Who are these people? They are too stupid to be your real parents.
My annual round of visits to deeply bizarre English festivals involving ridiculous customs began a week or so ago, when I went down to Whittlesey for the Straw Bear. The goings on were the same as other years, though this time I stayed til Sunday to see the burning. Photos may be forthcoming if they turn out to be any cop. I came home, and figured Straw Bears probably wouldn't feature in my life again for a while.
I don't often listen to radio 1, but I have been doing the past couple of weeks. The regular weekday evening slot usually presented by Zane Lowe is a bit of mixed blessing - I often like the music he plays, but I find his presenting style a bit irritating. However, while he's been on holiday various bands have been standing in and largely doing a fine job. The Kaiser Chiefs were great, Mike Skinner was unexpectedly highly entertaining, Kelly Osbourne was a bit lacklustre. The Young Knives stuck in my mind, not least because one of the three of them appears to be called The House Of Lords.
So, on Saturday when I was perusing the shelves in Fopp, looking for something to tempt me into parting with my Christmas-present-money, my attention was caught by their album. "Hey", I said as I picked it up "it's got a Straw Bear on the front!"
I was joking, of course.
Lifting it into proper focus I got more excited. "It actually has got a Straw Bear on the front!" The Whittlesea Bear, standing relaxed against a wall, and one of his minders who looks suspiciously like aaargh-can't-remember-his-name-he's-Bex-from-Pecsætan's-boyfriend. Since said bloke was a Straw Bear minder this year, it may well be him.
A happy victim of judging a CD by its cover, I bought Voices Of Animals And Men and trotted contentedly round town saying "A Straw Bear! On the cover!" at intervals.
Once home, I wrestled with the sticky plastic thing on the CD case, and eventually extracted disc and sleevenotes. The back of the booklet has a paragraph about the Whittlesey festival. It's accurate and everything. It even gets the damn silly Whittlesea/Whittlesey spelling right.
The first page of the sleevenotes features a paragraph about morris dancing, and a picture of a member of John O'Gaunt morris. Again, the writing is accurate, friendly, and not apparently taking the piss. Further pages depict and briefly explain beekeeping, archery and Cumberland and Westmoreland wrestling. The paragaphs are interesting, informative and more than a little surreal. I don't think I've been as delighted by sleevenotes since I bought (), and I was thoroughly happy with the album before I'd even hit play.
Just in case you're wondering, the Young Knives are not a folk band; I wouldn't even describe them as folk-influenced. Quite why they've decided to make their album sleevenotes a tribute to obscure parts of English culture is a mystery, but I salute them for it. Their sleevenotes do mention fighting with Kirtlington Morris men over who gets to use the village hall, though; must ask Kirtlington about that.
I've only listened to the album a couple of times so far; it's not quite set yet - though it turns out I had heard quite a few of the songs on the radio. It's interesting, it's varied; I'm not 100% sure what I think of the music as a whole. It starts off all art-rock guitars and spikiness, with some odd 70s moments thrown in. One of the two vocalists has a scary falsetto which intermittently makes you wonder whether they've roped Justin Hawkins in to do the backing vocals[*]. Later through the record it all goes a bit Art Brut in places, before winding up with a pleasantly poppy penumltimate track and a closer which sounds like a Smiths song for the new millennium.
The picture of the band in the sleevenotes shows them looking diffident, wearing sports jackets and generally oozing the sort of vibe that either looks cool in an uncool way or gets the shit kicked out of you, depending on personal charisma. It's hard to tell from a photo. Maybe they hang out in charity shops looking for tweed jackets and rummaging among the crates of disused 70s hooks, preowned bass lines and lost chords. They probably lift down dusty boxes of vocals from forgotten shelves, and try them out in their songs. Certainly the music has a slightly spare sound, threadbare and made up of bits. Like the best charity shop outfits, though, it works well and acquires a newness of its own.
[*] Mercifully, they haven't.
I don't often listen to radio 1, but I have been doing the past couple of weeks. The regular weekday evening slot usually presented by Zane Lowe is a bit of mixed blessing - I often like the music he plays, but I find his presenting style a bit irritating. However, while he's been on holiday various bands have been standing in and largely doing a fine job. The Kaiser Chiefs were great, Mike Skinner was unexpectedly highly entertaining, Kelly Osbourne was a bit lacklustre. The Young Knives stuck in my mind, not least because one of the three of them appears to be called The House Of Lords.
So, on Saturday when I was perusing the shelves in Fopp, looking for something to tempt me into parting with my Christmas-present-money, my attention was caught by their album. "Hey", I said as I picked it up "it's got a Straw Bear on the front!"
I was joking, of course.
Lifting it into proper focus I got more excited. "It actually has got a Straw Bear on the front!" The Whittlesea Bear, standing relaxed against a wall, and one of his minders who looks suspiciously like aaargh-can't-remember-his-name-he's-Bex-from-Pecsætan's-boyfriend. Since said bloke was a Straw Bear minder this year, it may well be him.
A happy victim of judging a CD by its cover, I bought Voices Of Animals And Men and trotted contentedly round town saying "A Straw Bear! On the cover!" at intervals.
Once home, I wrestled with the sticky plastic thing on the CD case, and eventually extracted disc and sleevenotes. The back of the booklet has a paragraph about the Whittlesey festival. It's accurate and everything. It even gets the damn silly Whittlesea/Whittlesey spelling right.
The first page of the sleevenotes features a paragraph about morris dancing, and a picture of a member of John O'Gaunt morris. Again, the writing is accurate, friendly, and not apparently taking the piss. Further pages depict and briefly explain beekeeping, archery and Cumberland and Westmoreland wrestling. The paragaphs are interesting, informative and more than a little surreal. I don't think I've been as delighted by sleevenotes since I bought (), and I was thoroughly happy with the album before I'd even hit play.
Just in case you're wondering, the Young Knives are not a folk band; I wouldn't even describe them as folk-influenced. Quite why they've decided to make their album sleevenotes a tribute to obscure parts of English culture is a mystery, but I salute them for it. Their sleevenotes do mention fighting with Kirtlington Morris men over who gets to use the village hall, though; must ask Kirtlington about that.
I've only listened to the album a couple of times so far; it's not quite set yet - though it turns out I had heard quite a few of the songs on the radio. It's interesting, it's varied; I'm not 100% sure what I think of the music as a whole. It starts off all art-rock guitars and spikiness, with some odd 70s moments thrown in. One of the two vocalists has a scary falsetto which intermittently makes you wonder whether they've roped Justin Hawkins in to do the backing vocals[*]. Later through the record it all goes a bit Art Brut in places, before winding up with a pleasantly poppy penumltimate track and a closer which sounds like a Smiths song for the new millennium.
The picture of the band in the sleevenotes shows them looking diffident, wearing sports jackets and generally oozing the sort of vibe that either looks cool in an uncool way or gets the shit kicked out of you, depending on personal charisma. It's hard to tell from a photo. Maybe they hang out in charity shops looking for tweed jackets and rummaging among the crates of disused 70s hooks, preowned bass lines and lost chords. They probably lift down dusty boxes of vocals from forgotten shelves, and try them out in their songs. Certainly the music has a slightly spare sound, threadbare and made up of bits. Like the best charity shop outfits, though, it works well and acquires a newness of its own.
[*] Mercifully, they haven't.