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I had the surprise opportunity to see Clock Opera (again) the other night, which meant dragging myself off the couch and shambling over to Scala to meet my housemate, who had paid for the ticket and added it to the bill that one day I will pay back I swear, and a couple of friends, who didn’t buy my ticket but are lovely nonetheless.

About halfway to the tube station, I found I had forgotten my glasses, but then I ended up stuck behind a row full of tall people so I couldn’t see anyway. This is how it goes at gigs. This is just one of the drawbacks of being a 5’4” halfling.

There are a few upsides. Once, in a bar below a theatre open exclusively to actors, I told people I “was in Lord of the Rings.” Nobody questioned it.

So I saw Clock Opera for the third time since last year, and I’ve watched Guy Connelly’s beard sprout and evolve into the glorious face-hedge it is today. The album came out on Monday to largely negative reviews, which confused me until I actually gave it a listen. They’re better live.

It’s still a good album, though. Here’s The Lost Buoys.

Beautiful Small Machines — Counting Back to 1

The Beta Band — Dry the Rain

I’d forgotten all about The Beta Band until I started writing about High Fidelity for FilmBuff.com this morning, which should tell you something about my relationship with music. I haven’t done the deep maths (or any maths), but an estimated 60 per cent of my music taste comes from film soundtracks. I only listened to Wolfmother after they were featured in (500) Days of Summer. I grew up with 1980s hair metal and I’m certain that’s because I was exposed to Wayne’s World at an impressionable age. Guitar Hero is also responsible for a sizeable portion of it. I’m not sorry.

Speaking of which, I should watch High Fidelity again. I last watched it when I was nineteen, not a real adult; recently I’ve been re-watching films I haven’t seen yet in my twenties, wondering whether I can understand them any better now I’m more wrinkled and worldly. I didn’t have five of anything to rank when I was nineteen.

For the record, I don’t understand music any better now I’m 25. I still have the taste of a fourteen-year-old girl.

I saw this picture of Béatrice Martin (a.k.a. Coeur de Pirate) on Ned Hepburn’s blog and I had to post it, because I’ve been drinking and da-yumn, but I also felt obliged to add this song firstly because it’s quite a good album — like a Regina Spektor album with the annoying parts edited out — but secondly, because I feel like I have to justify the fact I find her all sorts of attractive.

No, I don’t know why I have to justify it either, I mean, if this tattooed Canadian singer-songwriter… sweet Olfather, those eyes… then I — what was I writing about again?

Actually, I’ve been informed I have an umbrella fetish for Canadians, so maybe that’s all there is to it. You can probably ignore this post, then.

Beautiful Small Machines cover M.I.A.’s Paper Planes with banjos. I’m into it.

TV on the Radio — Second Song

Last year’s Nine Types of Light was a little bit disappointing, but the album still has some pretty good songs on it, and very different to TV on the Radio’s earlier stuff. This song in particular is— is “funky” still a word people use? Let’s go with funky. In the good sense of the word people no longer use.

Danger Mouse & Daniele Luppi — Black, feat. Norah Jones

“I won.”

Ladyhawke – Black, White & Blue.

Because fuck you, I like Ladyhawke. New album in March. Yes.

If anyone tells you Adaptation failed in the third act, they missed the point.

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