sacred earth where Cunns had written the Happy song lyrics by bunny hopping bikes over logs, also deconsecrating the great amphitheatre of Menace.

I don't know the significance of all this. If we get massive it will be significant for our billions of teenie fans, who will doubtless find it and worship it as a shrine. If not, well, qu'importe, the memory alzheimers permitting will last for all of us, so that it really doesn't matter too much either way. But with the Why? developments and general interest, I'm quietly excited about something happening. Was that lyrical? Probably not. Well, take care Aeronauts, from France, signing out

Love Greg

Taking Tiger Mountain (by Strategy)

Seatbelts on, this is going to be a long 'un.

So, I guess it was inevitable that I was going to do a Brian Eno post eventually. Might as well get it out of the way quickly. No matter how much Greg sniggers when I play the Fripp solo in St. Elmo's Fire, or Tom lampoons my (brilliant) story about playing at his birthday party (and yes, I DID pet Brian's pygmy goats with Imogen Heap), it won't stop the pure admiration I have for the guy.





Before I had searched out his work much further, I knew him for what most people do; making 'ambient' music, and previously playing in Roxy Music (a band, like the Talking Heads, that I unfairly maligned for many years due to my father's love for them, and the constant listening I had to endure). Not many people know about his post-Roxy Music and pre-Ambient years- and this post is certainly not going to turn into a history lesson...but more people certainly should know about them. The four 'pop' albums he created after his last outing with RM are complete genius. There's the 'Roxy Music hedging their bets' of Here Come the Warm Jets, the universally acclaimed (amongst Eno fans, anyway) Another Green World, the warped lyricism of Taking Tiger Mountain (by Strategy), and the wholly unfamiliar (at least to me, it's next on my list) Before and After Science. Now, the music I was familiar with was Music for Airports, which had soundtracked a few too many late night essay sessions for my liking. Brilliant though it is, for a while I wondered why this man was so revered. This was until I heard Apollo, a measured, clinical panorama that is like the instruction manual for advert music...(An Ending(Ascent) having soundtracked thousands). Initially it seemed like sheer audacity, creating music this minimal- yet not veering towards the works of Steve Reich- if you listen to Apollo loudly, you'll find that it's not the minimal beast it seems- for beneath its milky surface is a bubbling liquidity, with bass, synth, and who knows what else. It makes my heart melt. It becomes apparent that the word for Eno's ambient works is not minimal, as such, it's subtle- and it truly was the gateway for so much. Without Apollo, I certainly wouldn't get Stars of the Lid as much - and I'm not sure they'd exist either, but maybe that's just my naivety. I don't claim to be an expert in the field of ambient music- I'm just offering thoughts on the influence Eno has had on the current musical landscape.





And so we reach the 'pop' albums. 'Pop' in inverted commas because it really isn't pop in the bubblegum sense of the word. Here Come the Warm Jets is really riding on Roxy Music's coattails, creating a warped, skewed glam record that, in parts, sits uncomfortably. This was the first of Eno's 'pop' records I heard, and, truth be told, is probably my least favourite so far. I got Another Green World at the same time, and as I shall describe, it flooded my head. It is, it just is. I put this record on when I go to work to wake me up and when I get home to relax. It starts with this Talking Heads-ish bassline, on Sky Saw, and then doesn't let up. I think there are less than five vocal tracks on the album, yet they sit so brilliantly next to the vignettes he also offers us (and sometimes you could be kidded into believing you were listening to Boards of Canada). The album's truest 'song' as such, is the previously mentioned St. Elmo's Fire, a song that could easily have been written by Animal Collective last week. It's a short track, with a searing chorus, and a guitar solo by Robert Fripp that echoes the wonderful natural phenomenon of the title. I laughed the first time I heard it- and in some respects it is a ridiculous song, but for something to provoke a reaction such as that is a very powerful thing- I laughed out loud in the same way when Usain Bolt broke the 100m world record without even trying the other day. I think I was laughing at the sheer futility of the other runners- what on earth could they do to stop this guy short of tripping him up? And in the same way I was shocked by St. Elmo's Fire, that such a ridiculous song could burn its way into my head. Of the other vocal tracks, there's I'll Come Running, a wonderfully positioned mid-album track with the lyrical refrain 'I'll come running to tie your shoes', utterly ridiculous- yet so captivating, and the lyric is sickeningly sweet. Then there's the beautiful, non percussive Everything Merges with the Night, the penultimate track, perfect, resonating, pulsing. There's next to no percussion on the album, showing Eno's direction towards a more ambient future- but the percussion that is on it was played by one Phil Collins, another of my dad's army of boring MOR people. Should I re-evaluate him aswell? No, he's shit. But back to the album- I still haven't mentioned my two favourites, The Big Ship, which could be on a Mogwai/Jonquil/Boards of Canada album, and Becalmed, which is drenched with more emotion than Boards could ever muster. It was only after hearing the album that I discovered Eno had come up with the idea of the album after being hit by a taxi in NYC, leaving him close to death and subsequently bed-ridden for months.



Another Green World is all well and good, but the album that inspired this post is Taking Tiger Mountain. As far as I'm aware, it sits between Warm Jets and Another Green World in the Eno chronology, perhaps the predecessor to Discreet Music (which I haven't heard), Eno's first ambient record- which would explain the change from glam-ish experimentalism to ambient pop between Taking Tiger Mountain and Green World. I only got Taking Tiger Mountain the other day, and it has made quite the impression on me. It is far more accessible than Warm Jets, and sounds much more modern, like Of Montreal really. Even Eno's broad voice (which I would love to hear on a more recent recording) is stretched to the point where it could be Kevin Barnes. The opening track Burning Airlines give you so much more (not particularly PC at the moment) rips the album wide open. It makes you want to dance, scream and shout, and Eno doesn't seem to be singing about a whole lot. The album does not let up at all, until the brilliant finale, the title track. This is where we start to see where Eno is going. A brooding, guitar-led build up to a chant- a fucking incredible chant, which makes perfect sense with the benefit of hindsight, but you can bet your mortgage if I was listening to it in the early seventies I wouldn't have a clue what was going on. Complete genius.



SOOO, you should listen to these tracks I have provided, and no Greg, you don't have to listen to St Elmo's Fire again, but I strongly urge you to hear The True Wheel and Taking Tiger Mountain. Eno hasn't done much recently of worth, so some say, but I can't judge that really. What I can say is that his new album with David Byrne, Everything that Happens will Happen Today, is brilliant. It sounds nothing like their 1980s sampling oddysey My Life in the Bush of Ghosts, but offers a brilliant slice of pop with Byrne's vocals sounding more childlike than ever, and Eno obviously using all that saved up magic that he didn't use on the Coldplay album. Plus, he's a lovely bloke.

and did I mention that he's got an awesome house?






Note: Files are hosted at Mediafire- click and follow instructions.

From Another Green World:

St. Elmo's Fire: http://www.mediafire.com/?5arqswytgj1
The Big Ship: http://www.mediafire.com/?8rkxrf7alpg


From Taking Tiger Mountain (by Strategy):

The True Wheel: http://www.mediafire.com/?xumzcaqh7q8
Taking Tiger Mountain (by Strategy): http://www.mediafire.com/?3prvfek0mnl


FUN.

SW at home (imported blog from 19/08/08)

Yesterday I went on a little journey on my own. These are my favourite journeys, where you’re lost in your own subconscious as the world flashes past, with no interruptions from friends or acquaintances, no pre-requisites of conversation or small talk. Free.

I hopped whimsically onto the 65M bus to Charminar from my new ‘hood Mehdipatnam in the late afternoon. We travelled along the treacherously bumpy roads in the heart of the city, potholes often lifting us occupants a foot in the air. As these buses run along their merry way people jump on and off without a care, or stop. The ticket attendant and I had a lovely conversation which pretty much echoes many lovely conversations I have with locals here: “Hallo, May I know your name sir, do you like Hyderabad, May I know your age, You are not married?” et cet era. Then lots of people got on around Abid’s Circle and he had to go ticket people so I floated off into the deep clouds and crammed roads again.

At some point we crossed the River Musi which divides the old city and the new, ish. It’s not much of a river. The palm trees are nice. FANTOOSH greeted me on a huge billboard on the opposite bank. I think it’s a clothes retailer but I know if I still had my little book of potential band names it would shoot to No. 1.

After ten minutes of more tight streets and bazaars and autos and bikes and slightly different architecture and many more mosques my ticket attendant friend taps me on the shoulder and points: “Charminar!” He was pointing through the back window and the great mosque, which I had somehow failed to see, was getting further and further away. “You get off now!” The bus was still moving quite fast but another guy just dropped off nonchalantly to the street below so I decided to be cool and Indian and follow him off the moving bus. Suffice to say I ended up on the concrete grazed up on my rectum like the uncool British person that I am. This seriously jeopardized my theory that if one jumped off an aeroplane just before it crashed into the sea then that someone would safely splash in without a worry. Fuck. (I think too much in planes).

A time to be thankful to be alone, bar the hundreds of onlookers. As I stumbled to my feet it was worth it, for the Charminar lay ahead, illuminated by lighting against the now blackened sky.

We beat Sheffield Wednesday 4-1 (h). Iwelumo was shit at Brighton. WTF.

Thank You Space Expert

I've started this blog- not sure whether it's going to work, but the general idea is that it's going to be a place where we can all write stuff over the next year- but it might just end up being me. If it works the way I envisage it, it'll be a place for us to wax lyrical about music, jobs, sport and how much we all miss playing eight-person alt/folk gigs. Also, if it works, it can be a place to post demos or ideas for songs- and recommend other artists- thereby linking into the typical 'blog' mentality. Who knows?