Goated

I'd say there are two main drivers behind Are We There Yet? My love of music, one. And secondly my passion for the English language. So, here you go, a few tunes and a brand new word (well, new to me).

I did a playlist for a friend who was going on holiday to Cornwall this week. Not really knowing the sort of stuff she listens to I trusted to luck and went for a mixed bag; listening back to it now it's probably a tad downbeat. However, I needn't have worried. 

And I have no idea which two songs she'd heard; Short of playing a musical version of Wordle with her, I'll ask her next week when she gets back.

Blurred

I had a good excuse for missing the opening night of Ian Prowse and Amsterdam's 2022 tour in Nottingham. I was in America. But I did catch them half way round; at the Adelphi in Hull. That was the night I lost it when Ian sang Does This Train Stop on Merseyside. It's what I do.

And then on Saturday we caught the train to Manchester and pulled in the last night: Gullivers in Manchester was ramming. It was also very hot. A small venue above a pub is my favourite environment to watch bands; always has been. If you've ever read my 50 odd gigs piece I wrote back in 2014, there's a fair smattering of pub gigs on there, dotted around the country, hither and thither. Which reminds me, I really must update that list.

Another small venue Ian's playing in a couple of weeks (solo, not with the band) is The Barrel House in Totnes. Ask me if I've got tickets. Of course I have! And, as you can see from the poster at the top of the page, Ian has already announced his Spring dates for '23; yep, I'm currently eyeing up Leeds and Sheffield. If any of these dates are near where you live (or even if they're not) I strongly urge you to blag a ticket. You won't regret it. 

See you 'round the clubs

The way George pronounces care and beware ("take kurr, bewurr") is so enchanting I can't stop smiling every time I hear this. I've written countless times on this blog why young George was, and will always be, the fabbest of the Fabs. And when you watch Get Back and see how frantically John and Paul try and bring him back into the fold after his beautifully choreographed, but short-lived, flounce you realise how much more they needed him than he needed them. 

George Harrison - Beware of Darkness (Demo) (1969)

 

SM2

I was on business in Worthing yesterday; Brighton's scruffy little brother. My meeting finished earlier than I thought so I rang my cousin Suzie who lives up the road in Hove and invited myself round for a cuppa; we'd not seen each other since before Covid so it was great to catch-up. She still smiles when I call her Suzie; she was always Suzie when we were kids, but now she's a grown up and everyone calls her Susan. Except me. Oh, and we had lemon drizzle cake too.

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Today's blog post was brought to you by a sixty-one year old man. Normal service will be resumed, I promise.

Brought to you by the letter D

I could be wrong - it wouldn't be the first time - but in all the years I've been writing about music and popular culture* (and certainly in the last dozen or so I've been curating this blog) I've used many superlatives and adjectives when waxing lyrical about artists and their work, but I don't think I've ever reached for the D word to describe anyone or anyone's music. Until now, that is. 

GusGus** are an Icelandic electronic combo with an impressive eleven studio albums under their belt. This is taken from their tenth, Lies are More Flexible. And, yes, in my humble opinion, it is divine.  

GusGus - Fuel (2018)

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* Or stuff, as I generally tell people who ask what I write about.

** From a 1974 German film Fear Eats the Soul, in which a female character cooks couscous and calls it gusgus.