When shadows take your hand...

Bumped into an old friend, Maz, on the bus yesterday. She runs Chicks Dig Jerks (the title of a Bill Hicks song off Arizona Bay, I think), the Birmingham gig promoters. They have put on Quasi and Franz Ferdinand on in the past and their new fanzine is out now at Swordfish Records and The Sunflower Lounge. Within it has an interview with the ever-eloquent James Murphy of LCD Soundsystem and DFA Records.Maz is DJing at the Camden Lock soon, where I went fairly recently and they played Elliot Smith's XO from start to finish.

Went to see Buck 65 on Sunday at Bar Academy in Birmingham. My mate LCE came up from Bury St.Edmunds. We actually went to see him last year at the Custard Factory and I saw him at this years ATP. This review sums it up pretty perfectly to be honest.

Buck 65 is not a happy man. He has broken his mixer, and as the man says "For a
DJ, that doesn't leave a lot. Maybe I'll try and dance a little". During the 2nd
song, he actually does try and dance - this causes his backing CD to skip. It's
not going well... he then reveals that his backing singer has chosen that day to
leave the tour "It's a long story... don't try and sleep with people you work
with".Luckily this is Buck 65, and the small venue is full of people for who
this man can do no wrong. In the end, all he can do is rap to a backing CD, with
little room for improvisation given the broken mixer, but it's still going down
a storm. We don't even care that the end of almost every track is accompanied by
Buck saying that "There'd be some awesome turntable effects right here"... It
doesn't really matter though, a Buck 65 concert is all about the poetry of road
trips in beat up cars, dead end jobs, and small towns in the middle of nowhere -
it doesn't need a light show. Go see Buck 65 - I'll see him again, after all,
maybe everything will work next time...

Too right...

The Bill Fay fansite now seems to be up and running and its excellent with some good Jim O' Rourke links and the lyrics to his first two albums. The quality of any lyric can vary when viewed on paper. It would be interested to hear the views of others when reading the lyrics to 'Til The Christ Come Back, below. They are ingrained with the music for me, so it's genuinely hard to objectively assess their quality:

When soldiers spoil your sleep

And writers steal your dreams

Don’t strain to hear the screams
When the light goes out

When the light goes out

Pain was all you knew

But I think you’re coming through

Like applause inside a zoo
When a lion gets out

When a lion gets out

When shadows take your hand

And mist is on the land

Hold on to your minds

Finally finished F.Scott Fitzgerald's Tender is the Night after 5 years and several aborted attempts. I think it was the quality of his short stories that inspired me to persevere with it. And it was worth the wait. I feel like a philistine to mention it but Dick Diver always sounded like a porno actor's name to me. The story is exhilirating and harrowing all at once and the urge to be in Paris or on the Riviera is now even stronger. Highly recommended.

It's my 25th birthday tomorrow and I have to say that it means nothing to me. It has no relevance in my life at all. Strange, really. I wasn't going to bother going out for a meal with friends or whatever, but then their reaction sort of forces you to. Going to the new Tapas place in Moseley with T, Evans x2, Sholto, BB and others. Should be interesting.
literature,Buck 65,songwriting,lyrics,fanzine,gig reviews

The Sweetness of the Water

All About Jazz (a Californian magazine, I think) has a PDF review of the criminally underpromoted Spring Heel Jack's The Sweetness of the Water here on pages 9/10.It mentions Sander and Edwards again who are coming back to haunt me, it seems, daily (see here).

Sweetness of the Water has John Coxon and Ashley Wales at times light as sunbeam
lint, possibly a result of guest Wadada Leo Smith’s input - the structure more
like a Smith project, or even Evan Parker’s Electro-Acoustic Ensemble.
Collaborators also include veteran rhythm section John Edwards, double bass,
Mark Sanders, drums and timpani, and the returning Evan Parker, reeds. Occupying
a familiar crux point between hyper-melodic and tuneless, Parker warbles
circular breath over Coxon’s glowing vibraphone. Coxon and Wales continue to
prove themselves flexible and supportive hosts for some of improvised music’s
most adventurous voyagers.

The issue also gives a mention to Spring Heel jack's monthly club night Moposmoso at
The Red Rose Club,129 Seven Sisters Road, North London, N7 7QG on page 14.
jazz

Ascension,Improv,Cybernetic Jazz....

Listening to Jazz on 3 last night and caught the last part of an interview with Oscar Brown jnr. Found out that he wrote the lyrics to Mongo Santamaria's Afro-Blue, a tune that Coltrane played regularly. Speaking of which, the next item featured Evan Parker interviewing John Tchicai, who played on the Ascension sessions. Parker said that he was revered for having only seen Coltrane played live, whereas Tchicai was held in even higher esteem for having played with Coltrane. Presenter Jez Nelson revealed that there were scuffles outside his first live performance at the Red Rose, in North London, where Spring Heel Jack's John Coxon and Ashley Wales put on an Improv night. You can listen to the show for a week. If you all you can manage is a 5-minute listen, fast forwad right to the end of the 60-min show to hear Tchicai read a poem accompanied by Spring Heel Jack. Blew me away, anyway...

A great interview with Spring Heel Jack can be found here, from around the time just after the release of the Amasses album, talking about their juxtaposition of Amercan and European Improv giants with their own blend of electronics and also touching on Bach, dub, William Faulkner, Korosawa and Luciano Berio. Related to the above paragraph, they discuss Ascension and the physicality of the playing of Evan Parker, John Edwards and Mark Sanders. DJ Spooky also gets a mention:

The reason the records we have made work well and are interesting to listen to,
is that we haven't set ourselves up as propagandists for the electronic idea.
Like DJ Spooky's idea of “21st Century Jazz”. It is propaganda and is
irrelevant. Twenty-first centuries jazz exists without him or with him. It
doesn't make any difference. Evan Parker will be blowing saxophone, and that is
21st century jazz. And if he lived to the 22nd century, it would be 22nd century
jazz. Propagandising something smacks of record companies trying to sell
records, and that is what I hate about it. The notion of new electronic jazz has
got to be resisted. The truth has got to be told. It has got to be said that it
is not something new.

Been reading more of DJ Spooky at his website. I've read his Rhythm Science, a beautifully designed book and accompanying cd, which discusses his thoughts on micro-culture and musical hybrids. He invents his own terms to depict the changes going on in culture. There is a lot to gain from reading the book yet he strays into nonsense territory in some chapters, where his creative use of hybrid words becomes incomprehensible, to me, at least ('cybernetic jazz', for instance, or 'illbient'). The interview with Matthew Shipp is a good read though, Spooky going off on tangents, topics including Xennakis, Rimbaud, Charlie Patton and Duke Ellington.

Thanks to the Yorkshireman for pointing me in the direction of Salon.com which has a great selection of free mp3s from Dylan to the Animal Collective, from Richard Thompson to Four Tet, from Sun Ra to Teenage Fanclub, and from Albert Ayler to Teenage Fanclub.

Simon Reynolds' blog can be found here. Worth a read despite the following drivel which is a perfect example of what I was going on about here.

...made me think of Sontag’s angle on literary modernism and pornography. The
extreme focus (sensory, psychological, cinematic) entailed in the erotic
transactions here depicted lends itself to a certain avant-garde
intensification, most apparent in the stereo-placement and ultra-vivid
chromaticism of the vocals, which tripped me out on the first few listens.

Music critic (for The New Yorker) Alex Ross' blog can be found here. He draws attention to a lovely little piece On Messiaen's Quartet Pour La Fin Du Temps.

jazz,john coltrane,blogs,Improv,spring heel jack

American Music Club: Myopic Books

I only own Mercury but the songs of Mark Eitzel do have enchanting qualities. I saw American Music Club at Bar Academy in Birmingham in the Winter 04/05 and they were excellent. Here are some line from Myopic Books:

Iwas just hoping for a bookstore
Like the one I prayed for
And the music they play there would be Dinosaur Jr
And the people who worked there
Would be super skinny and super unfriendly
And that would make me happy...
... But its ok
I'll find a bookstore
And buy Saul Bellow
And one about old ruins
For my mother...
...I left my room one evening
The sun had just gone down
But the sky still shining
And not even the stars up in heaven
Could throw their ashes
On the blue still burning over this ugly city
And that makes me happy

American Music Club,Mark Eitzel

Ozu, Mcewan: masters

The Guardian has a nice little piece on Ian Mcewan. I have just borrowed his latest book, 'Saturday', from my brother T, much to his chagrin. My interest in him could be described as shallow considering I have not read any of his works to date, to my shame. And, of course, seeing him in the flesh was always going to be a spur to checking him out. In the article, though, William Sutcliffe reveals his growing up to be woefully absent of books, much like mine. He goes on to say,

It has been said that a lecture is a means by which ideas can pass from the
notes of a lecturer to the notes of a student without passing through the minds
of either. The same could be said of the novel, in which subtle, taboo or
impossible-to-paraphrase ideas can pass from the subconscious of the author to
the subconscious of the reader without taking root in the conscious mind of
either...The (first) chapter closes with one of the most memorable lines in contemporary literature. Jack's father, who dies face-down in wet concrete, has now been taken away, and Jack returns to the spot where the heart attack took place: "I did not have a thought in my head as I picked up the plank and smoothed away his impression in the soft, fresh concrete."...A sliding scale of "ambition" is these days often applied to novels, as if breadth of canvas is a useful measure of a novel's quality. By this spurious standard, The Cement Garden is an insignificant work. Yet for its concision, vivid emotional intensity and sheer moral daring, I would stand by it as one of the great novels of the last 30 years.

Yasujiro Ozu is also discussed in the Guardian in a similarly thoughtful article.

Every time his movies are shown on television or at film festivals, more people
find themselves enraptured by his delicate watercolour emotions, his mastery of
simplicity and reticence, in which you glimpse explicit pain and joy.Tomi takes
her tiny grandson for a walk and asks him if he wants to be a doctor when he
grows up, like his father. "I wonder if I'll still be here when you are," she
adds with a flash of anxiety, shocking us with the revelation that, so far from
being a wise grandmother calmly accepting her own mortality, she is as
frightened and unprepared as anyone. When mortality does intervene, it is for
Toriko to tell us that children gradually drift away from their parents. "Isn't
life disappointing?" replies her sister quietly, one of the most devastating
lines in cinema.

Simon Hattenstone also writes here that,

His films were so still that at times they seemed little more than a series of
photographs. Ozu realised that the great dramas of life lay in its minutiae -
despair may be expressed in the tiniest grunt or silence, the essence of honesty
may be distilled down to the interpretation of a bought piece of cake. In Tokyo
Story, the elderly couple's son-in-law buys them a fancy cake and they tell each
other that this shows how much their daughter loves them. But we have just seen
the daughter chide her husband for wasting so much money when a rice cake would
have done.

Although I can't honestly recommend Mcewan without my integrity dissolving away, I can safely say that Ozu is well worth checking out if you haven't seen his films.
books, film, movies, Ozu, Ian Mcewan

Re-think on Bill Fay

The majestical Bill Fay continues to grow on me. His first album is reminiscent of the artists I mention in the below post but the Time of the Last Persecution album has touches of Tim Buckley and Big Star. That's all I wanted to say....

The deepest part of ourselves...

The following quotes from Saul Bellow are taken from this article:

'A novel is balanced between a few true impressions and the multitude of false ones that make up most of what we call life.'

'A man is only as good as what he loves.'

'Goodness is achieved not in a vacuum, but in the company of other men, attended by love.'

'A great deal of intelligence can be invested in ignorance when the need for illusion is deep.'

'In the greatest confusion there is still an open channel to the soul. It may be difficult to find because by midlife it is overgrown, and some of the wildest thickets that surround it grow out of what we describe as our education. But the channel is always there, and it is our business to keep it open, to have access to the deepest part of ourselves.'

'There is an immense, painful longing for a broader, more flexible, fuller, more coherent, more comprehensive account of what we human beings are, who we are and what this life is for.
Whoever wants to reach a distant goal must take small steps.'

Christopher Hitchens also wrote this article which includes this great quote from Saul Bellow's Herzog (1964) (which appear on the epigraph page of Ian McEwan's 'Saturday'. Mcewan also wrote this about Bellow) :

For instance? Well, for instance, what it means to be a man. In a city. In a
century. In transition. In a mass. Transformed by science. Under organised
power. Subject to tremendous controls. In a condition caused by mechanisation.
After the late failure of radical hopes. In a society that was no community and
devalued the person. Owing to the multiplied power of numbers which made the
self negligible. Which spent military billions against foreign enemies but would
not pay for order at home. Which permitted savagery and barbarism in its own
great cities. At the same time, the pressure of human millions who have
discovered what concerted efforts and thoughts can do...

Saul Bellow, who died recently.

Quotes,Saul Bellow,books,philosophy

Vincent Gallo's All Tomorrow's Parties

The festival took place at the Pontin's Holiday Camp at Camber Sands, East Sussex from Friday 21st until Sunday 23rd April.The line-up (with artist links) is worth checking out here. To say I was excited prior to attending would be somewhat of a vast understatement. I sincerely knew it would live up to my high, high, expectations. And it did. If you don't know anything about the festival please have a look at the site for more info. Admittedly a little obsessed with Gallo it was great to bump into him around the site and see him getting a hot dog. I'm not going to write a love letter here but if you're interested go to this site which has got all his photos, articles and interviews etc.

There were five of us (T,Yorkshireman,BB and schmuck) in our chalet. The chalets were great and, of course, reminded the 5 of us of Hi-de-Hi, the BBC TV show of our childhood. There are two channels on the TV, one programmed by ATP and one programmed by the curator. Gallo's choices ranged from Bruce Brown documentaries (on surfing and body-building) to Italian neo-realism to Coppola's The Conversation. The reception on this channel meant that it was unwatchable, however. The ATP channel had Lost In Translation, Brass Eye, and a Kubrick day on Saturday where, perhaps obviously, all of his films were shown all day. The packs given at the commencement of the festival were great with info on all the artists and detachable cards with the line-up on for each day.

BB and schmuck were responsible for rations for the weekend. Yorkshireman, a true Yorkshireman in every sense of the word, wasn't the only one gobsmacked at the £300 spent on food, the majority of which was made up of Sainsbury's Taste The Difference range. Cured meats, cheeses, fine wines, Morrocan lamb, salmon, olives, all perfectly acceptable for festival food I think(!!!)...

I think the first act was Nikolai Haas, who has played drums for Gallo in NYC. Will pointed out his humongous hands which were far from a barrier to his dexterous playing. His songs were gorgeous and mellow and although he was nervous (it was his first ever solo gig) his voice was delicate and tender.

The Japanese female Improv duo Afrirampo were magnetic, charming, funny and yet far from a novelty act. They're destined to rise above their current fanbase (which includes Thurston Moore, who asked them to support Sonic Youth on a recent tour). I only caught the tail-end of their set but I saw them, immaculately dressed in their red macs watching many of the other acts over the weekend and getting some crazy passport photos.

Gallo's performance is perhaps best summed up by this review. He played with Sean Lennon and Yuka Honda. It was really hot in the smaller venue and although Gallo wasn't the main draw for everyone there, he could have easily have filled the big auditorium upstairs. Explained towards the end of the set by Lennon, Gallo had just bought a Neumann microphone, which was so sensitive that it couldn't pick Gallo up without picking up everyone on stage at the same time, This caused massive feedback problems, which were only solved by making Gallo so quiet as to be inaudible. The reviewer comments,

Songs are often drowned out by the irritable audience, whose cries of 'Cheer Up'
are killing Vincent Gallo on the inside, well, maybe. Yet, the truly great tunes
shine through- Gallo's understated 'Honey Bunny' silences the raucous crowd, and
commands the attention he deserves, while Lennon, delivers a simple, yet
exceptional solo track. And as the set finishes, I look around the now
sparsely-populated venue and wish people had treated the gig with patience,
instead of disregard.

Gallo wouldn't be who he is without his vast knowledge of, well, a lot of things, and his constant endeavour for perfection, reflected in this sense by his purchase of the microphone, his stubborn refusal to turn it off, and his resulting evident disappointment with the show and mainly its sound. So, in one sense, it was great that he fucked up to get a true sense of the guy, but obviously not that great...

Buck 65, who I'll be seeing next Sunday in Birmingham, was great. I saw him in October at the Custard Factory with his 'bag of tricks' containing books of poems and records and tapes etc. At Camber, after praising Vincent for being a renegade and true artist, he quoted Vincent's character in Buffalo 66 at the end of one of his tracks: 'I didn't have a girlfriend at school because there was no one I liked, no one I liked. Girls stink...'

Was strange to see James Chance who looks his age but still struts his James Brown moves. His band were equally aging but they still had the showmanship and the chops required. PJ Harvey, playing solo electric guitar, went down deservedly well. She said she was nervous but her nerves didn't show themselves. Her songs came through and there was overlying feeling that she was something the British should revere as a very rare artist. Ted Curson, whose 'Tears for Dolphy' features on Gallo's Brown Bunny Soundtrack, was a star attraction. He lives and works in Europe, which shames and shows up the US. How depressing that this elder statesman of one the greatest artforms has to leave his country in order to make a living.

The highlight for me was probably Prefuse 73 on the Sunday night. His One-Word Extinguisher album and his Savath and Savalas albums meant that no clue was available to what his live show would be like. His (at the time) forthcoming album was to be featuring Ghostface, El-P, Masta Killa, GZA, Aesop Rock and Beans. Would there be backing tracks from them? Would they guest? He didn't need them. His 5-piece band included a powerhouse live drummer and bassist and the set flowed from piece to piece without a pause for breath (a cliche for sure but the room was a hot sweatbox with little fresh air present).

Although everyone competed, the only real challenge to Prefuse 73, surprisingly, was Peaches. In her first song she stage-dived and crowd-surfed, and I was there thinking, 'Well, where can you go from here?'. My pre-conceived notion of her being somewhat of a novelty act was shot to pieces. She (prepare yourself for the usage of a word I have never used in my lifetime up until now) rocked. She was in your face and it must have been like seeing Madonna in NYC in the mid-80s. As entertainment it thrilled. As music, it was innovative. Her rhymes were fresh but the beats were minimalist and maximalist at the same time. Berlin, where she has been living and recording over the past few years, has clearly influenced her a lot. Serious music critics have no need to discuss the sociological impact of her sexuality. Her music makes further peripheral discussion futile and unnecessary. Awesome...

Gigs, Vincent Gallo, Prefuse 73, Peaches, PJ Harvey, Lennon, Afrirampo

Oscar Brown Jnr

Listening to Gilles Peterson. He's just played a Dolphy track follwed by two tunes by Oscar Brown Jnr. Haven't heard about him before. He died last week apparently. Must do some research on him. There is no one like Peterson on radio that I know of. He just played Doves! A strange choice for Peterson, methinks... Have a look at his archive; sets from Four Tet, Common, Roots Manuva, Steve Reid, Bjortk, The Roots, Nitin Sawhney, Roy Ayers, Madlib, Mos Def, Matthew Herbert.... That's just the past few months...

Cardwell, Stephenson, Edwards and Sanders

Went to the fortnightly Fizzle night at The Old Moseley Arms last week. I'd seen the rhythm section of Mark Sanders and John Edwards before Christmas and was really impressed. Last time they featured two sax players but this time they had Euan Stephenson, a keyboardist, currently at the University of Birmingham, and Phil Cardwell, a trumpeter who has recently graduated from the jazz course at the Birmingham Conservatoire.
Cardwell started tentatively and looked slightly out of his depth (he later proved this intitial judgement premature, to say the least). The rhythm section were very strong, with Sanders echoing Peter Fairclough's fine work with Keith Tippett, constantly changing the timbre of his playing, not merely for effect, but to continuously complement and push the other players on.

Towards the end of the second set, the piece lost its intensity as Sanders began to coerce the players into a place where they seemed to all want to go to. As Edwards brilliant picked out sustained long notes in one minor key and Stephenson played flutteringly around the same notes at the top end of his keyboard (on a vibraphone-esque setting), Cardwell's Evan Parker-like playing suddenly came out of nowhere and punctured the tranquility with soulful blasts and heart-wrenching squeals, whilst Sanders masterfully cut accross everything with his crescendos and rubato playing. It was sublime and the audience were stunned and launched into massive applause as the piece came to a close. The players seemed shocked and they seemed to suggest that it wasn't planned. The piece reminded me of Spring Heel Jack and their work with Parker (Evan and William), Shipp, Bennink and Kenny Wheeler. I'd been discussing with Mike Hurley, Fizzle's organiser, just a few weeks before about the link between Spring Heel Jack and where i'd like to be musically and now Sanders et al had just reflected it perfectly for both of us.

Update: I spoke to Sanders after the gig and told him that Pete Fairclough had taught me at college. He sort of said, 'Oh yeah', seemingly in recognition but I thought to myself that as with a lot of musicians around Birmingham, he probably didn't have a clue ( I must stop pre-judging people...). Anyway, Sanders was grateful for my encouraging comments and that was that. I have just found out that both Sanders and Edwards regularly play with Evan Parker! They are giants on the London Improv scene! They have both played with Spring Heel Jack! On records I own! I could have explored all of this with Sanders if i has done my research prior to the gig like I should have done. Gutted!

Jazz, Improv,
Evan Parker, gigs

A Picture of Britain

I was fascinated by David Dimbleby's A Picture of Britain on BBC1 last night. The series is exploring the link between art, literature, poetry and Britain, whether it be landscape or architecture or nature or whatever. Last night featured the Romantic north, with its focus on the Lake District, the Northumberland coast and the North Yorkshire moors. Although Dimbleby discussed the influence of the Lakes and Wordsworth and the moors with Bronte (Wuthering Heights), he also introduced me to artists and poets I hadn't previously encountered. Worth watching...

(Scandalously, I didn't venture north to the Lakes until late 2003 and was taken aback with its awe-inspiring beauty that I didn't know Britain possessed.)
Lake District, art, poetry, BBC, Britain

The pleasure itself...

Rosemary shed tears again when she heard of the mishap - altogether it had been
a watery day, but she felt that she had learned something, though exactly what
it was she did not know. Later she remembered all the hours of the afternoon as
happy - one of those uneventful times that seem at the moment only a link
between past and future pleasure, but turn out to have been the pleasure
itself...They had many fine times together, fine talks between the loves of the
white nights, but always when he turned away from her into himself he left her
holding Nothing in her hands and staring at it, calling it many names, not
knowing it was only the hope that hewould come back soon.

'Tender is the Night'
F.Scott Fitzgerald

books, F.Scott Fitzgerald

The Golden Apples of the Sun

Though I am old with wandering
Through hollow lands and hilly lands,
I will find out where she has gone,
And kiss her lips and take her hands;
And walk amon long dappled grass,
And pluck till time and times are done
The silver apples of the moon,
The golden apples of the sun.

'The Song of Wandering Aengus'
W.B. Yeats

Yeats, poetry

Time of the Last Persecution...

On Monday I got the re-releases of the two Bill Fay albums: Bill Fay and Time of the Last Persecution. I had heard so many good things in anticipation of the albums although the music of which I was yet to hear. I was not disappointed. I first heard Be Not So Fearful on the Wilco documentary 'I Am Trying to Break Your Heart', where Jeff Tweedy sings it surrounded by a stunned-looking band after the World Trade Centre attacks in Spetmeber 2001. It doesn't need me to comment that it's a touching moment.

Both cds have a sticker quoting Uncut magazine, 'The missing link between Nick Drake, Ray Davies and Bob Dylan'. I can't find any element of Dylan in the two albums. And while Fay may have passages similar to music of Drake and the lyricism of Davies, to me, Scott Walker and Robert Wyatt pervade as the artists Fay mostly resembles. This, of course, neglects to say that Fay is quite unlike all of the above. Garden Song touchingly talks of pursuing 'lasting relations' with the real world, in Fay's case maggots and plants. He loves resolving his suspended fourths and when the orchestra kicks in Garden Song (Bill Fay's opening song), it's a 'shivers down the spine' moment.

I want to quote the liner notes from Bill Fay that Fay wrote a few months ago:

I'd also like to thank Colin Miles for reissuing the albums in 1998 after twenty
seven years, which led to Jim Irvin reviewing them favourably in 'Mojo'
magazine, and to Jim O'Rourke playing them to Jeff Tweedy when he mixed their
Wilco album, and to Jeff performing 'Be Not So Fearful'

An then on the notes to 'Time Of The Last Persecution':

Special thanks to Jim O'Rourke for championing my music and covering 'Pictures
of Adolf Again' which I haven't heard yet. A lot is owed from me to him.

Two thank yous to Jim O'Rourke. Well, that just made my day. And the albums are awesome. Buy them. He also thanks Rob Young, editor of The Wire. Their feature (I'm not sure what issue it is) was the first I had read about him. There seems to be have been one of these myths surrounding Fay with the suggestion that he had committed suicide or had burned out after Decca didn't renew his contract. This rumour seems to have originated merely from his appearance on the sleeve of his second album. The Wire article, as well as the liner notes, reveal this not to be the case at all.

Jim O'Rourke, Bill Fay, Wilco, music