Tremble Under Boom Mics.
Walking a large loop along the Comber Greenway and listening to music today. Men, like dogs, need to be walked. It isn't raining today but there is a mighty wind, the last vestiges of Storm Gareth, which is a deeply unimpressive name for a storm. The music is all of a piece: "Absolute Beginners" by David Bowie, "Keep on Burning" by Edwyn Collins, "The Killing Moon" by Echo and the Bunnymen, "Eskimo Nelson" by Petomane, "The Look You Give That Guy" by Eels, "Learn to Burn" by Robert Forster, "Daddy Rollin" by Dion, "You Can't Always Get What You Want" by The Rolling Stones, "The Portion of Delight" by Ultra Vivid Scene, even "Lady Lazarus" by Blue Aeroplanes.
I'm not someone who jogs to party bangers. I amble along at a plodding 80's arena rocker pace, listening to my I-pod nano on my Atari headphones, and constantly swinging round looking for approaching cyclists before I continue bellowing out the songs at tin-eared volume. There is no finer song for striding romantically into the oncoming storm than "The Killing Moon" - I feel like Turner, lashed to the mast of a schooner, sopping wet in a big shirt. There is no finer song for making you feel as if you can accomplish anything than "Keep on Burning". I play it twice.
I'm always surprised by how much I like "Absolute Beginners". Dave is doing his nasal voice for some reason, and the backing singer sounds like an actress. But those sax squonks at the end are the stuff of life and the chorus fills the horizon.
Its somewhat accidental but these are all very good descriptions of what a middle-aged male singer could sound like, which is something I have been thinking about recently. I'm preparing myself to sing again and I'd like to do it differently this time. I'd like to do it well. All of these singers have something to commend them: McCullough achieves impressive effects with low thick drones and spitting attack, as well as his trademark croon. E from Eels has a parched rasp. Edwyn Collins and Robert Forster aren't natural singers but both have reinvented their voices: Edwyn's lopsided drawl has turned into an impassioned yowl. Robert is a fireside raconteur now, his voice deceptively light and surprisingly Australian. Dion is brilliant: the song has the lo-fi relentless rhythm guitar of prime Velvets, but Dion is all over the shop: yodeling, screaming, riffing on "Everybody's Talkin", his high keening vocal is beautiful.
All of these singers are great. They all do different things really well: it doesn't matter what Dion is singing as his voice is the show, whereas Robert Forster nails home each perfectly pared line. I'm learning to sing again because I've just started a strange new musical project and I have to find new ways of singing. My voice has changed: I've lost half an octave and I have slight rasp in it that wasn't there before. Its louder too, more powerful and slightly unwieldy. It needs a bit of practice, some finessing.
But mainly I have rarely liked the way I have sung on record before. I can listen to it now. A lot of the Petomane stuff is okay. Some of the Red Atlas (I think "My Own Private Ivanhoe" is pretty good) But these new songs are spare, there are no hiding places. And I want to prove, to myself, that I can actually do it. Proper singing with wit, grit and emotion: with diction and depth and power. There was always a politeness to my voice, a reticence. I'm bored of being nice. I want to make you cry. I'm gonna get Robert Wyatt on your arse.
I'm not someone who jogs to party bangers. I amble along at a plodding 80's arena rocker pace, listening to my I-pod nano on my Atari headphones, and constantly swinging round looking for approaching cyclists before I continue bellowing out the songs at tin-eared volume. There is no finer song for striding romantically into the oncoming storm than "The Killing Moon" - I feel like Turner, lashed to the mast of a schooner, sopping wet in a big shirt. There is no finer song for making you feel as if you can accomplish anything than "Keep on Burning". I play it twice.
I'm always surprised by how much I like "Absolute Beginners". Dave is doing his nasal voice for some reason, and the backing singer sounds like an actress. But those sax squonks at the end are the stuff of life and the chorus fills the horizon.
Its somewhat accidental but these are all very good descriptions of what a middle-aged male singer could sound like, which is something I have been thinking about recently. I'm preparing myself to sing again and I'd like to do it differently this time. I'd like to do it well. All of these singers have something to commend them: McCullough achieves impressive effects with low thick drones and spitting attack, as well as his trademark croon. E from Eels has a parched rasp. Edwyn Collins and Robert Forster aren't natural singers but both have reinvented their voices: Edwyn's lopsided drawl has turned into an impassioned yowl. Robert is a fireside raconteur now, his voice deceptively light and surprisingly Australian. Dion is brilliant: the song has the lo-fi relentless rhythm guitar of prime Velvets, but Dion is all over the shop: yodeling, screaming, riffing on "Everybody's Talkin", his high keening vocal is beautiful.
All of these singers are great. They all do different things really well: it doesn't matter what Dion is singing as his voice is the show, whereas Robert Forster nails home each perfectly pared line. I'm learning to sing again because I've just started a strange new musical project and I have to find new ways of singing. My voice has changed: I've lost half an octave and I have slight rasp in it that wasn't there before. Its louder too, more powerful and slightly unwieldy. It needs a bit of practice, some finessing.
But mainly I have rarely liked the way I have sung on record before. I can listen to it now. A lot of the Petomane stuff is okay. Some of the Red Atlas (I think "My Own Private Ivanhoe" is pretty good) But these new songs are spare, there are no hiding places. And I want to prove, to myself, that I can actually do it. Proper singing with wit, grit and emotion: with diction and depth and power. There was always a politeness to my voice, a reticence. I'm bored of being nice. I want to make you cry. I'm gonna get Robert Wyatt on your arse.
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