May 12th, 2017
With the encroaching cynicism of middle age, episodes of excitement become increasingly rare. Perhaps a trip to some unvisited country raises the heart-rate a little but the unearned sense that you’ve seen-it-done-it lends every novelty a suspicious odour of staleness. Perhaps the arrival of grandchildren kickstarts some enthusiasm and shock and grief will cause ructions in the millpond of mild surprise but on the whole, you greet life with a shrug. Governments come and go and you whine weakly at their various crimes.
It comes with a jolt then to find yourself excited by anything, but releasing an album remains one of those things. You spend years pondering and collating, writing and recording all to the ultimate end of letting something out, freeing something and in turn being freed from it. So the actual day of its public exposure remains supremely important and there is no other word for the emotion it engenders than excitement. You’re excited for these songs and desperate to see them do well in the world. In your major label days this day was momentous. In-store gigs, signing sessions, TV and radio. Your album would be heralded like some royal birth and splashed across the culture like news of a great wedding. But that feeling doesn’t fade even as you watch your latest work ooze out sluggishly through the narrow crevices of online stores, streaming sites and social media feeds. You are proud and expectant; that familiar flush of anticipation starts to build – you are excited. Where will they go and who will they reach? What parts will irritate, which will do the emotional business? Will anyone buy it on any level? Will it put food on the table?
This Is My Kingdom Now isn’t mine anymore. Today it’s out and it’s yours or theirs or nobody’s. And I am out, I have outed myself. I’m a middle aged man and I’m excited; like a boy with his bags at the door, desperate to get into the car. I’m good to go, I’m waving what I’ve made farewell and wishing it good luck.
This Is My Kingdom Now out today on all capitalist tech outfits
May 12th, 2017
This masterpiece of meh can be retrieved from here in physical form: https://justincurrie.tmstor.es/
And here in bits: http://apple.co/2naovtO
And from the tax dodging employee exploiters here: http://amzn.to/2n0Noch
Tour with The Pallbearers announced for October/ November!!!!!!!
May 12th, 2017
Tickets on sale 9:00am on Monday 15th May
See Parades for details.
Separated at Perth?
April 18th, 2017
Perth want me to punt this:
Consider it punted, Perth.
Album release announced via satellite, telegraph, semaphore etc…
March 24th, 2017
Good moaning. I take great pleasure today in announcing the pre-release (whatever the fuck that is) of This Is My Kingdom Now, my latest collection of stuff.
Hear the brand-new-smash-hit-number-one single, Sydney Harbour Bridge here: http://spoti.fi/2ndHjtQ
The album is out on May 12th (May the twelpth be with you) but you can pre-order it here: http://amzn.to/2n0Noch
OR if you want the thing bundled with an ART print (feel the quality, see the shine) stylishly signed by my hairy mitt then get in here:
You can hear the title track here:http://spoti.fi/2nOJ97I
More exciting smash hit news to follow. Smashing, isn’t it?
This Is My Kingdom Now
February 10th, 2017
Link to high-budget video. Directed by Steven Seagull.
Short UK jaunt announced
February 9th, 2017
Just added some dates in May/June to support the forthcoming release of This Is My Kingdom Now on Endless Shipwreck records.
See Parades for dates and ticket links.
Rod’s Concert for Myeloma
June 16th, 2015
When I was little and when I was a little bigger, before I joined the fraternity of a band, I had no brothers. Two fine and beautiful older sisters and a brilliant maw but no brother to kick a football around with or to pick a fight with, to blame or to laugh with. Suited me – I didn’t need the competition.
What I did have, however, was cousin Rod, four years older but never dismissive of me (little squirt that I was) nor bullying or belligerent. Rod paid me the same respect and attention that he did his own friends. He was generous and giving and funny to a fault.
And Rod had records. Beatles’ records, Eric Clapton records, Jimi Hendrix records. He even had an 8-Track cartridge deck. While my big sister Rachel introduced me to cool things like Dr Feelgood and Thin Lizzy, Rod had the classic rock collection and no reservations about lending me anything he had for me to study and tape. It wasn’t until punk rock and the last two years of school that I found anyone else so happy to lend out their precious (and at the time seriously expensive) albums.
So Rod was part of my musical upbringing, devoid of snobbery and catholic of taste, he introduced me to a wide range of influences that I carry with me to this day.
So that’s why I jumped when he asked me (well, got his wife Susan to ask me, the coward) to perform at a concert in aid of Myeloma UK this Saturday, the charity he’s been closely involved with (and raised incredible sums of cash for) since being diagnosed and treated for this particularly savage and unpredictable cancer a few years back.
As some folk will know I tend to avoid fundraising gigs – I suspect the motivations of those involved and despise sanctimoniousness. When I do charity shows I do them for one reason: because I love the people who have asked me to help.
Not that I’ll be much help on Saturday. Expect the usual litany of carping, sneering and cynicism that forms the bedrock of my solo performances. For I am no use to man nor beast. But you can be of great help.
Buy a ticket here:
General Election May 2015
May 16th, 2015
It does not matter whether the United Queendom prevails. All that matters is subjugating the Irish, the Welsh and the Scots.
“Those little tykes, they love a fight and they will fight for us, our United Queendom.
They will bow down and believe: they will serve. Serve their country, serve their priest, serve their landlord and serve their Queen, serve the service, serve the laird, the Lord, the God, the god knows what in between.
It does not matter if they wish to leave, for they are tied forever to our sleeve.
They cannot puke, nor piss, nor think without us. They cannot spend, they cannot send. They cannot bend.
For we…are rulers, and what do rulers do? We rule – they taught us that at school.
We have the tanks, we have the troops (though some were slaughtered – oops!)
We have the power and the might
But hush! What comes within? Are those dirty bastards dim? Are they not grateful, not polite, that through the ballot box they might…
We have no truck with such complainers
In the Queendom we ignore such folk
And if annoyed? We make them samers.”
All the same it seems to me,
I have no desire for a country,
Just a maw to make my bed,
And a nurse to hold my head.
I’ve no desire for a country,
But, Jesus I want to be free.
A united people, a united cause,
All things being equal
Let’s boot their baws.
BEST MUSIC OF 2014
December 31st, 2014
It was the year when the sound of eighties synths and vocals swamped in reverb continued unabated, a colour that seems to have been in vogue on both sides of the Atlantic for at least five years. The year when Kate came back and folk swooned while nobody really noticed gems like Withered Hand’s New Gods and Perfect Pussy’s Say Yes To Love. The year when lavish praise was poured over the Parquet Courts album in spite of it being stuffed with direct lifts from the history of post-punk; The Feelies and The Fall especially. When Paulo Nutini attempted to make an enormous soul/pop album and somehow managed to remain utterly charming and brilliant in spite of missing his target by a country mile. When Leonard Cohen, yet again released an album of faultless songs irreparably marred by horrifically cheap production and female backing vocalists who wouldn’t be out of place on a ghastly Two Ronnies pop parody. When James Yorkston quietly put out the best produced and most genre-defying album a Scottish act has come up with in a decade. When Jack White again proved that nobody in mainstream rock can catch him for slipperiness and sheer melodic invention and when Arial Pink made a prog-rock/math-pop album of such stunning weirdness it may be mentioned in the same breath as Skip Spence’s Oar come the great day of rock judgement. When Columbia finally released most everything from the Basement Tapes vaults proving that even out-of-tune, unfinished and appallingly recorded and performed songs can somehow be magically listenable for the sheer lunatic commitment of the musicians involved. And finally, a year when lyrics came back with a vengeance as evinced by Sun Kil Moon’s harrowing, heartbreaking and hilarious Benji.
In no particular order…
TV On The Radio: Trouble (from Seeds)
Ariel Pink: Black Ballerina, White Freckles, Plastic Raincoats In The Pig Parade (from Pom Pom)
A Sunny Day In Glasgow: In Love With Useless (from Sea When Absent)
Sharon Van Etten: Afraid Of Nothing (from Are We There)
Ought: Habit (from More Than Every Other Day)
The War On Drugs: Under The Pressure, Red Eyes, Eyes To The Wind (from Lost In The Dream)
Withered Hand: California, New Gods, Horseshoe (from New Gods)
Sun Kil Moon: I Watched The Film The Sun Remained The Same, Pray For Newtown, I Can’t Live Without My Mother’s Love (from Benji)
Naomi Bedford: Wild And Charming Energy, The Watches Of The Night (from A History Of Insolence)
Peter Matthew Bauer: Irish Wake In Varanasi (from Liberation!)
Perfect Pussy: I (Live), Interference Fits (from Say Yes To Love)
Angel Olsen: White Fire, Hi-Five (from Burn Your Fire For No Witness)
James Yorkston: Broken Wave, Guy Fawkes’ Signature (from The Cellardyke Recording and Wassailing Society)
Hamilton Leithaser: I Don’t Need Anyone (from Black Hours)
As a postscript I’d like to mention Father John Misty’s astonishing cover of Leonard Cohen’s One Of Us Cannot Be Wrong which came out a few years ago but only cropped up on my digital card-deck shuffle in October. It tears tour skin off. Also Danny Brown’s Lonely from Old which came out late last year.
And lastly, I should mention the Aphex Twin album, Spyro, which I have on vinyl. Because I couldn’t figure out the fucking free download thing I have only managed to listen to it completely mangled – that seems to be the time my vinyl gets aired these days. As a result of being in such an altered state I became convinced that it contained one of the most radical tracks I’d ever heard until I realised I’d been listening to the needle scraping round and round the label for forty minutes. Just goes to show you how much one’s mental state is responsible for how we perceive quality. And also what a fucking wanker I am.
Happy Hogmanay and Happy New Year when it arrives.