From The Archive - In Bits at the moment

In bits at the moment are; a Korg Poly61 synth from 1982 that cost me £25, and for a very good reason, and; an upright piano, which I was given. A few weeks ago I had to totally dismantle it in order to remove it from the house it occupied. It had been moved in before considerable building work had taken place, and just wouldn't fit through the gap at the bottom of the stairs, so I had to strip out the keyboard, mechanism and facia until I was left with a frame, a soundboard and some strings, all on four small castors. It's taken me a little while to get it all back into working condition, but I think I'm just about there now. I've fixed the broken hammers and return springs, trimmed the dampers that were fouling each other and getting jammed, and last weekend I tuned it using a guitar tuner, a drum key and a dirty great spanner. This is probably setting a new record for dullness of diary entries, but I'm not sorry. It's a bloke-tool-gadget- thing, all part of the making, doing and fixing urge I get that makes me restless and want to write songs, and build websites. It may be that that last statement is a bit sexist, because girls might get these urges too. I don't know, I've never been a girl and I've never really understood how their minds work. That probably sounds even more sexist, verging on the MCP, but it's not meant to be.
It's raining, and I'm going to get wet cycling home.
I saw and enjoyed the bands Vext of Wareham and Lamb Quartet of Exeter recently, and I've been listening "Mastered by Guy at the exchange" by Max Tundra and other items from his back catalogue. I've read "Mortal Engines" by Philip Reeve, and "Fast Food Nation" by Eric Schlosser. Chris is disappointed he didn't get to see Dogbonfire again.

From The Archive - The smell of fear

Did you know that your sense of smell is your fastest sense? It's because it works by having tendrils of your brain which are exposed to the air in the roof of your nasal cavity. All the other senses use optic or aural or whatever nerves to send their messages to the brain, which takes a little bit longer. I think that's why smells are so evocative of not only places and people but feelings too.
The air this morning carried with it the smell of fear; of the fresh intake of students into secondary schools, far enough now into the term to have identified the bullies to whom they may fall victim, and for the bullies to have identified them. It smelt of seemingly endless lunch-hours trying to be invisible, of trying to beat out the sparks of confrontation in the powder-keg of the playground, of adrenaline pumped by a racing heart, fists clenched and lip bitten in the face of insults and abuse designed to provoke a violent response; of scuffles and scraps and beatings and blood and tears and rage and shame and humiliation. It smelt of pretending to be ill, and bunking off. And it smelt of finding refuge in books and in libraries and in music-rooms.

From The Archive - A Machine Translates

Got this in my email a while back- I think it's the work of Babelfish!

This ep, ' Heads smashed in by the boy/girl thing ', takes again some of these songs re-recorded with a lighter production, more acoustic, even if guitars, glockenspiel, oboe or melodica do good housework. One cannot really speak about revelation but the songs present here are really fascinating and pleasant.
' I' ve been in year accident' is a small happiness out of time, pretty top of the ep for which Betika even turned a clip. Pretty gracious melody with the mixture of male-intonated voice and female, generous melancholy and opulante, green lawns mouthfuls of dew in morning, crossing of districts in the bicycle under a hesitant sun. Sure, one was many times much more close to the loss of balance, but to roll here one however fills the lungs with a fresh air which does not know pollution.
' the bierdigan' is splendid as much, as to go quickly on a fine and slightly elevated edge. Something of slightly childish with the real benevolence, as escaped from another time. Betika it is as suddenly a small path which takes shape between two bushes of hedge and involves us in a richly and précautionneusement arranged garden, with the pretty solid masses in flowers whose perfumes transpierce us their emanations.
' release' is somewhat percussion, finally not so far that that from the beginnings of The Beautiful South (??). I thus remain here somewhat being wary. Left pretty solid mass of pink pinks almost nauseating.
On ' one day my house will Be flooded ', Betika is found stripped to the maximum, almost a guitar and two songs then a xylophone, which intersection, a striptease which lets however see a body with the still soft and quite generous forms.
In the same way, ' dance and scream' seems out of time, an American journalist spoke about them the madrigaux one and, here, it is true that one is not far from the whole so much poetry dense and is coloured of it. And the ep to finish with the good named 'summers of solemnity' which summarizes well the pop step of Betika, estival and solemn.
Good ep, beautiful writing and charm some.
Didier

This week I have been listening to 'They threw us all in a trench and stuck a monument on top' by Liars, which is the best thing I've heard in ages, and reading the 'His Dark Materials' Trilogy by Philip Pullman, which is a heretical epic for "young adults". Quite a thought-provoking read, if you're into homespun theology, and let's face it - who isn't?

From the Archive - Simon le Bon's dog

I used to know this girl who had this odd thing about Simon le Bon. Like an irrational hatred. I don't know exactly what caused it- the most I got out of her was once when we were really drunk, she said something about Simon le Bon's dog having shat on her mum on a beach in Cornwall when she was little.

I'm listening to "Dub come save me", the Roots Manuva remix album, and "Vunerabilia" by My Computer, which is a bizarre mix of chill-out electronica, techno, and Jeff Buckley / Freddy Mercury vocal histrionics. I've been reading proof copies of children's books, and reminiscing about when I didn't have a radio in the house so I'd go and listen to the Evening Session in my car which was propped up on two piles of bricks in the garden. Happy times

From The Archive - A Bloke and his Bird waltz sinister.

Last week I wrote and recorded a song with my girlfriend Lexi. It's the first time I've made music with someone I've been going out with, despite having had a few musically inclined girlfriends in the past. I hope our collaboration tends more to the Her Space Holiday / White Stripes end of things rather than the Wings / Fleetwood Mac. I suppose it's not without precedent- Carolyn's boyfriend was in Betika briefly, and co-wrote "Thunderstorm", and we've roped in some of Steve's lady-friends at various times. Lexi played the Casiotone that is the main Betika keyboard, and I played stand-up drums a la Bobby Gillespie, and overdubbed some autoharp. The results sound minimalist, sinister and clockwork.

Thursday

Woke up this morning with that lovely feeling you only ever get when you're safe and secure in the knowledge that it's Sunday. A big group of Superglider-affiliated personnel went en masse to see Miss Black America last night. The few times I've seen them I've always come away with my heart a little bit warmer- there's something about their energy and enthusiasm that's really infectious and a thing of beauty to witness. Stirs the spirit. Last night was no exception. I suppose in some ways you could think of them as the English Rage Against the Machine, not that they sound anything like them, but in terms of their uncompromising, highly politicised stance and their boundless raw energy. And both bands had / have a refreshingly innovative guitarist. I came home hyperactive, singing and wanting to be Seymour when I grow up (he's three years younger than me.). I'm starting to get quite excited about the prospect of taking Betika up to London, but at the same time not a little bit nervous. Not only will it be the first time we'll have played this year, it'll be the first time we'll play with our new line-up (with a human drummer to compliment the beatboxes), and the first time we'll have performed some of the songs. Still, there's nothing like fear to give the buzz of playing a real edge...

From The Archive - Carolyn's first Diary entry

My recent thoughts have been filled with visions of people drinking things that are wrong. These terrible visions started a couple of weeks ago when a work colleague seemed unnaturally down when he was forcibly told that he wasn't very good. These black moods continued, causing concern for myself and others, culminating in an offer to go out and get mashed on the Friday night, to get rid of his black thoughts, you see. This didn't happen and it didn't happen the next week either. He trudged home and the sight of his hanging head must have weighed heavy on my mind as that night I dreamed he drank down a botle of hydrochloric acid. 5M, the strong stuff you know. That very same day, I had to laugh out loud when one of my young friends Dom put his hand and announced "I drank bleach" in a proud voice. My initial reaction was to piss myself laughing, and when it occurred to me that maybe he had drank bleach as he has no lenses in his eyes and therefore didn't know what it was, perhaps mistaking it for lemonade, I just laughed harder. When I realised he shares his name with a popular brand of the very same cleaning product he drank, it all made sense so I just smiled and said "good lad" with a benevolent smile. That last bit is a lie, but the rest is true.

From The Archive - The one with the link to the hidden song

I was working on a sort of 'Making the video' type write-up for the Superglider site to accompany the "I've been in an accident" vid the other day, and rambling away tangentially as I do my train of thought took me back to the first band I was ever in. (How I got there is too convoluted and obscure to bother with here). I was 10, and my friend Kamran Javid and I -inspired by a couple of girls in our class who could play "Heart and Soul" (the duet kids everywhere can play)- started writing tunes on the school Casio keyboard. We almost exclusively used the black notes, and we only had three tunes. The first, "Organ Time" I have a recording of that we made in the school hall. It has the sound of kids playing outside in the background and faint birdsong at the start. Our second tune didn't have a title, but I submitted it five years later as a composition for my music GCSE. I got a B. Go figure. The third song we did likewise had no title that I can remember, and never got recorded. It stuck in my head, though, and being reminded of it again the other day I thought that maybe I should record it. So I did. I kept the tune exactly as we wrote it, but I tried to produce it in the way it would have been had record company execs decided that 10-year-old electropop duos were going to be the big thing in '87. Now I can't stop listening to it, though I think it's more through nostalgia than the tune being any good. It's quite sad to hear it now -around the time we wrote it Kamran and I were both pretty melancholy over a girl we both liked who was systematically flirting with every boy in the class. We'd been early targets in her campaign and she'd moved on. I remember waking up one day around this time to "Nothing's gonna stop us now" by Starship on the radio, and being struck from nowhere by this horrible empty feeling and the realisation that after we left for our different secondary schools I'd never see her again. In hindsight our tune is based on the same chord progression. Plagiarism is obviously in my genes. Chris and Carolyn both got the internet this week. Hopefully the next diary will not be mine!

From the Archive - A question of motivation

We performed in public last week for the first time since January. To the casual observer we must appear to be incredibly lazy, but the infrequency of our live appearances is down to a desire to keep them special, for the audience and for ourselves. After a while, even the most heartfelt songs get reduced to a collection of vocal noises and finger movements strung together in the correct sequence if you play them too often and know them too well. The intention is that if you come to see us play, my whole weight is behind the words I'm singing. I won't be going through the motions. How this philiosophy is going to bear up when we have a record out to promote remains to be seen! I'm not sure where this puritanical outlook came from- I can't even remember what my motivation was for starting to play music in the first place. I was too young for it to be a way of getting laid, and the idea that I could get rich from it has never been a realistic one. And yet I still find myself driven to do it. And I love doing it. It just worries me sometimes though that I'm vain enough to think that the world needs to hear my three friends and I setting the minutae of our largely unremarkable lives to music. Answers on the Superglider message board....