Audio Journal : 22/12/2010

Saint Etienne, the trio of Sarah Cracknell, Pete Wiggs and Bob Stanley released a song with Tim Burgess from The Charlatans called 'I Was Born On Christmas Day' in 1993. Its title alone assured the song of a modicum of airplay during the festive season that year, and I know it's popped up on several Christmas compilation albums since. The song is an upbeat piece of pop majesty, but apart from the line in the chorus about being born on Christmas Day (being a reference to Bob's birthday), it isn't really a Christmas song; it's just a song with Christmas in the title, released at Christmas.

It would appear that Saint Etienne, who I didn't even realise were still operating, have released a festive fan-club only album called – fnarr, fnarr – A Glimpse Of Stocking. My days of being into the band roundly stopped after the best of album Too Young To Die, which I still listen to from time to time. I didn't intend to try and get a copy of A Glimpse Of Stocking (which collects every Christmas song recorded by the band) and after hearing the new track 'No Cure For The Common Christmas', I am even less likely to do so. Sonically, it sounds like 'I Was Born On Christmas Day', has the same euphoric (if jaded) Euro-disco edge, but like a pissed relative on Christmas Day, it falls down somewhere along the lines. I was quite looking forward to rekindling my love for Saint Etienne, but sadly not after this song.

This being my final blog of 2010, it seems appropriate anyway to talk about Christmas songs. This year, more than any, the magazine list writers have been attempting to persuade us punters to shell out on alternative Christmas albums – i.e. not the usual derivative compilations of Elton John's 'Step Into Christmas', John 'n Yoko's 'Merry Christmas (War Is Over)', Chris Rea's 'Driving Home For Christmas' etc – with Johnny Cash's overlooked Christmas album seeming to top the 'must have' lists.

But what makes a Christmas song 'good' anyway?' Is it a religious re-telling of the Nativity, messages of love and goodwill, glam rock anthems with choirs of out-of-tune Brummie kids or just a nice pop track adorned with tinkly bells? If there is no prescribed formula as such for a Christmas song, why can't a song like Pulp's 'Disco 2000' become established as a Christmas song?

'Disco 2000' was released way back in November 1995 and its chorus foretold the millennium fever that enveloped pretty much everyone who uses the Anno Domini calendar as 1999 passed into 2000. Getting released a shade too early for the Christmas top-spot that year ensured it was probably all but forgotten by the year end charts; later the band would prevent the song from being used in TV and radio adverts in 1999 / 2000, effectively scuppering many an ad man's wet dream of carelessly and lucratively tacking the song onto any product during that time.



Can 'Disco 2000' be held up as a Christmas song? Undoubtedly. It is an accessible pop song with a Slade / Wizzard-esque glam guitar introduction and a huge chorus ideally suited to Christmas / New Year parties of the time. Plus, by not being a Christmas song in the truest sense of the word (no Nativity, no religious undertones, no tinkly bells) it lasts all year, unlike Christmas trees, Bailey's and festive goodwill. Even at fifteen years old it hasn't lost any of its lustre and unexpected festive sparkle.

Have a great Christmas and New Year, thanks for following, and expect more weekly musical witterings next year.

'Disco 2000' is featured in my second annual Christmas short story, Josh & Laura, as the soundtrack for a scene set in a student end-of-term Christmas party (see, it works perfectly!). Josh & Laura can be downloaded as a PDF here.

Audio Journal : 19/05/2010

Pulp's Jarvis Cocker has produced an album for The National Trust, the UK charity responsible for the ongoing ownership and upkeep of a number of properties, areas of conservation land and sites of significant historical importance.

The album consists of 'environmental sounds' recorded at NT properties and sequenced together into a single, seamless atmospheric work. With the exception of a few – clocks at Bickling Hall, a strap press at Patterson's Spade Mill, an old music box at Lanhydrock – there are few opportunities to directly tie the sounds recorded to the locations and properties specified, even if you were a frequent visitor there. Instead you just need to trust that they are genuine recordings, not sounds lifted off the albums of sound FX and environmental atmospheres the BBC and others used to release in more antediluvian times.

Whilst it's a very serene, very English album, with the exception of 'Quarry Bank Mill - Murmurs Of Children In School House', you'd be mistaken for thinking that all NT properties are always so quiet and serene – clearly the atmospheres would have been very different if they'd recorded the clamour that can be frequently heard in NT cafés or gift shops. You'd be very lucky indeed to be able to experience some of these locations without the near complete intrusion of people.

Personally, I found the collection cloying rather than calming; perhaps this is the danger of listening to this on a busy commuter train into London. I found the almost industrial sounding clamour of the strap press (whatever that is; part of me doesn't want to know) generally more appealing, reminding me of an organic Neubauten.

As for Cocker's involvement, that's debatable. Apparently he selected the sounds. I would never, ever go so far as to say that it was, by attaching a well known personality to this project, a cynical ploy to drive people from outside the NT's core demographic to their website. Or have I just done that? Cynicism aside, I'm a National Trust member and am supportive of pretty much anything they do to protect significant aspects of the British national heritage.

Download the album and listen to individual atmospheres here.

All images (c) National Trust