2008 Music. A very good year

As the year draws to a close its a time for reflection, a time look back over those things which have made the past twelve months memorable, or not. And for the most part 2008 has been a vintage year for myself. Most notably musically, 2008 has been perhaps the best of my life. It began unexpectedly with Neil Young. Having been a fan of Neil Young and his country rock stylings for sometime, this was one of the great moments of my life. Made even better that Neil treated us to a calvacade of hits, both old and classic, and proceeded through over two hours of the sweetest, most enduring music you might ever wish to hear. Not only that, but we got the best of worlds of Neil. Opening with an acoustic set which included songs from his Buffalo Speingfield days right through to classics from Harvest Moon. The 2nd act was made up solely of heavy electric rock, which Young plays so well. His unique voice, and guitar style infusing his songs with emotional resonance which for other performers of his age and longevity, may well have diminished. Whilst playing, amid a set which looked like a cross between an artists studio and a charity shop, a painter flitted around at the back of the stage completing multiple works; each song was accompanied with a painting corresponding to that particular song. The event was seminal in my life. A true great artist onstage plundering his dense back catalogue for songs to elate, overjoy and mesmerise. My journey with Neil has been ongoing for about 5 years, but 2008 is the pinnacle, and this performance was not the last time i would stand in awe of the legend.


Later in the year, under the drizzle of that fine rain that soaks you through. I attended the Hop Farm festival. There were four of us, and we were all ill prepared mentally for the British weather (you'd think after 25 years on this Earth, I'd start to come to terms with our infamous precipitation). Thankfully the music on offer was more than sufficient to remedy any lingering thoughts miserablism. Things started in a light, relaxed fashion. Arriving in the rain, Laura Marling was doing her best to bring a little ray of sunshine into our lives, and generally she did a good job. But the task would be left for bigger, better acts which followed. Sadly things took a downturn with the nondescript guillemots, who by the end were just noise. Having not heard them before, i do not see myself hearing them again, not intentionally anyway.

Thankfully, the dirge did not continue, and was swiftly replaced with the superb, enjoyable Rufus Wainwright. Having heard his brilliant Want Two I was very pleased, but by no means elated, to be seeing Rufus. But thankfully playing 45 minutes of joyously uplifting, if mildly elegiac music managed not only to lift my spirits, but also to draw out the sun. As he flowed through Hallelujah!, the clouds parted and rays of the glorious sun descended on the happy festival goers.

Following Rufus, the good mood continued as Supergrass took to the stage and fulfilled a desire to see them live, which extended all the way back to their debut album. Supergrass are the kind of band who have alwasy felt like almost greatness. Too long have they stood in the shadows of giant 90's bands such as Oasis (mediocre live) Blur (please tour once more, for me) and Pulp (never gonna happen). But Supergrass did nothing to dent my opinion of them, and hearing some of the classic singles performed live, in a big field, felt like a little snippet of happiness; a soft comforting hug which leaves you feeling uplifted and content.

Then tragedy struck. To give some context first, the tickets for the festival came with the option to purchase return bus tickets. Which I happily did. Following Supergrass, I dipped into my backpack just to check the tickets were all in order. ALL WAS NOT IN ORDER! Panic gripped me. The comforting hug of happiness was replaced by rising tension, fear and anxiety. This was going to turn into a bad day. Racing back to the entrance.... no tickets handed in. racing to the ticket booth - cash only. Racing to the cash point. waiting the cah point. By this time Primal Scream had taken to the stage and were doing everything in their power to undermine their own reputation. There just not very good live! Toe tapping nervousnous and impatience as i queued up. Finally i withdrew sufficient funds to rebuy the bus tickets home. All was not yet lost. SOLD OUT! No!!!!!!. yes, fucking yes. Sold out. Now the only option would be to leave early, miss the headline and catch the train. either that or sleep on a wet soggy field in the middle of nowhere. Hmmmm, probably not a good idea. Then, epiphany moment, though not mine. A friend suggested i ring the booking line, acquire my booking reference and use that. Call made, I raced to the ticket office. Explaining the situation. Their reply. I would have to wait until the last bus, and if then there were seats spare, i could have them. Not ideal. Finally one of them asked my name. "Hang on, isn't that the name on the tickets that were handed in". Possibly the best thing anyone has ever said to me. Elation, relief, a re-examing of my belief in the almighty, only briefly mind. But tickets were rescued. as was my skin.

Finally I could relax and enjoy the headline act. NEIL YOUNG!. Oh yes, not only had I the pleasure of watching my musical idol in the luxurious environ of the Hammersmith Apollo, but also in the live, outdoor festival Hop Farm. I told you this was a good year.

So Neil comes on, Jackson Pollack style paint splattered suit and all. The set list was signifcantly different to Hammersmith, but no less brilliant. Opening with Love and only Love, and meandering through tracks from his latest album, an Organ version of Mother Earth, classics such as Old Man and Heart of Gold, before ending on the suitably epic grandiose No Hidden Path. So epic was the performance that Neil also brought back to rain. The heavens somewhat summoned by his massive riffs. Finally the encore. A heavy rock version of the Beatles A Day in the Life, and it was over. All that was left was a long stand in the rain, and a longer sleepy coach ride home. And yet the feeling was like no other; fatigued elation perhaps the closest I can think to describe it.

As if that wasn't enough, 2008 was also my first Latitude festival. Now Latitude is more than a music festival. its like the cultural zenith of the summer. but instead of the poetry, dance, zombie theatre (I Know, i was impressed and scared too) films and art, there were also some bands playing. Ii'll concentrate on the music, or we'll be here all day.

The musc began with Rosie and the Goldbugs, a three piece with a female lead singer, and guitarist and drummer. There music was fun, lively and set the tone for a manic exploration of as much music as i could direct my ears towards. Now, its probably pertinent to mention at this point that i can't remember every band or artist i saw, and i don't have my guide book for assistance. So i'll have to mention only those who have lodged themselves firmly in my mind, like a frisbee stuck in a tree. Friday included the beautiful Beth Orton treating us to a sun drenched acoustic set; Martha Wainwright reinforcing her reputation as a great vocalist. She even surprised me with a kind of rap duet, i forget who with. But it was very good. Friday finished in a fashion i hadn't expected. Franz Ferdinand were headlining and there was no way I was missing them. Not a huge fan, not before anyway, but nonetheless, their debut album had an indelible upbeat feel and felt appropriate for the festival arena.

Franz Ferdinand Rock! For a band who have only released two albums there have a plethora of great songs. And their performance was superb. Rousing the crowd and making them forget the rain, they tore up the stage and spread copious amounts of entertainment throughout a buzzing audience who loved every minute. The bar had officially been set. Could it be raised? Would there be any other bands who exceeded expectation quite as much?

Saturday, rising from slumber, following a night where upon returning to the tent, we found the zip open, and a young girl in the tent opposite, awake, perturbed and somewhat scared, by being woken by an intruder. Her purse and belongings found strewn on the grass a short distance away. This was a sobering experience. The joy of Franz was fast deflating. But nothing was stolen, the perp it seems was after money only, and that i'd kept on me.

So on with the music, Saturday saw a superb acoustic set from the excellent Coral. Banging out the poppy rock melodies, to a bouncing, enthusiastic crowd. A few years back at Glastonbury, I had fallen for The Coral, and seeing them again, particularly in a new style was like meeting someone you really hit it off with once, but nothing ever came of it, and seeing how much they changed. Following this was a double bill of absolute musical genius. Firstly Michael Nyman, composer extraordinaire indulged us with a hour long performance of piano genius. Highlights were "the heart asks pleasure first" from The Piano soundtrack but not a single piece failed to mesmerise the audience. As we sat on the floor inside a small room, all transfixed on the stately gentlemen sat at the ivory keys. After having seen Ennio Morricone last year, this was the highlight of the entire festival for me.

Followed closely by Seasick Steve and his rambling hobo blues. Being introduced to his three string guitar, and the one string diddly-bo; A 2x4 block of wood, with a tin can at one end and a single string stretching the length. Using a slide guitar he managed to create new, inventive sounds and he pounded the block of wood on the floor and crawled around banging out classic tunes from his Doghouse Music album. I'd been unsure of what to expect from Seasick Steve. Doghouse music is currently one of my favourite pieces of music, but it does nothing to demonstrate the musical show put on for the adoring Latitude crowd.

Saturday night concluded with the double team of Elbow (good, but by no means great) and Sigur Ros, for whom there are no adjectives sufficient enough to encapsulate their riveting, hynoptic transient performance. Sometimes even now, i think on their performance and it seems as if a dream. Floating in the night sky as their melodic tunes penetrate my subconscious on a level I never knew existed. Its the only performance where i felt as though i was equally alone experiencing this show in my own alternate reality, whilst simultaneously part of a collective experience for which not words but only feelings can express.

So, with Franz topped, Sigur Ros held the mantel for headlining masters, the closing night had a tall order to surpass that which had previously been experienced. But this was the Latitude festival, if anything could outdo itself day after day then I was confident this was it.

The final day was tinged with melancholy as the festival drew to a close, so the the bands had to work additionally hard to rid those niggling feelings.

This took all of 30 mins. At midday as the sun rose and shone down on the glorious fields of Latitude i heard for the first time one of the most unique voices i've had the pleasure of hearing. But the voice wasn't all. On stage like a giant stringed monolith was a harp. Never before have i heard a harp live. But when the elfin Joanna Newsom stepped on stage to rapturous applause, her fingers created a little slice of heaven. Her voice was the perfect way to start the beginning of the end. For over an hour the audience stood in awe at the cutest singer to ever take to the stage. Firstly she forgot the words to a number of her songs, causing ripples then waves of laughter. Embarassed, uncomposed Joanna wipped the audience into hysterics before chastising us for making things worse. She found her composure, continued and became another unexpected delight from the festival lineup.

The evening was made up of two very different performances. Firstly, debating whether to see Grinderman or Blondie, i opted, wisely i feel, for Blondie. She did not dissapoint. The energy, the enthusiasm, the sex appeal (well from where i was standing at least). Every great Blondie song i could think of was included.

Shattered from dancing, and four days of festival fun and little sleep, I lumbered over to the main stage to enjoy the festival close in the presence of Interpol. Having seen them a few yeasr ago at Glastonbury, I was excited. Before Glasto i'd never really heard them, post Glasto i'd not gotten round to picking up some of their work, so there was still a sense of not quite knowing what to expect. There performance was professional, epic and thoroughly entertaining, but whether they managed to feel like a headliner style remains to be seen. They certainly impressed me, but it never felt like the life altering event.
Following this was the long cold autumn of music isolation. Financially, I could not afford say to visit the Big Chill and see the legend that is Leonard Cohen. But nonetheless, there were still some mighty peaks to ascend before 2008 was out.

Before that though, a couple of nights of live music which rekindled my love of seeing unsigned bands in dank, dark and moist venues. First up was the Paisley Revolution. This was mainly an opportunity to see the brilliantly eclectic Caramel Jack. 45 minutes were enough to confirm my opinion of them as a great versatile band who deserved more attention that they have presently received.
Following this a week later I inadvertantly attended the Jazz Festival at a cool little club located down some dark back street in East London. The location, called Cargo, was superb. Atmospheric, relaxed and with great acoustics, it felt intimate and suitable for the jazztastic music on offer. It even had a cool outdoor area to relax after much bobbing. The first band, to my feeble recolllection were called The Filthy Six, a superb jazz band. Not knowing a great deal about jazz its difficult to judge their quality or more accurately talk about them in a manner which feels educated. All I will say is that when I got there I felt utterly shattered, and by the time they'd finished I could have danced alnight to their upbeat, brass based ditties.
For the final act of my musical musings for 2008, its an ending comparable to the greatest stories, films, books and even albums. Two giants of music, one entirely modern, the other who has probably now finally moved into the legend era of his career. The first though, is perhaps, in this humble bloggers opinion, the pre-eminent artist of his generation.
Ryan Adams; or more accurately The Cardinals ft Ryan Adams. I hadn't intended to see him, not for lack of trying or desire. Instead, financial restraints had intervened and prevented such luxury being explored. Instead, at ten to 5 on the thursday 20th November I recieved a phone call from a friend informing me he suddenly had a spare ticket for the Brixton Academy. Racing home, getting changed, and speeding over to Brixton, with just enough time to pick up a donut for sustenance, i arrived and caught breath, just with enough time to spare before The Cardinals came onstage and snatched my breath away again.

For 2 and half hours, The Cardinals showcased their musical genius, ranging from rock melodies to country harmonies. Ryan Adams, who responded to cheers of his name by introducing The Cardinals, began in a subdued mood. Stage left, and almost shy, Ryan rattled through a couple of songs off their new album Cardinology. And the songs came to life, taking on new importance in my mind. This was indicative of the entire set. The songs never felt like recreations of the album recordings, instead they came alive, under the fresh atmosphere of a live performance. They reeled of classics such Wonderwall, Goodnight Rose, Rescue Blues, Everybody Knows and Lewt It Ride. As the night came to an end, with an astounding rendition of I See Monsters, somehow I managed to drag my chin from the floor and compose myself. slapping my face to ensure what i'd witnessed actually happened and wasn't instead some sick fantasy I was playing on myself. Ryan won me over as a singer, musician and all round troubadour with great stage presence and a quirky personality which belies his age. On the mental checklist of musicians I always wanted to see, Ryan and his loyal, dedicated and brilliant Cardinals were high on the list, and ticking them off was a joyous event (even if it only existed in my head).
Finally, at last we come to it. The last gig of 2008. There had been some fond memories, some life changing events and some musical expansion through the discovery of some great new music.
The final band I saw of 2008 was so epic, so grand, so monumental, I feel I should be talking about them in capital letters, with each sentence ending in an abundance, or plethora of exclamation marks. And so thrusting, lots of thrusting and posturing. It can only be one person, or one band even, really.
NICK CAVE AND THE BAD SEEDS
If you ever get the chance to see Nick Cave and The Bad Seeds, do it, don't even think about it. buy the ticket, maim, kill, bludgeon, defile, whatever it takes, cos if you don't i will. And i'll be there, of my rocker having one of the best nights of my life. Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds are like the best sex you ever had, for two hours, with even a hint of fatigue. There so loud, I feel like i've lost some of hearing, and feel good about that fact. My mind was assaulted, assailed and ransacked, and ive never felt better. From Dig Lazarus Dig, through Red Right Hand, to More News From Nowhere, Nick Cave defined the benchmark by which all future frontmen will be judged.

Nick Cave and The Bad Seeds felt like one of those, last breath, death bed memories, followed by a final act of Cave-esque thrusting before the exhaling my final breath.

And so 2008 draws to a close, I look back with a grin on my face, and a spring in my step, for if any year in the rest of my life, manages to equal this, then my life will have been a fulfilling one. Neil Young, Franz Ferdinand, Seasick Steve, Sigur Ros, Joanna Newsom, Michael Nyman, Ryan Adams, Supergrass and Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds.
2009 has a lot to live up to. For starters there's Seasick Steve again, fresh of the back of the brilliant I Started Out With Nothing And I've Still Got Most Of It Left.
Bring on 2009. I have high expectations.