widg‧et /ˈwɪdʒɪt/ [wij-it] -noun: Pointless ramblings from the New Forest. Obviously complete & utter Rubbish. Why must I contibute to all this endless talk about me? My self-indulgent knees, spilling themselves all over the internet. Obviously i am Jon and his hair, I AM HIM!

Monday, December 28, 2009

Merlinpeen's Annual Hit Parade (must try harder)

Running late, again! I'll try & get this wrapped up before New Year, so that my typing fingers can once again get their much-unwarranted 51 week rest. So:

Animal Collective
Merriweather Post Pavilion

Miraculously appearing on so very many pleasing end of year lists after several years of general indifference from the chattering classes; I am goodly happy to jump on this most hummable of bandwagons and say, "Yeah, it's quite good in'tit? Have you heard of them before? No, well I think I spotted them on page 52 of Mojo back in 2007. Really? You do talk shite sometimes! Yes I do."

The Big Pink
A Brief History of Love

Hey Hey! It's 1993 all over again, the massive sunglasses & bleepy video-game tunes have made way for some honest to goodness, eyes-down, gazing at shoes, next to your soiled Betty Blue poster, as the slightly overweight warden of your student halls flies banshee-like down the corridor, screaming for you to hide your tellys, as the detector vans approach, waiting to take away your flapjacks. Maybe that was just me. Anyway, a classic 4ADish album, with a v23ish cover, and enough modern textural fun to almost fool you into believing they invented it.

Manic Street Preachers
Journal for Plague Lovers

I'm sure it's a little tricky to keep up the youthful nihilism when middle-age spread comes a-beckoning & slacks 'n' slip-ons seem a perfectly serviceable fashion choice, so why not take a few leaves out of the book of your youngest, deadest member, literally. Ah Richie, how we have missed your cheery disposition & sunny outlook. This is what makes the Manics great, unitelligble lyrics of despair, betrayal & bodily fluids, with the best song title ever (fact!) in 'Jackie Collins Existential Question Time'.

The Awkward Recruit

Jim Causley, a camp as a fishermans spoon folk singer from Devon, joins with Mawkin, a hairy bunch of Essex scamps, to fashion a record filled with creamily multi-lingual, sing-along songs. In the transfer from great live band to recorded noise the hip-wiggling & fruity stage presence may be lost in translation, but it's more than made up for by the clarity of sound & rhythmic energy.

Imidiwan (Companions)

A thirty year old collective of nomadic Touareg musicians from the Malian Sahara, this is their fourth internationally released album, and it's the rawest & best. There's none of that dreaded 'crossover' pandering to us heathen westerners that so many internationally acclaimed 'world music' artists fall prey to, just a relentless rolling rhythm that holds together these stark, dusty tunes in its sandy embrace.



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