03 August, 2011

Mercury Prize 2011

I love the Mercury Prize.  I get very excited for the announcement of the short list every year because I know it is going to do two things: it brings me a short-lived sense of satisfaction that I have already got my hands on one or two of the albums, comforting me that I'm not getting too old; Secondly, the Mercury Prize always brings something new and fantastic to my attention which would have definitely passed me by.  


In no way does the whole event paint me as some sort of musical expert because every year my choice for the "definitely got it in the bag" is wrong - From Thom Yorke and Fionn Regan to Laura Marling and, erm... Laura Marling, I give any album I back the kiss of death.  


Except one.  I totally nailed it one year.  I mean, against all odds I was the musical deity that is "Mercury Prize Picker-man".  That year was 2009 when Florence and the Machine, Bat for Lashes, The Horrors and Kasabian all lost out to the mighty Speech Debelle - Speech Therapy.  So even when I guess right, the kiss of death is equally uncompromising in its utter destruction of an artists chances of succeeding.  


Mercury Prize 2011


So here we are again, a couple weeks late, but the nominations are out and so as to not ruin my choices chances, I shall try to remain impartial.  


So Tinie Tempah, Adele and Elbow made the list.  Big whoop.  All pretty good albums I suppose, but they don't have the sense of an artwork which I love from albums.  The songs are a collection of singles, as opposed to an album with a theme, or a story.  That's possibly a bit harsh but I just don't think they are proper albums in the way previous winners have been. Speech Debelle - Speech Therapy is a good example of what I mean.


Back to this year, the brilliant Diamond Mine - King Creosote and Jon Hopkins is an excellent example of an album with a story and a theme and a narrative.  Peanut Butter Blues & Melancholy Jam - Ghostpoet is another belter and well worth a quick listen, but I don't feel it has longevity.  


Skipping past James Blake and Katy B, whose albums I enjoyed but I just can't see a winner out of either, we enter the realms of possible winners (although obviously not because it's my opinion).


Anna Calvi's self titled debut, is one of the few albums I'd listened to a tonne of times before the shortlist came out.  There are some moments of genius, and the album moves from one excellent, brooding-but-powerful-in-equal-measure song to another.  


I like a bit of rock-out crazy-mentalness from time to time so I have actually had to buy Spotify premium just so I can keep listening to Good Days at Schloss Elmau by Gwilym Simcock.  Give it a go.  It sounds a bit like The Sims music in parts, which is always good.


Blah blah Everything Everything - Man Alive blah blah.  It's so good I barely want to bother discussing it, and same goes for The English Riviera by Metronomy. Both excellent and pitch perfect for this time of the year.


And that's this years Mercury Prize.


If I've missed anyone out then it's because it is amongst my favourite albums ever and when I bought it (yes, I actually paid for music) on its launch day I listened to it until my head popped with adoration.  Critics have jumped all over this album, using such inflated praise as "this generations Dulce Et Decorum Est". High praise indeed, and probably enough to turn people right off it.  

Anyway, I'd put money on it winning, but equally I hope it doesn't because I don't want the album to implode after having been backed by me.




01 August, 2011

Rejoice and be terrified in equal measure at the excellent and awful health news of the day!
This article discusses a study in which fat was pumped directly into some lucky people's tummys.  Just as I think of it, have you noticed how a doctor may be telling you the most serious, life altering news you've ever heard, and yet can't resist saying 'tummy' instead of abdomen, or stomach, or intestine?  Keep an ear out for that.


Anyway, people who had fatty acids put directly into their stomachs were more resistant to 'efforts to induce sadness'.  The evidence is far from conclusive, but who cares?  Let's go and get some hot dogs and the recession is all forgotten about.


Except don't because one thing sure to make someone go flying right off the 'sadness scale' is a diagnosis of cancer and hot dogs are apparently as big a cancer risk as cigarettes.  I know what you're thinking - "everything is supposed to give me cancer these days... What CAN I do?!".  Well as far as I know eating fruit and veg and going for a jog isn't carcinogenic.  Anyway, the research was conducted by some crackpot group of vegan doctors who are known to distort facts and figures so don't stress it if you were about to enjoy a dawg.


"May the dragon of life only roast your hot-dogs and never burn your buns.”