Category: March 2026

When the poster went up outside the Drama department, I walked past it a few days before putting the whole train of thought together. A couple of months earlier, under Bob’s guidance, I’d managed to scrape together enough to buy my first ‘proper’ guitar – a left-handed, dreadnought Tanglewood with a pickup – and had been schlepping it around, still in its cardboard box, to play for youth fellowship and the like.¹ But it hadn’t had a proper outing. Eventually, I walked past the poster enough times to think, ‘Well… maybe that would work.’

At the school open evening, weirdly enough, the pieces came together. Bob was a natural ‘yes’. My friend Caroline’s little brother Bill, who was a few years below but already known for being up for the craic, didn’t take much convincing. We needed a bassist. Friend John said yes, only problem is, he said, I don’t really play. That’s alright, we said; we’ll teach you enough. It’s just one song.

So we turned up to the launch meeting for this year’s school Stars in Yer Eyes contest, confident and ready to go. A bunch of nerds (plus Johnboi) playing Wheatus’ Teenage Dirtbag. Lead singer’s got glasses, an electro-acoustic guitar and a bucket hat. I own all of these things. People would have a great laugh at it. Home crowd, popular song, what could go wrong?

The head of drama stuck on a tape of last year’s finals to let everyone get an idea what the standard was like. Then she played the winning finalist from the previous year. This one would be hard to replicate, she said. Definitely don’t try singing this song for a year or two, she laughed.

It was, of course, some fellas from somewhere singing Teenage Dirtbag.

Filing out of the room at the end, the sheet was on the table for signing up. Names. Artist. Song.

Absolute pivot to covering whatever I was singing in my head that week – Vertical Horizon’s Everything You Want.

Still a great song: only completely on electric – and also, the brilliant lead singer, Matt Scannell – completely bald with a goatee.

Apart from that, a dead match.²

Listen, it’s a great song; one of those ones that signals the turn, at the end of the century, melding together the best parts of grunge production and muddier guitars with pop timing and hooks. This sound of a mix personifies a huge part of the music of my teens. But we didn’t look or sound, really, anything like them.

After winning through the heats (!), alongside future-housemate Julie absolutely smashing Sarah McLachlan’s Angel and Leaky from General Fiasco and a bunch of lads killing it with Sum 41’s In Too Deep (the guitar sound was perfect), we came back for the regional finals. Regionals were different. Heats had been 100% based on the audience vote – if you were ever to see the video of our performance, filmed by someone on their pocket digital camera… well, you can’t make out much, but you’ll hear the shouting. (Alright, I’ll stick it in the footnotes.)³ Home crowd came good for us. But in the regionals, they’d brought in actual judges. And the question came backstage beforehand: ‘So… have you made any effort to look more like the band this time?’

I felt like saying, no offence, but if I’d actually done that, I’d have been sent home from school the next day for violating the uniform code.

We missed out on the nationals by one place. All of us were beaten by a girl from another school who, and I’m not exaggerating here, sang Aretha Franklin in blackface. It’s 22 years ago but someone needs to still be hanging their head in shame over that one. Still, the two other acts from our school went to the nationals at the Waterfront, and did us all proud. Rumours backstage were the judges did us dirty, deliberately rating us near-last because, you know, we didn’t actually resemble the artists we were impersonating in any way, shape or form.

This song makes in on 40×40, not just because it’s a great song – and it is – but because it also marked the beginning of a period of complete addiction to live performance. A period where I would conspire (no pun intended) to be in as many bands, gigs, live situations as possible, chasing that high. And it happened again, though maybe not with such purity on more than a couple of occasions.

There’s no happy ending really; years later, also with Bob – beautiful symmetry there – I came off a little stage in Belfast and said to myself, this is done. That was about 12 years ago, and it was; and it was the right decision. But wow: does sitting here, thinking about that spring night in 2004 give me the chills. What a roar.

1. This guitar was first smashed by baggage handlers in Dublin airport on the way to Romania, then smashed again seven years later by baggage handers on the way to West Africa. Moral of the story: buy a case that actually fits your guitar. Then, leave it safely at home and just borrow one when you get there. ↩︎
2. Found the photo from the local paper. Just a bunch of kids. I have inexplicably left the house wearing a homemade t-shirt, advertising a web cartoon/story series I used to publish on Geocities. Look, the 2000s were wild, folks. ↩︎
3. Found it. Someone filmed the whole performance. You can’t hear the band, but you sure can hear the spectators! ↩︎

Another week, another arbitrary rule is bent. Two (companion) tracks this week.

This week six years ago, in March 2020, the Thing happened. In our house, it was a weird one (OK, so it was weird for everyone). At work, we officially sent everyone home on the 20th, but I had already been working from home for a couple of days because we’d already taken the kids out of school sick. Then the Thing officially happened, and that was it. Most of our staff were furloughed; I would occasionally call down to work to wave at my boss across a room and check the buildings were OK, but once we had (as safely as we could) dealt with all our students and their belongings, we were done.

My main memory of the first working-from-home phase of the Thing – the bit with the amazing weather here in the UK – was sitting in our front box room, at a makeshift desk, waving across the road at our neighbour PM, sitting in his box room at his makeshift desk, before we both went back to pretending we were just working like normal human beings.

I pulled up my last.fm profile to see what the comfort music was. A lot of John Mayer. A lot of Nickel Creek. A lot of John Mark McMillan. All these have been mentioned already. But then, at some point, the combination of Youtube Music and Spotify started throwing up new things: some of which, in my head, are now forever enshrined as the soundtrack to the thing,

There were three albums which dominated for a while. The first, Sean Watkins and the Bee Eaters, This is Who We Are, already got a hat-tip in a previous post and a couple of footnotes in this series.¹ But then we morphed into June, and Phoebe Bridgers launched her incredible sophomore album, Punisher. The singles from it are brilliant – but I love Chinese Satellite the most.

Lockdown. Looking out the window. Feeling numb. Crunching up eyes and trying to make the figures in Excel work so that we can get to the end of Q4 without having to max out an overdraft. Pitching budgets and contingency plans on Zoom. Listening to staff on Zoom for that one time a week they log on. Standing out in the garden in glorious sunshine thinking, this isn’t so bad really, but then remembering that it really is.

I want to believe,
Instead, I look at the sky, and I feel nothing
You know I hate to be alone
I want to be wrong

Phoebe Bridgers, in this incredible song summing up her struggles with agnosticism and faith, capturing the hole inside every human being. I’ve used it in a sermon. But I’ve absolutely felt it.²

But we’re going for a double-A-side this week, because there was another album I was obsessed with just before Punisher came out. I think this ended up in my suggested listening because of a sonic link, somehow, to FRMR’s Inver ³ – the incredible Amish/Appalacian-space-exporatory sonic experience that is Silicone Boone’s The Reaches, and the best track on it – Found You.

Again, the whole album is really a single piece, and rewards careful listening, but Found You seems particularly profound to me. It also includes the answer to Phoebe Bridgers’ prayer as it points to the truth of something bigger than us which provides meaning, purpose, and a reason to be – even in a moment when it felt like the world was changing forever.

Well I ain’t worth much, my face is far too common
You could stack me up, still I’d be forgotten
I’ve never found a place among the chosen
Ahh but I rode the wave that gives the world its motion
Yes, I found you

You’re why we leave home
Why we’ve always roamed
Why we’re not alone

1. But it’s great. Another mention for their cover of Graceland, but the whole album is one that rewards listening to it as an album. ↩︎
2. Phoebe Bridgers’ first album, Stranger in the Alps, is good, but the 2019 concept album with Connor Oberst, Better Oblivion Community Center, is great: the lead single, Dylan Thomas, should really be on 40×40. Now it’s here, I can add it to the Spotify playlist regardless. ↩︎
3. FRMR will be the subject of a future entry in this series, so we’ll not say too much for now. ↩︎

This week, with 17 March on the horizon, the thought passed through my mind of celebrating some of the Celtic-punk that my friend and uni roommate loved blasting at all hours.¹ But then local media this week has been blanketed with the marketing for Foy Vance’s new album, The Wake, and that started the internal debate about a favourite Foy song – and the winner was the opening track from 2013’s sensational Joy of Nothing, the triumphant Closed Hand, Full of Friends.

The pounding, urgent piano riff throughout is one of my favourite sounds in all music.

I met Foy, briefly, around about 2011; I say, ‘met’ – I nearly took his head off as I span around with a big camera bag over my shoulder, not realising he had just slipped through the stage door behind me. He took it well and we had a quick chat. I was fascinated, some years earlier, when he had popped up (almost uncredited)on the original Organic Hymnal EP released by the mass, Bangor-Elim-adjacent Rend Collective Experiment:² Vance sings an incredible vocal line on the closing track, Send Me – in fact, although I haven’t been including two videos in-post in this series so far, you should here it.

Foy, the preacher’s son, sang this beautiful, aching track of faith; a faith he openly wrestled with and, by his own account, is tied up on the relationship with his father which dominates his music. From memory, he took the compliment but didn’t want to delve into it too much then and there. His first full album, Hope, was huge – the fact that, when we were undergrads, we could walk across town to see Foy and others in The Rotterdam,³ and his music had ended up being on these big US TV shows, was an inspiration.⁴

Foy Vance has many, many great songs – at this exact moment, this is my favourite.

1. Flogging Molly and Dropkick Murphys. And if you think you’ve never heard of them, what about this one from the FIFA 2005 soundtrack? Flogging Molly’s 2004 album Within A Mile of Home (Spotify link here) is worthy of your time. ↩︎
2. Rend released two EPs before they were signed, and some of the tracks made it onto the first major release. The launch night, in the Black Box, felt like it had as many people on stage as on the floor – I can’t remember when it was, but it was absolute chaos. A band I was in had previously supported Numinous, which original Rend lynchpins Steve and Gareth Gilkinson had been part of, but the styles were… different! ↩︎
3. The Rotterdam (RIP) was mad. You had Foy Vance and Ken Haddock on one night; you might have had Duke Special the next. And these people were actual musicians, in this brilliant, tiny, dingy pub in Sailortown. We didn’t know how good we had it. What a loss. ↩︎
4. See also: the moment Bell X1’s sumptuous Eve, The Apple of My Eye was on Grey’s Anatomy or whatever. ↩︎

Twenty years or so ago, an existential question came up regularly. I was the frontman of the band I was in almost by default; didn’t it seem a bit weird having the short, hairy guy doing the singing? Shouldn’t he be tucked away behind the drum kit or something?

To which one can at least reply: but Phil Collins.¹

Even though this week’s track originally appeared as a single two years before the range for this project, we will expand the rules a little for this bait-and-switch because the primary – and best – exposure to this and many other Phil Collins tracks comes through the vehicle of the Brit Award-nominated Serious Hits… Live!, an album that I borrowed from my father a few decades ago and kept around.² Collins walks a very fine line between cheesy 80s idiosyncrasy, and some of the tightest and finest pop production you are ever going to hear. The massive Serious Hits tour came at the height of his powers: a massive production, and a band with the chops to match the theatrics.³

Collins, as a person and as a musician, is as divisive as the film American Psycho – which features a legendary monologue about his work – but this music simply slaps.

Around about 2010, we had a group ski trip to France, unironically soundtracked, depending on which car you were seated in, by either the audio album of Dylan Moran’s Monster, or Phil Collins’ Greatest Hits. This was after the Cadbury’s advert featuring the Gorilla and In the Air Tonight, so Phil was in the mid of 20-somethings beyond the long-term listeners. But for me, the live recordings of these songs simply out punch the studio versions: there’s something about the energy. Even though Easy Lover comes late in the track listing (track 14 of 15), the energy carries through thanks to a late run on the album that includes, You Can’t Hurry Love into Two Hearts into Sussudio – that’s a lot of funk for Side 2!

I love it: a tight band, a hyped crowd, and a group of vocalists having the time of their lives – I hope it brightens your day too.

1. This is as far as this comparison legitimately goes! ↩︎
2. I was less successful in shoplifting his Graceland LP, but mentioning Paul Simon gives me an opportunity to get You Can Call Me Al onto our Spotify playlist by including it here, so you’re welcome. ↩︎
3. After you’re done here, you can stick on a remastered version of the entire concert film here. ↩︎