Yard Act

D'yer ever find your bubble of intense loneliness and isolation momentarily burst by a flash of angry and wild solidarity?

That is what Yard Act do for me.

I must've heard Fixer Upper in 2020 and was utterly beguiled by the immaculate characterisation of the satirical protagonist in the song.

Somehow even now - or should I say, especially now - it seems even more vivid and real. And I guess in an odd way, it is nice to feel aligned with a shrewd and fun piss-take of this character who seem ten-a-penny.

Orite, Graham.

Inwards

The new album, Feeling So Fun Reality, by Inwards is an incredibly welcome addition to my soundscape. It feels fresh yet familiar and loops through a range of evocative emotional states.

But there is something about the track We Are Not Alone that is especially sweet and sentimental.

This is fast going to be a favoured album for filling my little box room office with shuffling melody and warmth.

Tourist

Accessing joy - however fleeting - seems to be a challenge in the current circumstances.

But Wild by Tourist kinda gives a wee sensation of it. Must be why it is the album title track.

And Spotify informs me that Tourist is one of my most played artists recently. Indicative of that search.

That might come off as maudlin, but genuinely, this track is beautifully lifting.

Barnes Blvd.

Some stripped back beauty.

I simply cannot explain just yet why this means so much.

But it does.

The Trouble With Me

I became and still am inexplicably attached to this track. It was part of a self-compiled playlist of upbeat dance anthems of yesteryear, and with long solo car journeys to provide end-of-life care the playlist lightened my heart in otherwise bleak circumstances earlier this year.

But something about this track in particular I simply cannot let go of yet.

And weirdly it either has me singing and dancing deliriously, or choking back tears and emotion.

Go figure, eh?

Absolutely belter, mind you.

I'm Not Okay (But That is Right For Right Now)

My Dad died.

It wasn't unexpected. I got to be by his bedside, tell him I love him and hold his hand. I also got to care for him in the months prior. In person and virtually. We were able to make arrangements and speak pretty openly.

But it is still shit.

I think I am back here blogging in this long-held space because, ultimately, I am lonely. I knew I would be. In the months leading up to it I had anticipatory grief knowing that my pal was going to die and I would be left without a comrade and ally. But this loneliness is not just emotional, but a physical pain too. Sitting on my chest. No one to share that pro independent Scotland meme with. No one to tell how amazing the dystopian novel The Memory Police by Yoko Ogawa I just read is. No one to absolutely smash me mercilessly at backgammon. No one to share all that lo-fi electronica with. No one who will be as invested or respond in the same way.

So I guess I might end up here, sharing sad and longing posts about music that is both sustaining and painful. Maybe in the hope that it might resonate.

Pueblo Vista · oilix - Smr.luv