28th October, 2005

Music Monthlies: October 2005

So, last month I waxed lyrical about the new Elbow album. Bizarrely, it’s still getting heavy rotation here in Nottingham, but thankfully a plethora of other bands have been shoving their musical oars in throughout October…

I suppose the big news is that Sheffield’s arch self-marketing whizzkids Arctic Monkeys went straight to number one with their first proper release - thanks mainly to their close relationship with their fans through their website, some clever hype, and the help of Radio 1. Good work fellas, says I. I’m a bit worried that a band I’ve liked for ages are suddenly everywhere, and soon chavs will start liking them and they’ll sell out and support U2 or something (or worse - do an iPod ad). Until then, they rule the Earth, and I’m proud of ‘em. Americans - get on board now.

My big tips from previous months are all gnawing their way into the UK’s shared consciousness - Arcade Fire (genius), Maximo Park, The Editors (still sound like fifty other bands, but brilliant anyway)—though still no Sigur Rós on Top Of The Pops or CD:UK yet. Bah.

Forthcoming are Dirty Pretty Things, who I have not heard yet, but they’re fronted by ex-Libertine Carl Barat. They will probably be utterly boisterous, unlistenable, and thus fantastic. I’ve also got my ears peeled for We Are Scientists and The Test Icicles. The latter have an appallingly childish name, but are playing in Nottingham tomorrow, so I should probably go and hear their electronic metal or whatever.

I now do requests

Or so it seems. The first Music Monthlies request is from The Gravy Boy, who thinks we should all be listening to Run, Christian, Run by The Super Furries. Yes, yes! A perfect slice of anti-religion to help your opulent meal go down. Good on SFA for carrying on where Oliver Cromwell left off. Go smash up a church (but ask your Mum first).


It’s a year since music inventor John Peel passed on to the great radio station in the sky. Don’t be sad, for he’s got Hendrix, Cobain and Buckley doing his sessions up there, so he’s well happy - assuming heaven exists, which I kind of don’t. Anyway, I’ll let Richard do the talking on all things Peel, and I’ll be back with more unrehearsed selfish music pointlessness next month.

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