music for when the tide goes out
“We’re conforming to the way machines pay music. It’s robots’ choice. It used to be ladies’ choice — now it’s robots’ choice.”
— Donald Fagen, producer and Steely Dan frontman
Interesting article on the death of high fidelity in Rolling Stone.
all quiet on the home front while we work out our plot our course on the latitudes. but there’s nothing like a bit of celebrity endorsement to draw me out of the wordwork.
yesterday, one kanye west called in at the hl’s favourite clothing shore and bought two pairs boots designed by my best friend. (they’re beautiful and comfortable and called andre btw and can be yours too if you click here.)
the hl and folk have been lovingly entwined for much of ‘07 -not least because we’d have been naked and barefoot for most of this year without them, but we’ve been known supply the workers with music from time to time and even made an appearance in next season’s lookbook on a rainy day in oxfordshire photoshoot which left me ravaged by briars, covered in several different types of mud as i rambled in wedge heels by christmas common.
but you know how we do.
so when that christmas cheque from your nan comes in you too can buy folk at the folk shop on lamb’s conduit street, or online here, or at liberty and other chi-chi retailers in your city.
ahh, there we are.
back from the brink. and sweden.
this is a toe in the water post. i’ve almost forgotten what to do, its been so long. but before i’m set adrift again in a sea of wrapping paper, roast turkey and mulled ale here’s something i overheard whilst doing a spot of what rather bizarrely feels like last minute christmas shopping even though we’re only 6 days into advent.
anyhoo, courtesy of the dude who looked a bit like jefferson hack djing in the menswear department of my very favourite shop in london; a gallic cover of an anglo-classic (be still my beating heart) the dynamics and their less disco-more reggae version-de-couverture of miss you.
i’m not sure why this captivated me more than the stone-cold surity of the original, though there’s something in this which sounds like it was the source material and jagger/richards just pinched it. but some crackly production values and a jews harp’ll do that to a girl.
merci et c’est bon d’etre de retour.
the fleet foxes are calling you through the mists of time to the midst of today. they’ve just finished recording their new album, download for new track now, here.
its the end of an era and the dawn of a whole new one. sure, my ipod finally died but i’m changing my name, moving house, starting a whole new life. with my husband.
it’s pretty momentous.
since hl has always been a bit of an indulgence of our blossoming relationship i’m only hesitating momentarily before indulging myself one more time.
this blog has been an incredible journey, thanks for reading and listening.
we’ll be back, but for a few weeks at least… this one’s for my new family.
image via
while a certain someone has already recognised that i’ve been trawling old romancing mixtapes for posts over the past few months it’s not going to stop me from upping some of my best archival material in my last few weeks as a single girl.
four or so years ago, before they released albums by both bob dylan and paul mccartney and while they were mostly hawking ella fitzgerald as froth on your jazzpuccino a rather cute valentine’s day compliation surfaced on hearmusic, starbucks’ record label.
sweetheart love songs was an album of covers by bands who are now some of hl’s favourites; iron and wine, rosie thomas and ron sexsmith amongst others, enough there for me to dunk my listening biscotti into alone and this little gem by alt.country swooners beachwood sparks, a cover of sade’s beautiful 2001 single by your side, is something i’ve treasured since i found the album in a midtown boston coffee sink an entire lifetime ago.
(seconds from a life i never dreamed i’d lead; i’m right by your side.)
pic by elliott landy
i heard arcadia boss, philip green on the radio yesterday saying that despite the fact that his disposable heroes of topshophrecy had continued to return record profits over a poor summer on the high street, that he felt the british public would start to realise that money was getting expensive.
which might seem like a glib comment but is a pretty succinct way of summing up the throw-away world of consolidation loans and mortgage/remortgage adverts which proliferate cable tv commercial breaks and tumble out of weekend colour supplements. money’s been terrifically cheap, and getting cheaper.
more bang for your buck and more bucks to the pound.
so while the latest supermodel-endorsed, designer-diffusion range might be a great bargain, the money we’re being encouraged to spend on it is starting to cost us more. and while ultimately that’s a good thing, it is bound to leave plenty of people in the doldrums; locked into a horrid situation of surface affluence, used to constantly refreshed wardrobes, new cars, latest ipods and flatscreen tvs but with a complete lack of foundation. all dressed up with nowhere to go.
perhaps if we have to think about what we’re spending we’ll start to think about what we’re buying too. and things will change. and this monologue is as much for me as ‘those people’.
still, i’ve been looking for a reason to post this track for the past year or so.
here it is, a song i find infinitely captivating. musically it’s catchy as hell; shuffling maracas, plodding kickdrum, bar-room piano, easy bassline. unsurprisingly the lyrics are stone cold genius and the laconic post-desire dylan drawl which sometimes grates belies a resigned, befuddled old man; mildly amused, slightly defiant and a little wiser.
it’s paris for us again next week.
mais oui.
and does that mean more french house aux latitudes?
mais oui!
straight out of our new manor (and with thanks and compliments to the chef- chris at gvsb) russ chimes has got his london mitts on les enfants francais, college’s track ‘teenage color’ which was already a pretty tasty slice of electro synthiness and garnished it southwark styles.
the result? it kind of sounds like teenkids in branded pastel leisurewear and centimes arcades in northern france in 1987.
from what i remember.
the vrai combination of phoenix-esque eighties froth-rock guitar lines and a dab of heavy daft punkiness - plus all the things i found enormously exotic about french exchange trips without having to stay with a weird family who eat potato at breakfast.
do yourselves all a favour and head over to russ chimes’ myspace for more of his stuff, if you’re in that kind of miami-neon sort of mood then she’s got the heat is what you need playing out of your ferrari 328. seriously.
and so with a paul quiche lorraine in my belly from lunch and the prospect of hopping on of the last eurostars out of waterloo on monday i’m left wondering, ah france… could i love you any more?
moi, non plus.
photo via
yep, we’re packing up and moving forward.
further up the river.
but not too far, to where the skies are like this.
so digging the (packing) crates throws up curve yesterday and today; mazzy star.
it’s my fourth move in two years. with any luck this’ll be it for a little while. and next time, well next time the dust’ll be all ours.
here’s something which comes into earshot every so often, i can’t describe what this song sounds like, it’s not new or unusual - its one of those things its nice to feel every so often; to take out and examine, i probably packed this record into a box in 1995. it’s distant but familiar. free of hard edges. slyphlike, untouchable and warm.
like light on your face each morning to wake you.
