Music Review: Dan Arborise - Around in Circles

Very deep down almost everyone has one song by a romantic folksy type that they love; everyone has at least one album by someone who may live in the woods. Though admittedly the briefest whisper of the suggestion of sitting through a cascade of Nick Drake songs saps my will to live.

Dan Arborise, according to one reviewer mentioned on his website, 'lives in a barn and grows his own vegetables'. It's not quite the woods, but the whole album is a beautiful, beautiful creation that you can just drift away with. As a musician he's relaxed and melodic with a beguiling guitar; his voice is as pure as organic water bottled in leaves and his songs flow like smoke from a summer beach barbecue. This album has a flavour of summer and warm measure of comfort but enough variation from the usual folk norm to keep it interesting and enough heartfelt honesty to make it accessible than more that just the usual audience of jumper wearing hippies.

What more can I say: I am absolutely in love with Around in Circles and I'm looking forward to it standing me in good stead for a long while to come... I;m also revising to it too, for the information of those who may be concerned.

Around in Circles came out in 2006, and he's a new album out sometime this year. He makes some of the most perfect music I have heard for ages; winsome, romantic and ....oh, just go get it, really! 9/10

Music Review: Franz Ferdinand - Tonight

I'll start this off with a confession: I play an awful lot of Tetris, it helps me relax. In fact any computer game where you have to stack up blocks or balls or rings. I adore them all. So what's all this got to do with Franz Ferdinand? Not much really; one of their songs follows the pattern of the Guillemots and the Sister Sisters by including some fiddly computer game music buried in the background; I listen and suddenly I see blocks falling down. I may have a problem.

'Fiddly'; that's the first half of this album alright. Fiddly and trying too hard just like Lincoln Cathedral. The tracks are top heavy with flourishing touches, some which work, some unfortunately don't. The ones that don't tend to take off on beat-morphing tangents; you just have to sit there wishing the song ended back when you were enjoying it . That said the majority of songs on the new album possess the killer rhythms you'd expect: 'Ulysses' and 'What She Came For' are cases in point there. Almost every track feels like it could stand alone as a single.

Franz Ferdinand have pushed themselves, yet sometimes there are just too many layers and songs take so many unexpected twists (especially at the start of the album) that they become tedious, leaving Kapranos's strained voice to quaver over repetitive lyrics. The songs which work best tend to be true to form. Happily there's a cluster of them later on so fans won't be disappointed (in particular I rather like the gentle 'Katherine Kiss Me' it's a nice counterpart to the dance floor ready 'No You Girls').

Generally the band strives for originality and innovation, trying to stay one step ahead, but the culmination of this push results in electronic blundering, acid stylings, the odd Latin beat and strange musical pairings that at times fail to provide a fulfilling listening experience. There's so much crammed into some tracks, like 'Send Him Away' or 'Live Alone' (including computer game sounding music) yet you're left with a hollow construction - songs which are in fact chocolate bunnies. It's a shame; you get the impression that the album might have been a bit of diamond in the rough, as it is you'll get the best out of it when it's played on a night out.

You could do worse: you'll hear and enjoy some things on the radio and down the discos, but this doesn't flow together as an album. As for the band - must try harder to do less: 7/10

Exams..... that's why we pay the money, spend the time and get the degree....

As a professional student I've discovered more ways of procrastinating than you can shake a stick at; assuming of course you go on the hunt for a suitable tree, break one of its branches, whittle the said branch into a nice smooth shaking stick, varnish it, find some stick shaking music (I'd currently recommend a slight return to the Bluetoned brit-pop jollity, but then I'm trying to revise so I'm not listening to that much newness)....

Finally, when all this is done - you can shake your stick! Or alternatively you can open that book up and learn stupid political acronyms and jargon until your face swells up. Seriously, this seems to have happened: my right eye is looking distinctly puffy and has left me feeling a kinship with the Phantom of the Opera.

Here's today's procrastination device of choice: http://obamiconme.pastemagazine.com/ and this sort of thing is what it does:

Now, all I need is a theatre, opera house or a seaside Punch and Judy booth to haunt.....

It's a New Dawn, It's a New Day....

David Letterman's Top Ten Bush Moments......

George W. Bush; he gave idiot sons everywhere hope. You don't need skill, you don't need to be suave or charismatic, you don't even need to be able to string a sentence together; as long as you have the right background, family money behind you, and your father has the right friends you too can be president. As for the Bush debaucle of a Presidency, well, in the words of Tom Paine; "what we obtain too cheap, we esteem too lightly".

No one is watching Bush shuffle off into history; yesterday the crowd around Washington chanted for one man, whilst the rest of the world took a sigh of relief. Barrack Obama has taken office and pledged to remake America.

Obama spoke of a mythologised past; one of blood and sweat, ingenuity and the triumph of ideals. A past of drive, courage and purposefulness. The unsavory side of America is swept away by his hope filled eulogy to hard work and dedication and we are reminded of what America has achieved; what the American dream stands for to all the little people who make the nation work. He reminded the citizens of the US the debt they owe their legacy and how far the old leaders have fallen from the founding principals. Our era of crisis has been remodelled as an era of vision and peace. Once again we are moved by words alone to believe that the grasp of man is as boundless as his reach if the nation possesses the courage to stretch out and seize oppertunity.

Now is the pause. Does the colossus have feet of clay or can there truly be a leader with convictions, ambition and the courage to take hard decisions and do what he 'knows' to be right, rather than to be guided by what he believes? It is easy to be cynical; it's even easier for Obama to fail; but maybe, just maybe we can bare witness to a man of whom be proud.

2009

New Year's resolutions:

• No more photos with drinks in hand; all drinks will lurk just out of frame.
• Gracefully accept leaving my mid twenties.
• Gain official recognition for the fact that Aberystwyth smells of chips.

2009 has got off to a flying start. I was flying (or fleeing) from Aber as fast as a very slow train could carry me on New Year's Eve. The boiler broke. Which was fine. It wasn't like I had a guest visiting; it wasn't like I'd been scrubbing the floor and fluffing up the towels, or racking my brains to find fun things to do when all of Aber seems to shut down between Christmas Eve and the 2nd of January; the sum total of this racking proved to be practising how to say Pontrhydfendigaid in order to catch buses to a certain stupidly named village near-ish to Strata Florida Abbey. Even the organic food shops were shut as the lazy hippies settled themselves down for their winter feast of pine needles and phallic mushrooms.

I left Aber around half three having been driven to despair by the landlady's inadequate handyman and his bungling, or rather in this case his inability to turn up and fix anything, though all would be handymen should take note; promising various times of arrival and/or perpetually carrying around a tube of Pollyfiller does not make you a DIY god. A mere five hours later when the planned New Year's festivities should have been about to start (meaning Casablanca and wine) I arrived in my guest's flat; there was no food because I'd not been expected, the towels were starchy because he's a bloke, but most importantly, just like my flat, there wasn't a drop of hot water to be found: boiler number two had also given up the ghost.

Mean anything to you?

We went to bed by half eleven, and drank our champagne from silvered goblets the next morning whilst we pined for showers. I then broke one of said silvered goblets which weren't so much metal as foil covered glass.

Happy New Year.