I wasn’t sure what to make of The King is Dead after the first play. I knew it was going to be very different to the previous album Hazards of Love, and how it is different. A collection of shortish three or four minutes songs, no great labyrinthine story pulling it into an extended concept album.
But equally the sound is stripped right back, all the instruments clear and spaced, space to breathe within the tracks. The sounds are deceptively simple, almost too simple but they reveal their pleasures and after a few plays there is a real joy in such an old fashioned stylee.
Much has already been made of the REM connotations, of course not least the Peter Buck contribution, and whilst there is of course an echo of REM for me the big change to previous collections is the reversion to being an American album and less an Anglophile one. Often the Decemberists reflect their love of English folk in their songs but in this set they are clearly back to their American roots, perhaps more of their Black Prairie alter ego wherein play three fifths of The Decemberists in their more straight ahead country persona.
Writing this I am simultaneously watching/listening the generous streaming from NPR of The Decemberists playing through this album live from the depths of OPB in their home town of Portland, apparently the first time they have played this set through in front of a live audience (full show now available at NPR). It sounds tremendous and whets the appetite for their European shows in March.
A fine, different (from the last that is) album from a fine band, going to become one for the end of year lists methinks
Oh dear I am rather obsessing about this album. Sharon van Etten has been spinning around just off my radar proper for a couple of months, which means that, foolish chap that I am, I have only just got to Epic. It was released at the end of last year, but I am slotting it into 2011 just because I can and otherwise I won’t be able to list it in an end-of-year-fab-albums-type post.
Another earnest singer-songwriter might not appear to be an absolute necessity for everyone but SVE really does have something extra. The ‘extra’ has not been missed by the likes of Justin Vernon and The National both of whom have performed some of SVE’s songs. Indeed The National played one at the Brixton show at the end of last year but I was too dumb to take notice of which one exactly. Indeed SVE will be The Nationals support for some of their Spring European dates, lets hope the boisterous crowds give her the attention she deserves.
A guitar, a voice and a very little extra accompaniment might suggest meagre rations, but the combination is so much more than the sum of its parts – the Portland Mercury aligned the combination to the alchemy that creates mead, and I dare not steal their elegant simile.
Logging in at only a little over 32 minutes the album can not be accused of outstaying its welcome but throughout van Ettens voice cuts its remarkable way. Not the fey folky girl nor the strident screamer van Etten has a deeper power to it, a heft not often felt, a voice from the stomach not the throat.
For such a short album there is a surprising variety in the songs – the hypnotic mantra like qualities of the harmonium based DsharpG, the more accessible One Day, relative rocker Peace Signs and the more despairing Don’t Do It, my personal favourite, that builds and builds.
So far 2011 is proving to be a year,well OK a couple of weeks as it stands, of delicious sounding female vocalists (a couple of posts to come on some other examples)
Rebekka Karijord is a Norwegian artist living in Stockholm, with a number of albums under her belt already, but this splendidly titled offering, The Noble Art of Letting Go, is my introduction to her, and thanks to @hernameiscalla for the heads up (the fair Sophie if I am not mistaken)
Rebekka is the possessor of one of those crystal clear voices with an intimacy and strength so lacking in many of the more mainstream screamers ‘de nos jours’. You really don’t have to shout your head off to intimate emotion, often the reverse is more true, and certainly this collection of songs prove that. The emotion here is contained in both the lyrics and the razor sharp delivery and has its source in exposing the pain and problems we all experience but here laying bare very personal experience.
It’s always a bit invidious making comparisons between one artist and another but (here we go) Karijord brings to mind a melding of such diverse artists as Bjork (perhaps from the tonal quality and occasional unexpected vocal twists) , the perennial Judie Tzuke (the song-smithing and subject matter) and jazz artists Patricia Barber (the quality of the piano playing).
Karijords experience with writing music for theatre and dance can be felt throughout; the flow and sense of movement. Songs like the title track and Dead on My Feet would be great soundtracks for dance routines
It would sound perhaps a little insulting to say that this collection sounds a bit old fashioned, perhaps better to say ‘classic’ – quality songs delivered with sparkling skill and musicality – none of the idiotic tricks and fripperies so loved by many ( perhaps more like ‘needed’?) – intimate, with a ‘closeness’ that would expose the cracks and flaws of less crafted work. Wear it Like a Crown, below, is a microcosm of all that is good about Karijord.
Alicia Merz aka Birds of Passage sort of slipped into my conciousness some way or another, I am not quite sure how. But I guess that’s rather appropriate given her chosen lo-fi, minimalist, dream-pop label.
Birds of Passage couldn’t be more different to my other New Zealand favourites High Dependency Unit/Mountaineater; ethereal, dream-like and echo-laden vocals set against the merest hints of instruments and Tangerine Dream-esque washes of sound.
Not the stuff for kicking off a party and definitely needing the right time and place to be appreciated the now sold out debut album Without The World (which can be listened to via the Future Recordings Bandcamp site prior to an expected re-release from Denovali early in 2011)which originally came accompanied by a volume of poetry, Garden of Secrets.
It is a thing of slowly revealed beauty and grace, the vocals delivered in that half whispered way adopted by the excellent Thomas Bartlett aka Doveman and like him this does not mean a lack of vocal ability or melody, but more a sound that demands attention and inspection.
Right now with the snow falling heavily (again) outside and the fire a-roaring, this is the aural equivalent of a duvet or a sleeping bag; warming, comforting, almost protective.
I may have got this very wrong, in which case someone will shout no doubt, but I have a feeling that Birds of Passage may be on tour with the fabby Her Name is Calla in the spring (subsequently HNIC have confirmed that this indeed true and I haven’t just made it up…). This might make sense given they are stable mates on Denovali and that Birds of Passage are (or rather ‘is’) drumming up a little financial support via Indiegogo to help cover the not inconsiderable costs of coming from NZ to play European dates. Making a contribution here of some level or other gets you some payback as well in the forms of download tracks, signed CDR’s or even specially written tracks if you are feeling very generous – anyhow seems to me to be a worthwhile little investment of anyone’s cash.
The track that got me hooked here is the rather lovely Highwaymen in Midnight Masks, linked below and part of the range of track available through Soundcloud
Its almost a truism to say at the end of a year that its been ‘another great year for music’, but 2010 does seem to have been a particularly fertile year. An end-of-year best albums is both a bit trite but also hard to resist. So this year I have chosen my top 10 albums but declined to name my tip top favest, listing them instead in alphabetical order. I already feel a tad guilty to leave out Band of Horses, Spoon, Frightened Rabbit, Beach House, Midlake etc – but left out they are on this occasion… sorry chaps
Admiral Fallow – Boots Met My Face
Seen supporting Frightened Rabbit at their Bristol show,this ‘forgotten-south-of-the-border ‘ album fairly reeks of good song writing and the famous Caledonian spirit
Admiral Fallow – Subbuteo
Arcade Fire – Suburbs
What’s to say that hasn’t already been said? Not seen on tour, no particular personal resonance, just a fine album in the now-tradition of Arcade Fire
Arcade Fire – Month Of May
Bonnie Prince Billy and the Cairo Gang – The Wonder Show of the World
An unspeakably beautiful album, where every note and every silence is there for a reason
Bonnie Prince Billy & The Cairo Gang – That’s What Our Love Is
Broken Social Scene – Forgiveness Rock Record
Seen three times supporting Pavement, then in Birmingham and then at Koko with the awesome Tortoise, a roaring record five years after their last collective effort
Broken Social Scene – Forced To Love
John Grant – Queen of Denmark
A voice to die for, an album of songs with a rare beauty and raw emotion, all the things that Mr Wainwright seems no longer able to do. Looking forward to his Bristol show in 2011
Queen Of Denmark – John Grant
Halves – It Goes It Goes
I simply can’t stop playing this album. Halves music elicits the same emotions in me as the next album on the list. Music to get lost in, sound-scapes of an almost cinematic intensity
Halves – Growing & Glow
Her Name Is Calla – The Quiet Lamb
It had been a while coming but this album was so worth the wait. So far I have managed to miss any of their live shows but 2011 is promised to have some UK shows to experience this great band in a live setting
Her Name is Calla -Pour More Oil
Menomena – Mines
An album that simply wheedled its way i to my mind – strangely complex but simple, familiar but unusual. They played one night supporting The National which I missed, lets hope they return in 2011
Menomena – Five Little Rooms
The National – High Violet
A long standing passion, The National’s latest offering appears to have been that ‘crossover’ album to wider audience. Rather gluttonously their outstanding show was seen no less than three times in Bristol, Coventry and London as well as the Royal Albert Hall show earlier this year – I can’t help it, I am a National tart
The National – Conversation 16
Shearwater – The Golden Archipelago
Another sumptuous album constantly on play – there is something about Shearwater that just hits all my buttons – brilliant to see them live in a teeny tiny venue in Bristol, why are they not simply huge?
Last gig of the year, most likely, and this time it is Idlewild in the hot, sweaty and gritty (you know what that aphorism means) Garage in Islington, accompanied by the Lad. This is one of these few dates to mark the tenth anniversary of 100 Broken Windows, that landmark album.
After a saunter around the Christmas lights bespangled Oxford and Regents streets, we took in our pizza and dessert before making our way up the Victoria Line to Highbury and Islington. The Garage has been refurbished but is still a modest and intimate 600 capacity venue.
First up were fellow scots Fatherson, a new (to me) three piece from ‘Kilmarnock near Glasgow ‘. Seems this band previously traded under Energy! and this was apparently their first London gig. To celebrate the fact, some knobs stole their laptops and camera during the soundcheck – welcome to London chaps…
The loss of kit to a young band (or frankly anyone else) is a harsh thing to deal with and so credit to them for not letting it affect their set. They put out a sound very redolent of current Scots indie bands, not a bad thing really, and a couple of songs in particular went down very well even on a first hearing, especially Gone Fission (I have been doing my homework since last night). As always its particularly hard to take on new music in a live situation but I will be digging around to listen to a bit more from the chaps.
Any support for this Idlewild gig would only be an appetiser for the main course and the crowd got duly excited leading up to the nine o’clock appearance.
Four or five very welcome songs (Readers and Writers, You Held The World In Your Arms, Everyone Says You’re So Fragile, When I Argue I See Shapes, Make Another World – thanks t John McGeachy for the FB notes on this) served as a warm up for the run-through of 100 Broken Windows. It really is remarkable how this album has established itself as such a key album for me over the last years, not a bad song on it and several iconic ones – Roseability, Idea Song, A Little Discourage, These Wooden Ideas …..still sounding as strong and fresh as they did ten years ago. The lyrics to Let Me Sleep: ‘I’m sure that you’ll be fine,Ten more years of this, It will nearly be time, I’m sure that you’ll be fine, It can’t take ten more years’, sounding strangely prescient somehow, given the rumours that, if not the last ever dates, these few will be followed by significant period of break.
For the encore they returned for a few more firm favourites (but I may have missed a couple here) – City Hall, A Modern Way of Letting Go, Meet Me at the Harbour, American English, Captain, and ending with the stately The Remote Part
All too soon it was over , they were gone and we were back out into the chill December night, leaving a floor awash with tasteless lager and plastic glasses. But what music! Music that swells your heart, lifts your spirit, music of a thousand memories and emotions and a night to join, in turn, with those memories – IDS would have loved it. Let’s hope that they do return with fresh material to add to their substantial cannon and let us enjoy them anew
It was almost a full year since I had seen Mr Matthews on stage, last time in the elegant surroundings of Birmingham Town Hall, and this time in the slightly less plush Slade Rooms in Wolverhampton (yes, yes, THAT Slade, being Wolverhampton lads as they were). Now the Slade Rooms is not a big venue, 550 when filled to the gunwales, so IDS and I were determined to get to the front even though Mrs H-C and Mrs IDS clearly thought we were off our heads. But front row positions we got, placing us a few feet from the minute stage (we saw the sainted Idlewild here a few months back – extraordinary on such a tiny stage)
Tonight two supports were… well… ‘supporting’ Mr Matthews; fist up Jo Karchud, metaphorically naked save for his acoustic guitar and his voice. I understand Mr Karchud (of course a native of Wolverhampton) is relatively freshly divorced from his former band Bridge 55 and is now striking out on his own. He gave a good account of himself in the brief time that he had, although I have to say he looked ever so slightly terrified, perhaps a cunning ruse to endear himself to the ladies (it worked just fine on Mrs IDS!). His material is of course on Myspace (urgh hideous new Myspace) and on Reverbnation.
James Summerfield filled a now familiar support position for Scott Matthews, and he has always proved a good songstrel before, with his diffidence and relaxed good humour. This time around he came replete with band – drummer, keys (and tinkly xylophone), bass and steel guitary thing on a stand (bound to be a technical term there somewhere). The sound let him down a little tonight I thought but it seems to me that a band context might well take his songs to a new place, a bit beefier and filled-out. They are saving their pennies hopefully to record a new album over the summer, and lets hope it all comes together for them.
Mr Matthews too was ‘with band’ tonight – the excellent Greg (sorry don’t know his last name) on lap steel guitar, the rather fine drumer that helped our with James Summerfieldand a basist in the stygian gloom of the right hand side of the stage. There is an undoubted joy about hearing Matthews solo and being able to identify every single note and sound, but equally with a band you get the fuller sound redolent of the albums, the more complex layers of sound around the exquisite songs.
The set was the mix of the first two albums of course, but bookended with two new songs from the forthcoming (if March/April is ‘forthcoming’) album. The opener titled Head on the set list (for the life of me I can’t remember the full title) was a delicate beauty with just a little lap steel for accompaniment – if this is the sort of stuff we can expect from the next album it will be a welcome return to a perhaps more parred down style.
Its impossible to pick out particular highlights because the set was nothing short of a collection of many of my favourite songs, all ably supported by the excellent band. The set ended with another new song, Ballerina Lake, which also bodes well for the next album. The encore was the superb Elusive, played solo.
Just to add fuel to the suspicions of Mrs H-C and Mrs IDS that we are nowt but a pair of foolish and ageing groupies, IDS and I hung back at the end and prised a set list from the technician. Rather generously he volunteered to get it signed by the maestro himself bringing another signed relic to the collection of IDS.
Scott Matthews music never fails to delights and so it did tonight; here’s hoping that a new album in the spring will herald a tour and another chance to hear his excellent playing of this most evocative music.
Thomas Bartlett (Doveman) Web / FB/Myspace/ @tommydove
This was the third National show in a week and some would say (Mrs H-C amongst them) that this was a little out of order. But much earlier in the year I had decided that this may be the last time for a while that Messrs The National would be on our shores, and I just had to grab the chances that presented themselves. This was the last of their three nights at the Brixton Academy. A large’ish venue of some 5000 souls, a bit cavernous but just holding onto that intimate end of the spectrum ( unless of course you are at the back of the balcony)
Being on my own this time around I nabbed a spot against a surge barrier close to the front but not so close to look terminally sad and lonely. The chilly space filled quickly on this coldest of London nights, snow threatened for later, and a goodly crowd welcomed Phosphorescent. Third time around their material was more familiar and songs like Los Angeles from their latest offering have become firm favourites. What a shame that the inevitable London knobheads turned up and shouted their way through the set right in front of me… there’s a perfectly good bar for a chat, why spend the money to ignore the support…. grrrr
Th aforementioned knobheads were clearly there to knock back a few dodgy blue bottles of alcohol and have a ‘good time’ and I tried valiantly to ignore their idiocy through the early part of the National set, before they decided that there was a small pocket of space much closer that they had to invade.
Three shows and three different sets from The National gave me the answer to how a band keeps on the road for so long and still apparently has fun and sounds fresh. Again it was a delight to have some of the older songs back in the set – Abel, Mr November (of course) Green Gloves, All the Wine and the sublime About Today, all woven as weft to the warp that was the material from High Violet.
It was an extra delight to spot (and then be told of) Mr Thomas Bartlett, aka Doveman, on keyboards to the right of the stage. Mr Bartlett has produced one of my most favoured albums of recent years, The Conformist, and has played on several National albums in the past. His presence was low key (excuse the pun) but added extra depth and warmth – perhaps one day he will grace us with a show of his own…
The sound tonight was good, the back projection worked well from where I was and the band gave off what felt like a genuine sense of gratitude for being able to fill Brixton three nights on the trot. All the shows this week were energy filled, with a relaxed sense of humour running between the band members, a feeling of being ‘bien dans leurs peaux’ (good in their skins), a confidence and assuredness that must result from months of touring. Three excellent nights, shows to remember, from a band riding high on success and recognition.
Out late into the December night, heavy snow falling down onto Brixton, not quite the ‘brutal night’ Matt Berninger described but a remarkable one, a remarkable band playing remarkable music – I don’t think that Mrs H-C understands why this band touches me so, and I guess I won’t be able to tell her.
This is a long overdue post , the result of my indolence more than anything else and no reflection in any way on the gig or the bands…apology over.
A crisp Bristolian night, in the event the advent of the icy blast of winter that was to come, the Lad, his long –suffering girlfriend and I turned up, frankly a little too early, at the Anson Rooms in the SU of Bristol University. It’s a funny old venue really, big and high ceilinged but a bit of a barn, we grabbed our places up front none the less , knowing that you see pretty much nothing further back.
This was the first night of the Frabbits UK leg of their loooong tour and the last few on the continent had had to be cancelled because of Scott Hutchison losing is voice – a pretty crucial component – so there was a little anxiety about how his voice would stand up…
But first up were the admirable Admiral Fallow (see what I did there? … nevermind). They had to take the stage a bit blinking early really but there was a good’ish crowd for them who quickly warmed up and got behind them. Without their drummer, the second time in Bristol so it seems, Louis Abbott had to do that party trick thing of singing, playing the guitar and giving a kick drum a bit of talking to.
To my mind Admiral Fallow were an ideal support for Frabbits –their sound full of the Caledonian spirit, excellent song-smithing and a lyricism to the songs that draws you in. The addition of a bit of flute and clarinet add colour and texture. It is true that the drums were missed a bit, certainly when you listen back to the recorded versions of the songs, but not so much as to detract from a set of good songs, well delivered and in a way that engaged the crowd and built a rapport despite the relative brevity of the set. The Lad was much taken with them and his favourite song, Squealing Pigs is at the bottom of this post courtesy of Soundcloud.
Their ‘invisible-south-of-the-border’ CD was on the merch desk and a copy is now in my possession and is very much worth the effort to seek out. They are due to be back in Bristol at the Cooler on Park Street on Sunday March 13 2011, doors 7.30pm, tickets £7 – well worth the few quid of anyone’s money
I shouldn’t have worried about Mr Hutchison’s voice as he gave it welly so to speak form the off. But little surprise that doing this night after night is going to tack its toll on the throat and vocal chords. Despite being on the road for so long Frabbits seemed fresh and up for it, perhaps a couple of days off will have helped, and they seemed pleased to be back in the UK, even if still a bit away from Glasgow. I always wonder how a band can maintain that sense of enjoyment after months of touring…
The set was a good mix of the last two albums and for me at least , helped me get back into the more recent one; there’s something about hearing songs live that either confirms and ‘makes’ the song (like tonight) or confirms that they are best in a studio/produced environment. There is no doubt that the period of touring has honed the band and their performance since last I saw them – more assured and polished but still fresh and vital.
It was a great and long set, for which the enthusiastic Bristol crowd were clearly grateful. Swim Until You Can’t See Land and Living In Colour were personal highlights off the latest album but still finding particularly warm spots in my heart were songs like Modern Leper, Good Arms vs Bad Arms, Old Old fashioned and of course Keep Yourself Warm, that really made the night for me.
A fine band with grand songs, performed with a vitality and energy that is remarkable – one of the best live bands; let’s hope they don’t spend too much time back in their Scottish remote hideaways once this mammoth tour is over.
The Lad and I ventured into Bristol on one of the coldest nights so far this winter, lined up early’ish and got a good spot on the balcony overlooking the small stage at the Academy. A tad later @binmouth and fellow Bat Ieuan together with his partner, turned up but quickly weedled their way into the crowd in front of the stage.
Support band Phosphorescent were new to me, but their Americana/alt country sylee was pretty darned good. Matthew Houck fronting up with his understated vocal and twangy sound from his venerable guitar, Scott Stapleton making best possible use of his luxuriant locks, tossing them around like a thing possessed as he thumped away at the keys (of course I am hideous jealous that I can neither play the piano nor have the hairstyle to perform so exuberantly!) and Jesse Anderson Ainslie put out some very pleasing guitar licks even though the Lad was unimpressed with so many (albeit short) guitars solos – pah! youngsters these days!
Anyway despite the surfeit of beards and hair we really enjoyed their set, it would have been better still if I had known the material, but they obviously had enthusiastic fans in the crowd who whooped at all the right moments – good set, well played, great job chaps…
By the time Phosphorescent’s kit and amps had been removed the stage looked a little more able to accommodate The National who strolled on about 9.15 as planned. From the outset they all looked much more comfortable on stage than I had seen them before, especially Matt Berninger. But then again they have been on tour pretty much for a year now, so if they aren’t used to it now I guess they never will be.
The success of High Violet led me to worry that maybe they had gotten all grand and rock starry, but nothing seems to have changed too much and thankfully, this time around at least, we are still able to see them in medium sized venues and not the grim caverns that are the stadium circuit.
The reassuringly haphazard interchange and banter between the band and the crowd built up the rapport and the crowd was treated to a quick body roll that apparently had gone down especially well with the Paris audience the previous night (well, the French… you know…)
Sound wise the vocals nicely up in the mix, the guitars sounding clear and sharp, the smallbrass section more than making up for the lack of Padma’s violin; what more could you ask for. It was really pleasing to hear lots of older songs from Cherry Tree and Sad Songs (Murder Me Rachel, All the Wine etc) as well as the expected slew from High Violet – is it heresy to say that I still love the older stuff the most? Not surprising the encore felt very much part of the set, nicely prepared and all, with the unamplified version of Vanderlyle Crybaby Geeks proving an intimate end to a great show
Warwick (well Coventry really)
Another day and an even colder night; this time an hour and 45 minute schlep up from home to Coventry after a day’s worth of rather grim meetings in London. Tonight’s gig is with the over-excited @IDSupremo who is waiting for me in the frankly rather plush environs of the Warwick Arts Centre at the university.
A big step up from the sticky-floored Bristol Academy the venue is really rather nice but the student stewards all seemed a little unaccustomed to a gig crowd. We had to exchange our tickets for some nasty wrist bands (so now’t going onto the memory wall in the form of tickets, herrumph) and then we waited like greyhounds in the traps before a race. Jesse from Phosphorescent came out and moaned about the cold and why there was no-one in the hall when they were due on in 15 minutes. We convinced our door minder that the other doors were open (they weren’t quite) and then followed a decidedly unseemly fast walk/ pathetic run, a bit of shoving and Lo! we were at the front, hands on crush bar right in the centre – a prime and ultra spot. A good laugh at we two chaps who were old enough to know better, beating off the young upstarts behind us.
Phosphorescent played essentially the same set as the previous night except this time it was a bit more familiar and consequently more enjoyable. Good stuff. A decidedly enjoyable set that sounds much rockier live than it does on record
There was a looooong set up due to amp issues for the bass but eventually on they came with the same mix of new and old songs (albeit with a few tweaks like Green Gloves in lieu of All the Wine and so on). With a bigger stage the backdrop played feeds from the band-facing cameras and the odd piece of video footage which jollied up the background a bit.
Tonight was Thanksgiving, although they didn’t seem too sure what thanks was being given for, and they had all (23 of them) been out for a slap up lunch somewhere suitable historic (at least superficially anyhow) and confessed to being a little bit ‘ragged’. The Berninger wine was polished off which clearly helped him get into the mood a bit and he duly threw himself into it all, although there was no body rolling or water bottle juggling tonight. The mic stand in particular took a pasting, ending up rather bent and lop-sided.
Tonight’s tottering along the crush bar, supported by hands from the crowd, was saveduntil the very last un-amplified encore @IDSupremo and I were childishly and extravagantly thrilled to be in absolutely the right spot for Matt to climb the barrier, towering directly above us as he shouted out the words to Crybaby Geeks – we couldn’t have been more thrilled if we had been in Thrill Land. Jumping down into the crowd gave security a heart attack but a National crowd is scarcely going to rip apart the lead of their bestest band. I am indebted to whigwhambam for his (?) excellent momento of the evening in the form of the video of the Crybaby Geeks encore… that’s us down at the front you know!
The night was even better than Bristol – not necessarily musically, but through being so close and involved – upfront and personal. A cracking night, they came off stage about 11.20 and left me and @IDSupremo to wend our ways home, for me a long drive in the frosty night getting back well into the wee small hours, but worth every ounce of effort.
Next week its just me on my Jack Jones for one of their two nights at the Brixton Academy. Seems to me that after such a long, long tour we might not see them back on these shores for quite some time; hence my greedy grabbing of shows this time around. Bless them – quite brilliant, and they are right, I am not sure the crowd find their songs as depressing as the band thinks they are!
The "Music Always Gives Me A Lift" Blog 