THE ARCADE FIRE (St. John's, Smith Square, 29/1/07)

It’s a bit of an understatement that I was excited about seeing the Arcade Fire yesterday. I have had the pleasure of seeing them twice before, and they are one of the most passionate, intense live bands you’ll ever see. Thus the chance to see them in an intimate setting such as St. John’s Church in Westminster was impossible to resist. Before the show, I had been chatting to a number of the fine people off the AF forums (AKA Us Kids Know) and also a film-maker from the BBC who is currently making a documentary about live music (he said that he didn’t go to as many gigs as I did, but he did have Pink Floyd and Lou Reed play personal shows for him, so I think he wins slightly there…) There were also a couple of famous faces near to where I was standing- I recognised Julian Barrett from the Mighty Boosh (he’s really tall), Adam Buxton from the Adam and Joe show and apparently Mark Berry from Garth Merenghi’s ‘Darkplace’ was with them as well. Oh, and Paul Morley was there- he was chatting to Win for a while after the show. But we weren’t there just to spot the B-list stars, oh no! We had more pressing matters for our attention....



First thing Win Butler said when he walks on stage is, “Hey, this is a rock concert, you better fucking stand up!” And thus this allegedly seated gig became nothing of the sort, to the satisfaction of all but the lame and useless. I thought that was pretty awesome. But what of the performance itself? Well, there’s no denying they were bit rusty- it’s only their third show (and the first official one) touring the new album. There were a few technical hitches (including a loudhailer that wouldn’t turn off), I don’t think they’ve quite got used to the expanded line-up (11 members now!) and they’re not as tight as they’ll surely be by the end of the tour- the live renditions of Black Mirror and Ocean of Noise both struck me as in need of a bit of tinkering, certainly. But it’s a testament to their talent that they were still fucking brilliant, and OoN was saved by its segue into the most awesomely bitching version of “Rebellion (Lies)” I ever did hear. In fact, it is to their credit that as well as fitting all but one song off the new album in their set, they managed to find room for half of Funeral (they weren't due to play Tunnels, but some guy kept on shouting out for it and they eventually gave in!) Win’s vocals have certainly got a lot stronger over the last couple of years; unlike before, he can sustain them for the whole set and his wife Regine was on amazing form. Her voice, known for being somewhat unpredictable live, was in fine fettle and her charming, vivacious personality came across brilliantly during the moments the set focused on her, Haiti and Black Wave especially. No Cars Go was my personal highlight with its transcendent climax, but the passionate Intervention and protest anthem Windowsill were also stunning. Unfortunately, they didn’t actually use the pipe organ for My Body Is A Cage, but Regine explained later that it would have been too difficult to pull off correctly. Real big shame that, but that’s how it goes. They concluded with a fantastic encore of “Antichrist Television Blues” (one of my favourite songs off Neon Bible) and moshtastic classic “Power Out”- a superb finale by any measure, but I can’t deny I was upset by the absence of “Wake Up,” one of my beloved songs in the world. ‘Ah well’, I despondently said to myself, ‘you can’t have everything’.



But wait! This is the Arcade Fire we’re talking about! They’re not the sort of band who’re willing to go quietly after a set. I suspected something was up when the band marched off the stage with their instruments (including a double bass, no less), paraded round the audience and walked out the front door of the venue. Then I saw some of the UKK bunch beckoning for us to get out there sharpish. And there they were, getting ready to play. So I clambered onto the sides of the steps leading down to the street and as the audience gathered on the steps of the church and the road below they launched into none other than an acoustic version of “Wake Up.” And Jesus Titty-Fucking Christ, I’ve been blessed to see some of the best live bands in existence over the last couple of years, but there is nothing, absolutely nothing that can touch that moment. It was beautiful, passionate, utterly joyous; the atmosphere was absolutely perfect, the captivated crowd singing their hearts out in the moonlight. I didn’t think anything could top “Wake Up” in Manchester as my favourite live performance of all-time, but I’m very glad to admit I was wrong.



Because the show was over and done with about 10pm, we felt it’d be nice for the UKKers to get together for a drink. So as we were waiting in the church to gather our forces, a gentleman came up and asked us if we wanted backstage passes. And for some bizarre reason, we decided to acquiesce to his offer. So we went downstairs into the bar, and hung around for an hour or so hobnobbing with the band. Now, I’m not the sort of person who really talks to musical folk (far too shy), but I actually engaged in conversation with Win (about the greatness of Antichrist Television Blues) and Jeremy (congratulating him for how quickly they’ve got to grips with the new stuff given it was only its third outing; he didn’t entirely agree!) I can’t tell you how surreal it was, chatting casually to the guys responsible for some of my favourite songs of all time. I also got a handshake from the legend that is Richard Reed Parry and a wave and a hello from Regine (who’s absolutely lovely) and Will. But most importantly, me and Graham from the forums ‘acquired’ a couple of ‘Neon Bible’ posters (from a church no less, we’re so going to hell) and got them signed by Win, Will, Richard and Tim! Shockingly, this is the one and only piece of signed music memorabilia to my name but I must say, what a doozy! It’s hanging on my wall as I speak, more beloved than my own family. Only problem was of course is that I have to be up at 6.30am, and getting to bed after 2am is not conducive to a productive day at work. Still, no denying it was TOTALLY worth it! Roll on March at the Brixton Academy!

(Photo's 'acquired' from Wonky (and others) at UKK)

GHOSTS (London Water Rats, 23/1/07)
I'M FROM BARCELONA (ULU, 24/1/07)
THE BOY LEAST LIKEY TO (London Scala, 25/1/07)



Having being slightly derailed by the leak of Neon Bible, here is my slightly belated review of my “Three Gigs In Three Days.” It’s not something I’d overly recommend unless the calibre of bands are really good because it’s bloody tiring! But hey, I had a lot of fun and that’s what matters I suppose. First off- Ghosts at the Water Rats pub in Kings Cross. Nice little venue actually; dark, dingy and with surprisingly solid acoustics. The band itself has been often touted in the music press as a contender to be the New ColdplayTM, so I was intrigued whether they’d live up to the hype. To be honest their EP is a bit wussy for my tastes but luckily, their live show is far more confident, and although nothing stands out as particularly innovative they do show a flair for writing catchy, hummable pop songs. Their influences are clear- you’ve got the art-rock bounce of Franz, the twinkly piano lines of Keane and the amiable MOR poppiness of the Feeling and it is a formula that could seriously see them hit the big time. Still, for me, supports ‘Make Good Your Escape’ were more impressive, combining the ambitious scope of Hope of the States with relentless, clinical drumming reminiscent of 65 Days of Static- all tied together with a ferocious energy impossible to resist. I’ve heard positive things about this band for ages, and having finally seen them I reckon they’ve definitely got the talent and originality to go far.

The next day saw me trekking to the infernal pits of the University of London to see a little band called I’m From Barcelona. Who’re they, you ask? Well, as one commentator accurately put it, they’re ‘the low-budget lovechild of the Flaming Lips and the Polyphonic Spree’- twenty nine mates from Stockholm (not Barcelona, the Trading-Standards-baiting bastards) who are in the business of purveying unadulterated joy to the masses. I knew they would be good, their anthem “We’re From Barcelona” was one of my favourite songs of last year- what I didn’t guess is that it would be one of the best shows I’ve ever been to. True, if you wanted to be critical, you could point out any number of flaws- the nursery rhyme lyrics (half of which are ‘NA-NA-NA’s’), the laughably childish sentiments, the complete lack of subtlety or variety in musical tone. But then you’d be a charlatan and a fool of the highest order, because with I’m From Barcelona, only one thing matters and that’s pure, out-and-out FUN. I mean, you’ve not lived until you hear two dozen crazy Scandinavians perform Madonna’s “Like A Prayer”, or sung along to the ‘bababa’s’ that underpin ‘Collection of Stamps’ until your voice is hoarse. As mentioned previously, the lyrics are rather simplistic, but this is actually an asset in a band like IMB; the fact is, whether you’ve heard the song before or not, you’ll know all the words by the end of the first minute. Add in crowd-surfing, kazoos, balloons, home made confetti, ukulele-chucking and the full-scale encouragement to dance, sing and jump about like fucking lunatics and you’ve got less of a gig than the HAPPIEST PARTY EVER. It’s all very silly and light-hearted, but to their credit, the set never once flagged in its irrepressible joie de vivre. Even the less exuberant moments were brilliant, especially ‘boyband ballad’ “Grizzly Bear”, an ironically upbeat tribute to Timothy Treadwell and a new song based round the plot of “The Life Aquatic”.



But it was the dance-party climax that totally sealed this gig’s legendary status. Once the band had played their last song, lead joymeister Emmanual declared to the assembled crowds that it was time to get down and dance. And with that, a rave remix of “We’re From Barcelona” blasted out of the speakers and the band invited the whole audience to join them on stage! Which, to the utter bemusement of security, was an offer that was swiftly taken up; I reckon there was well over a hundred of us on stage bopping about like retards before the end. It was just amazing- I had a grin on my face the whole way home back to Watford! On the evidence of tahat night, I’d like to propose that we replace the UN with I’m From Barcelona and usher the world into a new era of peace, joy and harmony. Because if anyone could do it, they could.

In a way, it’s a shame that I was to see The Boy Least Likely To the day afterwards, because there’s only such happy-clappiness a man can take. Still, I still had a great time, and their twinkly, gleeful songs tempered with bittersweet lyrics still draw a nostalgia for childhood like no-one else; I mean, they’ve got a paean to Magic Cola (that chemical-sweet 10p stuff you always got at summer fayres)! How cool is that! They perhaps slightly over-did the balloons, but then again it was fun throwing them at the band, who took it all with good humour. Also, getting their tour managers to dress up as the band mascots during “Be Gentle With Me,” (which remains one of the most thoroughly delightful songs in existence) was a very cute touch. However, what will remain with me most from this gig is the support act Lonely Dear, who are yet ANOTHER great band from Sweden (in fact, it just so happens that they’re good friends with I’m From Barcelona.) The last few weeks have led me to believe that Swedes have this natural ability to craft perfect pop tunes, and Lonely Dear marries this innate talent to beautiful, ethereal vocals sometimes reminiscent of Sigur Ros- the delicate harmonies of “Been A Loser” were particularly mesmerising. A band to keep an eye on, methinks.

So how can one top such an outstanding three days of music, this veritable triumvirate of terrificness? Oh wait- I’m seeing the Arcade Fire on Monday. SCORE!

(Photo's courtesy of UKK's Wonky)

For the last few years (perhaps as some sort of belated recompense for Bryan Adams) Canada’s been the place where indie’s been at, with such wonderful beat combos as The Arcade Fire, Wolf Parade, Frog Eyes, Final Fantasy, Sunset Rubdown, The Dears, Broken Social Scene, K-OS and The New Pornographers emerging from its pseudo-Gallic shores. But times are a-changin’. Canadia’s dominance of the alternative scene is slipping, as the mantle of musical greatness is wrested from it by a new contender. And no, it’s not the UK or the US of A. In fact, it’s someone really quite unexpected. Enter “Konungariket Sverige”, or as we call it in this part of the world, Sweden.

Home to Volvos, the Nobel Prize and devastatingly attractive blondes, this Scandinavian nation hasn’t really pulled its weight musically since ABBA thanked us for the music and buggered off back in the mid-80’s. But recently, we’ve seen a number of great bands emerge from the icy wastes; The Shout Out Louds, The Concretes, Peter Bjorn and John, I’m From Barcelona, just to name few. But perhaps their greatest ambassadors at the moment are the glacial brother-and-sister electro duo known as The Knife. Now, you might not have heard of them, but you’ll probably have heard of one of their songs. You know that Sony Bravia advert with the thousands of multi-coloured balls bouncing down a hill? (Query: why not multi-coloured cannonballs? With chavs at the bottom of the hill? Then they could’ve performed a public service as well as hyping their product…) Well, that particularly striking piece of advertising was accompanied by a delightful guitar piece sung by Jose Gonzalez, who despite his Hispanic name is yet another Swede. It's name was “Heartbeats”, it received a lot of attention from the music press, and Jose was propelled into the big time (and good for him, ‘cos it was pretty great.) But compared the synthtastic ebullience of the original, Jose’s acoustic rendition seems rather, well, dull. Drenched with dense keyboards, KORG solos and synth drums, the Knife’s version is the antithesis of Jose’s; an insidiously catchy synthesis of 80’s-style upbeat electro-pop and Karin Dreijer Andersson’s unmistakable icy vocals. It’s frankly stunning and undoubtedly one of the best songs I heard last year- the sole reason it wasn’t in my Top 30 list was because it was released in 2002. Otherwise it’d be duelling (possibly with muskets, swords are so last millennia) with ‘Trains For Brazil’ for the top spot.

Their latest LP ‘Silent Shout’ isn’t nearly as immediate as their earlier stuff; it’s a very clinical, often sinister musical journey with dischordant synths and relentless techno beats as cold and unforgiving as the Arctic winter. It’s definitely an acquired taste- Pitchfork awarded it Album of 2006 but it’s not an easy album to get into. But there’s been some mighty fine remixes- Ratatat’s take on “We Share Our Mother’s Health” made my Top 30 Songs of last year and with good reason. And although I don’t really thinking sharing my mother’s health is particularly appropriate or desirable, I will share a couple of MP3’s. Because I’m nice like that.

The Knife - Heartbeats

The Knife vs. Ratatat– We Share Our Mothers Health

LIAM FROST (London Spitz, 17/01/07)

To inaugurate a brand new year of obsessive gig-going, I went to see the fantastic Liam Frost and the Slowdown Family at a little place called the London Spitz. This trendy bar/restaurant/gig venue in the depths of New Spitalfields reminded me of the superb Night and Day Cafe in Manchester with its diverse range of alcoholic beverages (I partook in some German strawberry beer, I implore you not to do the same) and small, wonderfully intimate stage. However, the Spitz noticeably lacked the cute redhead sitting in front of me playing with her iMac who later transpired to be none other than Jenny Lewis (yes, of Rilo Kiley/Rabbit Fur Coat fame.) That admittedly was a bit of a shame, but luckily the quality of the music more than made up for that.

For those who haven’t heard of Mr. Frost, he’s a twenty-two year old singer-songwriter from Manchester whose “Mourners of St. Paul” (a tribute to his late father) was Planet Sound’s Top Single of 2006. I was initially put off by the fact he seemed to be lumped in with the masses of other twenty-something guys who play guitar ballads in an terribly over-earnest fashion (James Blunt, Jack Johnson, James Morrison), but after hearing the hype about that song I decided to check him out. And he was a real revelation; perhaps he won’t have the same appeal to middle class housewives as his peers, but his mix of rough-hewn folkiness and heart-stirring strings is infinitely more interesting than most of his ilk. So when I found out he was playing in London, I thought I’d grace his show with my rotund presence.

Well, first off, he wasn’t the pony-tailed, skinny jeaned hippy I always envisaged him as. Liam Frost is, like myself, an unabashed ‘man of volume’. Or for those feeling less kind, ‘a fat bastard’. In any case, I instantly felt a kinship with the guy- he seemed a lot more down to earth than most of the indie types I’ve encountered. My fears that the lush instrumentation of the album wouldn’t be able to be recreated in such a tiny venue were unfounded; backed by a string quartet, percussion and piano, this was certainly no dreary acoustic strum-a-thon. Frost’s cracked Mancunian vocals suits the melancholy material perfectly, adding a real rawness to the proceedings but it’s when his set hits its most uplifting moments where his singing really impresses. You wouldn’t expect it, but underneath the roughness is a genuinely strong voice and he employs it marvellously. True, some of the renditions were perhaps slightly more subdued than I would have liked (The City Is At A Standstill), but it’s a petty complaint. The fact is, you’ll be hard-pressed to find a more beautiful song than “The Mourner’s of St. Pauls,” which was somehow even more acutely moving live than on record. After the deluge of middle-of-the-road, suicide-inducing dullards like Blunt and Nutini, it’s heartening to see that there are still singer-songwriters out there with real emotion and soul. He also seems like a top bloke as well; lots of great banter with the audience and band and he even waited by the door to thank the punters after the show - a small touch, but one that was definitely appreciated. A fine way to kick off what will be undoubtedly a superb year of live music.

And just for you, here are a couple of tracks from the fantastic Mr. Frost. Enjoy!

Liam Frost- The Mourners Of St Paul's

Liam Frost- The City Is At A Standstill

THE TOP FIFTY (ONE) GIGS OF TWO THOUSAND AND SIX

In the long-forgotten mists of 2005, I came to the decision that I would try to see a band a month. And in that I succeeded. So in 2006, spurred on by the superb array of bands I’d seen the previous year, I thought to myself, ‘hey, let’s go a bit crazy; let’s go for three gigs a month.’ At that time, I thought I’d never do it. Needless to say, I had seen the requisite 36 shows by the end of July, and if it wasn’t for a two month spell of unemployment when I didn’t go to a single gig, I imagine the final total would have been much higher. All in all, I saw 127 separate performances from 115 different musical acts, spent well over a grand in gig tickets and 2% of the entire year in music venues around Britain. And you know what - I wouldn’t have swapped it for the world. It says a lot for the quality of live music around at the moment that even those bands languishing around in the mid-40’s still provided a great night’s entertainment, and despite the resultant poverty and perpetual lack of sleep I’m fucking glad I did it. But hey, enough of this rambling- without further ado, I present to you the List O’ Gigs (2006 Edition):

51. The Divine Comedy (Sheffield Leadmill, 21st May)

A disappointing performance from Mr. Neil Hannon, who showed none of the wit and spontaneity that made his 2004 tour so memorable. Some good new songs, but no National Express or Tonight We Fly? Bad Neil, sit in the corner!

50. The Automatic (York Fibbers, 27th February)
Rather run-of-the mill angular guitar rock stuff. Kudos to the bonkers synth guy though.

49. The Feeling (York Fibbers, 23rd February)
Good singles, fine Franz-style showmanship, but pretty middle of the road otherwise.

48. Mojave 3 (London Parkway Jazz Café, 7th November)
Slowcore favourites suffer due to Rachel Goswell’s absence, their energy sadly dissipating after a promising start. Though I must say, Truck Driving Man was ace.

47. The Fiery Furnaces (Leeds Cockpit, 8th May)
For a band that’s made a name for itself for being completely bonkers, a very straightforward no-frills rock set wasn’t exactly what I expected. Not bad, but not the offbeat show I was hoping for.

46. Jeremy Warmsley (York Fibbers, 10th April)
Offbeat Anglo-French singer-songwriter who has been called the male Regina Spektor- he has her originality, definitely, but unfortunately not her voice. Nice bit of audience participation at the end though.

45. Okkervil River (Leeds Cockpit, 3rd May)
Folky Americana group who are more raw and energetic than you’d expect live. For Real, in particular, came across much more powerfully than on record.

44. A Silver Mt. Zion (Leeds Brudenell Social Club, 2nd June)
Pretentious, overlong and cursed with a singer that sounds like a cat being brutally raped. But they had their moments- especially the acapella ending to God Bless Our Dead Marines which was as beautiful and poignant as Sigur Ros at their best.

43. The Bluetones (Shepherd’s Bush Empire, 30th November)
A pretty mediocre gig which improved dramatically just before the end. Old favourites Slight Return and Bluetonic erased the taste of the bland new songs that filled most of the set, but it was a truly anthemic rendition of “If” that saved the night for me. The sound of hundreds of people singing, screaming and otherwise vocalising “NAAAAA-NA-NA-NAAAA!” at the top of their voices just can’t be beat.

42. The Spinto Band (Leeds Cockpit, 24th January)
"Oh Mandy" is the best song they've got, but they're a most affable live band with a nice line in jangly cheery indie tunes and lest us not forget- free kazoos!

41. Emmy The Great (London Old Blue Last, 26th November)
The first headline gig for the quirky singer-songwriter responsible for the sublime ‘Secret Circus’. A very short set, punctuated by obvious nerves, but nonetheless her quite considerable talent shone through. We also got free cake of three, yes, THREE different varieties.

40. Tilly and the Wall (York Fibbers, 17th May)
Tap-dancing indie-boppers, with a good line in cheery, latino-tinged songwriting. A bit samey after a while, but fun all the same.

39. My Latest Novel (Leeds Cockpit, 20th March)
Beautiful orchestral pop from Scottish quintet, but perhaps a bit dour and distant live to really impress.

38. The Who (Leeds Harewood House, 25th June)
Wrinkly OAPs put on surprisingly enjoyable show; new songs dragged a little, but you can’t beat We Wont Be Fooled Again and the immense 25-minute Tommy medley. Though I couldn’t stop giggling when Pete Townsend played ‘The Kids are Alright’.

37. Hope Of The States (Leeds Cockpit, 28th March)
Perennial live favourites make welcome comeback, but unfortunately jettison most of the instrumentals for new rockier sound. Got the unsurpassable Red Stars, Black Stars in the encore though, so it all turned out OK.

36. Regina Spektor (Shepherd’s Bush Empire, 23rd August)
For some reason, Regina lacked the spark she had in Leeds; her voice was slightly wavery and the acoustics weren’t great. But there’s no denying the quality of her songs (especially ‘On The Radio’), and even if her vocals weren’t tip-top, they were still head-and-shoulders above almost any other singer I care to mention.

35. Metric (York Fibbers, 15th May)
Broken Social Scenes Emily Haines ditches ice queen persona for wild-eyed synth-pop goddess. Like the Cardigans or a female-fronted Killers, but with far more live energy than either. Makes you want to dance, baby!

34. The Research (York Fibbers, 19th January)
Ramshackle keyboard-pop meets Beach Boys harmonies for slightly repetitive but immensely likeable Wakefield trio.

33. Death Cab For Cutie (Leeds Refectory, 27th June)
Chock-full of scenesters and a horrible venue, but these emo stalwarts are worthier of their acclaim than most. Appreciated the beefed version of Different Names (my favourite DCFC song ) and the ending of Transatlanticism was pure, undiluted lighter-waving material.

32. Half Man Half Biscuit (Shepherd’s Bush Empire, 21st December)
John Peel’s second favourite band unleash their idiosyncratic brand of erudite, pop-culture-obsessed ditties on an adoring crowd, with such classics as “Fuckin’ Hell, It’s Fred Titmus,” “Joy Division Oven Gloves” and the sardonic genius of “24 Hour Party People” all making well-deserved appearances. The actual music has always paled to comparison to Nigel Blackwell’s legendary lyrics, but the band are solid players and keep things moving very nicely. Loved watching the bemused expressions of indie kids regarding the vigorous moshing of the 50-year-old contingent (HMHB have been around for a long time), and in fact this would have placed much higher if they’d found a place for “All I Want For Christmas Is A Dukla Prague Away Kit.” It was probably too obvious for them…

31. My Life Story (London Astoria, 8th December)
Brit-pop nearly-man Jake Shillingsworth brought his deliciously grandiose pop back to the Astoria after a decade’s absence, complete with a 13-piece backing band. Not a man to be held down by commonly held conceptions of ‘cool’, his songs are so unashamedly and infectiously over-the top that even someone who’s unfamiliar with the majority of their stuff (i.e. me) can’t help but be swept away with the sheer extravagance of it all.

30. Jim Noir (York Fibbers, 27th May)
Jaunty and very enjoyable 60s-style tunes from northern bloke in hat. Extra points for the completely impromptu cover of Lady Madonna, as well as a spontaneous funk jam at the end of their set.

29. Patrick Wolf (London Bloomsbury Theatre, 30th March)
Lanky multi-instrumentalist street urchin impresses with erudite balladry, but really excels when playing summery Motown pop and screaming away with Edward Larrikin.

28. The New Pornographers (Leeds Cockpit, 19th May)
Stayed too close to their recorded sound for my liking, but a very competent and comprehensive set from superlative power-poppers. Mates of States also impressed in support with their sugary-sweet but incredibly happy keyboard anthems.

27. Two Gallants (York Fibbers, 13th February)
Top-notch bluesy Americana from two howlin' screamin' bourbon-fuelled Yankees who play like their lives depended on it.

26. The Magic Numbers (Hammersmith Apollo, 18th November)
Everyone’s favourite men and women of volume peddle West Coast happy-clappiness with wildly varying results; oldies such as ‘Morning’s Eleven’ and ‘Love Me Like You’ are undoubtedly magnificent but the newer stuff is depressingly mediocre. Still, when they were good, they were very, very good and their enthusiasm carried off the stuff that wasn’t.

25. Calexico and Iron and Wine (Manchester Academy, 21st April)
Three straight hours of music combining the whispered, ethereal vocals of Iron and Wine and the country-infused Mariachi of Calexico, with appearances from a Mexican tenor with the most booming, rich voice I’ve ever heard. Definitely got my money’s worth out of this one.

24. 65 Days of Static (York Fibbers, 23rd May)
Crazy time signatures, electronic bleeps, grinding guitars and extremely complex drumming from Sheffieldian math-rock band. Very intense, very heavy, very good.

23. Calexico and Beirut (Camden Roundhouse, 5th November)
Calexico were just as good as in Manchester (plus they played the awesome El Guero Carelo) but the real stars of the show were supports Beirut and A Hack And A Hacksaw, who enchanted the Roundhouse with their joyous Balkan-infused sounds.

22. Final Fantasy (Manchester Circle Club, 13th May)
Solo violinist and part-time Arcade Fire member does crazy-sexy things with his fiddle, a loop pedal and nothing else. The fact that he managed to replicated the complex baroque stylings of his new album without a string quartet and harpsichord was amazing enough; the fact he IMPROVED on it was something special.

21. Final Fantasy (London Scala, 24th October)
Lacked the intimacy of the Circle Club show, but more than made up for it with his covers of Destroyer’s ‘Rubies’ and Bloc Party’s ‘This Modern Love’. How can one man with a violin be so damn talented?

20. The Earlies (York Fibbers, 14th May)
Proggy-synth fellas with nine members, a gazillion instruments and beautiful, relaxing harmonies that I could have easily listened to for hours on end. The very definition of lovely.

19. Boy Least Likely To (York Fibbers, 25th February)
Happy, happy, happy, happy!!! Like a massive sugar rush, this gleeful confectionery of joyous upbeat childishness mixed with often disarmingly downbeat lyrics had me grinning from beginning to end.

18. Sigur Ros (Manchester Apollo, 27th March)
Icelandic pixie-music that sometimes dragged on a bit (and suffered from slightly dodgy sound) but at their best they were enchanting like no other. Personally, I thought most of the truly impressive songs came from Takk, though the orgasmic Untitled 8 was on par with the Arcade Fire’s ‘In The Backseat’ as the best damn closer to a set ever. Also fell madly in love with all-female string section/support act Amiina.

17. Two Gallants (London Scala, 9th November)
Even more intense than last time (and that’s saying something), Two Gallants shattered eardrums across London with their pounding Delta blues. These guys must have sold their souls to the Devil to sound this good. Excellent support from Cold War Kids as well.

16. The Dears (Camden Koko, 26th October)
Although the cause of dreadful pain in the left eardrum, the Dears were one of the great surprises of the year- loud, intense and fucking brilliant. Not a very communicative band, that’s for sure, but they played with an energy and passion I’ve rarely seen since the Arcade Fire blew my tiny little mind in May ’05. A propensity for aimless noodling did make the latter half of the evening drag on a bit, but an absolutely blinding performance of ‘Never Destroy Us’ automatically cancels out any criticism I might had of the rest of the show.

15. Hope of the States (York Fibbers, 23rd April)
Almost as good as their Camden show; for the first and only time in their history they opened up with Black Stars, Red Stars which made me happier than you could ever imagine. Played with the verve and energy that made me fall in love with them in the first place.

14. Gogol Bordello (Camden Koko, 6th July)
Too far away from the stage this time to enjoy it as much as last time, Gogol Bordello still seem incapable of putting on a show that is less than totally awesome. During the encore a stark-naked man jumped on stage, who instead of being dragged away by security was allowed to give Eugene Hutz a piggy-back. Can’t see that happening at a James Blunt gig…

13. George Clinton and Parliament Funkadelic (Hammersmith Apollo, 17th July)
Ancient funk pioneers live up to their name and lay the groove down on y’all. A commendably varied show, from the innuendo-filled jams of the older generation to the newer R&B/rap of Clinton’s granddaughter to the outstanding Hendrix-quality guitar instrumental that is Maggot Brain. I dig. Totally.

12. Scissor Sisters (Wembley Arena, 25th November)
OMg AdAM u’VE SOlD oUt LOL!!!!!11111 As embarrassing as it is to my supposed indie-cred to be found at a Scissors Sisters gig, I can’t deny that they put on a joyous live show. Even more outrageously camp than I’d expected, Jake Shears and Ana Matronic bounce, flounce and mince through a set full of guilty pleasures, most notably the vaudeville stomp of ‘Laura’ and sleazy-as-fuck closer ‘Filthy/Gorgeous’.
If you didn’t feel like dancin’ beforehand, you certainly will after this.

11. Broken Social Scene (Leeds Cockpit, 16th February)
Two and a half hours of densely layered instrumental weirdness veering between the pretentiously indulgent and the absolutely transcendent. The drop-dead gorgeous Anthems for a Seventeen Year Old Girl is one of the most beautiful things I’ve ever heard. I also got hugged by Kevin Drew, which although not quite as appealing as being hugged by Lisa Lobsinger was quite cool (in a totally non-gay way).

10. Little Man Tate (York Fibbers, 4th May)
So hot and sweaty I very nearly fainted, but Little Man Tate are one of those rare indie bands you just couldn’t stop moshing about like a loon to even if you wanted to. Bouncy, insanely catchy tunes from a group who are destined to hit the big time.

9. Imogen Heap (York Fibbers, 3rd April)
One-woman army with lovably eccentric stage presence rouses the biggest cheers I’ve ever heard at Fibbers with peerless Bjorkish electro-pop. I’d never heard anything by her before, but with songs like Hide and Seek and Goodnight and Go and a voice that rivalled Regina Spektor’s, I was completely and utterly won over. Outstanding.

8. Guillemots (Leeds Cockpit, 1st April)
Unclassifiable, yet immensely catchy band of oddballs put on brilliant live show only spoilt by retards chatting during the quiet songs. Endearingly cheerful frontman Fyfe Dangerfield certainly ain’t no slouch in the vocal department, and they’ve got more classic songs in the making than almost any band I’ve ever heard. Also, full marks to their excellent support band Misty’s Big Adventure.

7. Regina Spektor (Leeds Cockpit, 29th January)
Kooky Russian-American songstress enchants with witty, offbeat songs and one of the most amazing voices you'll ever hear. If you're not moved by Samson, then you have no soul. Smokes like a bellows, but I’d probably marry her if she asked me.

6. Guillemots (London Astoria, 2nd November)
The second of three times I saw this band in ’06. A few sound problems marred the first few songs but when they got into their stride they were near-unstoppable. The reaction to songs like “Trains to Brazil” and “Annie, Let’s Not Wait” was astounding, and a lovely rendition of ‘Redwings’ of a highlight of the night. Some of the slower songs may have fallen a bit flat, but with a song like Sao Paulo in their repertoire, I could forgive them almost anything.

5. Rodrigo Y Gabriela (Kentish Town Forums, 23rd November)

Mexican thrash metallists-cum-Spanish guitar virtuosos Rodrigo y Gabriela may need to wash their mouth’s out with soap after their truly prolific use of the F-word, but their skills are beyond reproach. Fingers flailed across the fretboard with astonishing speeds whilst complex rhythms were rapped on the woodwork; covers of Metallica’s “One”, Dave Brubeck’s “Take Five” and Led Zep’s “Stairway To Heaven” as well as their own songs were all performed with consummate Latino flair. Two of the most astoundingly talented musicians I’ve ever seen.

4. Drowned In Sound Christmas Party (Kings College London Student Union, 13th December)

A blueprint for all gigs- Minimal faffing about, maximum good music. Starting off with talented acoustic songstress Laura Groves, the night just got better and better with impressive sets by Jeremy Warmsley and GoodBooks. But it was headliners Guillemots who (yet again) blew my fucking mind with an all-killer, no-filler set, culminating with the untouchable Sao Paulo. And to top it off, we even got to chat to Fyfe-wooooo!

3. Gogol Bordello (Leeds Cockpit, 7th March)

Psychotic gypsy mentalists blow away all and sundry with a show that's like Moulin Rogue meets the Ramones on crack. Their songs may be derivative but the sheer energy and showmanship of Eugene Hutz and his motley crew completely eclipse anything I have ever seen. One of the most exciting and out-and-out FUN live bands in the world today.

2. Sigur Ros (Southampton Guildhall, 11th July)

Far, far, far better than their Manchester show, this had the sound quality and proximity to the stage a band of their quality deserved. Although we STILL didnt get Hafsol, they kept my attention throughout the whole set this time round; Olsen Olsen was absolutely divine, and Untitled 8 is still the best closer to a set in the world, ever. Stunningly beautiful and a truly memorable experience. Also, Id like to reiterate that I want to marry Hildur from Amiina. She’s so cute I want to cry.

1. The Flaming Lips (Manchester Apollo, 25th April)

The show of shows. The crème de la crème. The best freaking gig I have ever, ever been to in my life (yup, even better than the mighty Arcade Fire). A bit style-over-substance, perhaps, and Wayne Coyne does spend a bit too much time yapping rather than singing but I cannot begin to express in words the utter, overwhelming sense of joy that is the hallmark of the Flaming Lips. Dozens of giant balloons bouncing round the audience! Dancing santas! A hundred metric tons of confetti! Singing nun puppets! And of course, there was the music; Yoshimi, Do You Realize and The Yeah Yeah Yeah Song made me want to cry tears of sheer happiness. Without a doubt, one of the best nights of my life.

And that's it for my round-up of 2006. But for the masochistic among you, don't fret- I'll be continuing to update this blog with any new/exciting/godawful music that takes my fancy. First post ETA: sometime next week. Hopefully.

There are many things a musician desires. Accolades from the press; the respect of their peers; a sex and drugs lifestyle that makes the decadence of Caligula look like a wet weekend in rural Wales. But we all know that deep down in their hearts, what they most truly and honestly wish for is an endorsement by a fat guy with a stupid beard. And who I am to deny them this? Of course, this isn’t definitive list of 2006’s best tunes- if I were writing this in three months time, I don’t doubt it’d be substantially different. What can I say, I’m a fickle whore of a man. But nonetheless, I thought I’d give the whole “Best Of…list” thing a shot, and here is the overlong, overblown result. I’d apologise in advance, but you probably suck anyway.

30. Imogen Heap- Goodnight and Go
Imogen Heap was one of the best live acts I saw this year; a characterful, one-woman army of synthtastic musical splendour. Her recorded work generally lacks the vitality and character that she exudes on stage, but of all the songs I’ve heard, ‘Goodnight and Go’ comes closest to doing her justice. Shimmery, Bjork-ish electro-pop par excellence.

29. Built To Spill- Conventional Wisdom
Although their music is, on first impression, your typical energetic American indie-rawk, I’ve always got the impression Built To Spill really want to write Led Zep style rock epics. Some unusually incisive lyrics and great guitar work has always lifted them above the competition, and both are in evidence here. But the thing that clinches it for me is when the instrumental guitar melody randomly morphs into a jaunty little ditty underpinned by a bassline that sounds like it was swiped from a Bavarian beerhall. That kind of thing cheers me up way too much.

28. The Earlies- No Love In Your Heart
“These Were The Earlies” was, in my honest opinion, an criminally overlooked album. Even though NME gave it 10/10, it didn’t really get the sales an album of that calibre warranted. A multi-instrumental 8-piece outfit, they fuse West Coast harmonies, chilled orchestral pop and proggy psychedelia with wonderfully blissful results. The first single from “The Enemy Chorus” is very much centred around the latter aspect, with lots of squelchy synths, trippy vocals and a whole variety of weird electronic beeps and bleeps coming together to form a new-age symphony that’s part Brian Wilson, part Flaming Lips and part really bad acid trip.

27. Cold War Kids- We Used To Vacation
It’s hard to pinpoint CWK’s sound exactly, but if I were forced at gunpoint to try, I’d venture at a weird and wonderful mix of vaudeville piano, jangly guitars, enthusiastic percussion and Nathan Willett’s strangled, melodramatic vocals. Part indie rock, part Stax-soul, part Louisiana blues, part Rufus Wainwright-style piano balladeering- they’re a band that are almost impossible to pigeonhole. This theatrical little piece is underlayed with some vicious social commentary; our narrator is an alcoholic trying to justify why he’s returned to the bottle despite the damage it’s done to his family. His repeated assertion of “it’ll all blow over in time” as a response to his actions shows a desperate man unable (or unwilling?) to take responsibility for himself- stronger stuff than your average Take That ballad, that’s for sure. It’s an acquired taste but for my money, Cold War Kids are undoubtedly one of the most striking new talents of 2006.

26. Cansei de Ser Sexy- Let’s Make Love And Listen To Death From Above
Sexy Brazilian singers? Check. Name-checking cult indie bands in song titles? Yup. A bassline more infectious than AIDS? Hell yeah. In fact the only thing stopping this funktastic slab of tongue-in-cheek disco being in my Top 10 is that their pronunciation of “above” as “abuve” really gets on my tits.

25. Gnarls Barkley – Crazy
Well, what can you say really? It may have not so much been played to death as repeatedly beaten in the head with a sledgehammer whilst its corpse was brutally violated by a plumber named Steve, but there’s no denying that Crazy was one of the defining moments of the year. Cee-Lo’s stunningly soulful voice combined with Danger Mouse’s superlative beats make fantastic bedfellows; it’s just one of those songs that sounds instantly classic from the very first time you hear it.

24. Midlake- Young Bride
Moving away from the Mercury Rev-inspired sounds of their previous work, it’s obvious that up-and-coming indie darlings Midlake have drawn on influences from the 70’s, most notably the more folky works of Simon and Garfunkel. The lusciously rich strings overlaid with incongruous big band percussion are the initial draw to this impressive offering, but it’s the sense of nostalgia at the heart of this song; a subtly haunted quality that infuses Tim Smith’s lyrics that stays with you. Very promising.

23. The Fratellis- Chelsea Dagger
Despite my litany of bad luck in seeing these Glaswegian glam-rockers live (cursed dissertation deadline!), I just can’t bring myself to think ill of this unashamedly sleazy old-school stomp-a-thon. It’s those bloody “do-do-do’s” that do it, insidiously burrowing inside your brain like maggots - dirty, squirming little maggots that will gorge on your sanity like I gorge on bakewell tarts. Just accept it: resistance is futile.

22. Metric- Poster Of A Girl
A sexy, synthy disco romp courtesy of Broken Social Scene’s Emily Haines, well and truly shed of her ice-maiden persona; one only has to see this wild-eyed, hyperactive Canadian blonde leaping about and enthusiastically pummelling her keyboard when performing this live to be certain of that. The dark 80’s keyboards sound like a cross between the Killers and the Cardigans, her sultry indie-kid baiting lyrics are fun to behold, but it’s when those bitchin’ staccato guitars kick in when this song really kicks ass. A far cry from “Anthems For A Seventeen Year Old Girl,” that’s for sure.

21. The Knife vs. Ratatat- We Share Our Mothers Health
The Swedish synthmeisters responsible for the sublime ‘Heartbeats’ (popularised by Jose Gonzalez’s acoustic cover) combine forces with superlative NY remixers Ratatat with mesmerising results. A stripped down version of the discordant techno-techno-techno of the original, Ratatat’s crunchy, crisp beats and distorted guitars lend warmth (of a sort) to Karin Dreijer Andersson’s glacial Scandinavian vocals but there’s still something oddly unsettling about this clinical, hypnotic slab of superior electro-pop. It also, strangely enough, reminds me of the Ice Cap Zone theme from Sonic 3. Go figure.

20. Peter, Bjorn and John- Young Folks
Another slice of sublime Swedishness, Victoria Bergsman’s wistful, understated vocals and a melancholy whistled chorus contrast fantastically with the funky, bongo-driven beat that underpins the song. If Serge Gainsbourg ever had the urge to write indie-club floorfillers, they might sound something like this.

19. The Sleepy Jackson- God Lead Your Soul
In 2003, this obscure Australian four-piece released the psychedelic/alt-country masterpiece “Lovers,” one of my favourite albums of all-time. The follow-up “Personality” emerged three years later and was an entirely different beast to its predecessor; head honcho Luke Steele evidently spent the intervening time moulding himself on legendary producer Phil Spector. Barring his penchant for murdering B-movie actresses, of course. Allegedly. The problem is that although his nasal vocals worked with the country-tinged debut, they don’t always gel so well with the Wall Of Sound harmonies he’s attempting on the new album. Nonetheless, when he does hit the mark, he does it with style and “God Lead Your Soul” sounds like a slightly askew lost Mamas and Papas classic, complete with the sweetest harmonies this side of the 60’s. Takes a while to get going but when it gets there…sheer bliss.

18. Camera Obscura- Lloyd, I’m Ready To Be Heartbroken
Camera Obscura may make Belle and Sebastian look like Slayer, but their gorgeously gentle Scottish pop nimbly avoids the pitfalls of tweeness and instead simply sounds like every great 60’s pop song you’ve ever heard distilled into three minute blasts of pure loveliness. As a result, no one could accuse them of trailblazing originality, but what they lack in innovation they more than make up in sheer charm. And I mean that in the best possible way- listening to a Camera Obscura song is like lying in a big pile of soft, fluffy cushions whilst watching a beloved childhood movie, possibly whilst gorging yourself to death on Cadbury’s Chocolate Buttons. “Lloyd...’s” upbeat Northern Soul sensibilities may seem uncharacteristically energetic for such a delicate band, but Tracy-Anne Campbell is as endearingly melancholic (and romantic) as ever and it’s a fine showcase for their terrific songwriting talent.

17. Beirut- Postcards From Italy
Zach Condon is a bastard. He’s two years younger than me, and he’s lived the kind of life that puts the likes of mine to utter shame. Skiving off from his New Mexico hometown as a teen, he wound up in Paris where he met a travelling Serbian orchestra who impressed him so much that he transcribed their work note-for-note. As you do. Returning to America, he employed this unusual influence to create “Gulug Orkestar,” an album that combines the vocal style of Rufus Wainwright with the music of a grizzled Balkan bandleader - all tinpot trumpets, lively percussion and gypsy strings. All of these elements are found in ‘Postcards To Italy,’ a Mediterranean-tinged, ukelele-driven delight shot through with real bohemian vitality. Damn good live as well, the talented git.

16. Little Man Tate- Sexy in Latin
Little Man Tate songs may not be exquisite musical compositions with deep, incisive lyrics; they may refuse to pay lip-service to concepts of originality or artistic merit but damn mum, they aren’t half catchy. Musically lying between the Kaiser Chiefs and Pulp, these Sheffield lads have an enviable ear for simple yet outstandingly infectious riffs that instantly latch onto your consciousness and refuse to let go. There doesn’t seem to be a thing such as a bad LMT song, but ‘Sexy In Latin’ wins by dint of being one of the catchiest, bounciest songs to come out of this country since the heyday of Britpop. It’s just a matter of time before they’re one of the biggest bands in Britain, just you wait and see.

If you’ve read this far, award yourself a cookie. Or half a carrot, if you’re on a post-Xmas diet.

15. Boards Of Canada- Dayvan Cowboy
And now for something completely different. Electronic soundscapes aren’t normally my thing at all, but there’s a real mystic quality about the mesmerising ‘Dayvan Cowboy’. A hypnotically rhythmic drum beat lies at the core of this euphorically chilled-out song; the swirl of a wind-machine and trancey electronic grooves flow together to evoke …colossal vistas, extending beyond every visible horizon; cerulean blue skies unhindered by clouds nor birds, the distant lapping of waves on a unseen beach. It does sound poncy, but this song creates a sense of vastness quite unlike any song I’ve ever heard. Just lie back, close your eyes and let your consciousness float away…

14. Cat Power- The Greatest
Chan Marshall is one of the very few people whose voice can bring me to the verge of tears (Celine Dion is another, but that’s for entirely different reasons…) Rough-hewn yet achingly fragile, it’s as if she’s pouring all her troubled soul into her singing and it hits me at an emotional level that few other artists can. Most of her best work centres around sparse arrangements which bring her vocals to the forefront (you HAVE to check out the heart-breaking ‘Good Woman’), but The Greatest’s reserved yet subtly celebratory orchestration perfectly compliments the poignancy of her voice. A friend of mine once described her as our generation’s Dusty Springfield, and as grand a comparison as that is, it’s one that’s well warranted.

13. I’m From Barcelona- We’re From Barcelona
This year’s Polyphonic Spree, and not just because they’re less a band than a full-blown musical cult. This mighty 29-piece collective (who are incidentally from Stockholm, not Barcelona- the lying bastards) have managed to produce the happiest, clappiest song I’ve heard since Tim DeLaughter’s robed nutters first blew my mind in 2003. Total nonsense, doubtlessly, but so irrepressibly cheerful it could make Morrissey smile.

12. The Decemberists- The Crane Wife 1 and 2
Inspired an ancient Japanese folk tale, this beautiful 10-minute epic is Colin Meloy’s masterwork. Hitherto, I’d liked the Decemberists but wasn’t exactly a fanboy, but this song really impressed me. ‘The Crane Wife’ maintains the folky energy of their previous work but signals a change in direction from accordian-led shanties into lush Sufjan-style balladry. The fifth minute in particular is one of the most gorgeous musical moments of the year, with its judicious amount of “ba-ba-ba-ing” (always a winner in my book) backed by snare and a delightful little glockenspiel line. The second half of the song isn’t quite so immediate; in many ways it reminds me of Death Cab For Cutie’s “Transatlanticism” with its slow-burning build-up to an exultary climax. Perhaps they could have done a bit more with the ending, which isn’t developed to its full potential, but it’s a small niggle that shouldn’t detract from the loveliness of this musical epic.

11. Hope Of The States- The Good Fight
“Left”, when all’s said and done, was a disappointment. Although it certainly wasn’t a bad album per se, the idea to jettison their magnificent post-rock instrumentals for NME-friendly indie-pop-by-numbers was a calamity of New Cokeian proportions. But this song stood amongst their very best work – a defiant, full-blooded call to arms; the kind of stirring anthem that in days past men would go to war to (and in days more recent, inspire them to wave Zippo lighters in a thoroughly un-saftey-conscious fashion). The chorus of “…and despite it all, we’re doing alright, our friends by our side, we fight a good fight…” had a sadly ironic edge given that the band were to split only weeks later- nonetheless, for a band both steeped in militaristic bombast yet strangely sentimental when the mood took them, there could not have been a more fitting swansong. I’ll miss the gloomy buggers.

10. Regina Spektor- Fidelity

A departure from the mostly piano-based works of earlier albums, the beguiling Miss Spektor adds some Imogen Heap-style beats and pizzicato-pop backing to create what is perhaps her most accessible work yet. True, this will disappoint fans who miss the neo-classical grandeur of ‘Us’ or the eccentric jazz stylings of ‘Chemo Limo,’ but despite the more mainstream sound, her voice is as quirky and characterful as ever- as are her lyrics. Indeed, shorn of the self-indulgence she’s occasionally slipped into in the past, her undeniable talent shines even brighter. A superb introduction to this fabulous artist for those who haven’t heard her before, and something a bit different for us more established fans.

9. Los Campesinos! - You! Me! Dancing!

Los Campesinos! are a group of Cardiff Uni students who’ve already been tipped as the great indie hope of ‘07. With the ramshackle keyboards and earnest wide-eyed vocals of The Research, the attention span-deprived hyperactiveness of Architecture in Helsinki and the effortless energy of (a mellowed-out) Arctic Monkeys, they produce a joyous brew that’s not particularly original, but thoroughly delightful all the same. If they manage to instil the rest of their work with the same genuine joie de vivre on offer here, then they’re sure to live up to their incredible promise.

8. Liam Frost and the Slowdown Band- The Mourners of St. Pauls

I don’t tend to be a big fan of male singer-songwriter types. I personally subscribe to the school of thought that the likes of James Blunt and Jack Johnson solely exist to fill up the record collections of middle-aged Daily Mail reading housewives or those imaginationally-devoid types that think they’re bohemian for listening to ‘guitar music’. So, even after hearing the praise heaped on this song I approached with trepidation. At first, my fears were justified- guy with raspy voice plays guitar; whoop-di-doo. But all of a sudden, it swells into one of the most exquisitely beautiful tracks I’ve heard all year. Appropriating Louis Armstrong lyrics is a sure way to get on my good side; I’m also a sucker for sweeping strings and twinkly pianos. But I think what completely won me over were the ‘Go! Team’ style chants that pierce the otherwise poignant mood and lend a peculiarly uplifting edge to a wonderful song. As perfect a tribute to a late father as one can imagine.

7. Final Fantasy- This Lamb Sells Condos

Mr. Owen Pallett of the lands of Canadia may be a very talented man, but he isn’t exactly cool. His second LP, “He Poos Clouds” is a concept album about the eight schools of magic in ‘Dungeons and Dragons’; something that not even the best PR guys could package as remotely ‘hip’ or ‘down with the kids’. Lucky it’s a fantastic record then. “This Lamb Sells Condos” is probably my favourite song off the album; a deviation from Owen’s typical violin/loop-pedal set up with its bouncy harpsichords and pianos. But it’s the ending that’s a particular marvel- a bitter, bitchy argument between a husband and wife read over shimmering strings and a children’s choir. It may sound pretentious, but it’s extremely effective and quite witty to boot. Note to Neil Hannon: this is how literate chamber-pop should be done.

6. Emmy The Great- The Secret Circus

With a boastful moniker like that you’re just asking for trouble- but Emmy more than lives up to her name. Occasionally her voice is a bit too shrill for my tastes (though nowhere as bad as Joanna Newsom), but the beautifully surreal flights of imagination displayed in her songs marks her out as an unique talent- and what’s more, she’s pretty witty to boot. ‘The Secret Circus’ begins as your typical acousticy ballad, albeit one blessed with some darkly quirky turns of phrase: “You told me that no matter where I went would be a prison, that the world is harsh; I know it is but it only hurts, it only hurts if you say ‘ow.’” But then she begins to describe the eponymous circus, her voice filled with a child-like wonder- a ramshackle orchestra marches centre-stage; a snare drum, a horn, a cello, a violinist spiriting us to this magical carnival where we “saw bears and there were tigers.” Alas, it’s not long before we’re thrown back into the sad dreariness of reality where dreams and fantastical circuses don’t really come to life- no matter how hard we try to hold on to the illusion. The poignant hum of a male choir, like something out of a 40’s black and white movie provides the only accompaniment as she sadly reflects, “then they faded into ether, and it’s no surprise; I guess I didn’t hear the call for when the curtain died….” It’s something that’s really quite special to behold.

5. Intervention- The Arcade Fire

A very, very late addition to this list but dammit man, it’s the freakin’ ARCADE FIRE! The first song released from the upcoming album/religious artefact “The Neon Bible,” it has done much to quash fears that AF wouldn’t be able to recreate the magic that made “Funeral” such a classic. Truth be told, I wasn’t all that impressed at first- Win’s lyrics are uncharacteristically clumsy at times and the Springsteen-influenced melody line didn’t capture me in the same way the ‘Fire’s best work has. But I’m the sort that always notices the negatives before the positives sink in. In fact, it only took a few listens before I was completely converted- it may have been Regine’s divine echoing harmonies during the last minute of the song, or it may have been that massive organ blast, but at some point it all just clicked and all was right with the world once more. It’s still not one of their best works, but if this is any indication of the quality of the sophomore effort, well…let’s just say my Album of 2007 is already a done deal.

4. TV On The Radio- Wolf Like Me

As David Letterman exclaimed on witnessing their performance on his show last month- “TV On The Radio- that’s all you’re looking for!” So intense it’s like being repeatedly punched in the face by pure awesome, Tunde Adebimpe’s impassioned delivery, some relentlessly scuzzy guitars and a stunning percussive energy makes “Wolf Like Me” less a song than a shot of undiluted musical adrenaline. Plus, the lyric “Babydoll, I recognise, you’re a hideous freak inside” is one I’m certain will serve me well with the laydees for years to come. Howlingly brilliant stuff.

3. The Flaming Lips- The Yeah Yeah Yeah Song

I remember that “At War With The Mystics” leaked a week after I’d booked tickets to see the ‘Flips for the first time, and naturally I was curious to see whether their new work would keep up the impeccably high standards set by “The Soft Bulletin” and “Yoshimi Vs. The Pink Robots” So I promptly downloaded the torrent, loaded up WinAmp and played the first track. Then I played it again. And again. It took me half an hour to remember there were other tracks on the album (which, for the record, was very good- especially Pompeii und Gotterdammung). But none of them had the same ability to completely bypass my brain and awaken my long-subdued alter-ego “Crazy Dancing Twat Boy”. It’s so simple, yet so ridiculously catchy- you certainly don’t have to be a Mensa member to remember the lyrics “yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah!” Add in some seriously cranked up bass and eye-watering falsettos (so much fun to emulate!) and you’ve got a song so exuberant, so rapturous, so downright enjoyable that it’s patently clear Wayne Coyne was sent down from the heavens to bring unadulterated joy upon the Earth. And on the evidence here- dear God, has he succeeded.

2. Sunset Rubdown- They Took A Vote And They Said No

One of the handful of records I’ll listen through without skipping a single track, it’s a damn shame “Shut Up I Am Dreaming” (my Album of the Year) never got released this side of the pond. “They Took A Vote…” is a perfect example of the wonderful eclecticism on offer from this sublime Wolf Parade side-project- a unhinged concoction of uptempo, circus-like accordian melodies and sinister lyrics straight out of a Tim Burton flick. I mean, it’s all about a kid whose eyes are going to be ritually sacrificed by a bunch of superstitious elders so “the fire never dies”. What fire? Who the hell knows- but the boy loses his freakin’ eyes anyway! Spencer Krug’s David-Byrne-with-his-balls-in-a-vice yelp just adds to the unsettling madness; the overall impression is of some demented crossbreed of the Arcade Fire and Gogol Bordello. Which is self-evidently one of the most awesome concepts ever.

And finally (drum roll please…)

1. Guillemots- Trains To Brazil

For the whole of 2006, I’ve been troubled by a most strange and terrible affliction. It lies dormant for days, but without warning it suddenly rears its ugly head. It’s got so bad that I can’t even leave my house without the fear that I will be suddenly overcome by the irrepressible urge to sing the trumpet part from ‘Trains To Brazil’.
There’s just something about that “BAA-BAAAAA-BAA-BA-BABA-BABA-BAA!” that inspires me to emulate it whether I go; whether I’m strutting manfully down the streets of Watford, enduring the soul-rending commute on the London Underground
or fighting hordes of Vietcong on the streets of Da Nang. It’s frankly rather embarrassing. But anyway- back to the song. As a piece of 4-minute pop, it’s nigh-on perfect; a gloriously effervescent romp reminiscent of ELO’s ‘Mr Blue Sky,’ but a hell of a lot better. As you may have gathered from my rambling preamble, the joyous bursts of trumpet that punctuate each verse are particular highlights but the whole package is delectable; from the infectious big-band percussion to Fyfe Dangerfield’s impassioned, idiosyncratic vocals. But it’s the fact it still manages to effortlessly put a grin on my face after a year of solid play that seals ‘Trains To Brazil’s’ place as my hands-down favourite tune of Space Year Twenty-O-Six.

OK! That’s it! It’s over! Nothing to see here! Bugger off!