In the last few weeks I’ve bought quite a lot of music. I can’t be bothered to review it – I like what I like and you like what you like, and there it is. I mean, I would review it, but, well. I like all of it, in completely different ways, and it depends what I’m looking for, do I want stuff to dance to, stuff to get ready to, stuff to salve my soul on a rainy long train journey, stuff to chill to, stuff to stomp about being angry to, or what? Some of it is stuff I was introduced to last summer when I had even less money than I do now. Some of it is stuff I’ve wanted for a while and only just got around to buying.
It’s all pretty eclectic – from folk (Steve Knightley’s Cruel River, Lucy Kaplansky’s Over the Hills, Show of Hands’ Roots) and funk (King Porter Stomp – I do mean funk, right? Genres do my head in) to nineties angsty grungy pop (Alanis Morissette. I really am that cool) and Paloma Faith’s Do You Want the Truth or Something Beautiful? (there the vagaries of genre boundaries really do defy me) as well as Nickelback’s Dark Horse (well, nobody’s perfect) and Babyboom Town from Babyhead (what are they, ska?). I’m still listening quite a lot to Karine Polwart’s The Good Years and oh! I wish I could sing like that. No, actually, here’s the thing – I definitely do sound that good, in the shower, mowing the lawn or hoovering, on my own, when I can’t be heard, but you’re about as likely to catch me singing seriously outside of choir as you are to catch me clambering out of a spaceship on Newsnight when they film the 2010 Moon landings. Quite.
If I know you and like you, I’ll probably make you listen to some of this at some point. A review won’t tell you anything much unless you already have a reasonable level of background knowledge about the genre or band being reviewed; and personally I never buy music I don’t already know I like. I know for a fact that a lot of this is on Spotify, anyway. And I write terrible reviews. Also, I’ve got to go and cook.