This is Villagers' new single, 'Ship of Promises'. As you can see, it's about something amazing, and clearly, this song is the key to unlocking a fantastic new world if you let it take you out to the countryside.
This is the product of a hot night's drinking, of that much I'm sure - though I'm not sure what kind of boiled-in-the-sun, distilled-by-a-madman whiskey you'd have to fill yourself with to come up with something this violent and fun.
If, like me, you've found yourself staring out your bedroom windows lately wondering how to make sense of such massive accumulations of snow, and such unrelenting cold, here's a song to help. This is what it would sound like if the snow talked back, and showed you all the fun to be had, finger-numbing cold or not. It's -17°C outside, but my friends tell me about the best hill for sledding, and where the best snow is to build big snowmen. That's what this song reminds me of: a little like if snow came with instructions for use. This is how music helps us make sense of new things that seem big and overbearing, snow, or love or other weird natural phenomena like that.
It's the ice that sparkles here, holding the vocals tightly, misting around them as they breathe, cracking a little with the warm tears that flow at the song's end.
59. Fionn Regan - Hunter's Map
This song sounds like Ireland to me, but I don't know what it sounds like to the rest of you. It's pretty spot on, except there are no cities.
58. My Morning Jacket - Lowdown
I don't think I'd ever get away with using the word 'lovedog' to describe the object of my affection, but the rest of this song is something I can subscribe to. The way the mournful background vocals paint a blooming new night sky over the daylight, it's like the sun is setting with a broken heart, going to sleep alone.
57. Andrew Bird - Fake Palindromes
Straight out of the wilderness, bounding into your front room, standing there beckoning you towards your own wild will - this is a song that means what it says, and what it says is this: if you feel like changing something, this right now is the moment.
56. Basement Jaxx - Romeo
You know when you've first been hit by the fireworks going off inside your chest for someone else, and you're walking home after the first night you both looked at each other like that, and there's a little festival going on inside you, with people dancing in the streets? Well, Basement Jaxx know exactly what that sounds like.
Well, no, I actually don't have any poetic reason for loving this song, but there's only so many times you can write about perfect pop, so instead I will direct you to 2.20 and let you describe it to yourself.
Deep down, I always think of the start of this song as a car crash, violent, rough, oddly compelling. Then those amazing drums kick in, and the whole scene rewinds, until we're sitting with someone at the wheel of their car, wondering what will happen next, waiting noiselessly for the serenity to give way to chaos.
Don't start out until night. Where possible, stay in the shadows, underneath trees, seen only by owls and other nightly eyes. It helps if you wear dark clothing, but please wear at least one red garment so we can recognise you and let you in. Important: do not be distracted by people calling your name, or the names of your loved ones. They do not know what they are talking about.
Once you reach the end of the road, climb the gate, and walk straight on, even when the path disappears. When you come to a pile of ash and embers, put on your headphones, and listen to the song. Walk in the direction of the dimmest light, and don't stop until the song is over. That's when we'll open the door. We'll hear you singing. This album is widely being described as the product of an Irish Bon Iver, but there's more to it than that. Live especially, he's a revelation, channeling a Jeff Buckley that never was, with a voice that blankets the room. You can buy Early in the Morning right here.
My love is selfish, and I guess I didn't really know this until a few years ago. I thought different things, and wanted different things, but that was then, and they went away. It was summer, now it's autumn, and all the white light comes down staining through wizened tree leaves like church glass. I talk differently, I drink differently. I wandered through parks like a child, now I walk through them hurriedly. My love is selfish, and I guess that yours is too. I didn't know that until a few tears ago. I still dream endlessly of summer days, you standing beneath the great oak, your face lighting up, your eyes smiling brightly. There are so many things I try and decide at night, sitting in my bedroom, but the dawn always lights up the same thing. I want to tell you not to worry. I want to get on the train to work, and for once have figured out everything by the time I get off, instead of stumbling over the same crooked thoughts like someone else's character.
My love is selfish, but I trust it, and it trusts you, and when I see you smile the way you do sometimes, softly, almost imperceptably, the smile that is meant for me, that's when I remember everything again, and it no longer seems childish to run, and sing, and stay up late doing nothing. This song is from a stunning Irish album that you should all have heard by now.
The band are playing a show in a Quebec parking lot shortly - you can view the stream right here.
{Edit}
The stream has been cancelled, unfortunately, but the band have unveiled some rather sweet invitations to the gig on their site, in video form. If it worked right, then tonight there were people wandering through the suburbs watching a video on their phones and iPods, and finding one of the best concerts they'll ever see at the end of it.
Also, some more excellent quality live recordings of new songs have surfaced, thanks to a taper at UKK. Here are two of my favourites. 'Rococo' still contains some of the bombast of Neon Bible, but it's far sweeter than anything on that record. 'Ready to Start' has already been discussed here, and it's still wonderful, and 'City With No Children' sounds disconcertingly upbeat for a song with that title.
Arcade Fire - Ready to Start{live at St. Margaret's Home for the Incurables}
Here's a snippet of a new Arcade Fire song, 'Ready to Start'. For those of you who were slightly dismayed by the apparent lack of similarity between their two new songs and their first two records, this should soothe your fears a little. It's got a melody that instantly grabs hold of you, and a beat reminiscent of 'Black Waves/Bad Vibrations'. Also, it has awesome synths, which is nice.
Something else I've been staring at in this-is-ridiculously-good disbelief today is this video of Conor O'Brien standing and strumming on a quiet London corner. There's so much going on in this song, it's not like he needs anything else.
