The Book Tower

Last Sunday I dashed home from a weekend away in order to catch the end of the BBC’s Glastonbury coverage. To be honest I didn’t really have high hopes about the closing set by Blur. Although a big fan in their heyday, I never thought they managed to recapture the brilliance of the Parklife album, and I eventually lost interest in them after the departure of Graham Coxon. However, with Coxon back in their ranks the reunion was something of an event and I confess that Sunday evening did become rather special. No new material, and I counted at least seven songs in the set from Parklife (including the inevitable walk on from Phil Daniels). But they were on fine form, and Damon Albarn, garbed in his black Fred Perry, worked the crowd with aplomb. The sense of occasion was further heightened by some enthusiastic Blur related activity on Twitter. In fact whatever the event, be it Blur or Wimbledon, I find I can’t resist the Twitter allure. But that’s for a different post.

It was good to see Blur again. Although, despite my continued enthusiasm for 80s and 90s bands, I try not to wallow in nostalgia too much. I’ve followed the post-Blur careers of both Albarn and Coxon and think they have produced their best work in this later period. Perhaps their best is still to come. There’s a new Gorillaz album on its way from Damon and Graham recently released his The Spinning Top album. This is easily the best thing he’s done to date, a folksy record that recalls Syd Barrett and Nick Drake with a nod to Coxon’s pal Paul Weller. It’s a mature piece that shows how far he’s travelled since the days of Girls and Boys, Tracy Jacks and Badhead (although I must point out that this last song is one of my all time favourites).

People tell me that I’m the age now where I ought to be listening to Radio 2. Actually, I’ve been tuning in for years although I’m becoming increasingly despondent with the music they play. It’s the nostalgia thing again, and I wonder how long they can continue to play Blondie and Abba records and expect people to happily accept it. It isn’t that there is a case against the current crop of pop stars. Actually I think the opposite.

Recently I have enjoyed three recent releases that stand up to all of the pop music before them. Ladyhawke, which came out last year, are a New Zealand band who surpass the likes of Blondie with good pop music. It’s retro stuff, recalling the 80s and in parts the sound of Stevie Nicks from Fleetwood Mac, but a highly infectious album. My two other recent discoveries can also be described as 80s retro. Both have been hyped quite a lot; easily justified although I hope it doesn’t harm their careers at this early stage. This is the weird thing I can’t resolve; although I am bored with nostalgia my current favourites all recall the period when I was young and started getting into music. It’s a paradox, but a pleasant one.

Hands by Little Boots is a very commercial album, so much so that it has invited criticism, although commercial pop is no bad thing when the songs are so good. There’s also an excellent guest appearance from Phil Oakey, which is worth the price of admission alone. Little Boots has often been lumped together with La Roux. I can see why; their self titled debut has many similarities although I think it has a harder edge and is slightly less accessible. It recalls the weirder side of Soft Cell and, again, The Human League. In the old days, I would imagine Janice Long playing Little Boots with John Peel going for La Roux. Little Boots or La Roux? I can’t recommend either enough. So I suggest buying both.

Whatever your tastes, and if you agree with mine or not, I’m content to be discovering new music in 2009. Especially being the same advanced age as Damon Albarn and Graham Coxon. Rock on.