News

2nd March 2013

Great news this week in the shape of that bastion of UK music journalism ‘Q Magazine’ backing ‘All At Sea’ with a whopping 4* review. The review is a thing to be celebrated and I’m certainly really excited about it but what does that actually mean in the scheme of things?
Trying to get a record into peoples’ ears is an interesting art. We wait for the stars to align, hold a finger in the air, do three turns round the maypole, jump through 12 strangely shaped hoops  and wait and see what happens.

Q Magazine means loads to my generation. My dad had a subscription to it in the 90′s – I cut them up and stuck images of icons round my bedroom until there wasn’t a square inch of wallpaper left. I woke up every morning with The Beatles ‘Help’ album as my alarm clock with the eyes of Lennon, Mcartney, Bjork, The Cardigans, Kate Moss, The Spice Girls (I was *so* ironic and edgy as a teenager) and more staring back at me. Q Magazine was literally my cultural wallpaper!

On the other hand, Zoe, one of my students, had no idea that Q Magazine was still going. ‘We had to look at it when I did my GCSE’s but I didn’t realise it was still around!’. That made me feel VERY old indeed!

Whatever way you look at it, a review in Q Magazine is slap of recognition. Within the industry it appears to be the star of doors edging open that were previously shut. Perhaps it’s just given me the confidence to go and knock on them again, or rather a reason to go and knock again. But most importantly, it’s started a conversation with people that like my music – it’s given the album kudos and something for old and new friends to talk about and share.

As a result, I’ve come to the conclusion that reviews are like little waves that artists have to ride until they fold into the shore. I’m really grateful for Q giving me the space in their magazine, now it’s up to me to allow and find ways for others to ride the wave with me. I’ve heard such wonderful stories of Sue and Martin listening in New Zealand, of Brandon and Nina driving across Houston, of Louise in Dorset finding solace in the music…and more…and I’d like to capture these moments and share in them.

So…I’d like you to send me pictures of the places you have listened to the songs on All At Sea. I’ll edit them together to create videos to share on youtube. You will get an artistic credit at the end of the video but I’ll also share your twitter handle/ any message that you’d like to include in the film. Tell me your story about the song, what lyric you think of when you see the picture….just tell me about you, I’m genuinely interested.

I’ve set up a gmail account to collate them all. Drop a line to shootingfishesinatank@gmail.com

I’ll let you know how I get on using the #allatsea hashtag on twitter and through the fan page thing on facebook.

Thanks x

 

 

 

I love the strange sense of mystery you get about Jacob Zachary.

Maybe it’s his beard. Maybe it’s because it feels like he’s sobbing every word. Maybe it’s the fact that this collection of songs is called ‘Collectibles: 2004 – 2007′…it’s like he’s cast them aside.

WHY? That’s what my little mind starts ticking over…Why on earth would these be the songs you’d throw away? Why would these be the ones you forget about when they’re this good?!…What’s so collectible about these than the other stuff.

And you know what happens then? He kicks you in the face with lyrics like:

‘So violently fragile, we roll but we rattle, like freight on a bed of rails’

And it’s at that point, 51 secs into the first song that my heart just melts and a lump forms in my throat.

Echoes of Bruce Springsteen to his voice but with a strange sadness that reminds me of Elliott Smith. The depth to his songwriting is so vast that I feel in awe of his strength. It’s unusual to hear someone so at home in their songs, they are comfortable and he wears them with no spangly jazz hands and probably no shoes. This is a man with a beard, wearing corduroy, reading a smudged book of lyrics by candle light. And that’s just about perfect…

Jacob Zachary is a wonderful songwriter that will fill your world with that light.

 

Steve Lawson is one of gods better people. This is a fact.

Back in 2008, or thereabouts I was lucky enough to play a show with him and his lovely wife Lobelia (also a god’s best person) in an underground toilet on Shepherd’s Bush Green, but that’s another story.

Steve has long been a champion of my work and it seems he has an ability to sense those days when I want to pack it all in, crawl into a cave and be alone. Those are the days he sends a me tweet to say ‘hello’ or he provides a link of my work to his friends and followers around the globe. Those moments are like a little ray of sunshine in an otherwise pretty dark cave.

I’ve loved Steve’s music for some time, mainly because it’s like nothing else I’ve ever heard. I never really got into the whole ambient thing except for a brief moment on the roof of a posh school with my friend David Nock (who’s a wonderful musician based down in Dorset). We were in Youth Orchestra being middle class and smoking weed.

Steve’s music is more than ‘just’ a soundscape. In ‘Nothing Can Prepare’ there’s a brevity and strength to these two extended pieces of music that entirely change your sense of time, space and place. Perhaps it’s the knowledge that the space it’s being performed in is a bloody great big church, maybe it’s the interaction of the playing…either way it’s so ‘other worldly’ you can’t help but become overwhelmed by it’s magnitude.

The moment at which Andy’s improvised Sax pops in to the frame is stunning, it’s like the pied piper has turned up. This is of course a great thing. Steve is more excited than anyone else about Andy’s arrival, and they weave their made up musical genius in threads around each other. I am overwhelmed by the soulfulness.

From the liner notes, we learn that Andy has just had a kidney transplant and once he’s through a period of recovery, they’re going to tour the UK with this wonderful music. By paying £10 or more you get a free ticket. You can pay the minimum payment of £3.

I pay £10. I want to sit in a church, close my eyes and remember what it was like up on that roof with David again. This is like drugs, without the drugs….

So the second of my Christmas presents to myself was this little gem of an EP.

These songs are double tracked Elliott Smith style sombre vocals, underpinned by syncopated pianos and weird geeky synths. Animal from the Muppets pounds away on the drums. Choruses uplift and carry us all on the walk through town to work, wherever that may be…This is one of those records that means you’ll just keep walking. Work? What work?…

These are such great songs and such cool production, hinting at influence from the genius of Jon Brion and even with the odd jazz chord here and there that satisfies my 6th form Acid Jazz days.

This is one of those records you hear the huge compression immediately, (for those non-geeky music types…the aesthetic of this record is such that it literally JUMPS out at you – it’s immediate, it feels huge…that’s compression) but it’s done really effectively. I think that’s down to the fragility of those double tracked vocals.

The EP, it turns out is just a tiny doorway to a whole new world of music. ‘The Real Efforts Of Real People’ comprise of Kristopher Pooley, Ben West and Daniel Zott. All accomplished musicians in their own right, these chaps have worked with quite the most eclectic range of projects, they’ve written with, mixed, mastered or produced Glee (?!), Morrissey, Gwen Stefani, Janes Addiction and Melissa Etheridge…amongst (many) others. Mental.

The minimum purchase price for this was $5. That’s just over £3, which I thought was a bit cheap for the 6 songs on offer…so I upped the amount to $8.50 which is nearer £5. In my mind that’s huge value for money.

You’ll love this record. Check it…