20. Sufjan Stevens -- Illinois (2005)

Sufjan’s Prairie State

I wish he did all fifty

(Yes, I fell for it)

19. Jeffrey Lewis -- It’s the Ones Who’ve Cracked That The Light Shines Through (2003)

Anti-folk hero

Serves comic stripped down delight

Raw, honest and fun

18. PJ Harvey -- Stories from the City, Stories from the Sea (2000)

Poptastic Polly

Her most commercial album

That never sells out

17. Pulp -- We Love Life (2001)

Leafy perfection

From kitchen sink troubadours

Sad, Sheffield swansong

16. TV on the Radio -- Dear Science (2008)

Arse-shaking anger

As Sitek and crew unleash

Brooklyn funky stuff

15. Bruce Springsteen -- Working on a Dream (2009)

My favourite Boss

Is reconciled with E Street

Glory Days again!

14. Midlake -- The Trials of Van Occupanther (2006)

Lush, pastoral grooves

Et in arcadia they go

I think I’ll head home!

13. The Strokes -- Is This It (2001)

New York storybook

A soundtrack of the decade

This, it seems, is it

12. Johnny Cash -- American III: Solitary Man (2000)

Departed legend

Au revoir, L’homme en noir

No one sounds like you

11. Brian Wilson -- Smile (2004)

Infamous Beached Boy

Went back to sea triumphant

And served up Surf’s Up

10. Grinderman -- Grinderman (2007)

Black Crow Kingdom reigns

As Bad Seeds bear twisted fruit

(See what I did there?)

9. The White Stripes -- White Blood Cells (2001)

Third from Jack and Meg

With incandescent gee-tars

And Awesome Welles riff

7. Lift to Experience -- The Texas-Jerusalem Crossroads (2001)

A Lone Star Statement

They burnt fast but -- by God! -- burnt bright

“Don’t mess with Texas”

8. Wilco -- Yankee Hotel Foxtrot (2002)

Tupelo’s Tweedy

Overcame Warner Bother

To create this gem

6. The National -- Alligator (2005)

Late night, low-rent wit

Don’t compare to Tindersticks

They’re better than that

5. Arcade Fire -- Funeral (2005)

Mournful joie de vivre

Joyous momento mori

(Inadequate praise)

4. Tom Waits -- Orphans: Brawlers, Bawlers and Bastards (2006)

Gravel voiced Bardfly

Serves up three courses of treats

We hunger for more!

3. Warren Zevon -- Life’ll Kill Ya (2000)

Sardonic singer

Enjoyed every sandwich

Then left us a feast

2. Lambchop -- Nixon (2000)

Funky slide guitars

Where country and Curtis meet

Mayfield, not Stigers!

1. The Flaming Lips -- Yoshima Battles The Pink Robots (2002)

Fearless freaks, rejoice!

Perfect bubblepop classic

Don’t you realize??

Don’t you just hate those end of year countdown shows? Cheap, schedule-padding fodder consisting of cobbled together clips and witless pundits pontificating witlessly. I even wrote about me intense dislike for this pernicious genre here. Oh, how I hate them.

Here’s a countdown of my favourite gigs of 2007:

10. Jeffrey Lewis & The Jitters, Birmingham Hare & Hounds, 20th October

My third Jeffrey Lewis gig and the best so far. I wrote a lengthy review of it here. In that review I forgot to mention that in addition to Jeffrey’s uncle – Professor Louis – there was also support from local ska hipsters Dexter. Let me remedy that now: I thought they were fab. This belated endorsement is a little pointless, however, as Dexter have since imploded-slash-morphed into a new popular beat combo called walk.don’t.walk. Oh, well – it’s the thought that counts.

9. CSS, Latitude Festival, 14th July

A guilty pleasure, and we’re all allowed those. CSS‘s vibrant set encapsulated the wonderful Latitude Festival for me, and their track “Let’s Make Love and Listen to Death From Above” was this year’s feelgood Summer song of choice with my tinny-but-temperamental car stereo.

The Latitude weekend was one of my highlights of this year for me, and this is the first of several mentions it gets on this list. I’ve already booked my ticket for next year’s. You should, too.

8. Damo Suzuki and his Assortment of Sound-Carrying Biatches : Birmingham Hare & Hounds, August 16th

A mad, mad night of madness and the madness does not diminish with the passage of time. I wrote about it here. Did I mention it was mad?

Here’s a pic wot Pete took:

Former Can-man Suzuki played what was possibly the same song repeatedly (it was hard to tell) with a rotating lineup of “sound carrying” local bands including The Courtesy Group, Mills and Boon and the mighty Modified Toy Orchestra (whose gig at the Birmingham Town Hall in October very almost nearly got into this Top 10).

Here some YouTubery featuring Damo at a Courtesy Group event from 2005:

7. Tony Bennett, Birmingham Town Hall, 8th May

The next best thing to seeing Sinatra live. As Stan Lee would say, “‘Nuff Said.”

6. Jarvis Cocker: Latitude Festival, 15th July

He is Jarvis: that is reason enough.

As an encore he played Survivor’s “Eye of the Tiger”.

Need I say more?

5. Jim White & Jenny Owen Youngs, Birmingham Barfly, 18th October

A headliner and his support. Is that allowed? Shouldn’t that be two separate entries?

It’s my list. They’re my rules. Deal with it.

Here’s Jenny Owen Youngs on the night in question, courtesy of YouTube and a public-minded citizen:

And here’s Jim White at a different Barfly on the same tour singing the wonderfully-titled “A Bar Is Just A Church Where They Serve Beer”:

4. The Pogues: Birmingham Academy, 16th December

Tough call. I was very tempted to place them higher as they played an absolute blinder of a gig, even by the legendary standards of a Pogues’ gig. But it was only a fortnight ago (and I only wrote about it two blog entries ago) and I like to give my perceptions space to breathe, so I’ll exercise some restraint.

But, Goddamnit – that was one helluva night…

Here’s a taster from the night, courtesy of yet another public-spirited soul & YouTube:

3. The National: Latitude Festival, 15th July; Birmingham Irish Centre, 6th November

So good I saw them twice this year. That should say it all.

This is them quiet:

This is them loud:

2. Devo: Birmingham Symphony Hall, 22nd June

At the beginning of the year, Devo – they of the yellow boiler suits, red plastic hats and New Wave bequirkery – weren’t really on my Gigs I Must Really Go To This Year list. But my friends Pete and Jez – two self-confessed Devo spuds – were so excited at the prospect of their first UK tour in 17-odd years that it would have been churlish of me to decline the invite. So I went.

Let’s just say that their set lit me up, fused my synapses and left me smiling like a simple-minded child. I’d never thought that such hard-rocking euphoria could be produced within the ornate surroundings of Birmingham Symphony Hall. I wasn’t alone: the venue’s security staff looked positively bewildered.

I am convinced. I am converted. I am Devolved.

1. Arcade Fire: Latitude Festival, 15th July

I mentioned before that the Latitude Festival was one of the highlights of my year. Well, this was the highlight of Latitude.

Arcade Fire concerts are legendary, so my expectations were high. That can be a kiss of death, but thankfully they delivered. It was everything I’d hoped for and more.

Sublime, awe-inducing, breathtaking. Up there with Radiohead at Glastonbury ’97. Really: that’s how good it was.

Honourable mention should go to the following who didn’t quite make the list: The Modified Toy Orchestra at Birmingham Town Hall [15th October]; Misty’s Big Adventure & The Destroyers at Brum’s Rootsville Festival [30th June]; Wilco [who I heard but couldn't see so can't include], Rodrigo Y Gabriela [disqualified as I only caught the last 15 minutes of their set, which seemed pretty fucking awesome], The Good The Bad & The Queen, Bat For Lashes and Joan as Policewoman at Latitude; Bearsuit at the Sunflower Lounge [September 7th].

Also, despite the cruel and resentful things I said in a previous post, I quite enjoyed The Police at the NIA, too. Begrudgingly.

It’s only now that I realise that 2007 was the year I became a fully fledged gig tart.

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“I wish that I believed in fate

I wish I didn’t sleep so late

I used to be carried in the arms of cheerleaders.”

- The National: Mr November

“Everything I can remember

I remember wrong.”

The National: Daughters of the SoHo Riots

It’s been a long time since I last visited Birmingham’s Irish Centre. I remember going there as a child, my Dad supping a pint of Guinness in the lounge while my little brother Rob and I scoffed vinegar-soaked chips and slurped watered-down Coke and tried to play pool on a table we could barely reach. Back then, Rob was significantly shorter than me and “little brother” was more than just a figure of speech. Ah, simple times.

And, look… there I am again: slightly older, none-the-wiser and now I’m standing outside the Irish Centre. I’m waiting for the coach that’ll take my family and me to Aunt Maria’s cottage in rural County Monagahan – via Hollyhead and the Irish Sea – and aren’t I the sulky wee gobshite! Star Trek 2: The Wrath of Khan was about to be released on the big screen and I was going to an Irish village with one shop, three pubs and no cinema. There was no doubt in my mind that I wouldn’t get to see Star Trek 2: The Wrath of Khan in the way that God intended, and this caused me great anguish. But I’d more than make up for it in later years, and – for that matter – in recent weeks.

As I got older, the Irish Centre became a regular fixture in my teenage calendar. I went to numerous gigs there – from late-80s seminal indie darlings like The Sundays to raucous Irish folk bands like the Wolfe Tones. It was also the regular venue for my sixth form college’s end-of-term disco. Yes, we called them “discos” and we weren’t being ironic or post-modern. That’s how O-L-D I am.

I can still remember one end-of-termer during my late teens, as the proper old-school, non-superstar DJ – a middle-aged man known as The Mighty Quinn – put on the obligatory Pogues track and the dancefloor erupted, as Anglo-Irish dancefloors have a tendency to do during obligatory Pogues tracks. It was Fiesta, one of the barnstormers from the classic If I Should Fall From Grace With God album, and it wasn’t long before I found myself entwined in a spinning huddle of drunken bodies. Fast, faster then even faster we spun, like some booze-fuelled, high-octane centrifuge of booze. Faces, lights and sounds melted into a dizzying, synaesthetic blur until, inevitably, I lost my grip, flew through the air and crashed into some vacant tables and chairs parked nearby. Within seconds I was back on my feet – dusting off the booze, ash, glass and bits of table – and launched myself back into the fray with tremendous gusto.

These days, my recovery time is a bit more sluggish. If I was catapulted though the air and crashed into furniture now I’d probably be in a body cast typing this with broken fingers. Or dead. Or possibly a broken-fingered corpse.

Like I said, it had been a long time since I’d last visited Birmingham’s Irish Centre. More than seventeen years had gone by since I’d last made an eejit of myself in the main hall, but when I went to see The National last month very little had changed. The same tricolour flag was hanging in the corner, the same Irish lakeside mural was on the wall and – unless I’m mistaken – the same fittings and fixtures were behind the bar. It was as though the place had been preserved in amber, a weird time-capsule of faded 70’s working class elegance. Nothing had changed, only me.

For me the Irish Centre is still loaded with meaning, and few places resonate with my memories – with my personal history and mythology – in quite the same way. As I glanced around the main hall – at the chipped paint on the Céad Míle Fáilte sign, at the school assembly hall stage with its gold foil drapes – it set off a wild cascade of half-remembered moments. Dreamlike glimpses of lost innocence and lurid triumphs, a nonlinear slideshow of images that all run together and never make sense. The shy 16 year-old gracefully disappears in a room while his boisterous older incarnation raises his heavenly glasses to the heavens. Snapshots from a simpler time, when all the wine was all for me and we were heirs to the glimmering world.

It was the perfect place to see a band like The National.

[Originally published in my MySpace blog 18/08/2007]

For the benefit of my new friend from Seattle with exquisite music taste [translation: "similar to mine"], the lyrics to The National’s sublime “Boxer” album have been unofficially transcribed HERE

For the rest of you: if you haven’t listened to it yet, then what are you waiting for? It’s melancholic, witty and wise and I really can’t recommend it highly enough.

“You get mistaken for strangers by your own friends
When you pass them at night under the silvery, silvery citibank lights
Arm in arm in arm and eyes and eyes glazing under
Oh you wouldn’t want an angel watching over
Surprise, surprise they wouldn’t wannna watch
Another uninnocent, elegant fall into the unmagnificent lives of adults”

That’s good shit, that is.

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