Ghosts of Wales

Photo taken from one Jim Blob Blann's flickr stream. He has some lovely picture of Aberystwyth which make the place (if not the people) look almost attractive.

Well, there's been bit of a strange start to the morning; after a troubled and largely sleepless night I was rudely awakened by thunderously loud music. 'Music' is stretching it; the dawn was broken by an ebullient cacophony that sounded for all the world as if ghosts of Wales had risen up to march to war. Rolling timpani drums, competing (equally boisterous) male voice choirs, and chorus of lamenting women thrown in for good measure; all singing/howling "Bread of Heaven" as if they were on the wild hunt.

The odd thing is that the origins of this frenzied Wagnerian terror are an absolute mystery. It was supposed to be a copy of Cerys Matthew's new album, 'Tir', a lovely lilting affair, but somehow, I'm told, iTunes has channelled the host of hell into a stirring rendition fit for an epic medieval battle. The next track was a strange pizzicato string thing...

I shall be spending some time deciphering it, whilst polishing my sosspans bach and mawr into armour.

In the meantime, why not have a wee listen to the songs they made me sing back in school assemblies and eisteddfodau (big artsy competitions, which all learning must grind to a halt for). Additional bit of trivia Cerys Matthews's former bandmate Owen Powell was once my old welsh teacher. Wales : it's a cwtchy little country.

I'm moving so so soon.

• Myfanwy - Cerys Matthews
• Ei Di'r Deryn Du - Cerys Mathews

How I learned to Stop Worrying and Love Six Music

Raindrops on roses? Whiskers on kittens? No, sorry, neither of these feature on a list of my favourite things - not that I'd want to see any unwhiskered kittens- but BBC 6Music is on there however, and I've been worried about it.

What's to like about 6Music? Obviously Adam and Joe, though they're currently on hiatus, getting on with their careers, damn them- but the holiday cover is Collins and Herring, so that's okay. Then there's Lauren Laverne's weekday show; which is just cracking, and dry wit on a Sunday courtesy of Jarvis Cocker. Jarvis Cocker! Soon Cerys Matthews will be back too, and of course there's the ever reliable stints from both Steve Lamaqc at drive time, and Stuart Marconi's 'Freak Zone'.

All in all (in case you hadn't worked it out) there's plenty of good music, both new and old, without too much filler or any irritation - at least not now George Lamb's been relegated. 6Music is tackling remit no other mainstream station wants to fulfill: y'know, being interesting, diverse and...  consistently listenable. I just wish it still had Phil Jupitus on breakfasts.

So what's up? Well the BBC as a whole is facing mounting pressure- resources are tight, the Daily Mail is still stalking about in a rabid fashion ready to froth and scream about any mishap, and of course there's general concerns that the Tories will do something atrocious to the licence fee when they get in- probably bathe in it like sour faced, pasty Scrooge McDucks.

6Music's faced a bit of criticism in its own right too: whilst some has been justified (bloody George Lamb) other moans and groans have been petty and unfair. Radio Centre (independent radio's mouthpiece) had a pop back last August, complaining about the station's cost, how dare the fee paying alternative music lovers want/need their own service!

These past few months I've been afraid that 6Music - ray of sunshine though that it might be to me - would be pilloried by the upcoming service review. Or  worse, that maybe the BBC Trust wouldn't feel it was worth the hassle to its tiny listenership (though the listening figures have risen by 11.% this quarter). Worst of all I've been dreading the day that I'd be tearfully saying goodbye to all the live sessions, the interesting presenters and 6Music's distinctiveness.

Joy of joys, all seems to be healthy: the recent trust report says 6Music is doing just fine- apart from managing to successfully  retain its anonymity. Yes it does cost a lot, and some of those costs can be trimmed, and maybe there are improvements to be made in some areas (like documentaries), but the Trust also recognises that  it offers higher quality services  than most other independent competitors -i.e. the live shows, and that it needs to continue to ensure that its DJs are be credible guides to alternative tunes.

So, today, on St Skeletor's Day, I'm raising a glass to 6Music: a wonky little digital station, that really is doing quite a fantastic job.

Go on, give it a listen.

Russia's Greatest Love Machine

Busy, busy times have been afoot, the highlights of which include -

• Winning champagne... okay, I lie - sparkly Jacob's Creek- at a murder mystery evening (it was advertised as champagne though), then like some sort of wine Midas, I managed to accumulate more booze during a successful foray to a pub quiz. Alas the pub wine was an utterly undrinkable Liebfraumilch, labouring under the name of 'Blue Max', which I think is also the title of a WWII centred film starring George Peppard.

• VIP seats to Muse in the NIA (private bar, private barman, Muse... I accidentally stumbled onto a little bit of heaven there and I still haven't stopped smiling).

• Trips all over the place; London, Birmingham, Leeds, York - no wonder I now have swine flu and I'm totally shot.

I've also been catching up with:

• The new Cerys Matthews album 'Don't Look Down', which is really rather good.

• Likewise Julian Casablancas' solo effort.

• I've been absolutely appalled by Bob Dylan's 'Christmas in the Heart', which is just so terrible that words cannot begin to describe it. Imagine a creaky door; imagine that creaky door trying to lecture you on the spirit of Christmas - it's wearing some sort of holly wreath say, but all the while it's chuckling to itself about how much money it earns with every squeak and grooooooaaan. Not my strongest metaphor there, I know, but imagine all that, add on top the smell of rotting fish, and maybe, just maybe you are half way to understanding just how terrible a monstrosity it is that Bob Dylan has produced.

• Telstar, starring Con O'Neill, who is acting his socks off, with a sprinkling of Kevin Spacey, and James Corden (don't let that put you off). It's adapted and directed by Nick Moran of all people, who provides a tender look at the flaws and foibles of Joe Meek, presenting him not as another demented producer, but lauding his talents as a groundbreaking individual albeit one who is beset by demons, fame, and his sexuality.

On top of all that I've been indulging my Rusophillic side, culminating in the reading of what I suspect will be the first of many Ra-Ra-Rasputin biographies. Rasputin, The Final Word is by one Edvard Radzinsky, a historian who sounds like a character from an Ann Rice novel. It's an interesting and detailed history portraying the Mad Monk as a relapsed drunken peasant, easily cowed, eager to please, whirling around in a charitable haze, whilst flagellating himself nightly, smiling at the sky, and of course benignly caring for 'Mama' and 'Papa' Rus and their children.

So what if he occasionally had a bath with the odd lady?

Radzinsky's style leads to some quite superstitious conclusions and doesn't quite gel with the balanced view he purports to give, but for all its faults there is drama a-plenty. There are controversial, and never before aired, pro-Rasputin statements drawn from the findings of the wonderfully titled Extraordinary Commission of Inquiry for the Investigation of Illegal Acts by Ministers and Other Responsible Persons of the Tsarist Regime, and the unveiling of a cunning femme fetal and éminence grise in the form of the the Tsariana's former maid.

So, how does it compare to the Bony-M tune? Was Ra-Ra-Rasputin the lover of the Russian Queen? It's all Edvard can do to shake his head, look stern and sigh about ridiculous questions. I quite like the song though... it's a bit of a guilty pleasure. I hang my head in shame.