10 Fucking Songs

Last week, I went on Twitter to complain about how long it had been since I last sat down and made a proper playlist. Eager to crack my knuckles and exercise my track-selecting skills, I asked people to suggest potential themes; Ash Cooke's suggestion (famous painters) proved too tricky, especially given my self-imposed "no songs I don't have" rule, but this suggestion from @Archrawr seemed a lot more doable:

In fact, I decided that "sweary songs" would be too broad a playing field, and so I added an extra restriction of my own: my playlist would solely consist of songs with the word 'fuck' in them.

In Anticipation of the Shortlist for the 2014 Welsh Music Prize

or, 'Crap! I Might Actually Have Listened to Some of This Year's Nominees!'

As some of you may remember, I followed last year's Welsh Music Prize very closely. Some might say too closely; I dedicated an entire blog post to each nominee, listening to all 12 albums in turn and deciding, over the course of several weeks, which act I was rooting for. You can relive the whole saga here if you're so inclined.

I'd dearly like to do it all again this year, but I've got a bit of a problem. The WMP folks haven't revealed their 2014 shortlist yet - the announcement is slated for next Tuesday - but there are two albums that are almost certain to be included:

Left: American Interior by Gruff Rhys. Right: Futurology by the Manic Street Preachers.

Now, the whole reason I embarked upon my great WMP adventure last year was because I'd only heard one of the twelve album's on the 2013 shortlist (Praxis Makes Perfect by Neon Neon). I felt kind of bad for ignoring all of this (presumably) excellent Welsh music - music made, more or less, on my own doorstep - and so I bought and blogged about each album as an act of penance.

But if Gruff Rhys and the Manics both make this year's shortlist - and they surely will, given the glowing reception that both albums received - I'll have heard more than one of the nominated albums, and the whole thing will be a little less meaningful for it. There could be others, too - it will be a travesty if Quiet Marauder's MEN isn't included on the shortlist, and I'm pretty sure that Andrew Paul Regan's very good Dinas Powys album is eligible, too. If all four of these albums get the nod, I'll already be familiar with a quarter of the shortlist, and while I suppose I can still blog about those records that I already own, it won't be an epic voyage of discovery like last time. Besides, I'm not sure I can muster yet another blog about MEN.

Oh well. All I can do at this point is wait and see - the shortlist will be announced on Tuesday, so I'll make a decision once I know which albums are up for the gong. In the meantime, here's a choice cut from last year's shortlist:

Your Track Twos

Last week, I kicked off The Album Wall's second year with a list of my favourite track twos. Iron Maiden were there, as were Led Zeppelin, Radiohead, Pulp...you ought to read it, it was really quite the blog post.

Anyway, after publishing that list, I then opened the floor to you lot, hoping to be reminded of some other smashing second songs. You didn't disappoint me, and so here are five of your favourite track twos:

The Modern Age by The Strokes (from Is This It)

Suggested by Hertford Soul
The opening track of Is This It sounds kind of subdued, and so The Modern Age is the moment when things really kick into gear. It's the first glimpse of what has become The Strokes' signature sound: spiky guitars, near-spoken vocals, and plenty of opportunities for jerky, awkward dancing.

If Everything was the End

Richey Edwards, lyricist and rhythm guitarist for the Manic Street Preachers, disappeared on the 1st of February, 1995. A year and a bit later, the remaining Manics released Everything Must Go, a huge album that found the group abandoning the gristly, confrontational sound of their previous record and making a move towards swooping strings and big, anthemic choruses. The Holy Bible is still the critics' choice, but Everything Must Go was arguably the band's first real step towards the fame, success, and Welsh national treasure status they now enjoy.

Understandably, Everything Must Go is often portrayed as the beginning of Manics Mk II; their first album as a trio, with a markedly more radio-friendly sound and Nicky Wire taking on more lyrical responsibility than ever before. It's the album that gave the world A Design for Life, which has pretty much become the MSP's signature song (not to mention their go-to set closer). This second incarnation of the band even found success in the singles chart, reaching the #1 spot with If You Tolerate This Your Children Will Be Next from 1998's This is My Truth Tell Me Yours.

Who would have guessed that the band who recorded The Intense Humming of Evil would one day have a #1 single?

But here's the thing. The way I see it, Everything Must Go looks every inch the swansong, an album that the band intended to be their last. Until Journal for Plague Lovers arrived to dig up the past in 2009, EMG was the last Manics album to feature any lyrics by Richey Edwards, and I wonder if the band initially meant to release those last few songs and then call it a day.

The album title is very significant to this theory. 'Everything Must Go' is the sort of phrase you'd expect to see in the window of a shop that will soon be closing down.

Photo by fsse8info

Of course, if the Manics were planning to shut up shop after Everything Must Go, the album's critical and commercial success may well have been the factor that persuaded them to change their minds. Had they split at that point, they'd not only have been quitting at the height of their powers, but also at a time when Nicky Wire had just proved himself more than capable of handling the writing duties. Only three of EMG's twelve tracks were authored by Richey and Richey alone. They were:

• Kevin Carter
• Small Black Flowers That Grow in the Sky
• Removables

Another two songs - Elvis Impersonator: Blackpool Pier and The Girl Who Wanted to Be God - credit both Edwards and Wire as lyricists. This means that Nicky Wire wrote more than half of this album's lyrics on his own, and almost without exception, his songs were the big hits. Kevin Carter was the only Richeysong to be released as a single, and it didn't crack the UK Top 5 like A Design for Life and the title track did.

So by this point, it's becoming clear that the Manics can function perfectly well without their troubled lyricist/rhythm guitarist. Factor in the glowing reviews (Vox magazine's write-up noted that "professionally, at least, the Manic Street Preachers don't miss Richey") and a triumphant live tour (which spawned the equally triumphant concert movie, Everything Live) and suddenly, Everything Must Go seems less like an ending and more like a rebirth. Would you have quit after all of that?

Still, I wonder what the world would make of the Manic Street Preachers if they'd stopped after Everything Must Go. I should mention that I'm only acquainted with two of the LPs that followed - This is My Truth... and Lifeblood - so I can't really comment on the quality of their recent output. But I think that, if they had left it at four albums, they could have been one of those really big cult bands, a colossal, iconic band whose T-shirts people wear without ever listening to a note of their music.

They could, basically, have been this generation's Joy Division. James, Nicky and Sean could even have done a New Order, reforming under a different name and carrying on from there whilst leaving the tragic brilliance of the Manics untouched.

I Prefer Their Earlier Work

Some years ago, my drum teacher David said something that really got me thinking. He had been making me play along to a Jamiroquai track, and he asked whether or not I was into Jay Kay and Co. I replied that I was familiar with a few songs, but certainly no expert - he recommended that I purchase Emergency on Planet Earth as soon as possible.

I never did buy it (sorry, David!), but there was a reason why he recommended that album instead of, say, Travelling Without Moving. You see, Emergency... was Jamiroquai's debut album, and David was convinced that the first album was always the best, regardless of the artist in question.

Now you've probably already thought up at least pieces of evidence to the contrary. If David's maxim that first = best held true for every artist, that would make Pablo Honey better than OK Computer; it would mean that On Avery Island, rather than In the Aeroplane Over the Sea, was Jeff Mangum's magnum opus; it would mean that The Magnetic Fields hit their peak before Stephin Merritt even started doing the vocals.

But let's not be so dismissive of David's theory. There are certainly plenty of albums that back it up - innumerable acts have released one great album and followed it up with a slew of duffness. I'm not going to start naming them now, put some examples in the comments if you like.

Having made this big assertion, David went on to say that the first album is the purest representation of a band, and each release after that gets further and further removed from what they were. I'm inclined to agree, but I would add that a band leaving behind what they were isn't necessarily a bad thing. If Generation Terrorists is pure, concentrated Manic Street Preachers, that's fine, but I personally prefer the bastardised version of their sound that showed up on The Holy Bible. I like GT too, but if the real Manics are so in thrall to Guns 'N' Roses then give me the diluted version any day.

Speaking of The Holy Bible, I'm pleased to announce that next week will be Depressing Album Week! I'll be taking a look at why depressing music can be so uplifting, and revealing what I consider to be the most depressing album ever. Oh, and I'll be re-assessing Tallahasse, which you'll all be looking forward to I'm sure.

In the meantime, feel free to share evidence from either side of the first = best argument, and enjoy your bank holiday weekend!