Cassettes & Chocolate Milk

2012-01-02T12:00:00.004+11:00

I find it strange when a musician addresses the critics. I can't quite understand why I feel this way, after all, musicians, like artists, are sensitive folk. Surely if their music is unfairly assessed, if their performances are unduly slated or their business decisions duly dissed, surely the musician has a right of rebuttal. Yes? Maybe? I don't think so.

I refer to a time when there was scant information available online about Bloc Party. Of course, there was the stylish and minimal official site which reflected the artwork of their first EP. Typically enough, there were also angry music snobs saying unkind things about the band on Drowned in Sound.

It would be the first instance where I'd witness a band member defending their music. The bassist addressed the indifferent, he implored them to just give them a chance. I thought it a rather desperate move to make, but then as a fan and rather naive music listener, I harboured a belief that the music should be assessed on its own merits. Should it really have to come down to begging?

I was reminded of this instance when it was brought to my attention that Tim Rogers replied to a rather unfavourable live review in the Townsville Bulletin. The complaints were unsurprising: bad sound, sloppy stage show, the needless heckling and the jeers, "I'll be the one your girlfriend is thinking about later tonight!".

Although eloquent, Tim's response seemed pointless and self-satisfied. He assures the writer, Amanda Gray: "I need to make it clear to you my writing has nothing at all to do with whether you think our band is rubbish or that I am a complete tool." He goes on to defend his banter, to explain that his sexual bravado is something of an in-joke, that he finds bad language to be so "bewilderingly exciting".

Flecked throughout is his gratitude to be a professional musician, to have toured the world for twenty-two years, "with this humble self-satisfaction intact". Yet, all this carefully drafted posturing makes me wonder why, if Tim Rogers is so successful and self-assured, why does he feel compelled to even read the reviews of some small town paper? More to the point, what does he get out of addressing the grievances of this one unimpressed critic?

I understand that it is difficult to accept that universality: not everybody is going to like you. I suppose the point I am trying to make here is that you cannot convince someone to like you by obliterating them in an essay about how good you are. Tim, may I suggest that you take solace in the support of those who do appreciate your music and stagecraft. Although the lengthy rebuttals may amuse some, they ultimately come across as needy and insecure.

Cassettes & Chocolate Milk: Mod Podcast #37
The Kinks - All Day and All of the Night
The Drums - Book of Stories
The Pipettes - Because It's Not Love (But It's Still a Feeling)
Francoise Hardy - Il est tout pour moi
Gerry and the Pacemakers - It's Gonna Be Alright
The Beatles - All I've Got to Do
Wishful Thinking - Step By Step
The Jam - Happy Together
INXS - Wishy Washy
The Chords - Maybe Tomorrow
The Monochrome Set - Monochrome Set
The Coctails - Whoopsy Daisy

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2011-11-27T21:20:00.005+11:00

I had lived with the frustration of not knowing the artist name or the song title. I had lived with the annoying possibility of not ever knowing. More often than not, such feelings attached themselves to anonymous reggae-pop dance hits of the early-to-mid 1990s. They were never particularly good songs, as such, but they contained a memorable quality which compelled me to seek them out. They sometimes featured on home-made mix tapes, dubbed from the radio. Occasionally, they lived on subconsciously, as thumping drum beats or neverending sustained notes. I only recently realised that I managed to conquer that impossible task: I had discovered the artist name and song title of every lost song, ever.

It was a grand and thoroughly challenging task, requiring hours of painstaking research online. It was sometimes stupidly impossible, having to google and regoogle lyrics which had no semblance of originality: Oh yeah, baby. Occasionally, the song title would feature a spelling mistake, à la Malcolm McLaren's Operaa House, or the song title would be entirely omitted from the lyrics altogether. There could be any number of reasons why these songs became lost. The fact is, we all have lost songs. Songs that haunt and taunt us, that compel us to sing to confused friends in Maths, in the hopes we might one day achieve that moment of clarity.

We thought it would be this way forever, as we would so frequently ask each other, "what was that videoclip where Stalin's face morphed into Thatcher's?" But as time went on and as more people contributed videos, lyrics, questions and answers online, the number of lost songs we were looking for diminished dramatically. Not only that, the application Shazam provided a hassle-free, almost instantaneous service to identify lost songs. Upon discovering my last lost song, Marcella Detroit's I Believe, I couldn't help but feel a little disappointed that there weren't more to be found. Inasmuch as it is intensely satisfying to be able to identify lost pop, there is nothing more exciting than knowing there is more left to be found.

Cassettes & Chocolate Milk: Early 90s Dance Podcast #36
Technotronic - Pump up the Jam
Milli Vanilli - Ma Baker
Snap! - Rhythm is a Dancer
KLF - Justified and Ancient (Stand by the Jams)
Jon Secada - Just Another Day
Janet Jackson - Love Will Never Do (Without You)
Elisa Fiorillo - On The Way Up
The Shamen - Ebeneezer Goode (Beat Edit)

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2011-10-10T17:14:00.005+11:00

"You wouldn't believe this conversation I had with this dude tonight. He was trying to convince me that the Kooks were more indie than the Arctic Monkeys." As soon as he said it, I couldn't help but pull an expression of bemused disgust. It was a baffling thing to consider, the prospect of an actual scale of indieness where some artists rank higher than others. The worst part of it was that I felt compelled to construct a counter-argument, citing the significance of dancingmonkey.com in the early promotion of the Arctic Monkeys. It was a site with white background and black text, featuring a list of links to MP3 demos. It appealed to the idea that the music could speak for itself and the incredible interest generated was achieved independently of record company interference. The Kooks would later post their demos onto Megaupload in early 2006, yet irrespective of the charm of Lonely Cat, the distribution of their demos could hardly be described as a significant landmark in the history of indie music.

When I regained my composure, I asked him how the actual argument unfolded. What became apparent was this person had a completely different idea of what indie meant. Once, the term indie was short for independent, encompassing groups without an affiliation with a record company (or else, groups with an affiliation with an independent record company). However, for this person, the term indie simply meant better. For me, it seemed wildly inaccurate to associate such a loaded term with a single word (and a superlative at that). But then again, I had to consider that for many, the term indie is synonymous with credibility. It is suggestive of being a lone independent artist, creating in retaliation of commercial appeal. The discernible fan, too, is required to maintain a certain degree of credibility. Cultural commentators such as Pitchfork and Flavorwire establish their own credibility by dissecting the term ruthlessly and bemoaning the idea that fashion, cynicism and laziness are killing indie music in 2011.

There are times when a faithful adherence to indie culture can go terribly wrong. The infamous viral video of "I'm Amy and I'm an Indie", from BBC Switch's Are You One of Them? is cringeworthy, to say the least. She comes across as suffering a complete lack of discernment: although she would obsessively adhere to every code associated with indie culture, she would do so without any real understanding of its significance. She would still manage to make some blunders, indulging in music in direct conflict with the indie credos, namely Razorlight and ahem, Ronan Keating. Although she is a rather innocuous 17 year old girl, it is embarrassing to watch her identifying the silly customs of a highly pretentious and highly protective subculture. It is embarrassing to watch her, because her heightened awareness of every nuance of the subculture reveals how indie kids assimilate, silently and without question.

From time to time, I arrest my desire to examine the meaning and currency of this feckless term. I occasionally give up the inclination to argue about it with friends and strangers alike. I even block out the aggressive posturings of the knowledgeable cultural guardsmen. I let all notions of competition and credibility melt away: I listen, smile and dance alone, taking in every moment of breathtaking pop.

Cassettes & Chocolate Milk: Indiepop Podcast #35
Summer Camp - Better Off WIthout You
Serenades - Birds
Andy Bull - Dog (feat. Lisa Mitchell)
General Electriks - Raid the Radio
Asobi Seksu - Thursday
CSS - Hits Me Like a Rock
Body Language - Social Studies (Plastic Plates Remix)
The Mynabirds - Let the Record Go

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2011-09-09T19:41:00.005+10:00

I've been getting swept up in Italo Disco, listening to mixes and compilations, reading forums and living on Discogs. Yet it seems no matter how many songs I listen to, there appears to be tens of thousands of songs to go. It is easy to be overwhelmed by the sheer number of songs produced in this musical era, inasmuch as it is easy to be confused as to why this genre has never been properly analysed or adequately documented. If you spend enough time with it, it's possible to garner an impression of the most significant dancefloor anthems, but much of the my personal enjoyment of this genre is predicated on taste. The act of actually listening to the songs, far removed from its original context, and finding that moment of perfect resonance.

For others, it is the act of collecting Italo records which is the most enjoyable thing. For any noob, detecting what is obscure in a genre full of obscurities is somewhat problematic. However, the knowledgeable Italo collector never seems to have any difficulty in that respect. I've known of their plight for a long time, the risks they take in pursuing vinyl obscurities. In their pursuit of the Holy Grail of Italo Records, the collector would sometimes part with hundreds of dollars in the hope that the record would arrive safe and intact in their letter box. However, the seller's account would duly disappear, along with the collector's money and any hope that the record ever existed in the first place. How I felt for them.

50 Works Project
My search for perfect Italo had largely taken form in MP3 format, so I never had to deal with unscrupulous dealers. However, as my obsession with these songs dramatically increased, I considered how cool it would be to have Dharma's Plastic Doll, Alexander Robotnick's Problèmes D'Amour or Jimmy & Susy's Come Back. No doubt my desire for these records coincided with my longing to hold a club night for the masses, where we would all dance to such songs (imagine, Rose's clip for Magic Carillion). Yet, still cautious and wary of the many horror stories of experienced Italo collectors, I only ever opted to click on the very cheapest records available. I didn't wish to be another casualty.

Ashamedly, my collection shows few signs that I've become so entrenched in this genre. There's a shamefully small handful of records; a Michael Bedford 7", a Den Harrow 7", a Laserdance 12", a Tom Hooker 12", a Fuzz Dance compilation, a ZYX boxset purchased from Stockholm. I still look on Discogs, not only to shop, but to research. For in a genre so free of narrative, it offers much insight into what is rare and valuable. When I have come across one of those records, 1 for sale from €800, I feel compelled to stake out that song and listen carefully. I attempt to assess its musical value and whether it correlates with market forces. It is a great relief to find the song is average at best and any chance of completely surrendering my bank account to this obsession can be laid to rest.

I present to you a podcast that will convert your bedroom into a darkened discotheque from the back alleys of Genova, circa 1986. I hope there, free of any external influence (ahem, aside from my own), you can fall in love with the sound of Italo and its unique pop immediacy.

Cassettes & Chocolate Milk: Italo Disco Podcast #34
Clio - Eyes
Mania - Shine Shine Shine
Mister Black - Monnalisa
Scotch - Pictures
93rd Superbowl - Forever and a Day
Joy Peters - Don't Loose Your Heart Tonight
Swan - Don't Talk About It
Ross - Coming Up

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2011-08-02T20:02:00.005+10:00

The 1960s Yé Yé movement was a beautiful thing, with its gentle pop overtones, delicate orchestral arrangements and Parisian pretensions. The idea of Frenchness has since become so central to the Yé Yé sensibility, at least to its listeners who do not speak French. The greatest irony is that Yé Yé was initially perceived to be a parody of Anglo-American rock'n'roll. First coined by sociologist Edgar Morin in 1963, the term Yé Yé was seen to imitate the rock'n'roll catch-cry, "yeah yeah yeah!". The outsider influence can be observed in the astounding number of French-language covers produced throughout the Yé Yé era. It was as such that the singer Stella openly criticised the French obsession with American music. In an interview with Cha Cha Charming, she attested that the biggest casualty of the American rock'n'roll invasion was French music: "all traces of France's musical history had vanished once American pop influences infiltrated France". Yet, this purported lack of cultural patriotism seems lost on the modern day, English-speaking listener. Now that everything seems to be shrouded in an Anglo-American pop influence, that which is unique about Yé Yé is contained within the very sound of the French language.

Perhaps Yé Yé carries a greater appeal to those who do not understand French. A few recognisable words may float past, l'amour, le garçon, pourquooooi? However, the English-speaking listener develops an impression through the music itself, in its key, tempo, mood and delivery. If the listener is curious enough, they may be compelled to search and translate. If the listener is lucky enough, the lyrics (ou les paroles) may contain a poetic beauty, detectable in both French and English. France Gall's Faut-il que je t'aime (1966) contains one such moment: "C'était lui que je quittais mais c'était toi qui me manquais"; meaning, "It was him that I was leaving but it was you that I missed". At times, the song may completely lose its lyrical potency in translation. Such a discovery may lead you to believe that it was better to listen in ignorance, to learn and sing the song, happily, proudly and off by heart, not unlike a French poetry competition at school. Perhaps then, and only then, may you be at liberty to burst into song on L'Avenue de Gobelins and startle strangers with your bombastic rendition of Patricia Carli's Le Lion (1967). But I digress...

As always, I will now leave you with this week's podcast. I ask you to reflect upon what it is to have a musical impression, to have an understanding of a song that is thoroughly your own invention. Is it possible to create "meaning" from a song, without knowing what the lyrics are about? Is it possible to appreciate words that rhyme, in a language you don't understand? Moreover, is it ever possible to detach pop from the ideology of nationalism?

Cassettes & Chocolate Milk: Yé Yé Podcast #33
Stone - Le Jour, La Nuit
Delphine - A Bientôt Sans Doute
Patricia Carli - Le Lion
Jacqueline Taieb - La Fac de Lettres
Denise Brousseau - N'écoute Pas Les Idoles
Jany L - Herald Tribune
Petula Clark - L'Agent Secret
France Gall - Bébé Requin
Valerie Sarn - Quand Je
Tuesday Weld - Are you the boy
Nancy Holloway - Tu N'es Pas Venu
Les Fléchettes - Je Vends du Rêve

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2011-07-11T03:46:00.006+10:00

If ever there was a pithy demonstration of what it is to be musically devoted, then surely waiting for hours in a non-moving queue would be just that. I'm well-acquainted with the pointlessness of such a venture, for only 24 hours ago, I stood outside St Kilda's Esplanade Hotel for an hour and a half in the hopes of seeing Icehouse perform live. The bouncer shouted at the queue, stretching back towards Victoria Street: "There's no chance any of you will be getting in tonight! It's full! The band are just about to start! Go home!" But in spite of his warnings, few punters relented. Andrew smirked at me, "I don't believe a thing that guy says."

The truth of it is that I can hardly claim the title of the world's most ardent Icehouse fan. My enthusiasm for their music derives from an attachment I have to a mythical 1980s Australia that only seems to exist on the old VHS tapes stored in our downstairs room. Icehouse also remind me of the brother(s) who influenced me immeasurably, who duly culled the Triple M canon and introduced me to Australian Crawl, Hunters & Collectors, Crowded House and INXS. I was grateful to Andrew for that reason and so I was prepared to stand for as long as he was prepared to stand.

I knew that my passion (and indeed, my knowledge) for the group would be tested by the devoted few who stood around us, shivering. Queue-mate Simon boasted that he managed to see Boom Crash Opera and Icehouse at the Venue, only a few metres down the street, some twenty-five years before. I offered a non-descript anecdote about how Hey Little Girl was recorded in fragments and was largely constructed in post-production. Andrew, however, managed to serve up an in-depth account of Icehouse's then-synthesizer of choice, the Prophet-5. His account impressed the queue-mates surrounding us and as a result, it managed to secure our rightful place within the queue, among the cold and fanatical.

There would be moments, in between the boasting and complaints where we would look at the Victorian bay window above us. We could only see blue and pink lights flicker across a roomful of silhouettes. Occasionally a member of the audience would turn to survey the queue below. It was hard to tell whether he was curious or sympathetic, we could not sustain his interest long.

We would all listen closely, "Hey, isn't that Walls?", one of us would say. We would bow our heads in concentration, tentatively singing along with the band and with each other. These moments would not last long though, the noise band in the bandroom downstairs would start up again just as we were getting into it. We weren't angry or upset or even that frustrated, really. We were actually kind of elated to be standing together in such a way. I don't ever wish to forget a queue-mate's story of how, in spite of her enthusiasm for Icehouse, she accidentally kept on singing Mental As Anything songs as she primed herself for the evening.

Approaching the front of the queue was perhaps the most irritating part of the whole venture. I stood there as quietly and patiently as I could manage it. I was forced to survey a steady stream of people walk out that venue, down those steps and out onto the street. There was no semblance of a "one-in, one-out" policy, indeed the bouncer seemed intent upon completely ignoring me. I looked back at the queue earnestly and I then realised that their entry became dependent upon my entry. Perhaps if I exploited something, a charm or a physical attribute, I could get in, we could all get in. Perhaps then, I could save my left hand from frost bite.

It was at 12.30am when the bouncer finally gave up. Still refusing to meet my gaze, he requested my driver's licence. Once permitted, we bound up the steps to hear the last half of Nothing Too Serious, their last song. You had to stand on tippy-toes to make out Iva Davies against a backdrop of LED lights. As the crowd bellowed for the band's return to the stage, our queue-mates chortled, "At least we got in!". Icehouse did come back to the stage, to play tight covers of the Easybeats' Sorry and David Bowie's Jean Genie.

During the encore, queue-mate Simon insisted Icehouse would play Don't Believe Anymore. With drunken enthusiasm, he said this over and over again, each time scrambling the name of the song. His mistakes triggered something within me, a part of me which demands that recollection of names, dates and releases be perfect and accurate. For a hasty and ironic moment, I quietly questioned his devotion to the band.

When the lights came up, we said goodbye to our new queue-mates. We laughed and exchanged cards and nudged our way towards the door. As we poured out of the venue, down those steps, past the smokers and belligerent bouncers, I thought about that question of devotion and the tests and meanings which fans construct. I wondered whether the queue could ever accurately display devotion, knowledge or enthusiasm. After all, we can all stand in line.

Cassettes & Chocolate Milk: Mod Podcast #32
Neon Hearts - Venus Eccentric!
Graham Parker & the Rumour - Stick to Me
The Donkeys - Don't Go
The Fans - You Don't Live Here
The Spectors - In Your Room
The Red Squares - All Over Town
The VIPs - Boys of the City
The Namelosers - Do-Ao
Sound Sandwich - Apothecary Dream
The Ramones - Do You Wanna Dance?

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2011-05-02T03:09:00.006+10:00

I was randomly perusing Al's Music Rant when I came across an article published in June 2009, How To Lose Your Female Fanbase In 7 Easy Steps. In it, he apologised in advance for evaluating the physical appearance of a bunch of sexy musician-girls. The assessment could have been sexist, but he qualified the process by saying they were as attractive as they were talented. Such a qualification made me reflect upon my own wanton desire for a rather fetching, rather unstable Syd Barrett. Mick Rock's portraits of the kohl-smeared Barrett haunt me still, but I would be the first to admit that I care little for his music. Silly, lustful, shallow ol' me.

I thought of other musical crushes of yesteryear. John Lennon circa 1964, Freddie Mercury circa 1973, Morrissey circa 1986, Per Gessle circa 1991. It is perhaps odd to mention it, as I had once declared that my love of music was completely divorced from any notion of sexual attraction. At the time, I had been greatly influenced by Cheryl Cline's Essays from Bitch: The Rock Newsletter With Bite and I was keen to evolve into a pseudo-secure pop-feminist who engaged with music on a purely cerebral level. That meant relinquishing the gushing, the fanfic and even the very idea of a pop image. It only followed that my obsession with faceless, anonymous mod-revivalist groups meant that my engagement was solely based upon the music itself (and not upon the physical appearance of any musician involved).

Nowadays, I am far more likely to acknowledge the prevalence of sexuality in pop. I audibly applaud the grotesque contortions of Shakira. I feel great unease about the gender roles represented in Jessie's J's Like a Dude. I admit genuine concern when I insist that Ke$ha really needs a shower. It is far cry from the rueful swooning and blood-thumping obsession of a 16 year old girl, but I am compelled to speak frankly of the most profound of musical crushes past. Perhaps it is because I now accept that doing so will not diminish the sincerity of my relationship with music. It will not undermine my authority to speak about it, neither will it reinforce a stereotype that women cannot connect as men can: (cue stock footage of Beatle fangirls at Shea Stadium) they scream, cover their glowing cheeks, then faint...

Simon Day: Cautious
When I speak of the most profound of musical crushes past, I speak of the introductory moments of Ratcat's video for That Ain't Bad. At first, Simon Day's face is obscured by shiny black curls. When he tousles his loose curls from his face, it reveals a flawless, almost iridescent complexion. His cheek bones are sharp and his teeth are straight. I watch the clip again. He is too feminine to be masculine and yet too masculine to be feminine. Even as a 6 year old, I was mesmerised by his beauty. My attraction to him was only exacerbated by the arguably requited lyrics: "Ye-e-e-e-eah, I love you!"

The fascinating thing about That Ain't Bad is that Simon plays the role of the lovelorn. All his friends have warned him not to be with her, after all, she has a bad reputation. Unfortunately, Simon cannot heed to such warnings because he cannot see why she is so "bad". However, the imagery of the video would suggest that Simon is actually a "bad-boy" himself. He dons a leather jacket, manhandles a sizable tomato-soup-coloured Gretsch guitar and climbs through a wire fence with his mates in a dodgy part of town. Following this, I find it a little hard to believe that Simon would ever feel so vulnerable as to protect his heart from a callous femme fatale. Come to think of it, Simon is exactly the kind of boy our friends would warn us about... and much like Simon, I would duly ignore their every word of warning.

It is perhaps ironic that the most significant live recording of That Ain't Bad features not Simon singing, but a crowd of hysterical teenage girls singing over him at Melbourne's Metro. It makes absolute sense when they sing these words, you can hear them smile and shriek and carry on. You cannot help but smile too when you hear their yelps: OH MY GOD! OH MY GOD! There is something wonderful about it. To me, it acts as an implicit pledge, en masse, to abandon all sense of caution, to ignore all sensible advice, to lust in vain. I long for a feeling like that again. I long to shriek mindlessly without qualm or qualification, along with a song and a man I really, really loved.

Cassettes & Chocolate Milk: Britpop Podcast #31
mclusky - To Hell With Good Intentions
LR Rockets - Renee Loves Losers
Carl Barat - Je Regrette, Je Regrette
The Good, The Bad and The Queen - History Song
The La's - Liberty Ship
Tim Tin Yen - Girl Number One
The Divine Comedy - The Pop Singer's Fear of the Pollen Count
Frankie & Heartstrings - Hunger
The Holloways - Reinvent Myself
The Vaccines - Wreckin Bar

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2011-03-07T16:56:00.013+11:00

It was one curious afternoon, months before I cancelled my gym membership. I was half-heartedly ambling on a treadmill, listening to Paul Artrocker's radio show on my then-intact iRiver. I had made the habit of listening to Artrocker in places that were completely incongruent with the Artrocker credos. This music was clearly intended for the emaciated cool kids of Camden. I had visions of them in their dimly-lit squats, hungover and hungry, sniffling and sitting on green milk crates. I wanted a place to sniffle and sit with my own fold of Camden cool kids. Instead, I could only listen to songs and details of their antics, as I ambled alone with an alarmingly high heart rate, half a world away.

Quite aside from my desire for a milk crate, Paul Artrocker happened to indirectly touch upon a frustration which I felt so keenly, one that was so relevant to my own isolated listening practices. Paul was to report of all the goings-on for the week in London. He was to detail all the gigs, instore appearances, club nights and related musical antics, but alas there was nothing to report. Nothing was going on in London town. As he appealed to the good listeners of Resonance FM to email with their forthcoming events, I couldn't help but detect that hint of dissatisfaction in his tone. It made me wonder whether it was even possible that my favourite city could be completely bereft of musical activity. Perhaps Paul had grown weary and disenchanted with the scene? It made me wonder: what can we possibly do when we think we're over it?

The prospect of getting over music is commonly brought up by those who don't really care about anything. Occasionally the words getting over would be replaced with the words growing out of, almost to suggest that engagement with pop culture has something to do with being a hormonal adolescent. It is a fearful and offensive prospect, to imagine that something so central to our existence is merely a phase. After all, to those who really care about music, it dictates who we spend our time with, how we spend our time and how we spend our money. Perhaps even more obviously, it is a sign of heartfelt allegiance. It is an indication that we identify with a gang who shares our tastes and ideals. We can wear badges on our blazers, indicating that we're a mod or a punk or even an artrocker. We can protest that this allegiance will be forever, but there is a part of us that can never truthfully guarantee it will always be this way.

I admit now, as I have admitted on previous articles on C&CM that there have been genres I have grown weary of. There have been times where I have lost my direction and focus. I can see now that my loss of passion had nothing to do with the scene, as such, but my unwillingness to further explore the recommendations of others. I know, particularly from the construction this week's Italo Disco podcast, that a scene need not have local gigs or club nights. It may be a scene that could be accurately described as "extinct", but even still, the mere act of discovering undiscovered music can be one that is so exciting and so thoroughly stimulating. The prospect of discovering the undiscovered is one that we should hold onto, tightly and to our chests, when we ask that question: what can we possibly do when we think we're over it?

Cassettes & Chocolate Milk: Italo Disco Podcast #30
B.W.H. - Livin' Up
Hugh Bullen - Alisand
Barry Leitch - Lotus Turbo Challenge II
Grant Miller - California Train
Jimmy & Susy - Come Back
Savage - A Love Again
Rose - Magic Carillon
Esavu - Sia Siou (Breaking Up)

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2011-02-23T22:14:00.007+11:00

It was fitting that I was in a vintage clothes shop when the thought crossed my mind. It was a wry thought, an admittedly sarcastic thought about old things: If only people were slightly more sentimental, every home would be a vintage clothes shop. All this naff peculiar stuff wouldn't be so strange and expensive. It would be stockpiled in your cupboard, waiting, free, along with all your other weird miscellaneous tat. Only then the vintage clothes shops of this town wouldn't have a monopoly upon your thoroughly unique postmodern aesthetic.

Anyone coming to our house for the first time would be overwhelmed by the amount of "stuff" we have. Shelves and shelves of books and records, VHS tapes and DVDs, computers and antiquated appliances. Our interests vary from opera scores to Amigas, guitars to Petit Tom books, violins to cassettes, girls annuals and blazers. We collect, compare, research and rejoice whenever one of us would make a stifling discovery. But, whatever the artifact, no matter how precious, it always seems to be relegated to our pile of "stuff".

There is a tremendous desire to store and access the past. Our love of memory tends to manifest itself in different ways. Andrew likes to organise his photos on Picasa while I record every passing thought and memory in any number of half-empty notebooks. There is a kind of grim sentimentality attached to such behaviour, a kind of sickly unease that we don't tend to share. Perhaps I am the only one who feels it, that no one can ever really value the past, at least, not as it ought to be valued.

Picpus est inquiet
There have been times where I have seen a duplicate object, often in passing in a vintage emporium on Smith St or else a science museum in Oxford: It's our bread bin! It's our slide rule! But even behind glass, it all seems so worthless when stripped from its context. If you could even call context "a drawer full of crap". Yet it is that decontextualisation which makes these objects so romantic to others. It is weird and unique and consequently, obscenely expensive. I feel uncomfortable with the newfound value of these objects, my objects, any objects. No one should unduly profiteer from our attachment to "stuff". It is a cruel thing to prey upon, our desire to share, laugh and collect the things we love. What makes it even more cruel is that all stuff is really quite useless. We really don't need anything at all.

Cassettes & Chocolate Milk: Electro Podcast #29
Keane - Spiralling
Annuals - LOXTEP
Reverend & The Makers - Sundown on the Empire
Music for Animals - If Looks Could Kill
The Virgins - Teen Lovers
Games - Strawberry Skies (feat. Lauren Halo)
Howard Jones - Like to Get to Know You Well
The Human League - Sound of the Crowd

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2010-12-28T18:53:00.006+11:00

I am not one to reflect upon matters related to the festive season. For one thing, I am a little cynical of the whole Christmas venture and I find it all so embarrassingly irrelevant, especially come latterday reflection. But I admit that I enjoy the private rituals that tend to accompany this time of year. Listening to Queen's Live Killers and Ace of Base's Happy Nation (US Version), maybe sometimes even The Bridge. Reading Enid Blyton's Five Go To Smuggler's Top and fragments of Roman poetry from the Sweetness of Honey and the Sting of Bees. Every year I unintentionally take up new habits. Last year, for instance, I was obsessively listening to Yeasayer's Tightrope. The year before, we listened to Aqua's Candyman in my car. You emphatically insisted you didn't like it, even though it became increasingly apparent that you did.

I suppose it's a time that calls for tradition and for me, at least, a recreation of events passed. Yet at the same time, there demands a certain degree of reflection. A contemplation of the songs that meant something to us during the year. Hence the heady influx of 2010 lists, summaries, countdowns and other things that involve dotpoints, numbers and paragraphs with few words. It used to annoy me considerably. The compilation of lists and summaries is not my idea of sentimentality, but I understand it. I see how it offers a really neat way to view that which has passed. It is an easy way to sort and compartmentalise everything within an inch of its life. I also understand how that act of musical list-making is, in itself, a kind of tradition. In the same way that I return to my 1954 edition of Smugglers Top. I return for no other reason than I did it the year before (and the year before that and the year before that).

El does Eileen Soper
I leave you, my reader(s) with some questions: What are your private musical rituals at this time of year? Do you think of lists and summaries? Do you make them too? Are there any particular lists that you pay particular attention to?

Cassettes & Chocolate Milk: Mod Podcast #28
Apartment - The Car
The Riptides - Tomorrow's Tears
Thunderboys - FBI
The High Numbers - Zoot Suit
Beverley Ann - He's Coming Home
Razorlight - An Englishman in New York
The Beat - Mirror in the Bathroom
The Strangeways - Show Her You Care
The Style Council - Walls Come Tumbling Down!
The Long Blondes - Once and Never Again

Download (44.2 MB)

2010-12-16T22:05:00.008+11:00

I haven't forgotten the purpose or effect of the live bootleg. Growing up as a musical obsessive, I indulged in my passion for collecting such things. There was some satisfaction in developing an understanding of a group's live stage show: the costumes, lighting rig and stage set up, the setlists (and its occasionally odd inclusions) and the gig itself. Many of those shows were remarkable and simply by name-dropping the venue, city and the year, it was possible to conjure up all those references. You could insist that the London's Earls Court 1977 show had the most impressive setlist or the Osaka's Kosei Nenkin Kaikan 1976 afternoon show had the most electrifying atmosphere. I would gladly agree with you, adding that I would have done anything to be at the London's Rainbow Theatre in 1974.

I think I was attracted to bootlegs because I so desperately wanted to be there. I wanted to be pushed up against the railing, breathless with friends and fans alike. I always seemed to suffer with an eternal frustration that I had missed it all. My annoyance was further exacerbated by the fact that my father was in the UK for every year of the 1970s, with exception to 1978. He had the opportunity to attend such events, to be squished and suffocated in the many musical haunts of my phantom heyday, but he did not care for pop music. Operas from the mid-1830s were more his bag. So I had to be satisfied with these recordings and those momentary discussions with friends who felt the same way.

The story doesn't end there, oddly enough. I had the opportunity to rectify my annoyance. I had the chance to attend a gig that I never thought would happen, in a place I never thought I'd be. The idea of seeing Roxette perform live had become a complete impossibility to me. Marie had been so unwell and Per said that they would never collaborate again. I remember what disappointment I felt, reading their Wiki. But I would continue to listen to my collection of their early T&A demos, typically after band practice. I was fascinated with the way Per would structure his songs. I would think about his lyricism and how frequently his heart would be run over by a runaway train. I would compel my friends to listen too, frequently commissioning covers of (I Could Never) Give You Up and I Do Believe. We would always laugh about it, but I loved it, all the same.

A crowd, awaiting Roxette in Skanderborg
I would keep up to date by reading the Daily Roxette. There would be a slight murmur of activity and I would typically feel extremely resentful that I could not in be Stockholm to witness Roxette related events. Perhaps the worst thing was when Per performed in London to promote his Party Crasher album. Going to London is a reasonably viable thing for an Australian to do, after all, it has become a national pass time to haunt the hostels of Paddington. It was additionally painful because I was actually quite fond of that album, not in a way that I would bully my friends to record covers from it, but it was really very, very good.

The activity of the Daily Roxette seemed to increase. Progressively, they started to report news that Marie and Per were talking again. They had performed for the Prince and Princess of Sweden. They were rehearsing for a tour. A TOUR?? Surely not! It had been nine years since Per and Marie had embarked upon such a venture, surely it was not possible. It was a coincidence that their four tour dates miraculously coincided with my brother Andrew and I being in Europe. I remember sitting in his room, discussing the prospect of going to Sundsvall or Anderstorp. How could we possibly get to the north of Sweden? How could we find accommodation when the two hostels and four hotels that served the town appeared to be completely booked out? My other brother Tomy said it could not be possible, but Andrew was determined that we make it happen.

The plan was this: we would board a Ryan Air flight from Brussells Charleroi to Stockholm Skavsta, where would would board a Flygbussarna bus that would take us to Stockholm Central Station. From there, we would board a sleeper train, where we would doze on beds suspended ten feet in the air and disembark at Sundsvall at approximately 4am. Dizzy from glee and exhaustion, we would roll our bags across town and up a mountain to our hotel, which by-the-by greatly resembled Monash Clayton. Upon our 8am arrival, we would watch the Nanny, nap and generally recoup in anticipation for Roxette, where we would have to take a bus to Norrporten Arena. I remember playing Look Sharp! loudly before we left, but it was too surreal to even contemplate what was about to go down. I knew I had to bootleg the show, for it was the only way I could be sure that it ever really happened.

Roxette in Sundsvall, El-Cam
I spent the largest chunk of my travel diary attempting to describe every detail of that performance. How we shrieked upon the introductory chords of Joyride, how we swooned upon hearing Silver Blue, how we sang with Per and Marie. Loudly. In real time. I described the crowd, the moderately raucous South American fans causing a scene down the front and the bleach-blonde bitches who would push in by grinding up against unsuspecting men. I recalled about how we made friends with the people around us, a family, a couple, the two brothers. I told them how Tomy saw Per a number of years ago, it was his first ever gig. He was so incredibly proud to even be in attendance, but then his pride faltered when he realised his high-school chums were Per's support act.

I smile when I think of seeing Roxette live. It was a surreal experience, a truly perfect evening. I have to explain to those who hear the story that I did not go just to see Roxette, there were other things too. European things. Interlaken, record shops and the Pet Shop Boys. The unfortunate irony of it is that as much as I loved that experience, I know that I could never appreciate it as I would a 1974 bootleg. Perhaps that is something do with my feelings of possibility and impossibility, reality and the nature of imagination. Could anything be as great as a temporal impossibility? I can never really be sure. I will never know if the gig could have taken on that mythical dimension, as I will never know the effect of hearing my bootleg of that night. I lost the show, without ever hearing it, when I dropped my iRiver on a hard-tiled floor in Rome.

Cassettes & Chocolate Milk: Swedish Pop Podcast #27
Mando Diao - Gloria
Lykke Li - Get Some
Hell on Wheels - The Soda
Corduroy Utd - Little Elvis
Hardy Nilsson - Hela Hjärtat Mitt
Roxette - Fingertips (MTV Unplugged)
Ace of Base - Lucky Love (Acoustic Version)
Acid House King - Are We Lovers or Are We Friends?
The Legends - He Knows the Sun
The Tough Alliance - Silly Crimes

Download (51 MB)

2010-12-09T13:22:00.009+11:00

I have always taken great pride in remaining on good terms with my musical past. On some level, I know that I act in cultural retaliation. I do not like it when people diss the bands they used to like, in the same way that I do not like it when people chastise themselves for their poor decision-making ability. Personal and musical empathy is important, which is why I encourage everyone to keep a diary. It's harder to diss tastes and motivations when it's penned with Winston Churchill's pen, with purple ink: 1994-2010.

I mention this because I haven't been getting on well with one aspect of my musical past, Britpop. It may seem a baffling revelation, given everything I've just said, but I have been feeling uneasy about it for a while. For all the genres I do like, there is nothing as contentious, nothing as contextually provocative as Britpop. To produce podcasts on the subject introduces so many questions of clarification and classification. What was once a rolling field for discovery has since become a place where we argue about the purported breadth of the genre.

I understand that if I am to be a purveyor of decent music, I should present it in a way that is true and accurate. Slapping the descriptor "Britpop" on a product generally suggests that said product should contain moderate chunks of actual Britpop. Blur. Oasis. Supergrass. Pulp. Elastica. There is that implicit freedom of showcasing lesser known Britpop artists. Salad. Gene. Menswe@r and the like, but it all seems so insipid to me. Why should I feel compelled to put you through that? Simply because they reveled in the latter-day popularity of the coveted Britpop tag?

Rough Trade West
The prospect of finding a song that fits into the narrow definition of Britpop has put me off constructing that kind of podcast altogether. Perhaps it is the prospect of getting told off by those who know more than me. Perhaps I have grown tired of the genre. In truth, I certainly hope I don't really mean that. It was the genre we once swooned over. We analysed it endlessly and we understood it to encompass far more than that handful of bands in the mid-90s. We saw the tag as descriptive, not prescriptive.

I am not really bothered to make any more Britpop podcasts, not for a little while yet anyway. I'm sorry if this disappoints listeners, but I am not so inclined to promote that what everybody seems to know about already. Neither I am so inclined to include token obscurities to fit the bill. In its place, I will produce a broader, "Indiepop" podcast which will obviously betray my Britpop tendencies but also contain memorable pop from other locales and eras. I do so in a cursory acknowledgement of that thankfully unexplored argument of "what is indie?".

I hope I will restore my relationship with Britpop in time, only because it is important to remain on good terms with it. I don't wish to be so caught up in the definitional issues of the genre anymore, just as I don't wish for it to be a platform to assert cultural superiority. That's not how we should listen to music. For all of the misdefinitions, misrepresentations and misunderstandings, all I ever wanted to do was share good music with you. I'm sorry if it caused offense.

Cassettes & Chocolate Milk: Indiepop Podcast #26
Ingeborg Selnes - Open Your Heart
The Drums - Let's Go Surfing
Indochine - Miss Paramount
Mason Proper - A Chance Encounter
This is Ivy League - London Bridges
Malajube - Montréal -40C
The Chills - So Long
Cut Copy - Take Me Over
The Bird & The Bee - Man
Gyllene Tider - Det är över Nu

Download (49.9 MB)

2010-12-02T18:25:00.007+11:00

Recently, I was invited to express an opinion about "guilty pleasures". I had to chortle at the prospect of doing so, after all, I had evaluated my understanding of trashy pop music years ago. I had made a short, almost momentary radio documentary on the topic. It yielded a neverending parade of friends describing how alienated they felt by their taste. It was through talking to so many people about guilty pleasures that I realised that the shame originated from a number of sources: an acknowledgement that the music is tacky, meaningless and disposable; identifying a violently flamboyant visual aesthetic or else realising that the music conflicts with your outward persona. I also read somewhere that a guilty pleasure shows that you actually "know" about music... and there's nothing more embarrassing than knowing about music, right?

I didn't even realise that my views on such things had changed. As Mini pasted slabs of text to me, describing his love for Michelle Branch and Delta Goodrem, I noticed that he defended his passion in such a careful and sensitive way. It made me realise that guilty pleasures are simply not relevant to me anymore. I said to him, "Perhaps every thing I like is a guilty pleasure?" It is true to some extent, my cultural choices may be dismissed and ridiculed by the stealthy guardsmen of good taste. They don't even have to say anything, whoever they are. I understand what is fashionable, what is indie and credible, as opposed to what is trashy, silly and ridiculous. I was once told that there would be a time when I would not care what they thought. I was once promised that I would be comfortable and honest enough to celebrate what I love without fear of reproach.

So how did it come to be like this? I believe much of it has to do with the construction of the online identity. It is possible to conceal those things that make you uncool. You do not need to feature Milli Vanilli in your list of Favourite Artists on Facebook, you do not need to incessantly mention Ace of Base on Twitter. Instead, you can associate yourself with a kind of wispy, bearded indiepop subgenre that has considerably more gravitas and far greater kudos than Space Disco. I can't identify when it happened exactly, but somewhere between that momentary whiff of a documentary and this very day, I learned to embrace and project all that I would otherwise be ashamed of. Irrespective of any glitchy sound or cheesy attitude, I think it is the greatest thing to find that song that resonates with you. It's not fair to celebrate that discovery in isolation.

I have given up defending the music I love because I no longer take the cultural guardsman seriously. He is like an insecure hipster to me, running from one token endorsement to another. He once held such conviction in his taste, but since it has fallen out of favour with a key indie stakeholder, he feels compelled to snarl, dismiss and ridicule. He is desperate to assert his own cultural superiority, but when he does, it is almost as if he is dismissing a fragment of his musical past, a part of himself that found a rare affinity in something as beautiful and ephemeral as pop music.

It is stupid. We should never be ashamed of our taste. We should learn to trust our cultural sensibilities. Cool or otherwise, we should celebrate in rejoice in the discovery of truly great pop. That's why we're all here.

Cassettes & Chocolate Milk: Synthpop Podcast #25
Pet Shop Boys - Opportunities (Reprise)
Pet Shop Boys - Tonight is Forever
Depeche Mode - Shake the Disease
Cause & Effect - Nothing Comes to Mind
Yazoo - Nobody's Diary
Erasure - My Heart, So Blue (Orchestral Arrangement)
New Order - Dream Attack
Electronic - Vivid
The Cure - Halo

Download (54.6 MB)

2010-11-25T23:17:00.005+11:00

I made the most horrific discovery only minutes ago. I made a mistake on C&CM Mod Podcast #1.

It was only by reading the Wool City Rocker that I discovered my mistake. It was an accidental discovery, as I didn't think I would find anything of material relevance to C&CM. Although occasionally alienating, I like reading of the mod revival antics of Bradford in the early 1980s. The Wool City Rocker is considerably more composed than any of my other zines. It was written in a fine hand and it carefully described and predicted the success of groups such as the Negatives, Terminal 3, Middle 8 and other groups you've never heard of.

It is to be contrasted with other zines, Sniffin' Glue, Intensive Care and the like, which refer to many of the well-trodden traditional punk songs typically associated with the movement. There are photocopied bits of photocopied photocopies, jagged lines and thick capital letters, akin to that very keen, DIY punk aesthetic. The rants have a real, detectable voice, a growl perhaps and an aggression you can never really take seriously. They gruffly declare who is in and who is out: "The Stranglers are not included in our list!!!!!" They are to be loved, for the nuances of personal taste are so often ignored in the latter-day documentation of punk.

Sure, as an outsider, there are moments when you don't quite get the musical references. It happens particularly in mod revivalist zines which focus upon the more local, esoteric groups who never produced anything more than a home-made demo in 1979. It is frustrating, as I want to know of all the releases of the Negatives, Terminal 3 and the other one. I suppose it serves to demonstrate the fragmented nature of scene. It makes me wonder if every street had their own little mod revival band. Like a group of dapper town priors with Rickenbacker guitars, tight suits, thin ties and glowing-white socks. You could only imagine such a phenomenon with such reviews as, "they’re practically as good as the Chords!" or "they’re nearly as good as the Jam!". I could imagine those excitable kids reading those reviews. "A locally-produced, fat-free alternative to our musical heroes? Right here in Hull? Surely not!"

I must assure you that no musical reference is ever truly lost. The education is swift and stimulating, thanks to a veritable smorgasbord of mod sites: the ModPopPunk Archives, Music Ruined My Life, Low Down Kids, Short Sharp Kick in the Teeth and other sites I adore but fail to mention. From there, singles can be downloaded, lineups can be obtained. All the data is there to be accessed and I use that word carefully, data. Yet, we are so often left to ask one another, how can we find Colin Swan and Geno Buckmaster? How can I be sure that XL, who wrote the World to Me is the same Excel that wrote Summer of '42? Who the hell were the Mystery Guests? For these questions, we must turn to the frantic, flaming and occasionally shambolic zines of March 1980. For without the zines, we cannot understand the songs and without the songs, none of this would be worth our time.

Ohes. And that mistake I made? The City Limits had nothing to do with the Squares.

Cassettes & Chocolate Milk: Mod Podcast #24
Virgnie Rodin - Commando Spatial
Ariel Pink's Haunted Graffiti - Bright Lit Blue Skies
Gents - Honor Bright
Rotjoch - Ghostride
Excel - Summer of '42
Jacqueline Taieb - Le Coeur Au Bout Des Doigts
Erick St Laurent - Le Temps D'y Penser
REM - Carnival of Sorts (Box Cars)
Backdoor Men - Out of My Mind
The Heartbeats - Funny Anymore

Download (39.4 MB)

2010-10-24T10:50:00.008+11:00

We were sitting in a train, somewhere between Antwerp and Bruges. Perhaps it was even Bruges and Brussels, I can't even be sure. It was an unlikely situation. We sat on the fold down, dark blue vinyl chairs of the spacious baggage area. There wasn't any other place we could sit. I was thinking of important matters, namely Petit Tom and Baroque Pop. The paradox of Baroque Pop to be precise. I sat with the baby laptop on my knees and described the situation to my brother.

"You see, Baroque Pop is a paradox, because it is the pairing up of two incongruent genres. Baroque should have nothing to do with Pop."
My brother remained distracted, staring at the sleeping man sitting across from us.
"OK."
"It just doesn't make sense. I don't understand how it could have emerged, the blending of high culture and low culture. I mean, it clearly started in the mid sixties with the Left Banke, the Cake and the Kinks and so forth. It was obviously popularised by the harpsichord interlude of In My Life and who could forget Eleanor Rigby?"
He remained blank.
"Alright."

We remained silent for a few moments as I tried to develop something of a coherent argument.
"There's something in the sound. There's something about the instrumentation of Baroque Pop which makes it seem as if pop music had some kind of historical basis in classical music, when it was simply never the case."
He flinched his brow.
"It wasn't?"
I paused for a moment.
"Well, pop obviously originated from rock n roll, but that had little to do with the classical tradition."
"But some pop musicians can read music. Some." He trailed off. The man across from us slumped deeper in his chair. "I think the problem is that I don't know what you're talking about."

I pulled out my then-functioning iRiver. It was happy and intact, well before I dropped it on a tiled floor in Rome. I pressed some buttons strategically and passed him his set of headphones.
"Listen to this."
We sat in silent concentration and listened to the Kinks' Village Green. I knew he would like it, after all we both dug the harpsichord sound and ideas of a lost England. After it finished, he handed the headphones back to me.
"Maybe they used classical instruments because it just sounded nice."
I looked back at the slumped man and curled my lip in resignation.
"Maybe you're right."

Cassettes & Chocolate Milk: Baroque Pop Podcast #23
The Morning Benders - Excuses
The Kinks - Village Green
Blur - Clover Over Dover
Eddie Howell - Man from Manhattan
Split Enz - My Mistake
Jeremy Messersmith - Organ Donor
Patrick Wolf - The Libertine
The Magnetic Fields - I Don't Really Love You Anymore

Download (28 MB)

2010-05-08T03:52:00.014+10:00

There is something strange about realising that your culture doesn't seem to exist anymore. We can revisit the music and the places which once meant so much, but their potency has somehow diminished. Things are no longer as they were: we have grown up. We now listen to other music. There are moments of comfort though, when either you or I heave a great gust of retrospection. I so love it when you write to tell me how much you miss the excitement of our time. The post-punk revival that happened all of five years ago. I sometimes imagine it's what being a first generation punk would have been like. The jagged guitar lines thrashing our back and sides. The hurtling drum beats governing our every movement. The rally cries we shouted in boisterous unity and wholehearted sincerity. When I think of it we are dancing, happy and lost in the depths of Fitzroy. If Fitzroy had any depths...

I don't wish to think of how it came together or how it fell apart. The time exists as some kind of pretentious mirage. O God, what it would be like to be a part of a gaggle of post-punk scenesters. O God, what it would be like to anticipate the move and motive of every British musical publication. O God, how it would be to undermine the rules and tacky guidelines ascribed by Mr Kingsmill and his suitably trendy honchos. We developed such an intense manner of assurance in our cultural sensibilities. We knew we were onto something, so we desperately campaigned for their popularity in any way we could. Slightly flushed, we discussed whatever tenuous links we had with members of the band. Slightly flustered, we emphatically insisted that we discovered them months before anyone else. We savoured that bittersweet irony: we so wanted them to be popular, but we would come to resent them in the very attainment of that popularity.

It's so easy to see it when we stand so far away. I understand why that music meant as much as it did. Even though the music possessed an unspeakably rare breed of pop charisma, its consequence was not contained within the music itself. It was the sharing of the music which created this community, this sense of unified enthusiasm for the movement. It's difficult to remember the musical climate but all this happened at a time when there was no Myspace, no Facebook. There were no MP3 blogs. There were a limited number of sites which provided free new music downloads. It was an intensely frustrating time to find that song by that band... and you could forget walking into Polyester Records to ask for that EP because they wouldn't have a clue what you were talking about. Believe me, it really happened. It was inevitable we would have to find one another in a forum, there was no other way we could find this music alone. It was just too hard.

I would recall going to extreme measures just to get a single song, ripping a streaming radio session or a live show online. I know that so many others had to resort to similar measures, simply due to the scarcity of resources at that time. This practice, however, is not discussed in light of its associated legal ramifications. Perhaps people are scared, perhaps people don't wish to acknowledge their downloading practices online. These are completely valid concerns. However, it is a terrible farce to deny these practices ever existed within the community. To ignore its prevalence would completely dismiss the love, dedication and motivation of the devoted few. We would go to such lengths to share our passion and in turn, we had an unyielding desire to indulge each others' every recommendation. It is a shame, because I know it is this very aspect of the culture which will be forgotten in time: that intense desire to share and to explore our music.

My attached podcast explores many of the songs that, at one time, made our hearts dance. Let's not think of how it all fell apart. Let's not recall how the jagged guitars and hurtling drums became so tiresome. Let's not think of how easy it became to find the music we wanted. It's a cruel thing that the interwebs had to become as amazing as it did. No longer are we compelled to chase individual tracks so desperately, albums leaks are now available so readily. Sordo and What.CD made us so inconsequential to one another. We no longer needed each others recommendations. We are now so-called independent tastemakers, cruelly susceptible to the hype and tacky guidelines by Mr Kingsmill & co. It fills me with a sense of utter complacency, really. I feel no desire to keep up with any of it, just because they insist I should. I'd rather retreat to 1982, where so many more things remain to be discovered.

Don't trust art, don't trust culture
Cassettes & Chocolate Milk: Britpop Podcast #22
The Rakes - Terror (Extended Mix)
Bloc Party - Staying Fat
Franz Ferdinand - 40'
Maximo Park - Once, A Glimpse
The Futureheads - Meanwhile (Acoustic)
The Cribs - Things Aren't Gonna Change
Battle - Tendency
The Cloud Room - Blackout!
Radio 4 - Absolute Affirmation
Lily Allen - Nan You're a Window Shopper (Demo)

Download (52MB)

2010-04-26T19:22:00.007+10:00

Dear Italo Disco,

Never have I been so totally besotted and bemused by a single genre. I scarcely know what to say when people ask what's going on between us, because the fact is that it's impossible to define what we have. It's not that I am ashamed of you... well, OK, yes, I am ashamed of you.

Don't be downhearted, I think you're still great. I still want to stay up until 3 o'clock in the morning, listening to Italo megamixes. But I just don't know what people will say when they find out the truth about us. I used to have some credibility endorsing jangly guitar music on the interwebs, but I seem to be endorsing more and more music of a dubious quality.

I know that fans have been talking about you behind your back. They say that your music is tacky and disposable. They say that your singers don't understand what they're singing about. They say that the entire thing was engineered by recording labels. It's not fair that they should treat you so bad, Italo.

There's still hope for you yet. There could be a revival, you gotta believe me. Pitchfork could write a hyperbolic endorsement and you could be ironically adored by scenesters the world over! Then I could get all aggressively and territorial and claim that I loved you first! El stylee!

Now, I don't want you to act out but I think it's best we don't see each other for a while. It's nothing personal, Italo, I've just sort of overdosed on you. I leave you with C&CM Italo Podcast #21 in your memory.

Arrivederci,

Eleanor xx

Cassettes & Chocolate Milk: Italo Disco Podcast #21
Alexander Robotnick - Problèmes d'Amour
My Mine - Hypnotic Tango
Facts & Fiction - Give Me The Night
Miko Mission - The World is You
Eddy Huntington - USSR
Sally Shapiro - Save Your Love
Ali Renault - Cuffs
Hipnosis - Droids

Download (71MB)

2010-03-23T01:09:00.008+11:00

It is an insult so callously careless that we hardly think before we say it: "That's so emo..." It is a reflex response whenever we encounter something unnecessarily depressing or melodramatic, dark or self-conscious. These are the dismissals of an outsider, based upon the impressions of a subculture that can be so easily characterised and lampooned. I do it myself, I admit. I secretly chortle at the misunderstood few, draped upon the steps of Flinders Street Station. I secretly bemoan the seemingly endless stream of emo tweets and status updates, desperately crying for sympathy. It is only in recent times that I realised how carelessly callous that insult is. Its broader connotation alarms me, because that insult somehow manages to dictate how we view, value and evaluate personal expression.

I must clearly acknowledge now that I will never write a treatise in defense of emo music, simply because it is horrible. But I will forever defend the value of personal expression, whatever the ghastly sentiment. I know that many of us create in fear that we may be unnecessarily depressing, melodramatic, dark or self-conscious. I know, too, that so many of us have abandoned creative projects upon the very thought: "This is too emo, this is too emo." What incredible work could have been produced if only we hadn't been discouraged by that invisible electrical fence. What if we could have seen the value in our own work and recognised its merit, quite simply because it is an unspeakably courageous thing to put our feelings into words.

Perhaps the prevalence of this insult suggests that we live in a time where it is simply not appropriate to be so personal, so painful, so completely wretched. I suppose it makes sense, you could be doing something much more productive with your time, like reading a book or chasing a cat. But then again, I can't help but think that it reflects this embarrassed attitude we have towards depression among the community at large. I don't quite understand why, but it still seems to be something of a taboo subject. Incidents of melancholy are recounted in hushed mutterings and shameful retorts. Nobody is meant to know about it, nobody else is meant to deal with it but you. It shouldn't be this way, it really shouldn't.

Man Ray makes emo beautiful
I urge you, my loving peeps. The next time you dismiss someone as emo, think about the meaning behind that expression. Remember it takes an awful lot of courage to wear your misery like a stripey scarf. Admire it.

Cassettes & Chocolate Milk: Mod Podcast #20
The Smithereens - Strangers When We Meet
Cats on Fire - My Friend in a Comfortable Chair
The Nerves - When You Find Out
The Church - She Never Said
Elvis Costello - The Beat (Live at the El Mocambo, 1978)
Jay Reatard - Don't Let Him Come Back
The Libertines - Don't Look Back into the Sun
Jilted John - I Know I'll Never
Jimmy Soul - If You Wanna Be Happy
Ratcat - Good Buy

Download (42 MB)

2010-01-18T04:34:00.017+11:00

I don't know what it is about British pop, but it seems there is a very real sense of locality present in every group, in every song. It seems as if their geographical background is secondary only to the name of the group. Once you know that, then you have to know their lead singer's name, their recording label and the ultimate reason for their demise. It makes for a wildly comprehensive understanding of the places these people are singing about and how they interacted with other bands from the same place.

In saying all that, you can never really escape from something like Morrissey's Manchester. It's all so relevant and I wonder why. Is that sense of locality real, in that these singers make a very deliberate attempt to allude to these places? Strangeways Prison? Ancoats? Whalley Range? The Moors? Are their rural accents exaggerated and if so, for what purpose? What is the consequence of Paul Smith singing with a Geordie accent? Or else is the British musical press reinforcing this idea of history, creating a messy, elaborate web of creative relationships, to be mythologised at length for decades to follow?

A part of it is just me, maybe. I like thinking about Freddie and Roger, queening it up on Kensington High Street, the Beatles performing upon the Apple rooftop or the Sex Pistols mucking about at the 100 Club. Maybe it makes it all the more real. If you know about the significance of these places then there is that very remote possibility of pilgrimage. There is that ultimate inevitability, of course, that once you get there, it will be just a street, it will be just a building. You will go to Wardour Street and there won't be "A" bomb there are at all. There is nothing special there so why bother?

The Beatles' Love, in Las Vegas of all places
But there is something special, in some way. It's quite indecipherable. There is an idea that such pop songs, such perfect musical encounters took place in such ordinary places. Council houses, schools, night clubs or electronics shops in the case of the Pet Shop Boys. It is the ordinary nature of it that is so special and it may well touch upon that unspeakable, selfish hope that one day, the ordinary places you frequent could be filled with a similar kind of consequence.

I leave you, my friendlings, with a related C&CM Britpop Podcast. This week's episode is a Triphop manifesto, with bits and pieces from the Bristol scene of the early 1990s. I hope it's to your satisfaction.

Cassettes & Chocolate Milk: Triphop Podcast #19
Hooverphonic - Mad About You
Portishead - Wandering Star
Massive Attack - Safe From Harm
Supreme Beings of Leisure - Never the Same
Moloko - Absent Minded Friends
Jay-Jay Johanson - So Tell the Girls I'm Back in Town
Paul Weller - Wild Wood (Portishead Remix)
The Lightning Seeds - You Showed Me

Download (53.2MB)

2010-01-11T10:59:00.007+11:00

Whenever Geocities is mentioned (and let me say that it is rarely mentioned), an odd feeling of comfort and http metatags drifts over me. I am ushered into an era where Sunset Strip is a virtual place and other noobish web designers are vying for a space to call their own. I feel such affection for animated gifs, proclaiming a site is "under construction" (and honestly, was a site ever really finished?), #name tags and guestbooks. It was tacky and amateurish but above all, it was personal.

Long before social networking sites, users constructed personal webpages on Microsoft Frontpage, Netscape Composer and Hotdog. I do stress that word, personal. Not in that they divulged inappropriately private information (or maybe they did, sometimes, you could never really know on a site as vast as Geocities), but the web designer took care of both the content and appearance of the site. Often this would lead to jarring background images that interfered with the text or else bodged up html or midis that would unexpectedly play every time a page opened. It was awkward, silly and naive, but that was us, online in 1998.

It's probably no secret now that I had my own Queen webpage on Geocities. It's all gone now, wiped out by the site's closure in October 2009. It was expansive, yet so very odd. There were bios, lyrics, midis in addition to lyric analyses and Choose Your Own Adventure games. I was thirteen when I started it and throughout my adolescence I added to it. It was as you would expect it to be, personal and excitable with that dab of gleeful eccentricity that seemed all too acceptable in that online realm.

You stole my heart and made me go crazy for a little while there...
I reveled in how personal it was. There seemed to be so much more value in personal expression on Geocities. I would openly speak about how my passion for Queen affected the way I engaged with the girls at school, in addition to how it affected the way I saw myself. My story encouraged others to write and share their stories about how Queen affected them. It was a great thing to receive emails of encouragement or else stunningly enthusiastic comments on my guestbook. I don't think such interactivity really exists anymore.

With Blogger, everything has become streamlined. The template is uniform, the writing style is uniform. MP3 blogs, free of personal commentary are among the most popular blogs on the web. Some days, I feel as if there is no value in recounting personal experience on Blogger, because it's simply not appropriate anymore. When I think of the desires of my end user, I believe that they want something analytical and detached. And downloads. Above all, people want downloads.

So whenever Geocities is mentioned (and I'm usually the one to mention it), I remember another time, an arguably better time. The sites didn't look perfect, I will be the first to acknowledge that, but there was something distinctly beautiful about that form of personal expression. We weren't pandering to the end user, there was no other agenda than to express who we were and what we loved.. and I very much doubt we could ever return to a style of online journalism that is so open in its form or content.

Cassettes & Chocolate Milk: Electro Podcast #18
Shakira - She Wolf
Frankmusik - When You're Around
The Klaxons - No Diggity
The Radio Dept - Freddie & The Trojan Horse
Yeasayer - Tightrope
Lady Gaga - Alejandro
Ace of Base - Hypnotized (Hear Me Calling Demo)
Theoretical Girl - It's a Sin

Download (43.9 MB)

2009-10-19T08:40:00.002+11:00

In putting together this week's podcast, I've been contemplating what it means to be an authentic punk. Is that label associated with some sort of a sincere engagement with that subculture? What is a sincere engagement? Who determines that, anyway? Are you an authentic punk if you slavishly adhere to the personal iconography of the movement? If you wash your hair with eggs, stick a safety pin through your nose and struggle into a pair of black drainpipe jeans, does that make you an authentic punk? It sure makes you look like other punks. Perhaps the true assessment of punk credibility is your own capacity to elucidate upon the meaning, practices and values of punk. No doubt that would involve the annoying habit of obsessively clarifying and re-clarifying the punk "status" of the same ten bands over and over again. The Jam? The Clash? The Buzzcocks? They weren't punk! The Damned? The Adverts? X-Ray Spex? They were punk!

I've been thinking about these questions in the context of my own musical identity (and the parts of it which still seem to be evolving). As a movement, punk had always intimidated me. Ever since I was five years old and I approached a bunch of third wave punks in a park in Burnham to ask if they liked ballet, I have stayed some distance away from the subculture. I had a superficial impression of what it meant to be a punk and I knew it just didn't appeal to me. Punk was designed to undermine the music of a group who had meant everything to me up to that point. Even from the outset, I knew that punk required an impossibly high level of personal engagement. I knew that I could never do it. I could never wear a swastika in the name of fashionable antagonism or mutilate myself to somehow prove my punk credibility to a rightfully skeptical Radio One DJ. I could never do it then and I could never do it now.

Pretty Vacant
So, how did it happen then? How did I get involved with punk? I can't remember exactly. It's a bit like describing how you got involved with the boy from the sketchy side of town, it's all been a bit of a haze. What I do know is that it's become a part of who I am now, in a way that I hardly feel compelled to describe or defend it. I love so much of it, even its confusing political ideologies that rarely if ever make sense. Of course, I say all this in the knowledge that I can never be an authentic punk. After all, I didn't contribute musical rants to zines like Loaded or Future Days. I didn't gob on my musical heroes at the 100 Club. I didn't harass or intimidate Chelsea pensioners at any point in time. Even if I wash my hair with egg or stick a safety pin through my nose, every attempt to be an authentic punk is thwarted by the fact that I was born half way across the world, seven years after it all officially finished.

At best, I can only ever be described as a part-time punk, an insipid poseur. Someone who plays their records very loud and pogos in their bedroom in front of their mirror (but only when their mum's gone out). It's a sad state of affairs realising you're a part of the problem. That you're a source of pain and aggravation to the righteous puritans of this musical genre. But you know what? I don't really make any apologies for it. I know that I am authentic in how I represent myself and my tastes. It's who I am and what I like and nobody has the authority to dismiss that.

Cassettes & Chocolate Milk: Mod Podcast #17
The Flys - Love and a Molotov Cocktail
The Damned - Love Song
The Nips - Nobody to Love
The Easy Cure - Just Need Myself (Demo)
The Buzzcocks - Ever Fallen in Love (With Someone You Shouldn't Have)
Patrik Fitzgerald - Safety Pin Stuck in My Heart
Various Artists - The Original Mixed Up Kid
Directors - What You Got
The Fuzztones - Bad News Travels Fast
Thee Milkshakes - For She
The Mystery Guests - Take a Look at Yourself

Download (32.1 MB)

2009-07-28T10:48:00.007+10:00

It is difficult to define what is so alluring about the cover artwork for Our Favourite Shop by the Style Council. Paul Weller and Mick Talbot, with the assistance of sleeve designer Simon Halfon and photographer Olly Ball, literally recreated their own favourite shop on a set. They filled their imaginary shop with their most treasured cultural artifacts. You are compelled to look closer, to identify the significance of these objects. You can make out a Rickenbacker guitar, a clutch of soul LPs and a poster for A Hard Day's Night. You can make out photos of Brigitte Bardot, Terry-Thomas and David Blaine's portrait of John Lennon and Paul McCartney. I can make out several books that I have in my own house, such as George Bernard Shaw's Pygmalion and Kenneth Williams' Acid Drops. The visual rhetoric of this cover artwork is clear: we are cultural aficionados and these are the things that matter most to us.

Your Favourite Shop? But That's My Favourite Shop!

Listeners use cover artwork to visually connect with both the music and the artist, to make sense of who they are and what they're about. In many ways, Our Favourite Shop reminds me of the cover artwork to the Beatles' Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band. To identify figures such as Edgar Allan Poe, Marilyn Monroe or Stuart Sutcliffe among an audience of cardboard cutouts can be an incredibly captivating. If you're very cluey, it's almost possible to positively identify some cultural figures in that artwork, with the possible exception of Adolf Hitler. With some imagination, you can even identify the influence of some figures within the Beatles music itself. But above all, the artwork of Sgt. Pepper makes it clear that the Beatles are fans. At a time when the Beatles had stopped touring and "Beatlemania" was dying down, to return the idea of the Beatles were, themselves, fanatical about other writers, actors or musicians was absolute genius. It is an act of creative humility for successful musicians to brand themselves as a fellow fans. This image effectively says to their fans that they understand what it is to follow, love, collect and connect with the creative output of another.

Now, it is hardly an uncommon thing for a successful musician to market himself as a fellow fan in cover artwork. Occasionally the adulation is a little bit more subtle, taking the form of less-than-obvious symbolism of Oasis' Definitely Maybe. Other times it would be far more blatant, such as Morrissey's treatment of nostalgic screenshots as cover artwork for singles by the Smiths. I still love to see fandom in its many different manifestations, particularly from those who don't need to follow the creative guidance of anyone else. Whenever I see the cover artwork of Jamie T's Panic Prevention or Carbon/Silicon's The Last Post, I am grateful that these musicians are fans, too. They are still enthusiastic about following, loving, collecting and connecting with music.. and although we may never meet or exchange words of any particular consequence, I appreciate that understanding of musical love and enthusiasm will always exist between us.

Cassettes & Chocolate Milk: Britpop Podcast #16
Blur - End of a Century (Live at Hyde Park 3/7/09)
Stone Roses - Love Spreads
Elastica - 2:1
Black Box Recorder - Start As You Mean To Go On
Badly Drawn Boy - Once Around The Block
Space - Neighbourhood
Eggstone - Wrong Heaven
Elle Milano - The Choreographer (2nd Demo)

Download (28.9 MB)

2009-06-26T21:10:00.007+10:00

I was 13 when it was brought to my attention that I had particularly "gay" taste in music. We were in Health class at the time, Hannah and I were discussing Freddie Mercury in distressingly minute detail when our teacher overheard us talking. She approached us and openly scoffed, promptly announcing to the class that Queen were a "gay band" and to like them was to "be gay". I was overwrought with such bigotry and with heated cheeks, I spluttered a clumsily-constructed argument: "I love Freddie's songs, I love his voice. I don't see how that makes me gay, how does that make anyone gay? What does musical taste have to do with sexual orientation?" My Health teacher remained incredulous and unconvinced. Even though many years have passed since then, I continue to be intrigued by that confrontation. I am still trying to figure out what relationship, if any, exists between musical taste and sexuality.

Assigning a sexual orientation to song, band or musical movement has always seemed to be offensive to my sensibilities. This became relevant when I developed a particularly intense affinity with synthpop, some ten years ago. I knew that others had associated synthpop with gay subculture, namely due to its heavy reliance upon exaggerated aesthetics, flamboyant imagery and camp extravagance. It was something clearly identifiable in the cross-dressing shenanigans of Erasure's clip Take A Chance On Me. Even still, I didn't see how my love for this genre had any relevance to my being a straight fourteen year old girl. I could listen to songs like Erasure's I Love Saturday, the Pet Shop Boys' Tonight is Forever or Depeche Mode's See You and still strongly identify with the romance of these lyrics. To me, it is the ambiguous treatment of pronouns that makes the lyrics in synthpop so intensely relateable. Particularly in the earlier work of these artists, there is rare mention any gender specifically. There are simply universal notions of sublime love and affection.

This issue takes on a fascinating dimension when purportedly "straight" indie bands borrow from imagery from a gay context. The Smiths, in particular, employed feminine imagery in their live stage show, where Morrissey would sport a woman's blouse and stuff gladioli flowers in his back pocket (if you could ever imagine it). The illusion was further enhanced by Morrissey's aggressively emphatic claims to asexuality in the British musical press. Brett Anderson of Suede would similarly flirt with notions of sexual ambiguity, from the suggestive "have you ever tried it that way?" in Pantomime Horse to the more provocative proclamation "I suppose I'm a bisexual who has never had a homosexual experience". The British musical press, again, sought to obsessively clarify and re-clarify the exact nature of Brett's sexual inclination. They wanted to know exactly what he meant by that, why? Why was it relevant or even necessary to dissect the sexual appetites of Morrissey, Brett Anderson or even David Bowie or Brian Molko? Is this knowledge really necessary in assessing how we engage with their persona? Does it make us feel any differently about their music?

That what we would traditionally label as "indie" continues to have a taste of sexual subversion, but these days it is far more subtle. It is present in the suggestive lyrics of Michael by Franz Ferdinand or in the clip of the Strokes song Juicebox, but such imagery is rarely controversial. Contemporary indie capitalises upon the unacknowledged truth of taste: that the most refined form of sexual attractiveness is the adoption of physical attributes from the opposite sex. Indie musicians adopt feminine attributes in private, they apply eyeliner, put on skinny girls' jeans and use expensive hair straighteners. The feminine influence is far from overt, but it is detectable. Sometimes it even gets to a point where androgyny becomes so latent in a musician's appearance that you begin to think that there isn't the intensely insidious breed of homophobia, that maybe there is no relationship between musical taste and sexuality. But then you see instances of Kele Okereke, having to account for the meaning and sexual intent of every Bloc Party song and then you realise that people still care, people will always care. Because as much as you want to detach musical taste and sexuality, they will always be inextricably linked.

So on that note, I leave you with today's podcast, Electro Podcast #15. I would be interested to hear your views on this topic, so be sure to write me a comment.

Cassettes & Chocolate Milk: Electro Podcast #15
Robyn - Cobrastyle
Hot Chip - Arrest Yourself
Frankmusik - Confusion Girl (Don Diablo Loves To Slowdance Mix)
Pet Shop Boys - Email
Erasure - When I Needed You (Melancholic Mix)
New Kids on the Block - Hold On
Milli Vanilli - Is It Love?
Sliimy - Wake Up

Download (31.5MB)

2009-06-21T22:08:00.013+10:00

Until recently, I only had a very superficial understanding of what the Yé Yé movement represented. For me, it conjured up images of pretty French teenagers like Françoise Hardy or Sylvie Vartan. They would inevitably sport blunt fringes, baby doll dresses and uncomfortable shoes. Despite my obsession with France Gall's 1966 album Baby Pop, I didn't understand the revolutionary aspect of Yé Yé: it was the first time ever in the history of music where women were at the forefront of a cultural movement. Sure these girls were singing about broken hearts and bruised egos, but it was more than just that. These girls were singing about romantic blackmail and mistreatment and perhaps more pointedly, they were singing about aspirational matters, like how they wish to be treated by men.. and although it was all packaged in a such seemingly innocuous way, I think that's a pretty empowering thing to sing about.

Helpful advice
When you discover that the vast majority of these songs were written, produced and marketed by men, Yé Yé becomes something of a paradox. You begin to notice that these Yé Yé girls shared a deliberately naïve kind of sexual appeal. There was a great amount of emphasis placed upon the youth of these girls, not only in their personal iconography, but also in the "child-like" instrumentation in the music itself. You begin to notice that these songs were underscored with instruments such flutes and xylophones that you would otherwise expect to hear in the songs of children. You have to wonder why there were so many allusions to youth in this genre.

Yé Yé becomes even more perverse when you consider Les Sucettes, performed here by an 18-year old France Gall and Serge Gainsbourg. Gall thought she was singing an innocent song about a girl's love of aniseed lollipops, but as Gainsbourg would have it, Les Sucettes was filled with smarmy puns and double éntendres. When Gall discovered the true meaning of the song, she refused to perform any of his songs and soon broke up the partnership. Gall later said that she had no idea of the true meaning of Les Sucettes, claiming that she was mortified that Gainsbourg would have preyed upon her innocence in such a way.

The story of Les Sucettes has become inextricably linked with the story of Yé Yé. It is a wildly popular tale of manipulation and erotic subtext in song. But even more than that, it reiterates the idea that we often see in romantic literature of the sexually experienced man being matched with the sexually inexperienced girl. In all historical accounts of the Les Sucettes debacle, Gall is always made to account for her lack of knowledge while Gainsbourg is never made to account for his sexually provocative lyrics. It was just a joke at her expense.

It is unfortunate that Yé Yé doesn't really hold the promise of sexual freedom, but it is still fascinating to consider the scope of its influence. But you have to remember that listeners would have aspired to be just like Françoise Hardy, Sylvie Vartan or France Gall. Listeners would have aspired to have their beauty, sophistication, personal strength and independence. Their songs would have provoked thought and reflection and consequently, they would have changed the way teenage girls think and act. If you forget everything I just told you about the insidious underbelly of the Yé Yé movement, you can really begin to embrace something that is exciting and so very liberating in these songs.. and I encourage you to do so with this week's podcast.

Cassettes & Chocolate Milk: Mod Podcast #14
Herb Alpert and the Tijuana Brass - Carmen
France Gall - Laisse Tomber Les Filles
Maryrene - Cette Fille N'est Rien Pour Lui
Natacha Snitkine - Le Jeu du Téléphone
Marie Laforêt - Marie Douceur, Marie Colère (cover of the Rolling Stone's Paint It Black)
Danielle Denin - Je Lis Dans Tes Yeux (cover of the Beatles' I'm Looking Through You)
Erick Saint Laurent - Eleonor Rigby (cover of the Beatles' Eleanor Rigby)
Karine et Rebecca - Moi, Je Dors Avec Nounours
La Petite Lily - Je N'aime Pas La Choucroute
Jeanette - Porque Te Vas
Cosette - Les Cheveux Dans Les Yeux
Soeur Sourire - Dominique

Download (31.7 MB)

2009-06-15T18:19:00.012+10:00

I think we were both a little startled when I said it: I want all your songs to be about me. In that single moment, everything seemed to be drenched in my own despicable vanity. I revealed my addiction to attention, to yearning, to impossibility and the true extent of my selfishness. I so wanted his heart to be wasted on me, even though we were nothing more than just friends.

I will always admire those who have the ability to faithfully describe someone like that: in so few words that it borders on ineffectual, yet once combined with music, becomes so charmed. It also takes a great deal of bravery to make someone distinguishable from any other. At times, it borders on intrusive to know exactly who these songs are about. You are not invited to impose your own lyrical interpretation, because you understand who is the object of the song. Think of Something, In The Lap of the Gods or Songbird. There's no point contemplating that these songs were about anyone aside from Pattie, Mary or Nicole, respectively.

When I write, I do so in such a way that anyone from my past could think it was about them. I would hope there is enough breadth, warmth and ambiguity present to qualify such an assumption. My writing is never about one person specifically, after all, it is a bunch of ripped up photographs of the people I once loved.. and even though I've revealed the true extent of my selfishness, I would still like it if they were flattered by my regard. As vague and ambiguous as it would sometime seem.

The suggestion is clear
Cassettes & Chocolate Milk: Britpop Podcast #13
Arkarna - Rehab
Mood Six - The Voice of Reason
The House of Love - Shine On
Cotton Mather - My Before and After
The Beatles - Free as a Boid
Eugene McGuinness - Monsters Under The Bed
Pulp - Babies
Dogs Die in Hot Cars - Squeeze

Download (29.6 MB)

2009-05-07T20:27:00.005+10:00

Quite recently, I found myself completely wrecked, washed ashore, ruined. It was an accident really. The day before my birthday, I had asked my brother Andrew to get the microphone to work on my computer. I had a bunch of people coming around the next night and I had uploaded no less than 139 slop-tastic pop hits onto the freeware program, UltraStar, all in anticipation that we'd all have a bit of a wail. It's a bit like SingStar, except you can upload your own songs. Boney M. East 17. EMF. Whatever!

I came home from work and I was informed of the news: "Ugh. Your computer is broken." How? "I don't know but your operating system is not operating anymore." At the time, I took it on the chin. It was going to be OK. Sure, it meant there would be no howling karaoke shenanigans at my gathering. No Ganggagang. No Roxette. No Interpol. But I could deal with that. I suppose I can talk to my guests, if I really have to.

What followed was a severely long spell of computerlessness. It must have been a month, maybe more. I became aware of my totally crippling and unforgivably geeky addiction to my computer. It was like losing a limb, if a limb were as valuable as my hard disc. It was like my past had been deleted. Everything I loved, everything I was working on.. and perhaps everything I had envisioned myself to be. Pretty deep for a piece of hardware, don't you think?

Yet however grim that last paragraph, all was not lost. The very night of my birthday gathering, Louise carefully prepared a mixed CD simply entitled: Verses & Choruses for Eleanor's Birthday. It had been so long since I'd received a mix. I seem to recall I once found myself wrecked, washed ashore and ruined because of one. Even still, Louise's mix was so infectiously catchy, so heedlessly uplifting and so very carefully crafted. In my month of computerlessness, I listened to it endlessly and it made me feel so much better.

Andrew and my Dad bravely performed many many hours of painstaking surgery on my computer. The shonky sheisters at Microsoft even squeezed another upgrade out of us. But after all their hard work and persistence, my computer was up and running again! The programs were all scrambled, the drives were a little confused, but everything was great. I even had a new C:\ drive! Yes! You heard me! Gillions of more gigabytes to waste on mod revivalist compilations! I'd never been so grateful in all my life!

On an unrelated note: Roger Taylor at Narita Airport, 1975
My first order of business was to rip Louise's mix, Versus & Choruses. It was a breath of fresh air in the otherwise small, dingy, dusty cupboard that is my life. I thought it only appropriate, that after such a story that I would provide a linkie to that compilation. It's also appropriate because I have neither the time nor confidence to do C&CM Britpop Podcast #13. Maybe when self esteem comes in pill form?

Versus & Choruses
1. Psapp - Hi
2. Jens Lekman - Happy Birthday, Dear Friend Lisa
3. Camera Obscura - Teenager
4. Asobi Seksu - Thursday
5. Ariel Pink - The People I'm Not
6. Frida Hyvonen - Enemy Within
7. Kraked Unit - Douala Paris
8. Serge Gainsbourg - Ford Mustang
9. Yelle - A Cause Des Garcons
10. Katerine - Louxor J'adore
11. Inquiet - Middle of the World
12. Chad Vangaalen - Building a Home Like a Bee
13. Diane Cluck - Heat From Every Corner
14. Bon Iver - Blindsided
15. My Favourite - The Suburbs Are Killing Us (Remix)
16. MGMT - Of Moons, Birds & Monsters
17. Camille - Waves
18. Animal Collective - No More Runnin
19. Ladytron - Versus

Download (109 MB)

2009-03-15T22:19:00.014+11:00

When I stop talking for a little while, I am usually thinking about London. I am usually thinking about a particular spot in Camden or the fake Roman antiquities in the Victoria and Albert Museum. I am usually thinking about dancing til my legs ache at some random indie club in Soho.. or else I am thinking about the colour of the morning sky on the bus ride back to Seven Sisters.

Sometimes I think about how I rushed about to get a last minute ticket to New Order in Hyde Park. It was where we first met, standing next to each other, watching the Psychedelic Furs. I had asked to see his program. It was very new-fangled in that it was laminated like a backstage pass. You see, I was lost - there were no freely available programs.

We spent the whole day together, walking in a muddied field, engaged in deep conversation. We talked about musical interests that (we believed) precious few shared. I so vividly remember how he described the significance of the Pet Shop Boys' This Must Be The Place I've Waited Years To Leave. I have no doubt in my mind that I told him of my profound love of Erasure's album The Innocents. We laughed and gushed, walking from tent to tent, stage to stage, talking about his musical writing and my radio fumbling. He was very obliging in letting me watch all the bands I'd wished to see that day: Battle, Graham Coxon, Fischerspooner and the Dears.

We were muddied and drenched when New Order started playing, yet it was perfect. I couldn't have imagined a circumstance like it. There were moments in New Order's set, their cadences, drum beats, lyrics and hooks that resonated so strongly. It seemed so terribly apt yet so wholly unexpected when they played Run Wild. I couldn't believe I was there.

We organised to meet up late Monday night, four days later. I remember him waiting outside the fake Marquee Club in Leicester Square. I was late of course. We had originally planned to go to a New Romantic club night in Oxford Circus. However, no real event really eventuated that night. Yet, somehow it was one of the most exciting nights of my life. Andrew, Gaby, He and I sat on the edge of the Piccadilly Circus fountain, sitting, talking and laughing all night long. It must have been one or two o'clock in the morning when we started to walk in circles around the center of London. From Piccadilly Circus to Soho to Oxford Circus, back to Piccadilly Circus and Leicester Square to Trafalgar Square... and then back again. I remember the precise moment when I wished for him to hold my hand, he was speaking about London by the Smiths. I don't ever think I'd ever felt as much relief as when he did.

It seems like a totally mythical scenario, in retrospect. It was just like any of the songs we talked about: Tonight is Forever by the Pet Shop Boys, There is a Light That Never Goes Out by the Smiths, But Not Tonight by Depeche Mode. Nowadays, the memory seems to live in that strictly musical realm, that farfetched realm, that thoroughly perfect realm. Sometimes I have to stop talking for a little while longer to wonder if it really happened at all.

Cassettes & Chocolate Milk: Electro Podcast #12
Röyksopp - Happy Up Here
Pet Shop Boys - Love etc
Danger - 11h30
Whitest Boy Alive - Gravity
Hercules in NY - Deadweight
Dr Baker - Kaos (from Budbrain Megademo I)
Bitmap Brothers - Gods
Bomb the Bass - Megablast (from Xenon II)

Download (28.5 MB)

2008-12-16T11:48:00.010+11:00

I find end-of-year musical countdowns a little bit irksome, to be honest with you. They go hand in hand with songs that celebrate Christmas. At any other time of the year, they would be considered inappropriate and even a little bit stupid. After all, why would you ever want to revisit the top ten songs of 1999? Wasn't it painful enough the first time?

Fads
End-of-year countdowns also remind me of someone I once knew. The ultimate conclusion of this person's countdown was something that was peculiarly stinging. It was something like, the only thing that they had learned from that year was that there was absolutely no merit in the musical past. That they had completely abandoned any inclination to explore "old" music because it was not relevant anymore.

Maybe it wasn't Pitchfork approved? I don't know.

Perhaps the end-of-year countdown seeks to remind us of the very disposability of pop music. Of course, there may be a little cheeky commentary for the end-of-year round up, but what is the point really? Why should you write anything about these songs if they will be ultimately rendered irrelevant and unfashionable? Even so, was there anything in 2008 worth remembering anyway? I think you can draw your own conclusions.

Cassettes & Chocolate Milk: Mod Podcast #11
Loved Ones - The Loved One
Smile - Step On Me
St Louis Union - East Side Story
The Theme from the Patty Duke Show
The Hi-Fi's - I Keep Forgettin'
The Barracudas - Summer Fun
The Easybeats - Sorry
Yachts - Suffice to Say
Elvis Costello - (I Don't Want To Go To) Chelsea
The Sussed - I've Got Me Parka

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2008-12-09T07:06:00.015+11:00

It goes without saying that I have been reveling in the shock and surprise that is Blur's Hyde Park reformation. As well as contemplating how I could possibly come up with the cash to fund such a jaunt, I had been thinking about how the reunion could have come about. After all, I had been long convinced of the tattered relationship between Albarn and Coxon. I had read all about it in magazines, you know. Not to mention in online publications. I thought I had worked out the dynamics of their working relationship and in doing so, I had dismissed the possibility of any reconciliation. Then I was struck by unusual thought. I thought of exactly how much of our engagement with music is derived from our construction of a musician's character. I am fully aware that my prior sentence sounds distinctly like meaningless "Bachelor of Arts" speak, but just bear with me here.

I can recall the days where I would fervently research the character of Steven Patrick Morrissey of the Smiths. In a very doting fashion, I would read all of Morrissey's archived interviews at The Arcane Old Wardrobe. Everything he said was always laced with a very deliberate ambiguity. Morrissey fancied himself a bit of a modern day Oscar Wilde. In retrospect, he came across as Wildean in the true Uncyclopedian sense of the word. I can never take his oblique statements seriously nowadays. They seem too much like flippant non-sequiturs, designed to create lust and intrigue in the hearts and minds of alienated young girls. I came to question his sincerity, really. My perennial issue with Morrissey is how is it that he came to write lyrics that are imbued with such intense feelings of yearning when he claims to be an individual entirely devoid of romantic inclination? What the hell is all that about?

I know that it is not just me. I know that others have carefully studied the personal background of their most admired musicians. I suspect that research is intended to uncover any trace of arrogance, indifference or insincerity on the part of the musician. When I realise that this musician is not "for real" as such, it becomes a real turn off for me. I know in my own interviewing experience, I could never listen to the music of Moving Units, The Departure, Editors, Kings of Leon or Ambulance LTD after I discovered what they were really like. I understand that I possess this hyper-romantic preconception that my musicians must care for music as much as I do. There must be some kind of requited nature in all this, otherwise my love is based on something that is fake and inconsequential.. and I can't have any of that.

So, where does this all leave us really? Must we all face up to the reality that our entaglement with music derives from a hyper-romanticised depiction of a person's character? I suppose so. Much like crush mythology, we should take solace in the understanding that we develop an affinity with the idea of a person, not the person itself. Perhaps I only speak for myself when I admit that I want to find affinity with musicians that have depth, warmth and doleful complexity. With that being said, I want to flesh out as many musical characters as possible so they all have a distinct role in British musical history. I suppose that is how I could understand how the hell Albarn and Coxon could have possibly mended their tattered relationship and play apart of Blur once again.

Cassettes & Chocolate Milk: Britpop Podcast #10
The Fakrays - All Day
Elle Milano - Ooo Beyoncé Baby (Demo)
Let's Wrestle - I Won't Lie To You
Oasis - I'm Outta Time
Ocean Colour Scene - Huckleberry Grove
Suede & Pet Shop Boys - Rent (Live)
Mint Royale - Don't Falter
Kill City - Hooligans on E
Not the Nine O'Clock News - I Like Bouncing

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2008-12-02T16:29:00.016+11:00

I remember sitting on the front steps of this guy's Art Deco styled, Grey Street apartment. We sat waiting for a taxi together, waiting to get to this party at the Public Offices. I had waited months, years, maybe even decades to be sitting next to this person, waiting for this party. Yet no matter how long I waited, I would still be far too young. Of course, I was in denial of this fact at the time. It only took me two whole years to acknowledge it. Once I did, I dramatically, defiantly and silently declared: if it's because of my age then you're a coward.

When we waited together on these front steps, I was far too anxious to meet his gaze. I would just play with the cuffs of the navy polyester jacket he lent me for the second part of the evening. We were talking about New Order. We would always talk about New Order. He was kind of ashamed of liking Erasure and he knew very little about Depeche Mode. We wouldn't talk about the Cure a lot - although earlier that evening, I acquired the god-fearing audacity to quote the 13th at him: are you seducing or being seduced? To this day, I emphatically insist that the quote was in context, it must have been in context. He must have been flirting with me for me to say something as provocative as that. Surely I wasn't just dreaming of the attraction and rapport? I must have been out of my mind.

Is it really such a sin? Cause if it is, then I'll give in
We were talking about the Reading 3-16 DVD. I laughed at Barney's teleprompter at the front of the stage. "Surely he's been performing these songs for the best part of 20 years, how could he not remember the lyrics of Blue Monday?" He laughed and said that he always felt that Barney was so out of place on stage. He attributed these thoughts to how Barney came to be singer of the band and how Barney tended to have a real lack of showmanship. "It wasn't the place where he was meant to be - he was meant to be an accountant or an architect or something like that. It seems to be a such a mistake."

I knew he was speaking about himself, in some odd way. I didn't have the nerve or the time to ever ask him what he might of meant by that - our maxi taxi was here. He grabbed my hand as we walked to the van and resumed the rest of our evening.

Cassettes & Chocolate Milk: Electro Podcast #9
frYars - Olive Eyes
Piney Gir - Boston
Supersystem - The Lake
Ace of Base - Wave Wet Sand
Erasure - Waiting for the Day
Queen - Action This Day (demo)
Berlin - The Metro
Dr John - New Looks

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2008-11-25T15:42:00.014+11:00

What do you do when your favourite publication becomes utter mince? Do you withdraw allegiances immediately? Do you stick with it, in the vain hope that there might be an upturn in quality?

I have been a big fan of Q Magazine for many a year. In fact, a metre-long row of Q Magazines decorates my family room. I remember frequently rewarding myself with a back issue of the magazine after an afternoon of Year 12 study. With this reward, I would slide back into 1990 (or 1992, or 1994, even). I could slide back into a time where there was still great hope in the Stone Roses' sophomore release. A time where Richey Edwards would still be alive (and still somewhat unbalanced).. a time where there would be some truth in Oasis's aggressive proclamations they were, indeed, the best band in the world.

I would completely immerse myself in Q. Of course, I loved a significant proportion of the artists featured, but I also loved how it was written. It was writing that was tweaked with a very wry, knowing type of sarcasm. It presumed that you really knew your music, too. It wasn't a publication that needed to recommended artists, albums, singles, books or films to you. You just knew it. Q presumed that you knew what happened with Morrissey at Finsbury Park in 1992. They presumed that you knew about the Clash "pigeon incident". They presumed that you knew that Depeche Mode's Devotional Tour was a terrible mistake (and probably never should have occurred). Always interesting - never, ever patronising.

Being Boring
So when did Q go downhill? There has been much conjecture about this. Perhaps it coincided with the death knell of Britpop? Or perhaps it was around the 2000 musical drought? Regardless, it happened at some point. You pick up the magazine - just to browse, of course - are you are bombarded with an influx of meaningless lists and countdowns. These same stupid meaningless lists and countdowns would consistently feature the same tiresome adulation for the same three middle-of-the-road artists. There is no critical evaluation of anything, no sarcastic taglines or interesting articles.

But I knew that this was going to happen to Q. Call me a cynic, but I knew that they had to fulfill the needs and the expectations of a younger demographic. That is, a group of people who basically need a monthly list of recommended songs to download. My friend tells me that the writers of Q don't even describe these songs anymore. The writers don't place these songs into any sort of genre or context. It's so fickle, lazy and uninspired.. and don't get me started on the self-congratulatory aspects of the publication.

So what do I do when my favourite publication has become utter mince? I save my pennies. I sit in my family room and I read a back issue. I don't dismiss what it was and I try hard not to dismiss what it has become. I just read and remember why I get excited about this writing and this music in the first place.

Cassettes & Chocolate Milk: Mod Podcast #8
Tommy Sands & Annette Funicello - The Parent Trap
Cat Stevens - The Laughing Apple
The Cake - Rainbow Wood
France Gall - Faut-il que je t'aime
Lou Christie - Trapeze
The Poets - That's the Way It's Got To Be
The Sonics - Have Love, Will Travel
The Lambrettas - Daaaaance
Timebox - Beggin'

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2008-11-17T10:51:00.002+11:00

Don't be shocked, seriously, don't be. C&CM is not so Anglocentric that there can't be the odd podcast devoted to Australian music once in a while. But that doesn't mean that C&CM particularly endorses music just because it is local. We're not into tokenistic endorsement around here. It's just not our bag.

These songs are all too reminiscent of an Australian childhood. Front yard cricket, endless games of table tennis in the family room (while listening to The Swing on vinyl), It's a Knockout, Big M commercials, playing with the parachute, the Comedy Company, Whammies, Young Einstein, Triple M and that translucent blue Blue Sky Mining cassette. It was all pretty damn fun.

So, please share your memories of fun times in 1980s Australia and perhaps, their tenuous musical links. Thankies.

Cassettes & Chocolate Milk: 80s Australian Podcast #7

2008-11-11T02:30:00.009+11:00

I deleted your number the other day. It is stupid, really, because I know it off by heart. I had this soul-destroying tendency to sporadically contact you. I would refer you to things that I know you would love. I mean, really love. I don't know if your new lady would indulge you with such referrals, she probably does. Maybe you like something far more pretentious than what you did before.. even though that was never really possible, was it?

When I write to you, I completely omit any tendency to write verbose things. I don't write meaningful things. I give myself a sentence to impart exactly what you need. Sometimes I don't even do that, I just give a link. I don't even write my name. In my heart of hearts, I can't imagine that you would even know my name. That sort of thing is shrouded in sheets of irrational indifference. I can't imagine that you have any perception of me, any impression of what I have become, any idea of what I have done to myself.

I write all this here because this is exactly how I feel about radio. When I speak, it feels like moments collapsing under my feet. Every utterance is made to a phantom, indifferent listener who just doesn't give a damn. That's why every moment is rushed. The meaning and significance of every song is left unexplored. The content of all this is so awkward and sparse. It is because I only give myself a moment to impart exactly what you want. I only give myself a moment because I honestly believe it is all you could really ever tolerate.

La Colère
Cassettes & Chocolate Milk: Britpop Podcast #6
The Go! Team - Milk Crisis
Apartment - Fall Into Place
Biff Bang Pow! - A Girl Called Destruction
New Rhodes - A Different Time
The Charlatans - Then
Spiritualized - Anyway That You Want Me
Supergrass - Grace

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2008-11-04T16:20:00.010+11:00

My legs ache far too much to write any sort of culturally relevant post about electronic music.. but I will say this: God Bless Italo Disco. I am this close to living exclusively in 1983.

Cassettes & Chocolate Milk: Electro Podcast #5
RJD2 - Rules for Common Living
Hercules in NY - Nightlight
Gotye - Thanks For Your Time
Dizzee Rascal - Dance Wiv Me (feat. Chrome & Calvin Harris)
Pharrell, Santogold & Julian Casablancas - My Drive Thru
MARRS - Pump Up the Volume
Click Click - Yakuska (12 inch)

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2008-10-28T09:32:00.008+11:00

I had this conversation with somebody once. We were contemplating what we would have been had we existed in 1978. I dimly contributed that I would have liked to have been a mod with great hair. I would have been far too bourgeois to be a respectable punk, far too pussyfooted to be a real rocker.. but the truth of the matter is that I probably would have been a glittered up disco dancer with bad eye make up and a cheap perm.

But after reading this book only just yesterday, I can see now that personal iconography can be quite a malleable thing. Disco dancer one day, convincing punk the next. I always had this impression that you had to bid a very public (and very personal) allegiance to one movement and one movement only. The mod revivalists, in particular, were extremely finite about what means to be a mod.. and arguably, they had an obsessive compulsion to understand and embrace all the prescribed music, books, transport and clothes. It is a movement that continually honours (and rehonours) the past.

Punk is far more of a paradox. Never before had a musical movement been so frequently associated with a single prefix: anti. The term is bandied around so callously: anti-establishment, anti-authoritarian, anti-fashion, antisocial, Antichrist, anti-everything. Jon Savage and particularly Don Letts would have you believe that the movement was never meant to have a cohesive identity. It was not about safety pins or mohawks, it was about individual expression and personal empowerment. Yet that striking visual connotation exists. If you choose to perpetuate that image of the archetypal anarchist, are you being a complete and utter hypocrite? Are you conforming to the norms of a cultural movement which fundamentally abhors conformists? What the hell are you meant to do?

On that note, I leave you with Mod Podcast #4. I know that the extreme mod puritans wouldn't agree with a good many moments of this selection. To them, I say get over yourself.

Cassettes & Chocolate Milk: Mod Podcast #4
Pigbag - Pigbag
The Beatles - Wait
Tony Ronald & His Kroners - It Has Been Too Long
The Shivvers - Teen Line
Run 229 - Soho
The Jam - Burning Sky
The Circles - Circles
The 101ers - Keys to Your Heart

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2008-10-22T08:03:00.010+11:00

I truly relished the opportunity to collate a bunch of songs purely devoted to British pop. Yet, despite my enthusiasm for this era of music, I feel a bit awkward about concept of Britpop in that the term is traditionally associated with the chart battle between Roll With It and Country House. The term reminds me of this insidious presence of marketing departments in British record companies, purposefully orchestrating a "chart battle" in order to garner more popularity. It just seems so tacky, so unnecessary.

However, Britpop tends to encompass far more than destructive marketing ploys (and token Union Jack imagery).. and far be it from my responsibility to construct any sort of conclusion about what the genre does encompass exactly, I know that it just means so much more to me. These songs remind me of the aspects of myself that I have grown accustomed to: ambiguous bouts of sarcasm, neverending bouts of anxiety and a perverse compulsion to yearn for every other moment but this one. It sounds like a distinct kind of British misery, don't you think?

Cassettes & Chocolate Milk: Britpop Podcast #3
Lush - Ladykillers
Sons and Daughters - Gilt Complex
Elastica - Car Song
The Smiths - Girl Afraid
The Popguns - Waiting for the Winter
Yeti - Last Time You Go
Oasis - Songbird
Inspiral Carpets - She Comes in the Fall (acapella)
Blur - Death of a Party (demo)

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2008-10-14T18:22:00.007+11:00

I scarcely remember even recording this.. but here it is for your listening, the second in the series of the C&CM podcasts. This week, I present a rapturous half hour of synths, italo disco and eighties electro.

Cassettes & Chocolate Milk: Electro Podcast #2
Gang of Four - I Love a Man in Uniform
Depeche Mode - Puppets
Albert One - Turbo Diesel
Beirut - My Night with a Prostitute in Marseilles
Thom Yorke - Harrowdown Hill
Modernaire - Faites Tes Jeux
Pet Shop Boys - Home & Dry
Röyksopp - Remind Me (Someone Else's Radio Mix)

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2008-10-07T06:12:00.011+11:00

I think some may call it productivity, others may call it radio announcing against your better judgement. The more objective may call it the Cassettes & Chocolate Milk Podcasts. Regardless of whatever it is, I'll be posting a succession of musical ramblorings showcasing three different musical genres: Mod, Electro and Britpop. Stick to the music you love, or else be a little adventurous and try something different. This week, I wax lyrical about mods and mod revivalists.

Bandwagonesque
Cassettes & Chocolate Milk: Mod Podcast #1
The Tremeloes - Here Comes My Baby
The Zombies - She's Not There
The Yardbirds - For Your Love
Direct Hits - Ever Ready Plaything
Direct Hits - My Back Pages
The City Limits - Morse Code Messages
The Squares - No Fear
The Letters - Nobody Loves Me
The Aces - Why Should It Be Mine?
Protex - I Can Only Dream

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2008-09-18T10:58:00.001+10:00

I feel as if I have forgotten every feeling prior to this moment. Happiness, lust, yearning, ambition, hope. It has all drained from my heart. I doubt I will ever feel these things again. I can't remember anything.

2008-08-26T00:22:00.000+10:00

Some time last year, I developed something of a fascination for the mod revivalist movement of the late seventies and early eighties. Quite instinctively, I was intimidated by the mods. It’s almost as if my prior musical allegiances would be immediately identified by a throng of angry young men, decked out in their ridiculously bespoke bravura. Then, after a breathless chase down the salty streets of Brighton on their vintage Vespa scooters, I would be found – and I would be forced to admit that I have a rather unfortunate penchant for Italo Disco. That would be the end of my life as a mod.

I quickly rationalised that there would never be such chase.. and even if there was, it’d be as threatening as the chase accompanying the credits of the Benny Hill Show. With this in mind, I swiftly delved into the discographies of the second generation modernists: the Jam, then Secret Affair, Squire, The Lambrettas, The Directions and especially the sadly forgotten Direct Hits. I loved their energy, the sheer speed and how the drum beats would tumble over each other. I loved the stinging syncopated twang of that ever-distinctive Rickenbacker guitar. It was the kind of music that made me want to dance so recklessly that I would forget that I even existed in this time or place. It was so self-indulgent.

Yet it is odd, in a way. The allure of the mod revivalists exist in the juxtaposition of their highly-stylised outward appearance and the desperately neurotic themes in their lyrics. These were insecure and confused teenage boys and even the song titles make this perfectly clear: "I Don’t Wanna Cry" (The Keys); "Nobody Loves Me" (The Letters) and "I Don’t Know What To Do With My Life" (The Buzzcocks).

Perhaps I expected the mod revivalists to be far more sophisticated and composed than they really were. But then I should have known that they were just kids who simply wanted to live in another time, in another place.

2008-08-25T23:47:00.002+10:00

In the days of Imperial Rome, damnatio memoriae was considered to be the most severe means of condemnation a Roman could ever suffer. The sanction of damnatio memoriae removes any indication that the person ever existed in the first place. It would involve deleting their name from all official records. Wiping all identifying inscriptions from their statues and perhaps most significantly, destroying their likeness in portraiture.

The most poignant instance of damnatio memoriae is the Severan family portrait on the Arco degli Argentarii. In 211, Caracalla killed and sanctioned the damnatio memoriae of his brother Geta. The relief has a tremendous gaping space where Geta once stood with his family. That large gaping space is so startling, so unnerving. It shows what it is to be chipped away from antiquity, to be forgotten by the annals of time.

In a contemporary context, it is extremely difficult to appreciate how you could be completely wiped from history. Subconsciously, many of us have an unyielding obsession with personal iconography. This is manifested in our compulsive need to take digital photos in a bid to prove we were there – and what’s more, we looked really great while we were there.

Even the most heinous figures in criminal history could never suffer the fate of a damnatio memoriae. The crimes of these people can never be forgotten. It is just like the ever-infamous police mug shot of Myra Hindley - their image has become potent symbol of pure evil in contemporary culture. Surely such a visceral association is a far more brutal condemnation than to be wiped from history altogether?

But perhaps the punishment of damnatio memoriae taps into another idea altogether. It really just targets our innate desire to be remembered, even if it is in any way, long after we’re gone.

2008-07-31T01:13:00.000+10:00

For many months now, I've lacked the courage to write this piece. The piece where I explain why I have decided to give up one of the most meaningful passions of my life so far. Even now, I don't really understand why I have decided to give up radio. When it is mentioned in conversation, I manage to dismiss the topic so easily, so casually. I think this is because that nobody, not even myself takes the threat seriously. After all, how can you rationally let go of something that fills you with such love and fulfillment? That empowers you, that gives you so much joy and confidence? How can you ever let go of the possibility that you could be the person you always wanted to be?

When I think of the kind of radio that fills you with so much joy and confidence, I think of my long-defunct university radio station, SUB FM. I think about the mixing desk that was stripped from a music studio. The desk appeared to be held together by gaffa tape. The phone didn’t work and the microphone that gave your voice such a beautiful, warm tone. Most of all, I think about my musical freedom. The fact that I could wash away my personal insecurities and pretend to be someone who was so beautifully unapologetic, passionate and insightful.

On air, I acted as if I was directly talking to the very person who would never think to belittle my taste as a teenager. I relish each moment that I would talk to him, as we rarely got a chance to speak. I really loved him. He always feigned fascination with whatever I had to say.

After five and a half years of radio, I am a broken person. I had foolishly believed that I had something worthwhile to offer to my listeners. My Programming Manager had me believe that I hadn't earned my right to talk about music authoritatively. He made me believe that I knew nothing, that I am nothing. He filled me with such new-found feelings of self-loathing that I just can’t do this anymore. I have nothing more to say.

2008-06-15T05:44:00.001+10:00

There used to be a tremendous amount of romance associated with "the young struggling artist". The term tends to slightly reminiscent of a period drama. You know, where the gifted auteur would (with ink-stained writing hand) feverishly write his manuscripts by candlelight. The struggling artist would desperately struggle for his art. He would struggle for patronage, recognition and fame. Needless to say, "the young struggling artist" still exists in a contemporary context. However, instead of feverishly refining their art, they would have to refine their networking skills. The modern day struggling artist would have to be prepared to grasp every third rate opportunity.. and be prepared to be treated like a third rate imbecile if they wish to succeed.

The modern-day paradigm of the struggling artist has managed to legitimate the exploitation of the young and educated. This is echoed in the existence and wild popularity of "volunteer positions" and "internship programs" within almost every creative and non-creative industry. It is widely understood that those who accept these positions will be either overlooked, mistreated or at best, humiliated. They will be asked to do meaningless tasks, such as reorganising 500 CDs into alphabetical order. They will also be asked to do physically taxing tasks, such as cleaning, counting and restacking a basement filled with tens of thousands of CDs. They will be asked to be stupid tasks, such as attempting to return a six-month old stamp to a shop, without a receipt.

The struggling artist would foolishly believe that the performance of these tasks would demonstrate their dedication and strength of character. Instead, such willingness to perform these tasks illustrate a grim reality. A reality where it is acceptable that employers dangle the promise of future employment among the skilled, young and hopeful - all in exchange for free labour.

2008-06-10T23:56:00.005+10:00

What if your perfect verse is just a lie you tell yourself to help you get by?

Only Ben Gibbard could pen a sentiment so romantically fearful. It is a sentiment that touches upon the dreaded possibility of musical and lyrical insincerity. But can your perfect verse be a lie if it holds meaning for you (and perhaps even you alone)? There have to be moments where you feel compelled to push aside the purported intent of the musician and regale in the personal significance of it all... that a song can be so moving that words never seem to do the feelings justice. Even hyperbolic words, italicized and underlined twice.

My brother once said that a song is perfect when you can't imagine how it could have been written. I always thought it was such a poetic statement, I hardly would have expected it from him. I've tended to return to that ideal, particularly when I consider the paradox of the perfect verse. After all, how can you identify the songwriter's true intent if you can't even imagine them sitting down to write a song?

Then again, it might be that very factor which makes those verses perfect. It seems that we can be so far removed from the artist's creative process that we are only left to our own sensibilities to reinterpret their musical scenes and sentiments. So perhaps, it's not necessarily important whether a lovelorn Morrissey ever did kiss anyone under an iron bridge (or ended up with sore lips, for that matter). The perfect nature of the verse is instilled in its capacity to take you somewhere else, whether it be down at the tube station at midnight or a very big house in the country.

With that being said, I hope that when my perfect verse is proved to be a lie, I won't be disappointed. I hope I will always regale in the personal significance of it all and rejoice that something so false could bring about something that really did feel so perfect.

2008-05-29T08:21:00.001+10:00

There are moments where I do believe that that "being a girl" is completely divorced from my passion for music and the manner in which others perceive that passion. But for the most part, I can't help but recognise that my musical skills, knowledge and passion have been undermined for that very reason.. and I think I've figured out why.

Think of the footage of the thousands of hysterically sobbing, hormonally charged teenage girls, watching the Beatles perform at Shea Stadium. These images have become so seminal because they've reinforced this very idea - this cliché that a girl's attachment to music is so trivial. That it is purely motivated by sexual attraction. The idea that a girl can become intellectually engaged with music becomes so far-fetched that even the label for a female fan is a derogatory term. We are "groupies" or "fangirls" or "band sluts". You can never just be a girl who loves music.

All of that might seem so distant from what we perceive to be happening now, but I really do believe that this is still such a relevant issue. We don't even realise it's happening anymore. As long as we decide to do this, we will always be asked why we aren't assuming our traditional position. Why we aren't behind the barricades, hysterically sobbing for the real musicians.

NB: China of choir croak them out goodies has written a stunning article in response to this. I suggest you go read, post haste!

2008-05-04T17:32:00.003+10:00

To be a scenester is to be a poser, a beautiful poser. It is to have a distinct awareness of the anti-cool and an ability to fit in while maintaining a mildly fraudulent sense of individualism. To many, "scenester" is a dirty word. Few people would revel in the tag, but many would embrace all that it suggests.

However, I myself love scenesters. In a perverse way, I wish to be one some day. I would want to be off my head at a VICE party, crawling over the rooftops in New York City in my daring vintage frock, pursing my orange lips together for another garish photograph.

I suppose however stupid and hedonistic they appear to be in the sober light of day, they will be remembered. Just like the debauched Club Kids or even Warhol's coveted few at the Factory. They all had a hyper-beautified sense of the macabre and what's more, they managed to lose their identity, all in the name of collective individualism.

I don't know if I'll ever make an active attempt to sell my cultural soul and become a scenester. But I will admire their sharp, deft awareness and ability to adapt. I will marvel at their tenacity and their ever-constant attempts at social proof, for they will be remembered as the most beautiful people of our time.

lastnightsparty
The Factory's Joe Dallesandro

2008-02-11T23:38:00.000+11:00

Approximately seven days ago, I committed Facebook suicide. Honestly, it wasn't a decision I had considered lightly because it really wasn't a decision I hadn't considered at all. It was only until I was wandering through the Frequently Asked Questions section of the website that I discovered that if I were to delete myself, I could undelete myself just as easily. If the withdrawals became so bad, I could just log in – and all my profile would be there. My goofy stencil profile picture, my stupidly long list of incongruent musical artists, my LOLCAT application – all waiting for my return. So with that in mind, I clicked on the "deactivate" option and opted for a spell of anonymity.

I'll do graffiti if you'll sing to me in French...
While I've been away, I've been contemplating why this site has become so attractive and addictive for so many. I've been contemplating how I became caught up in it all.. and more to the point, why I felt it appropriate to cut off contact to 200 friends. I've recognised the appeal of Facebook had shifted significantly from the ye olde Geocities personal web page model. Our antiquated Digital Media Cultures class taught us that the aesthetics of a personal web page were intended to visually consolidate our personal identity. A recognisable example such as the treatment of an eye-burning fuchsia background and irritating Curlz MT typography would adequately reflect the identity (and inept webdesigning skills) of a young teenybopper. Following on from the personal web page model, the highly-customised Myspace profile perpetuates this idea that the underlying attraction of these sites is our ability to develop a highly-visual cohesive identity.

Moving away from the personal webpage model, the attraction of Facebook is its ability to affirm and constantly reaffirm ideas of mutual friendship. The fact that the logged-in home page of Facebook is an RSS feed of your friends' feelings and off-and-online activities clearly indicates that the site is centred upon an exaggerated sense of close friendship. My feeling is that this feature draws upon the ever-existing adolescent anxiety that we're not "in the loop" as such, but we are truly outsiders, excluded from the social circle.

In a superficial sense, the existence of variety of applications act as social proof that we really do mean something to our friends. The existence of an application such as the "Friend Wheel" allow us to create a colourful friendship wheel, illustrating how you and all your friends are connected. Other applications are slightly more blatant in the manner in which an individual is situated among their friends. The "Compare People" application allows an individual to find out how their friends rank their appearance, intelligence, sex appeal, fashion sense, popularity and laugh. All these things highlight an underlying desire to figure out where we honestly stand with the 200 people who claim to be our friends.

Applications aside, I feel that the true addictive nature of Facebook lies in the glorification of friendship. As much as it lies in the affectionate private joke on your friend's wall, it also lies in the envious review of the glamourous lives and photographs of your scenester acquaintances. So in response to those who ask why I decided to delete my account so suddenly and without explanation, I'm sorry I cannot afford you a more coherent response. But I know that I am now at the stage where I don't have the energy to glorify past friendships anymore.. and in the light of everything, it seems hopelessly inappropriate to assume that there was as great a kinship as I thought there was. I was just reading too much into it.

2007-12-19T07:56:00.001+11:00

Admittedly, I rarely feel compelled to write about important things, such as law, politics and the economy. Although this is frighteningly ironic for obvious reasons, I refrain from talking about such matters for the simple reason that I don't want to look like an idiot. However, there are some occasions where the interwebbing liberties of so many are most drastically impeded.. that in spite of my fear of exposing such ignorance, I have to speak out about the legal issues arising from the closure of the International Music Score Library Project.

For those who never became acquainted with the resource, the International Music Score Library Project (IMSLP) was one of the largest public domain music score collections on the interweb, amassing 15,000 scores, for 9,000 works, by over 1,000 composers. Structured around the collaborative Wiki template, this immense library was predominately made up of scans of old musical editions that were out of copyright. Far from being just a digital repository, the IMSLP was evolving into an incredible musicological encyclopedia which offered the possibility of understanding the progressive editorial development of single compositions. Within two years of its launch, the site became an invaluable resource for musicians and music schools the world over, attracting a million visitors a day.

The site's project leader, part-time Canadian music student Feldmahler had ensured that the music scores that were posted on the site were clearly in compliance with Canadian law. Review mechanisms had been implemented so as the works that were on the site were in the public domain - meaning that the copyright on compositions expired 50 years after the death of the composer. However, in October 2007, the IMSLP closed following legal threats made by Austrian classical music publisher, Universal Edition. Their cease-and-desist letter requested the removal of certain works from the site that infringed European copyright law, requiring that material remains protected for 70 years after the death of the composer. Following the threat of imminent litigation, the IMSLP shut down - despite the fact that Universal Edition lacked any material jurisdictional basis to assert the removal of such material.

While thousands have been mourning the loss of such an incredible resource, many have also been ruminating upon the potential ramifications of the closure upon the public domain. Michael Geist predicts that the public domain could potentially become an offline concept, since posting works online would immediately result in the longest single copyright term applying on a global basis. I can't help but fear the same thing, namely because copyright protection, particularly in the US, has been progressively expanding to the detriment of the public domain. However, it makes sense that the law would wish to prolong the intellectual property rights in favour of the "dead owner". If we look at the nature of classical music publishing, in particular, it's easy to recognise that a site such as the IMSLP threatens the very existence of their industry. Namely because the classical music publishing industry has been profiteering from the work of composers who have been dead for hundreds of years.

So down with you Universal Edition. Down with you classical music publishing houses. Down with you overly-litigious fatcats who perpetually extend the monopoly on work that is not rightfully your own. Seriously. Down with you all.

Saint-Saëns - Introduction and Rondo capriccioso performed by Isaac Stern

UPDATE: The IMSLP is back online! This entry is rendered musically redundant. Now let's get back to that classical music piracy, shall we?

2007-10-24T19:40:00.000+10:00

Burned with an inferiority complex, lovers of popular music have an overbearing concern to locate content and depth in something that is generally dismissed as inane and shallow. Consequently, analysts look to the “high” cultural terms of literary criticism, political theory and cultural studies to validate and break down musical culture. The chaotic, indeterminate nature of music seeks to highlight that the true value of music cannot found in its meaning, but in its noise. Music writer Simon Reynolds described his own critical experience of pop music to be moments of perplexity, “when the mouth and the mind gape, when you’ve yet to sort out your responses, or get a firm grip on what a group is "about" or "trying to say"". Reminiscent of an illicit love affair, musical pleasure acts an intoxicant, inflaming our passion for love, expression and identity. Synonymous with my faith in love and music, the reasons and motivations behind my passion for the British musical identity are varied and difficult to articulate.

I believe my personal background has a significant role in my fascination with the musical culture of Britain. I first fell in love with music when I was five years old, during a six-month family holiday to England. During our many weekend adventures to historic stately homes, churches and castles, our family consistently listened to four cassette tapes: Erasure, the Carpenters, Milli Vanilli and Cat Stevens. For years to come, I would indulge in the beautiful medieval imagery of Erasure’s album The Innocents in an attempt to recapture memories of the trip that largely remained untapped. Such wistful yearning, homesickness and nostalgia are redolent of Morrissey’s romantic lamentation for lost loves and times past in the music of the Smiths. Lined with a rich seam of the Victorian Gothic, Morrissey was captivated by a melancholic romance with the mythical "lost Britain". This allure of Morrissey’s wounded patriotism would later inspire Britpop: a movement in which nostalgia for Britain’s musical heritage would result in groups such as Oasis becoming a cultural hologram of their heroes, the Beatles.

Three years after returning from England, my brother introduced me to the British rock band Queen. I was immediately awe-struck by the band, developing an unyielding fascination for their late singer, Freddie Mercury. I was inextricably drawn to his beautifully expressive voice, flamboyant stage presence and passionate devotion to his art. It wasn’t before long that I was collecting albums and rarities, watching music video clips, memorising lyrics and reading biographies about the band. I was particularly drawn to the immense vocal harmonies, mythological imagery and conceptual devices employed in Queen’s earlier works. Inspired by William Shakespeare’s A Midsummer Night’s Dream, Edmund Spenser’s The Faerie Queene and Richard Dadd’s painting The Fairy-Feller’s Master Stroke, the lyricism of Queen’s early work is evocative in its intricate depictions of beautiful mythical landscapes. Similar to fantasy literature, their lyricism inspires the listener to retreat into their imagination to render their own feelings, meanings and interpretations of the music.

Roland Barthes argues that musical pleasure is derived from the act of creating meaning within the rock text. In a sense, the true meaning and significance of records have almost always been more clearly articulated by fans rather than by musicians. The act of identification would often occur in a highly solitary environment, such as a bedroom or a car, where fans can privately engage with music. Drawing influence from the language of art history and literary criticism, musical publications would be used to gain a broader understanding of the artist within a cultural context. Among other things, the act of creative interpretation is dependent upon the analysis of the rock musician’s personality and temperament in interviews. My private impression of musicians such as Freddie Mercury would be inspirational in that I would desire to have his motivational drive, single-mindedness and musicality. Years later, I would come to interview Mercury’s personal assistant, Peter Freestone in an attempt to clarify my own conceptions about the character that had inspired me so greatly.

Originally, concepts of rock meaning, authenticity and artifice were derived from the British art school sensibility. The first wave of art school musicians in the 1960s combined the bohemian elements of artistic life with the romantic ideology of creativity. Paying homage to the "genuine black American dance sound", British art school musicians were taken by the authenticity of rhythm and blues. According to musical historian Simon Frith, "the blues was the most honest music and so blues performers must be the most honest musicians". Over a decade later, the original punk movement would reiterate similar ideals of individualism, freedom and passionate self-expression. In many ways, the punk movement became a means of self-discovery for both the artists and their audience. I contend that the listener’s desire for engagement with authentic artistic expression fuels identification with the artist. Subconsciously, I believe that the listener yearns to articulate an authentic and unique sense of self. In the emotional engagement with an "authentic" musician, the listener can feel confident that their close identification is based on something "true".

Such feelings of identification and connection may be closely linked with the fan’s desire to find a "musical soulmate". The yearning for kinship not only encompasses notions of intellectual identification and musical affinity, but it embodies ideals of romantic unity. These ideals of romantic unity are often drawn from standards derived from the musical subculture. A manifestation of this quest for a "musical soulmate" may be seen in the cultural romantic phenomenon of the mix-tape. Within indie subculture in particular, the act of organising, recording and exchanging a mix-tape may be directive of an implicit compulsion to be musically and personally understood by others. Although there is little academic literature owing to the existence of such a cultural phenomenon, the concept of the "musical soulmate" is highly prevalent within British musical culture. The desire for such an affinity is reflected in the culture’s fascination for musical writing partnerships such as Lennon and McCartney of the Beatles, Tennant and Lowe of the Pet Shop Boys and Morrissey and Marr of the Smiths. Perhaps Johnny Marr described the nature of such an affinity best when he said: "there was intrigue and understanding that as different as we were, the thing that was paramount inside of each of us was pop records and their absolute promise of escape".

The desire for musical affinity is also played out in the collectivism of musical subcultures. Membership to a specific musical subculture has the capacity to secure the listener’s sense of "social identity" over time. The concept of the "social identity" predominantly refers to the social categories in which people belong, aspire to belong or share important values with. You only need to look at the sophisticated 1960s’ Mod movement to recognise the pervasive social influence of musical culture. Later accounts of the archetypal mod would be of a latter-day dandy gent: he would "wear achingly smart clobber… like old-school American R&B and a small clutch of beat groups, swallow fistfuls of amphetamines at the weekend and ride a scooter that was weighed down by 3675 lights". In his seminal book, Subculture, Dick Hebdige cynically argues that to be a mod was to embrace the mod themes of consumerism, image, cliquishness and male chauvinism. However, many mods recall the personal empowerment of being apart of a gang: "we were all made to feel at one with this family of individualistic personalities, where everyone is different, where everyone is particular, and that’s what I call being a mod!"

Personally, I identify with the British "indie" musical subculture. Many people find it difficult to reconcile the nature of "indie" subculture, as it appears to have a greater breadth and broader currency than a highly caricatured subculture such as "mod". To have a contemporary understanding of postmodernist indie culture is to accept that the culture is derived from a collision of innumerable styles. Due to the sheer breadth of such a term, it is entirely reasonable to have two "indie kids" who share no common interests whatsoever. Consequently, members of such a subculture become acutely aware of the many variations contained within the culture. I have the tendency to believe that I most strongly identify with musical subcultures of Britain’s past. I take personal inspiration from the perfectionism of mod, the corrosive belligerence of punk, the heady romanticism of new wave and the knowing reverence of Britpop. I love being a part of an overwhelmingly musical environment, where it is openly encouraged to draw upon obscure and sometimes incongruent musical references. In the words of a visiting Italian dignitary, "there are few countries in the world where music is made the object of such enthusiastic worship. It might even be said that music is a vital part of English life".

Perhaps the most empowering feature of music is its capacity to inspire self-expression. I believe that fan culture, in its essence, owes itself to the idea of honouring a musical group by means of creative self-expression. The fact that there is a culture surrounding music lends itself to the idea that it is there is an inspired dialogue of love, knowledge and enthusiasm about music. There are people writing articles, stories and poetry about their inspired love of music. Similarly, there are people who become motivated to learn an instrument and form a band in a manner resembling their musical heroes. There are also those who express their enthusiasm for music in a more abstract manner, perhaps by designing clothing or painting. As a lover of music, I am engrossed in a number of these sorts of activities. The most challenging of which is voicing my passion for music on the radio. I enjoy the challenge of coherently articulating my views in the hope that it will capture the imagination of the listener. Despite my fear and trepidation during the interviews, I openly embrace the chance to intellectually engage with the musicians that I find inspirational. As a result, it may be fair to assert that the most valuable thing that music has given us is the courage to express ourselves.

Despite this analysis, I feel that I am yet to truly understand the reasons and motivations underlying my passion for British musical culture. However, it goes without saying that a significant part of my passion is very much devoted to deciphering the truth behind this fascination. However, there is another part of myself that is simply content in being swept up by the noise of music, losing myself in the beats and melodies. It hardly seems right to deny the importance of the sound of music and its capacity to engage our emotional and physical natures in the face of such primal affinity. We should wholly embrace the uniquely "chaotic" and "indeterminate" nature of music and its culture, because if anything, it reminds us of what it is like to be in love.

2007-06-28T19:09:00.003+10:00

I thought that there was no better opportunity to unveil the first of my radio documentaries. This is short piece, simply entitled Guilty Pleasures: Awfully Good in a Really Awful Way. It examines all aspects of our love for musical trash. Furthermore, it examines why we feel embarrassed or even compelled to defend music that has long been shunned from popular endorsement.

Guilty Pleasures: Awfully Good in a Really Awful Way (2.1 MB) - updated linkie

Thank you for all those people who contributed. Please leave your love and comments below.

2007-06-20T14:08:00.000+10:00

It would appear that there is a neverending cavalcade of my old musical loves, making their way through Melbourne town. As hoardes of people rush out to purchase tickets to see bands like Bloc Party, Lily Allen, Patrick Wolf, Maximo Park, the Long Blondes, Arctic Monkeys (&c &c &c), I feel so disillusioned about these bands I loved so long ago. At the same time, I feel a bit sick that I identify with that incredibly crass indie cliché. You know, that jaded music lover who claims she "knew the band before they were famous". But I can't help but think that these feelings run deeper than mere territorial glory-mongering.

I guess the truth is that that music represents a time when I had so much more than I have now. For one thing, I had a regular radio show. I had opportunities to talk to these artists. They were tenacious and nervous unknown music lovers, just like me. They were sensitive about their work but also, they longed for exposure. I miss loving these bands with my old friends too. I miss talking about these artists for hours and hours with them. I miss that personal and musical inspiration of two years ago, when we found ourselves at the forefront of a musical era, alone and happy.

Every time I see one of those Radar bands splattered across Melbourne street-press, it reminds me of how I lost it all. But as much as I feel anger for the hype and excessive exposure of these bands, I don't feel that I can harbour any true resentment for any of them. I don't think I can have the capacity to hate them. They remind me of my vicarious British existence.. and a time when all was right with the world.

In the days when you were hopelessly poor, I just liked you more...

2007-05-28T03:13:00.000+10:00

So, I've just come back from what could be described as a whirlwind tour of Sydney, playing lots of dates with Agnes Kain. Needless to say, it was spectacularly fun and hopelessly decadent adventure - with people who are gifted in more ways than I can count. That and Chanelle, Stef and Evan are very extraordinarily tolerant of my frequent temper-tantrums, glockenspiel smash-ups and feline tendencies. I'm really very lucky.

There are lots and lots of things to write about this trip. However, I thought I should draw on one particular occasion where we were invited to play Beatles covers at the film premiere of US vs John Lennon at very short notice. Of course it was a breath-taking ordeal having to learn these amazing songs in such a small space of time.. but how many opportunities do you get like that? How can you not fall over yourself with excitement at the prospect of performing Beatles songs to anyone, let alone a mass of people?

So anyway, the film itself featured that John and Yoko's famed bed-in for peace.. and it reminded me of an article that I wrote for an old radio show, Counterfeit. I'll include it here, just to bulk up the post.. and so others can slightly imagine the extent of my profound Lennon love and influence.

A few years ago, I was watching the Beatles Anthology with my brother. I remember a moment in the story where they were up to the Ballad of John and Yoko - just shortly after the pair embarked on their famous bed-in at the Amsterdam Hilton in 1969. I can't exactly imagine it would have been the most ideal honeymoon but you know, people do all kinds of heroic deeds in the name of bed/hair/world peace.

A few days later at a press conference in Vienna, John concealed himself and his new wife with a bedsheet and revealed a new philosophy called Bagism. Its application in society was rather redundant but needless to say it struck a chord with me. According to John and Yoko, if you had something to say, Bagism allowed you to communicate your message without unfair judgement. The theory was that prejudice could be eliminated by covering your physical features and attributes, whether it be the colour of your skin, the clothes you wore, your age or even the length of your hair. That idea (and the prospect of staying in bed for a week) has always appealed to me.. and it has become a fundamental basis of my love for radio.

As soon as I started my course at Latrobe Uni in March 2003, I started radio at SUB FM. I was thrilled at the prospect of actually broadcasting my thoughts about the music I love. I was equally startled at the irony that I could only suppress such feelings at school. In retrospect, I can't tell whether these judgemental girls feared difference or whether I feared judgement from different girls? Regardless. I shut my mouth and did what the others did.

Radio allowed me to be protected by my proverbial bedsheets and in truth, my insecurities could be washed away by the fact that I could communicate without any physical prejudice. But like any ideal, Bagism didn't work out the way it was meant to. Despite this creative freedom, I still had a frightened, unforgivingly unconfident on-air persona. Needless to say, I was, am and always will be haunted by the inability to describe the significance of "my" bands. Because occasionally, words are too patronising to describe love.

After nearly three years and eight radio shows, I'm fully prepared to present Counterfeit with Amanda this Monday night without any fear of unfair judgement. Although I will always the embrace the very fundamental ideal and intimacy of this medium, I will not shy away from the challenge of radio. I will not hide in my proverbial bedsheets.. that is, unless, of course, I'm having a bed-in.

2007-04-14T23:12:00.000+10:00

Although it might look like that C&CM is going through a significant dry-spell at the moment, I can only post to prove this is not the case. The graveyards at Triple R have been going really well, but I still have to wait a few more weeks to hit the airwaves again. I know I've promised some people actual recordings of the shows, but they reach up to 100mb a piece.. and anyone who has any contemplation of how bad my interweb is will understand why this would be a problem. So quite responsibly, I've decided to attach playlists in the comments for every clicker's enjoyment.

But you do know I really don't say that much, anyway.
Otherwise, I've scored some kind of meeting arrangement with the SBS Radio's Alchemy. I'm really thrilled because these guys make the kind of radio documentaries that I'd love to make. After daydreaming about it for so long, I've finally made a start on my first project. But when I say "made a start", I really mean that I've just been ~~fruitlessly~~ hassling friends to partake in a faux vox pop. ~~Now I'm beginning to understand that hassling my people probably isn't the most effective means to score material, so I might have to try another tack. Perhaps bribery by Cherry Ripe cocktail?~~

UPDATE: I've now collected over FIVE HOURS of material for my FIVE MINUTE documentary.. and I haven't even finished recording everyone yet. So thank you to all my people for obliging and helping me out with my project. Seriously, if I could marry all of you, I probably would. In a big ceremony, probably involving a big woman falling into a big wedding cake. So thankyou, seriously.

In other news, my brother Andrew & I saw the Pet Shop Boys a few weeks ago at the mini V-Festival at Melbourne's Sidney Myer Music Bowl. The showcase also featured The Rapture, Gnarls Barkley and Groove Armada. Although I should really mention that I was hopelessly gutted to have missed The Rapture by a few minutes, my Pet Shop Boys made up for everything. It was the single greatest live experience, ever. Truly. Not only was the entire show that spectacular, the setlist featured so many cunning obscurities and upbeat surprises (think: Heart, Domino Dancing and even Can You Forgive Her?). Seriously, only my bootlegged recording of the gig be a very close testament to how ridiculously fabulous I thought the whole show was.

(all day, all day) Domino Dancing

Til later, my friends xx

2007-03-15T02:08:00.001+11:00

I hate not being able to talk to people from your past. Not those superficial people. But those truly important people who know you better than you know yourself. Those people who spend a great deal of their time and effort, trying to convince you that you can go to the moon if you really want to. I am sad that these restrictions mean that I can never have access to my past, creativity and former self.

Nothing will ever ease this frustration. What is even more pointless about this post is that there is nothing that I particularly want to say. Ever, really. Except that I'm disappointed that these truly important people cannot muster a bare ounce of civility. At least I'm now aware that when you think of me, you do not think of milk, synthesizers and cats. You think of someone you'd rather forget.

2007-03-05T13:08:00.000+11:00

So I've been getting lots of hits from this site ipod.de.. and at last I found out where Cassettes and Chocolate Milk was actually mentioned.

If you look here, it appears that someone has made some kind of ~~itunes~~ Songbird tutorial featuring my site, my mp3s, my interviews and my radio shows! More than that, they've featured a YOUTUBE screenshot of someone NAVIGATING through the site. WTF is that!

Does anyone know German and want to share what's being said?? They're not dissing me, are they?

2007-02-23T12:32:00.000+11:00

Admittedly, it has been far too long between posts. My apologies extend to those who take personal offense to this. So I should really start off by referring to my last post where I announced that C&CM would be enjoying a brief sojourn at 3RRR. Since then, I'm happy to report that readers of the blog have missed not one, but three graveyard shifts in the past few weeks. Fortunately, I've included a tracklisting to these shows in the comments so you can relive some of the show's glory. If glory is synonymous with an aural catastrophe.

Although it appears that I will always be plagued by extremely irritating perfectionist tendencies, I was just relieved that I could do live radio again. A lot of it had to do with the exploitation of my Listen Without Prejudice segment, which provided ample opportunity to play white-labelled Roxette demos. Haha. To top off the whole experience, the Programming Manager actually said you certainly have the skills to be as good as any of the broadcasters on Triple R at the moment. It's enough for any girl to develop a chronic blushing problem.

However, despite the lovely feedback, it may take up to 10 years to actually obtain a show. Clearly, this is a severely depressing reality.. but I'm more disenchanted with the prospect of no more interviews. No more ridiculous chance meetings. No more life altering deep and meaningful conversations with gifted lyricists.. and more to the point, no more realisations that many of my musicians are in fact a drug addled prima donnas with no love and little respect.

Yeah, it breaks my heart.
So that's why I want this entry to feature some of those infamous excruciating interviews that I am certain many of you have seen before. Occasionally they illustrate the extreme ineptitude of the interviewer. Sometimes they highlight the most cruel and nasty characteristics of the musicians we admire most. It is for this reason that I dedicate this post to those struggling journalists who rarely have the opportunity to deal with their raging, ill-tempered heroes. You know I love you anyway.

Noel Gallagher on Triple J, November 2005
Here, a nameless Triple J presenter adopted what I believe to be a profoundly ungrateful, disrespectful and ditzy attitude upon interviewing one of the greatest songwriters of our generation. Not only did she talk to Noel Gallagher as if he was completely musically irrelevant, but her vague and aimless questions somehow managed to successfully provoke the desired response: Noel's views of former nouveau indie darlings Franz Ferdinand, Bloc Party and the Kaiser Chiefs caused a needless and ridiculous furore, offending many and surprising few.

Peter Hook on New Zealand radio, December 1982
Many would recognise Hooky as the oft-lovely dexterous bassist of New Order.. and I always had it on good authority that Hooky would be also lovely guy to interview. Right? Wrong. In this infamous early interview with a clearly shaken and overcome radio host, Hooky becomes so difficult and snarly that it effectively wants to make you crawl inside a cupboard and forget you ever heard Bizarre Love Triangle. That's how this whole mess started in the first place.

Freddie Mercury on Rio TV, promoting Rock in Rio, 1985
The fact that Freddie can't speak Portuguese and the interviewer can't understand English makes for a profoundly disjointed interview. But obviously, awkward multilingual exchanges are inevitable when you are the lead singer of the most famously fantabulous band in the world. However, this problem is aggravated by the fact that Freddie is clearly suspicious that the interviewer is distorting his responses. In typical style, my Freddie deals with it in a way that involves a lot of wit, class and flirtation. What can I say, he's my hero.

Pete Doherty on MTV News TV, May 2005
It's difficult to narrow down one excruciating incident with Pete Doherty. As much as I love his music, his behaviour during this interview sickened a vast many of his most loyal defenders, including myself. Initially Pete refused to join his bandmates for the backstage interview after a gig in Berlin. Midway through the interview, Pete joined the band and then proceeded to squirt a syringe full of his own blood at the camera. Needless to say, his bandmates were less than impressed, promptly apologising and walking out of the interview. Charming.

You can lose a lifetime thinking of it & lose an era daydreaming like I do
Paul Weller on Swedish TV, 1981
As much as I adore Paul Weller, I acknowledge that he is pretentious at the best of times. That being said, I cannot possibly understand why this Swedish television presenter felt so compelled to ask whether The Jam was named after a condiment. After a consistent sequence of slack-jawed questions and a persistent refusal to dignify those questions with a response, Weller still stands so close to this girl that it's unclear whether he wants to jump or slap her. I don't know, you tell me.

Noel & Liam Gallagher, the Wibbling Rivalry interview, Glasgow, 1994
What we have here is fourteen farcical minutes of arguing, swearing, cussing and shouting from two indecipherable drunken Mancunians. I can only imagine the sheer panic of interviewer, Q journalist John Harris who actually had the pressure of finding some shred of coherency between the pair. Fortunately Fierce Panda obtained the rights to the recording of this interview and it was later entitled Wibbling Rivalry. The disastrous interview between the squabbling Gallaghers later became the most successful interview release in the UK charts, reaching #52 in November 1995. Similarly, Q Magazine managed to find some use for the interview and published the transcript of Wibbling Rivalry interview, much to the amusement of Britpop lovers alike.

Addendum: No really, this has to be the most awkward interview in existence.

So yeah. That's all from me.

Here are some songs for your enjoyment:
The Sounds - Tony the Beat
Kasabian - Empire
!!! - Myth Takes
Pop! - Pop! Goes My Heart
Röyksopp - Poor Leno [Silicone Soul's Hypo House Dub]
Talkshow Boy - I Know A Girl Who Spots Foxes
Space - Neighbourhood (Radio Edit)
1984 - Step On Me (Take 1, Thames Television Studios Demo Tape, 1967)
Asobi Seksu - Thursday

All my loving, Elly x

2007-01-10T16:18:00.000+11:00

It took me long enough, but I've managed to snap up a graveyard shift at Melbourne's 102.7 3RRR FM. I'll obviously pimp the gig a lot closer to the date, but I thought I'd dish out a forewarning so readers can promptly re-adjust their sleeping hours now. You heard me!

In other radio related news, ye olde co-host Fi has kindly invited me to guest on her new show tomorrow on 90.7 SYN FM to talk about my old flame Morrissey and the Smiths. You can listen into her show, Notes from the Underground, Thursday afternoon at 2pm. There surely isn't anything better than that!

Until next time! x

2007-01-01T09:28:00.000+11:00

Happy New Year, everybody. With any luck, 2007 will be as delightfully unpredictable as the years preceeding it. I spent my new year doing a dizzying array of activities that I can hardly recall at this very moment at time. Come back to me later, though.

But the reason I write this is because I have just opened up my resolution letter. Basically it is an extended diary entry detailing the year that has just passed and wishes for things in the future. This year's entry was written on 28th December 2005 (detailing the activites of 2005 and wishes for 2006). It's a very cathartic and spiritual thing.. and it's very odd to see three years in such an intimate context.

Needless to say, I am very reluctant to share the contents of this.. but I found this one paragraph that was so recklessly beautiful that I felt I had to share it. Because of the ego.

London was all about love. The place had been all I've wanted for the past 15 years. It represented Freddie. Burnham. Erasure. Adam. Gordy. I love that city because its thought, memory and significance has shaped me. It's motivated me. When I was reacquainted with scenes, scents and fragmented memories, I realised my sentimentality paled in contrast to that of Andrew's. I remember returning to King's Cross after the first time we went to Burnham. Andrew said it was like completing a circle. I can't believe it happened.

Kids, desperate for a piece of Morrissey's shirt/heart
So, here's to 2007. I can't see that anything worthwhile is going to occur in it but I suppose it's a necessity if you want to get to the years after it. Cheers.

2006-12-28T18:49:00.002+11:00

Don't worry. I haven't abandoned C&CM. Despite the lack of posts, it's been something that's been at the forefront of my mind for months now.. particularly moreso since my prospects of a law career eventuating has become more improbable. Radio isn't something that I could seriously rely on as a career but it's something that I will always want to do, paid or unpaid. I can't imagine a time when I'm not preparing for it, either by doing interviews or research or editing.. or basically killing myself that I'm not good enough as I should be. The fact is that I love it and I miss it.

I suppose student and community radio can provide a sense of comfort in that there are few people perceiving you. It allows you to build confidence in your content, presentation style and ultimately yourself. Luckily this is afforded by the fact that the people who do listen most likely know you on a personal basis. In this way, I am overly grateful that my friends do listen to me and they, in turn, provide me so much support in my moments of doubt. However, because there is this lack of truly critical, professional advice. I obsess about what the hell I can do to improve. Not what I can do "to get on a particular station", but how I can properly refine my style and project the confidence I had on such projects such as Radar and Counterfeit.

This brings me to what happened to spur this ridiculous entry. For about a week, I've been attempting to record the second of my summer podcasts and I found I couldn't do it. This inability to record anything of remotely acceptable quality is somewhat ironic, in light of criticisms such as "you can't even string a sentence together" and "you say um". Although I used to be able to argue until I was blue in the face that I never actually "say um" on the radio (in the same way that I never dot my i's), I have suddenly become crippled. I can't do what I love.

I see this as a long time coming. As much as radio was a self-indulgent and extremely passionate distraction, it has become an excuse to believe the hype and consequently shred my self-confidence. I even see this in the progression of C&CM as well. In the 8th and final semester of the show, I did refrain from making this a personal entity. I don't retell personal stories or anecdotes, neither do I share any profound details on the blog. It could be because all my stories have to do with ex-boyfriends who have run over my heart in their car.. or else it could be because people just want to hear the music. People don't necessarily care about what I have to say.

I am aware that anyone's presentation style need not be perfect. I use to teach kidlets that it's important to be enthusiastic, passionate, open and confident. Slick presentation manner aside, it's most important to be engaging. It's how so many listeners developed a rapport with icons such as Peely.. and as much as I would dream of commanding such a faithful listenership, I just want to be on air again, anywhere.

I apologise for the awkward self-indulgent rant. Hopefully many of you have skimmed over it and rushed for that Morrissey b-side further down the page. For those of you who have been unfortunate as to read it, I hope you take something away from it. With any luck, someone suffering from the same neuroses will read this and recognise how stupid it is to dwell on such things. Then they will promptly get over themselves and consequently achieve great things. That's the idea, avoid my example.

So, since I haven't got a podcast to present, I decided to upload an unedited (this means I “say um”) interview that I've never released before. I recorded this a few days before I left for the UK in mid 2005. This interview is with Peter Freestone, famously known within the Queen community as Phoebe, Freddie Mercury's personal assistant. I never had grand intentions to air the interview as it bore such a great deal of personal significance. It was my opportunity to become better acquainted with the person who started all of this, the musician who I still claim to know everything about. To me, it was so fascinating to have my misconceptions clarified. It was an interview where I did gain a proper, realistic insight about the character and motivation of a person who has inspired me so greatly. But this is all retrospective though. The interview itself sounds like two teen girls gushing about a crush. But that can only be expected, right?

Interview with Peter Freestone (mp3, 17mb) (linkie updated)

2006-12-11T02:42:00.001+11:00

Apologies Milo, but I'm keeping him...
I've finally put an end to the madness and made a very special Cassettes & Chocolate Milk: The Summer Edition. This is basically a~~n infrequent~~ podcast for those who want to indulge in C&CM's good music, banter and interviews during a very long hot summer. Too many Weller references? Yes? Ok, I'll just leave it..

Moving right along, the 43-minute first edition features tracks from Albert Hammond Jnr, Whitey, The Rapture, Electronic, Phoenix and the new Bloc Party as well as an interview with Norwegian pop-princess, Annie. There are also a few surprises to keep you on the edge of your beach towel.

Download C&CM: Summer Edition #1 (26mb)

Don't forget to leave requests and commentlove. Til next week...

2006-11-25T05:31:00.000+11:00

Elle leaves Freddie Mercury a message at Garden Lodge, June 2005
Because it is the anniversary of the death of one, Freddie Mercury, I decided to post some of my favourite Queen rarities. Ever since I was 8 years old, I have considered Freddie to be my first and favourite. I will always adore his dynamic personality, presence and stage performance. I will always swoon at his persistence, drive and passion.. and needless to say I will always wish for his creativity, musical skill and integrity. He's quite the benchmark to have. But unfortunately it means ma other bands miss out on ridiculous lashings of love, because quite frankly, they suck in comparison.

Queen - Mad the Swine (Recorded for Queen I, 1973) (currently offline)
This song was recorded (and rejected) for Queen's first album, simply entitled Queen I (1973). This song was the one of their first biblical songs, along with Jesus . Many of the band's early tracks such as My Fairy Queen, Great King Rat, Ogre Battle and The Fairy Feller's Master Stroke feature mythological scenes with lush language and imagery. The band and their producer Roy Thomas Baker couldn't agree on "the quality of percussion" so the song was consequently left off the album altogether. This later reappeared as a b-side to the single Headlong.

Queen - Rock'n'Roll Medley (Live at the Hammersmith Odeon, 1975)
The moment Freddie emerges in a kimono you know you're in for something so wonderfully over-the-top. The moment he disrobes you're not quite sure what to expect, but it's well worth if it you decide to uncover your eyes.

Queen - The Prophet Song (Live in Osaka, 1976) (currently offline)
Penned by Brian May for the epic, A Night at the Opera, The Prophet Song can broadly be described as an 8 minute biblical manifesto about Noah's Ark. This was the last song that Queen recorded that used mythological or biblical imagery. Many, including myself, consider this to be the finest composition of Brian's career, rivalling Bohemian Rhapsody in its complex production and technical brilliance. Aspects of the live performance of the Prophet Song are improvised each night, but basically The Prophet Song is promptly doused with delay and echo effects, consequently producing an atmospheric and immense Freddie choir. This particular performance, recorded nine years before my birthdate on my birthday, is nothing less than spectacular. Plus it features thousands of screaming, hysterical fangirls and nothing less than a Frère Jacques musical reference. How can you not love?

Queen - You Take My Breath Away (Live at Earl's Court, 1977)
Taken from their 1976 album, A Day at the Races, the live performance of You Take My Breath Away can only be described as the single most beautifully touching live moment. There is a moment when the mood is lost when there is an incidental drum crash in the middle of it. But the sentiments are not disturbed.... why do you not believe me??

Queen - It's Late (Alan Freeman Session, 1977) (currently offline)
Queen's album sessions are always difficult to come by. Although more have progressively emerged thanks to sites such as Queenzone.com, I believe that we have access to only a fraction of the material recorded. Luckily, some people have looked at their own recordings of old radio shows and found a wealth of material - such as this gem from Alan Freeman's BBC Radio One Rock Show. The band chose a number of tracks from their 1977 album, News of the World such as We Will Rock You, Spread Your Wings, My Melancholy Blues and my favourite track, It's Late. They are hardly album sessions but they are the closest we are going to get.. for a while yet!

So there you have it! My favourite Queen rarities, pre-moustachio years. Thanks extend to El Blog de Queen, Queenzone and Qfriends all around, who still love and miss Freddie.

2006-11-12T11:06:00.000+11:00

Well, I somehow became aware that there was a massive influx of visitors on this site.. and I have to ascribe gratitude to the visitors of mod64, gergtreble, totally fuzzy & tilted2oneside who have such great music taste. However, no one would really know about the influx at the commentage rate :(

The Universal's here... apparently
So what's news? Well tomorrow night, Mason has kindly invited myself and my old co-host Amanda to guest star on his and Brett's baby project, Track One, Side One. That means listening in to 90.7 SYN FM from 9-11pm on Monday night.

I know, I always forget too.
In other news, I bought 9 Q magazines for $9 and I've been pouring over the ghosts of British music industry past instead of studying for my exam tomorrow. If only I had to write about Stephen Patrick Morrissey instead of indefeasibility, I think we would all be a little bit happier. Don't you tink?

2006-10-28T03:47:00.002+10:00

Thanks goes out to each and every one of you who has supported the show these past four years. As promised, the final show slightly more organised (yet still was teeming with love and gratitude). This C&CM featured my highly fantabulous and highly original TOP TWENTY SONGS OF ALL TIME. It seemed very in keeping with my favourite publication, Q Magazine which dedicates many of its pages to ridiculous countdowns. In keeping with the self-indulgent spirit and mindless hyperbole, I put myself to the test. Here is the list, bitches:

20. Style Council - Shout to the Top
19. Interpol - Slow Hands
18. Londonbeat - I've Been Thinking About You
17. The Clash - Rock the Casbah
16. Bloc Party - Skeleton
15. The Postal Service - Clark Gable
14. Blur - Clover Over Dover
13. The Smiths - Please Please Please Let Me Get What I Want
12. New Order - Dream Attack
11. Kent - Just Like Money
10. The Strokes - New York City Cops
9. Moloko - The Time is Now
8. Pet Shop Boys - Can You Forgive Her?
7. Frou Frou - Holding Out for a Hero
6. The Kinks - All Day and All of the Night
5. Depeche Mode - But Not Tonight (Robert Margouleff Mix)
4. Roxette - Joyride
3. The Beatles - Twist and Shout
2. Oasis - Don't Look Back in Anger
1. Queen - The Show Must Go On

As always, readers can download the final show in full (48mb). Unfortunately, the station cut out during half of the Oasis track and my final back-announce but the audio soon comes back. Is nothing to worry about.

All the pennies in the Thames will not make it how it was...
Again, many thanks go out to Andrew, Ethan, Mason, John, Diandra, Saeley, Laur, Ryan, Amanda, Fiona, Brett and many others from my past and present who listen out to the show ever so faithfully. I have had agents, all over the world, accosting musicians after gigs asking for interviews. I've given my lovely co-host Amanda a nervous breakdown at the prospect of interviewing Sir Carlos Barat. I've bored everyone to death the past four years. Needless to say, it wouldn't have been possible without Simon, so if you have a problem with my pathetic whinging, go to him!

A bientot, x

2006-10-18T21:10:00.002+10:00

Similarly to any other week, I'd like to extend buckets of love and gratitude to the listeners of this week's show. C&CM was a fantastic indulgence this week, featuring a wide mix of mashups and remixes (with the unforgettably odd rocknroll interlude). I'm not quite sure, but I believe next week is SUB FM's final week of broadcast before it is shut down, due to the new Voluntary Student Unionism legislation. Instead of wallowing, I'm hoping to organise a stellar show with some particular kind of theme or concept. It will be odd because unlike my other shows, I've never prepared anything for Cassettes & Chocolate Milk. I suppose this is indicative of the flustered presentation style. I'm yet to decide what I'll do after SUB, but this won't be the last you'll hear from Missy El.

My Freddie. My Brian. My Queen.
Playlist for Monday October 16th 2006
Ratatat - Crips
Richard X - Finest Dreams (feat. Kelis)
Röyksopp - Poor Leno (Silicon Soul Remix)
The Knife - Heartbeats
Electronic - Second Nature
Carbon Silicon - Caesar's Palace
Regina Spektor - Us
Inspiral Carpets - Butterfly
Hot Hot Heat - Jingle Jangle
Essexboy - Freaky Teethbusters
MC Chris - Bobba Vette
Louise - Beautiful Inside
Bomb the Bass - Megablast (DRX TRS Remix)
Scritti Politti - Tinseldown to the Boogiedown
Soulwax - Magnificent Romeo

Download this week's show! (67mb). Also, I'd like to point out that all dead links are now active and all shows and mixtapes are available for download! HURRAH!

2006-10-03T12:31:00.002+10:00

Well, it does look like it's the end of my radio career in any academic means of the word. I suppose it's only a matter of time before Latrobe's Vice Chancellor taps me on the shoulder and cordially coerces me away from the students, away from the uni and away from the university ducks for the better good of everyone concerned. All for yet another overdue OVERDUE assignment.

As for Cassettes & Chocolate Milk, there are still a few weeks to go before the official demise of the station. Even though I have hope that the station will be saved in some kind of Dawson's Creek like stunt, I can't help but feel that it's all a bit hopeless at this stage of the game. Sigh.

Mick
Playlist for Monday October 9th 2006
The Faint - Total Job
Pet Shop Boys - Opportunities (Reprise)/Tonight is Forever
Regina Spektor - Fidelity
Rufus Wainwright - Rebel Prince
Roddy Woomble - As Still As I Watch Your Grave
Sophie B Hawkins - As I Lay Me Down to Sleep in Your Tub of Tea
The Smiths - Jeane (Troy Tate Sessions)
Depeche Mode - Dream On
Yazoo - Don't Go
Big Audio Dynamite - I Don't Know/The Globe
Mclusky - To Hell with Good Intentions
Fastball - The Way
Smashmouth - Walking on the Sun
The Brunettes - Cotton Candy
The Fakrays - You're Not A Star
The Buzzcocks - Ever Fallen in Love
Peter Gabriel - Steam
Blur - Song 2
Oasis - Champagne Supernova
+ a few surprises

Download this week's show (54mb). Much love and thanks go out to Ethan who set me up with webspace for my shows, Style Council & an inexhaustible supply of tea for my enjoyment. I'm much obliged!

2006-09-23T05:19:00.002+10:00

Fear not, Cassettes & Chocolate Milk hasn't gone under yet. In fact, this week's show was fantastically good, if not short.

Download this week's show! (36mb)

Playlist Monday 18th September 2006
Interpol - C'Mere
The Clash - Paul's Tune
Whitest Boy Alive - Golden Cage
Style Council - Big Boss Groove (Live)
Blur - Country House
Junobot - What Have I Done to Deserve This
The Decemberists - Summersong
Them - I Can Only Give You Everything
The Rapture - Get Myself into it (Serge Santiago UK Edit)
Nelly Furtado - Maneater
Soulwax - Blackstreet vs Grandmaster Flash
The Specials - Ghost Town
The Cranberries - You and Me

2006-09-07T20:40:00.003+10:00

I'm running late (as usual) so I'll have to have you with this picture of Saeley's new ipod! I'll be back later tonight to update the rest of the post!

Isn't he terrific?
Also don't forget to download this week's show. The recording isn't terrific quality but hopefully the playlist makes up for it, something for everybody. ~~Well me, namely.~~

Download this week's show (distorted and awful, 55mb)

Playlist for September 4th 2006
The Clash - This is Radio Clash
Elastica - Car Song
Blur - Tender
The Beatles - Taxman
Brendan Benson - Alternative to Love
Depeche Mode - One Caress
Morrissey - Irish Blood, English Heart
Queen - White Man
Radiohead - Black Star
Gomez - Get Myself Arrested
The Rakes - Terror (extended mix)
Erasure - Home
Yazoo - Don't Go
Cause and Effect- It's Over Now
Moloko - Absent Minded Friends
Badly Drawn Boy - Once Around The Block
Oasis - Roll With It
The Cure - Jumpin Someone Else's Train
Splendid - You Only Tell Me You Love Me When You're Drunk
Portishead - Glory Box
RJD2 - Exotic Talk
Pulp - This is Hardcore
Tears for Fears - Shout!

2006-08-29T04:33:00.003+10:00

Dave Gahan: overwraught with his responsibilities, backstage at the Pasadena Rose Bowl, 1988
Quite similarly to Mister Gahan, I too am overwraught with my stoopid commitments. Whether it's merchandising intellectual property rights or doing a practically indecipherable presentation about ancient prophets or simply avoiding property law altogether - it meant that Cassettes and Chocolate Milk was cancelled this week. Not that it is any excuse, I'm still putting up last week's show for the listener(s).

If anyone can provide any kind of translation/coherent interpretation of what was going on in this episode, feedback would be appreciated.

Playlist August 21st 2006
Blue Boy - Remember Me
Gorillaz - Clint Eastwood
The Prodigy - Breathe
Suede - Animal Nitrate
The Smiths - Girl Afraid
The Cloud Room - Blackout!
Erasure - In My Arms
Depeche Mode - Everything Counts (live)
The Presets - Are You The One?
Style Council - Piccadilly Trial
Style Council - The Stand Up Comic's Instructions
Queen - My Melancholy Blues
Adam Green - Salty Candy
Richard Ashcroft - Check the Meaning
Stevie Wonder vs The Clash
Bomb the Bass - Megablast
The Beatles - Besame Mucho
Aqualung - Extraordinary Thing
The Cure - Lullaby
Pet Shop Boys - Flamboyant
Ginuwine - Pony
The Models - I Hear Motion
INXS - Listen Like Thieves
KLF - 3am Eternal

Don't forget the musical tip of the week: if you can possibly manage it, avoid watching the two hour Clash movie manifesto Rude Boy. ~~It obliterates my image of Mick Jones totally~~ - all is forgiven, Joe/Paul/Topper/Mick/Ethan especially. Now can you ~~marry~~ forgive me?

Oh and you can download the mp3 of this week's show here (the quality and size is decent, but why are you so picky??)

2006-08-17T22:08:00.004+10:00

A big thank you goes out to the large and largely anonymous hoard of this week's listeners. I hope listeners continue to support the station til the very end :(

Entitled Listen Without Prejudice, the concept of this week's show was to lead listeners blindly to the massively underrated and the unusual. It is for this reason why I have left this week's show without a playlist - I wanted online listeners to judge these obscene obscurities on their musical merit. Y'hear? Listen to the trash, then judge it!

Download the whole show here (61mb, wonderous quality)

A feature on SUB FM's demise was featured in Wednesday's Age. I found it really distasteful that our loss became a promotional platform for Corinne Grant. Can it really get any worse?

2006-08-11T02:06:00.000+10:00

C&C Milk's friend and Artist in Residence, Drew Evans has painted this in honour of the demise of Cassettes and Chocolate Milk. He's such a talented and clever clog!

Be sure to check out more of his artwork at his website, wonderfulworldofdrew.blogspot.com

2006-08-09T01:20:00.003+10:00

Yesterday, myself and many others received this email from Simon Knight, my station manager of four years:

I'm sorry to have to tell you all that SUB FM will be closing at the end of this semester. The University has not included us in their services to be funded next year and subsequently I am (and many others) are to be made redundant. The station will continue as normal til the end of semester...

This is why.
It's difficult to express how I feel about this. I've lost something so important to me. This was my little stage, my platform where I first consolidated thoughts about my music and all the ridiculous things associated with it. It was the place I could talk so freely and carelessly with people I missed so much. SUB was the place where I found my confidence. SUB was the place I found my passion.

Julian Casablancas: Things, they have changed in such a permanent way
Personal associations aside, the bulk of my disappointment lies in the fact that no future students will have this chance again. No one at Latrobe will have the opportunity to stumble upon their passion on air. In saying that it's ironic to mention that I started radio simply because Latrobe shut down its music department 12 years ago. Regardless, I am so grateful I've been given this chance in the first place. I'm very much indebted to my station manager Simon after all these years of support. I toast my milk to you, sir.

Playlist for August 7th 2006
New Order - Face Up
INXS - Black & White (Extended Mix)
The Strokes - Alone, Together
Suede - Rent
Ratcat - That Ain't Bad (Live at Sydney's Metro)
Basement Jaxx - Romeo (Acoustic)
The Shins - Caring is Creepy
Maximo Park - Shiver (Acoustic Cover)
Blackbox Recorder - Kidnapping an Heiress
Ivy League - London Bridge
The Whitlams - Make the World Safe
Moloko - Familiar Feelings
Peter Gabriel - Digging in the Dirt
Montell Jordan - This is how we do it
Le Tigre - I'm so Excited
Pet Shop Boys - Try It (Peel Session)
Style Council - Long Hot Summer (El's Lust-Induced-Coma Mix)
Depeche Mode - Leave in Silence
Piney Gir - Boston

Don't forget to download the first 78 minutes of this week's show, if you happened to miss it, that is (44mb, decent quality, considering).

2006-08-01T22:55:00.002+10:00

Thank you to people who shared Cassettes and Chocolate Milk with me this week. If you missed the show, fear not. Because I love you, I've uploaded the entire show so you can listen to it at your own leisure:

Download the 102 minute show (very slightly bodge quality)

Playlist for Monday 31st July:
The Strokes - You Only Live Once
The Jam - Start!
Fischerspooner - Never Win
Interpol - NARC
Royksopp - What Else is There? (Thin White Duke Remix)
Pet Shop Boys - Fugitive (Richard X Extended Mix)
Lily Allen - Knock Em Out
Style Council - Shout To The Top
Cure - Halo
The Beatles - Why don't we do it in the Road?
The Radio Dept - Lost and Found
Depeche Mode - Photographic (live in 1984)
Mint Royale - Don't Falter
Queen - Hammer to Fall (Live at Hyde Park in 2005)
Hall and Oates - Maneater!
Blur - Colin Zeal (live in 1996)
Bright Eyes - First Day of My Life
Idlewild - In Remote Part/Scottish Fiction (live)
Aztec Camera - We Could Send Letters
Oasis - Go Let It Out
Ocean Colour Scene - The Day We Caught The Train
Pet Shop Boys - Home and Dry
Erasure - Joan

2006-07-25T06:07:00.003+10:00

What a great show to start off the semester. I'm just grateful that I haven't been kicked out of uni just yet so I get to play all my music somewhere! Thanks go out to listeners Andrew, Ryan, Dmac, Adam 1.0, Gareth, Ethan, Sam, Matt, Davies & Mason - for bothering with the podcast.

Download the first 87 minutes of the show (shonky quality)

Playlist for July 24th
Radio 4 - Too Much to Ask For
Supergrass - Lose It
Rialto - Summer's Over
Manic Street Preachers - She is Suffering
Long Blondes - Picture of You (demo)
The English Beat - Mirror in the Bathroom
Barracudas - Summer Fun
Radiohead - Sit Down Stand Up
Whitest Boy Alive - Fireworks
Mia - Tanz der Moleküle
Death Cab for Cutie - President of What?
The Radio Dept - Ewan
Lily Allen - Friday Night (demo)
DJ Earworm - What's My Name
Girl Talk - Once Again
Style Council - Walls Come Tumbling Down
INXS - Wishy Washy
Paul Weller - Wildwood (Portishead remix)
Frou Frou - Hear Me Out
The Waitresses - I Know What Boys Like
Queen - Tavasziszel (live at Nep Stadium, 1986)
The Lucksmiths - From Macaulay Station
Cat Stevens - Tuesday's Dead
Duels - What We Did Wrong
Hipster Image - Make Her Mine
Suzanne Vega - Left of Centre
Kent - Just Like Money
Space - Female of the Species

Here is some recommended music video watching for y'all. Click the linkies for the videos on YouTube. God bless it, really.

lots of moleküles!
MIA - Tanz der Moleküle
Not to be confused with singer M.I.A., MIA is an adorable German pop quintet that have very little press in English. My lovely friend Nadine from Cologne recently sent me a link to this video and needless to say I fell in love instantly. I love its excessive use of xylophonesyntheffects, the disastrously cute guitarist who is donned head to toe in bright GREEN, the adorable lead singer with stars of lovingness in her hair and who could forget, the delightful bouncing coloured moleküles. Don't forget the moleküles.

Pet Shop Boys - Home and Dry
A single from their 2003 album, Release, the videoclip for Home and Dry features rats eating scraps of food among the rails of the London Underground. Although the idea of vermin running around Tottenham Court Road station may not instill viewers with awe, the video is a stunning testament to my trip to London in June/July 2005. Whenever I watch it, I recall standing on a platform of many a tube station, squealing to my brother Andrew: "JEBUS! THERE'S VERMIN ON THE TRACKS!". However, if rats don't do it for you, you can just watch their new single (which happens to be released today), Minimal.

Style Council - Long Hot Summer
A vast number of Style Council videos represent Paul Weller's most beautifully disgraceful fall from grace, but this one is my favourite. With The Jam, he was the cultural icon for the mod revivalists the world over. When the band broke up in 1982, Weller followed less savoury trends that left many of his faithful fans stroppy and severely disillusioned. He flirted with bossanova grooves, bad hair styles and homosexual imagery - namely, the chest rubbing and half naked dancing on a Cambridge riverbank with Mick Talbot. Nevertheless, I adore this video. Anyone who knows me knows I adore this video. But I do get flustered so I have to watch it in segments in order to compose myself.

Lufthansa Terminal - Nice Video, Shame About the Song
This is a clip from the BBC's Not the Nine O'Clock News, a sketch comedy show starring Mel Smith, Griff Rhys Jones, Roman Atkinson and Pamela Stephenson. The video is basically a spoof of avant garde video art from the 1980s. I actually liked it to the extent that the title became a segment about video art on my old radio show Music is My Radar. However, the joke was lost on many of my listeners :(

The Smiths - Some Girls are Bigger Than Others (live)
In one of my old editions of THE FACE, Johnny Marr attacked the lyricism of Morrissey saying: "I remember finishing this beautiful, sublime, roaming piece of guitar-led music. Two days later it was called Some Girls Are Bigger than Others." Dubious title or not, the song rests snugly in the hearts (and in some of us the jugs) of many Smiths fans. This clip is the first and last live rendition of the song, performed at the Brixton Academy in 1986. Despite the shonky quality of the image, Marr's roaming guitar lines are so beautifully translated. It just breaks my heart.

Other recommended viewing:
Depeche Mode - Photographic (live)
Kings of Convenience - I'd Rather Dance With You Than Talk With You
Queen - Liar

2006-07-21T09:50:00.000+10:00

2006-06-19T16:30:00.000+10:00

Mix Tape #3: Sinking
Genre: Melancholy Pom/Sooky LaLa/Twisted Tenderness
Date: July 2002

Compiled in the middle of Year 12, this mix tape documents the melancholy of a doting lyricist with a fondness for the unattainable. The tape explores the themes of sadness, unrequited love and futility. Yet the most beautiful aspect of these songs is the painful sense of hope. There is such warmth when Bernard Sumner insists that good times are around the corner, such reassurance when the very ill Freddie Mercury advises when the storms are raging around you, stay right where you are. Such a sense of relief when Andy Bell declares that he's never going home. However, the beauty and poetics of my description is nothing compared to the mix tape itself so I suggest you download it immediately.

Playlist for Mix Tape #3: Sinking
Side 1
1. The Cure - Sinking (1985)
2. Radiohead - High & Dry (1995)
3. Blur - Clover Over Dover (1993)
4. The Beatles - For No One (1966)
5. Queen - Don't Try So Hard (1991)
6. Coldplay - Trouble (1999)
7. Depeche Mode - Only When I Lose Myself (1998)
8. George Michael - Spinning the Wheel (1996)

Download Side 1

Side 2
1. Suzanne Vega - Left of Centre (1986)
2. New Order - Run Wild (2001)
3. Joy Division - Shadowplay (1979)
4. Erasure - Home (1991)
5. The Smiths - Please Please Please Let Me Get What I Want (1984)
6. Jeff Buckley - Last Goodbye (live) (1995)
7. Muse - Unintended (1999)

Download Side 2

2006-06-15T04:16:00.000+10:00

Mix Tape #2: El's First Driving Tape
Genre: New Wave/Britpop/Automatic
Date: January 2005

I'm not sure when it started, but I've always been seduced by the idea of driving around, late at night, with the one you love. I'm sure my irreverent new wave penchant had something to do with it. How could it not? Practically every third song is entitled Behind the Wheel and details getting hit with a double decker bus. Romanticism aside, at 19 years young, I was determined to get my license and make my soundtrack.

Since my parents refused (and refuse) to get in the same car as me, I was left to have driving lessons. Of course, my first driving lesson was booked on the morning following the single most drunken, debaucherous party of my life. Unkempt and still drunk, I wasn't so much terrified of crashing the car as I was getting breathalised. Has that happened before? Has anyone ever been breathalised in a learner car?

I found the lessons so incredibly infuriating. I got told off for really silly things like "not staring at the mountains in the distance". Soon, I couldn't take any more of it and I applied for my test. Quite similarly to the I-shouldn't-be-doing-law-because-they-accidentally-overenrolled debarcle, I should admit publically that I shouldn't have obtained my license. In fact, the test instructor beeped me within a minute of the test commencing. After my panic attack, I managed to get my license somehow.. and that is the story of how a silly lass like myself took over the roads of Melbourne in a 1978 Yellow Tank. With my best friend Laur in the back included.

So what happened next? Did I indulge in midnight jaunts in the belief that this night can last forever, if we fall in love?

Well, sort of.

I made this tape instead. This tape doesn't so much personify all those old new wave ideals, but it signifies a time and place where all was full of love. I was in love with everything that was coming out of Britain at this time. I was in love with my radio show, Music is My Radar: a venture which allowed me to interview musicians I adore. This was a time when Bloc Party's Silent Alarm hadn't been released. Arctic Monkeys were unsigned at this stage. The Departure were nevertheless inauthentic. It was a time when the music awesome and it was all mine. Then the bandwagon came to Australia and the tape player broke in my car...

Playlist of Mix tape #2: El's First Driving Tape
Side 1:
1. The Futureheads - Hounds of Love (2004)
2. Bloc Party - Little Thoughts (2004)
3. The Departure - All Mapped Out (2004)
4. Arctic Monkeys - Scummy (2004)
5. New Order - Temptation (1982)
6. Moloko - The Time is Now (1999)
7. Milli Vanilli - Is It Love? (1989)
8. Interpol - Slow Hands (2004)
9. Morrissey - You're The One For Me Fatty (1992)

Download Side 1

Side 2:
1. Franz Ferdinand - Tell Her Tonight (2004)
2. The Faint - Southern Belles in London Sing (2004)
3. Cause and Effect - Nothing Comes to Mind (1990)
4. The Postal Service - Nothing Better (2003)
5. Bloc Party - Skeleton (2004)
6. Guster - So Long (1999)
7. The Dears - Warm and Sunny Days (2004)
8. Stroke 9 - Make it Last (1999)
9. Queen - Dear Friends (1974)

Download Side 2

2006-06-12T21:21:00.003+10:00

Mix Tape #1: Health Hustles
Genre: Funky Disco vs 1950s ballads
Date: circa 1987

So I figured there would be no better place than Cassettes & Chocolate Milk to feature my first mix tape. The origins of the tape can be traced back to the late 1980s where it was allegedly acquired when I was only two years old. Reader(s) may wonder how was this done. How did Elle acquire such a hunger for cassettes at such an early age? Well, the story goes that my older brother Tomy asked his Grade One teacher if he could have a copy of his class's aerobics music.. a copy was made and I suppose the rest is history? I suppose it is.

The tape was aptly named Health Hustles. The compilation achieved enormous notoriety and extremely heavy rotation in my house. With its inordinate number of Buddy Holly songs mixed with ridiculously camp, disco obscurities, the tape became a major feature of my earliest childhood. Needless to say, that childhood involved lots of cassettes, fake radio shows, dancing, prancing.. actually, when you think about it, things haven't changed that much.

So yes, download and enjoy. The sound quality isn't so great, due to the fact that the tape has practically disintegrated.

Playlist of Mix Tape #1: Health Hustles
1. Buddy Holly - Words of Love (1957)
2. Village People - Magic Night (1980)
3. Bucks Fizz - Shine On (1982)
4. Fame - Fame! (1980)
5. Buddy Holly - Raining in my Heart (1959)
6. Buddy Holly - Peggy Sue (1957)
7. Ottawan - Hands Up (1980)
8. Mickey Mouse Disco - Watch out for Goofy (1979)
9. Buddy Holly - True Love Ways (1965)
10. Bucks Fizz - Making Your Mind Up (1981)
11. Jim Croce - Bad Bad Leroy Brown (1972)
12. The Beatles - O Bla Di O Bla Da (1968)
13. The Beatles - Bungalow Bill (1968)
14. Cliff Richard - Wired for Sound (1981)
15. Abba - Mamma Mia (1975)
16. Diana Ross - Why Do Fools Fall in Love? (1981)

Download Health Hustles (44611 KB) (Linkie Updated, 05/09)

2006-06-01T01:13:00.000+10:00

Everything is silent and grey: exams are looming. But I still managed to take the time to play a few tunes to quell the hope of even the most doomed listeners. That's right, I mean you.

Playlist for May 31st
Dirty Pretty Things - Last of the Small Town Playboys
Late - We Could Be Wasted
The Lambrettas - Daaaaance
XTC - Making Plans for Nigel
Blur - Mr Robinson's Quango (live circa 1996)
MC Chris - Fett's Vette [download]
The Church - Constant in Opal
Pet Shop Boys - Two Divided by Zero
Lily Allen - Nan You're a Window Shopper
The Blacklights - Girls Don't Cry [download]
Ray Charles - Hit the Road Jack
Albert One - Turbo Diesel [watch]

Til next semester, people :)

2006-05-07T15:25:00.000+10:00

1. Of all the bands & artists in your collection, which one do you own the most albums by?
Queen

2. What was the last song you listened to?
Smile - Step on Me

3. What's in your record player right now?
I don't actively *use* it as such, but I recently acquired Blur's Music is My Radar and Queen & Bowie's Under Pressure for my 21st birthday.

4. Whats your favorite instrument?
Violin.. and synthesizer.

5. What's your favorite local band?
Really?

6. What was the last show you attended?
Can I just say Dylan Moran? Cause that's good enough to brag about.

7. What was the greatest show you've ever been to?
Morrissey at Rod Laver, August 2002. Franz Ferdinand at the Palace, July 2004. New Order and Queen, respectively, in Hyde Park, July 2005.

8. What's the worst band you've ever seen in concert?
That band from Sydney who played at Ding Dong but spoke with fake British accents. Frauds!

9. What band do you love musically, but dislike the member(s) of?
Bloc Party. Just shut up and play, really.

10. What is the most musically involved you have ever been?
"Involved" sounds kind of intimate?! What the hell does that mean?! Been violining and pianoing since 1992. Is that involved?

11. What show are you looking forward to?
Depeche Mode. One day.

12. What is your favorite band shirt?
The Faint. What great artwork they do have.

13. What musician would you like to hang out with for a day?
Surprisingly, Noel Gallagher. I'd like him to teach me how to write a song.

14. What musician would you like to be in love with you for a day?
Haha. Well isn't it obvious?! Morrissey, but of course.

15. What was your last musical "phase" before you wizened up?
That mid-90s trashy eurodance got me good, but that's not to say I ever got out of it.

16. Sabbath or solo Ozzy?
Sabbath, I suppose.

17. Did you know that filling out this survey makes you a music geek?
I didn't need a survey to tell me that!

18. What was the greatest decade for music?
1980s!

19. What is your favorite movie soundtrack?
24 Hour Party People, Pretty in Pink, Trainspotting, Garden State

20. What would you be without music?
Unsatisfying

2006-04-12T19:30:00.000+10:00

A big thankyou goes out to listeners DiAndra, Saeley, Drew and Andrew. I indulged in an enormous mix of miscellaneous tracks from all walks of musical life. List as follows:

Shaky Hands - You and I
Panic! At The Disco - The Only Difference Between Martyrdom and Suicide is Press Coverage
Kill City - Hooligans on E
Gnarls Barkley - Crazy [download]
John Legend - Used to Love You
Blur - Me White Noise
Bloc Party - Banquet (Glimmers remix)
The Young Knives - Here Comes the Rumour Mill
The Housemartins - Happy Hour (Peel Session)
Belle & Sebastian - Sukie in the Graveyard
KT Tunstall - Black Horse and the Cherry Tree [download]
The Stems - At First Sight
INXS - Dancing on the Jetty
Midnight Oil - Blue Sky Mine

2006-04-06T00:46:00.000+10:00

Despite lack of updates, Cassettes & Chocolate Milk has been going ahead as scheduled, every Wednesday afternoons on SUB FM. Seriously, I do promise it was due to technical difficulties, not some frivolous two week romp of Erasure. But now you mention it, I do sort of regret not taking the opportunity to indulge...

The Shins - Caring is Creepy
Death Cab for Cutie - Love Song (Cure cover)
The Stems - At First Sight
Ed Harcourt - Let Love Not Weigh Me Down
Rufus Wainwright - Cigarettes & Chocolate Milk
Pet Shop Boys - So Hard
Suede - Positivity
Metric System - Lover You Should've Come Over (Jeff Buckley cover)
Oasis - Cast No Shadow
The Knife - Heartbeats

More romp next week. Until then!

2006-03-15T20:09:00.000+11:00

Many a thanks go out to today's listeners who endured a small dose of Cassettes and Chocolate. I hope to compile a podcast shortly for those who are too lazy to listen.

Radio 4 - Sink So Low
Kent - Just Like Money
The Strokes - Reptilia
Suede - Animal Nitrate
Nine Inch Nails - Only
Arctic Monkeys - Red Light Indicates Doors are Locked and Secured
Oasis - Don't Look Back in Anger
Libertines - France (demo)
Mclusky - To Hell With Good Intentions
Queen - Son and Daughter
Zutons - Pescher Point

To batter your broadband connection a little, here are a few of my favourite videos. Links are courtesy of Another Brick in the Wall. Bring it on.

Bjork - Army of Me [.mov]
So I'm thinking.. Bjork drives this HUGE truck and it breaks down. Its engine, which is a huge mouth with rotten teeth needs a diamond as its fuel. So Bjork goes to a dentist, who is a gorilla, by the way, and steals the diamond imbedded in her tongue. The pair engage in a vicious fight. Bjork wins however and she manages to return to the truck and throw the diamond into the engine. Driving along, she comes to a bizarre postmodern art gallery, walks in, sets a bomb to go off next to some unconscious dude who, for some reason, is posing as an exhibit. After the bomb explodes, she visits the ruins to find the dude has awaken. Bizarre and utterly sublime.

Blur - The Universal [.mov]
From my favourite Blur album, The Great Escape the videoclip for The Universal is an artful work. Although I can imagine many would scoff at the video's imagery, being thematically reminiscent of Kubrick's A Clockwork Orange, I love the posing. I love the arrogance. I love the delicacy. Damon, you are so so pretty.

Dave Gahan in a tub
Depeche Mode - Barrel of a Gun [.mov]
Anton Corbijn has to be my favourite music video director by far. He began pioneering Depeche Mode's beautifully austere imagery from A Question of Time in 1986. He managed to transform a band, still haunted by the spectre of their young selves, into a seriously dark, depraved and visually fascinating group. Barrel of a Gun, a single from the band's 1997 album, Ultra features Dave Gahan, off his nut on drugs in Monaco. He wears some serious eye make-up, so much so that he actually has eyes painted on his eyelids, Garfield stylee. Band members, Martin Gore and Fletch look anxious and worried. Very dark.

Faithless - Mass Destruction [.mov]
An emotive, grimy and politically charged videoclip with children engaging in odd sadistic schoolyard antics.

Gorillaz - Clint Eastwood [.mpg]
An early incarnation of Damon Albarn's animated side-project, Gorillaz. The wickedly odd and dysfunctional bandmembers, Murdoc, 2-D, Noodle and Russel lurk around a cemetary with some possessed gorillas. Inspired.

Interpol - Evil [.mov]
Evil, the second single from the band's second album, Antics features a muppet who is injured in a car accident. Upon going into surgery, the muppet leaps onto the table and sings Paul Banks' final refrain: WHY CAN'T WE JUST LOOK THE OTHER WAY?

New Order - Confusion [.mov]
Otherwise known as FAC093, New Order's videoclip is the epitome of the 1980s New York dance scene. The group emerge from their New York cab, are frisked at the door of the club and watch breakdancers break to their beats. I should have existed during this time, I really should have.

Nine Inch Nails - Only [.mov]
Featured on the NIN's fifth studio effort, With Teeth, the videoclip to Only can only be described as looking like a SONY advertisement. But in a good way. Set in an executive's office, the stationary succumbs to the electronic drum beat as Trent Reznor appears in a pin-head. Incredible.

Pet Shop Boys - Go West [.mpg]
I know the Pet Shop Boys' cover of Go West has meant to have some kind of political significance but I can scarcely care for that sort of thing when a video has such delicious early 90s costumes, 3D artwork and colour schemes. Very Very.

The Prodigy - Smack My Bitch Up [.mov]
A confrontational 5 minute and 42 second insight into a night out in London town. Expect to see drugs, sex, drugs, violence, drugs, strip joints, drugs, prostitution, theft, drugs as well as an odd twist at the end. Interesting AND stomach turning.

The Beatles - Don't Let Me Down [.ram]
This is a segment of the Beatles' final performance, live from the rooftop of Apple Studios in January 1969. To me, this rendition of Don't Let Me Down is nothing short of awe-inspiring. This footage captured my heart when I was 14 and I've been fascinated with it ever since. Maybe it's the idea of doing a concert in an unusual place. Maybe it's the idea of capturing the attention of the common folk down on the streets below.. or maybe it's that improvised organ solo. Who can really put these things into words anyway?

The Clash - London Calling [.mpg]
According to my brother, Andrew, London Calling was the first music video effort for director Don Letts. The video meant to have featured The Clash playing on a barge on the river Thames during the day. However, the shoot "took too long" and it got dark. To make matters worse it started raining too. So any alleged "effect" during this video is purely accidental but rather fetching in a Mick Jones sort of way.

The Libertines - Don't Look Back Into the Sun [.mov]
This video involves Pete Doherty stealing a CD in HMV, Carl Barat having a shower with his entourage of fangirls and Pete and Carl, together, aimlessly wandering around Pall Mall in their beautiful red libertine jackets. Swoon.

Other Favourites:
Radiohead - Just [.mov]
The Cure - Love Song [.mov]
The Strokes - 12:51 [.mov]
The White Stripes - Seven Nation Army [.mpeg]
Yeah Yeah Yeahs - Maps [.mov]

Comment on your favourite videos! Til next week!

2006-03-08T23:39:00.000+11:00

The girl staggers home tired after 7 hours of classes.. and only 10 songs to compensate.

The Faint - Southern Belles in London Sing
Oasis - She's Electric
Libertines - The Good Old Days
Maximo Park - Shiver
U2 - Sunday Bloody Sunday
Stranglers - Golden Brown
Hot Hot Heat - Talk to me, Dance with me
Spoon - The Way We Get By
Pulp - This is Hardcore
Elle Milano - Ooo, Beyonce Baby

She'll continue her misadventures tomorrow. And the day after that. Until she is on air again next TOOSDEY 12noon til 2pm on 90.7 SYN FM. What can I say, the Pet Shop Boys aren't going to play themselves now, are they?

2006-03-02T14:00:00.000+11:00

I've decided to kick off the forth year of Cassettes & Chocolate Milk by launching a whimsical pink blog, documenting playlists and rants. Unlike the other Cassettes & Chocolate Milk Bar, I hope this is slightly more accessible, more current and most importantly, more chocolatey.

So what is Cassettes & Chocolate Milk? Evidently it is a delicious combination of my two favourite things in the world. But more than that it is a weekly radio show on Latrobe University's SUBFM, airing every Wednesday from 1-2pm. Far be it to limit my already limited taste in music by using non-descript meaningless genre names, I'll leave it to my playlists to do the talking.

Placebo - Drag
British Sea Power - Be Gone
Travis - Quicksand
Modern English - I Melt With You
Detroit Cobras - Last Nite
INXS - Listen Like Thieves
Style Council - Shout to the Top
The Raconteurs - Steady as She Goes
Voom Blooms - London Heads
Blackbox Recorder - Kidnapping an Heiress
Theoretical Girl - Red Mist
Pet Shop Boys - Home & Dry
The Others - William
The Cribs - Hey Scenesters!
XTC - I'm the Man who Murdered Love
Weezer - Beverley Hills