When Brave Bird Saved

"WHEN BRAVE BIRD SAVED"
A short film by Fred and Nick, soundtracked by the first four tracks from Laura Marling's new album Once I Was An Eagle.

Marling is one of my absolute heroes: she is beautiful, the calm and the storm, and her gravelly voice goes from the softest whisper and to the harshest bellow in instants. I want to hold back everything I have to say about the music from her upcoming release until Once I Was An Eagle is out, but it's sounding exceptional so far.

I've always loved it when films are released alongside albums, ever since The Wall, endorsing each song as a concept, as stories and pictures as well as sound. This one is no exception, illustrating all of those themes of shadowy rooms and empty streets, sex and dark romance, that are found in the lyrics of Marling's music. And Laura herself has clearly grown so much in confidence and songwriting ability, from the accomplished but shy seventeen year old appearing in the charts in 2008.

When Brave Bird Saved is eerie, and oddly ethereal, bringing together music and art and also dance, in the most gorgeously creative ways. Laura Marling is lovely, playing the role of that narrator she so often sings as; terrifying, simultaneously a lost girl and a wicked queen.

You can watch the full version of When Brave Bird Saved here, and Once I Was An Eagle is due for release at the start of May.

Re: Boston

You take love where you can get it. You feel where there's space.

I saw a Facebook status, from a boy I used to go to school with, early on Tuesday morning, after everyone had heard about the attack. He was talking about a picture he'd seen on the internet - a man being hurried away in a wheelchair, both of his legs blown off, and saying that it was "sick" and "disgusting" that the photographer had stopped to capture that. He said it was insensitive. I disagree. I think we need to be sensitised, to a point.

Warning: very, very graphic, haunting, disturbing. But the picture is here.

Twitter, of course, was very different to Facebook in reaction. It thrives at a chance to reach out for connection, it makes everything oddly human. Billy Baker, a reporter for the Boston Globe, was posting updates in the moment, the kind that you just don't feel in that same way when they come from the "big news", the anonymous TV and radio sources.

You hear "2 dead, 22 injured" and it doesn't mean a thing. it is a statistic, it doesn't seem like humans, each one of those doesn't sound like a life. But pictures do, and stories do - the one man rushing to call his mom, the Chinese student that was killed, a woman with a phone running to get home.

In primary school, we held a two minutes' silence every 11th November for Rememberance Day. They told us "Remember them". As a little girl, I spent those two minutes wringing my hands, stealing glances up and around, wondering why I couldn't feel as sad as I was being told to be. It made me so very guilty, but I felt so distant. It was a number. It was blearly photographs on PowerPoints in the assembly hall. Delicate paper poppy badges sold in grass green boxes, by the chosen Year 6s with the smartest ties. As I got older, I started trying to create a character in my head. If there was one of these great anonymous soldiers in my head with a name, and hair, and a family and pets, would it feel real and could I mourn?

We need social media because we need each other. The feeling of loss of an individual is stronger than surrealist statistics and numbers, that we're told are shocking and terrible. They aren't until you see it, and you hear it. And then it is. And then it is.

The coming together of everyone, those tweeting helpline numbers and those in Boston offering water and electricity from their homes to strangers made me think about how amazing humanity is, given the proximity to reach out to each other. The worldwide level of support made me thing of the London riots last year. And it made me wonder about 9/11, and what if this was around then, and then was reminded of a woman I met recently who was telling me about all of her ideas about if Twitter had been around during the Civil Rights movement. It goes on.

It's just incredible how we come together in crisis, through love. Internet or no internet. And it's such a strange feeling that it takes something so terrible and upsetting to make this happen. It's so confusing to be filled with anger, disappointment and misanthropy.

and to be, at the same time, very, very grateful.

Recommendations: March 2013

At the start of last month, I was in London for an event called Moxafrica, hosted by the Telegraph's Neil McCormick, to raise funds for tuberculosis solutions in third world countries. It brought together some incredible artists, some up and coming like Bo Bruce and Buckshot Soup, and others that have already expienced large scale success: David Gray, Gabriella Cilmi,  those you hear of and remember songs you loved. As well as it being a great cause, I got to hang out with friends I've met through Twitter and through this blog, which is strange and magical and makes me incredibly happy, because people are lying when they tell you the internet is a waste of time.

I spent St Patrick's Day losing all my dignity, an incredibly "mainstream" evening as my friend put it - appropriately enough, I went to hear Irish rock-pop balladeers The Script grace the MEN, a night of catchy love songs and happiness.

Other things I bought, heard, loved:

"Moranthology" - Caitlin Moran

This book is collection of  Times columnist Caitlin Moran's best work - she is "the first journalist to prove Lady Gaga isn't a man". Musings on music, travel, hair, and an incredible meeting with Paul McCartney, Caitlin is sassy, smart, hilarious and inspires me no end.

"The Next Day" - David Bowie
It's safe to say I'm going through a bit of a Bowie phrase. I lost my Labyrinth-watching virginity today, better late than ever, it is bizarre and insane and perfect. His new album "The Next Day" is a perfect continuation of his career. I love the sound of his voice now, the audible sense of his having aged, grizzly and soft, yet this album makes connections to his older work whilst still managing to be gorgeously refreshing and unobvious. Lyrically, it's a complete adventure. "The Stars Are Out Tonight" and "Dancing Out in Space" are personal favourites of mine.

Piccadilly Records, Manchester
I spend a lot of time in Manchester but had never been here until stumbling across it a few weeks ago, which was such an uplifting surprise after finding out that same day the main HMV over there is closing. This little shop seems untouched by the death of physical CD crisis, and it's run with so much love and care. Browsing through their shelves, each album has a little hand-written note with a description, an opinion. Chances are, they won't have what you came in looking for. And chances are, before you leave, something else will find you.

"There Will Come A Time" - Noah and the Whale
The first taste from Noah and the Whale's fourth studio album, to be released in May, shows a continuation from the less folk-driven and more American influences of 2011's "Last Night on Earth". A simple  chord progression, it is cheerfully refreshing and nostalgic, "There will come a time when you will need your friends, tonight." Check out their website for upcoming tour details.

The Magic Numbers

... played at the event in Islington I talked about, a band I used to listen to a lot when I was younger. They are two pairs of siblings, making rock-pop that is very much driven by voice and harmony, which transfers beautifully onto a live setting. "Morning's Eleven" is a great one of theirs if you haven't listened to them before.

"if you wanna cut yourself, remember that i love you"

"LOOSE LIPS" - Kimya Dawson

I will not lie: I discovered folk-punk because, like most people, I saw the movie Juno. It is all about the lyrics with Kimya Dawson, and her music is just the perfect soundtrack to that film - it is youthful, confused, simple, charming.

"Loose Lips" moves fast. It's chatty and smart, it's just about angsty teenage years, and politics, and friendship. A chant of "We won't stop until somebody calls the cops, and even then, we'll start again, and just pretend that nothing ever happened", simple chords on an acoustic guitar, it's so gratuitously minimal and peaceful, and words like a comfort blanket.

And another thing, love Kimya Dawson or hate her, her Twitter is definitely one to follow. She's hilarious, and smart, and has a lot to say about life, love, the music industry, and sometimes tweets in haikus. Perfection.

"LoveBlood" - King Charles

Charles Costa studied Sociology at Durham University for two years, before moving to London to become a musician, adopting the pseudonym and character of "King Charles" - taking on characteristics of influences like Prince and Adam Ant, eccentric and enigmatic, charismatic and confused. King Charles' music is colourful, beautiful and bright, psychadelic - a genre he calls "glam folk". His first album, "LoveBlood", was released in May 2012.

It opens with "LoveBlood", a huge pop anthem that has you dancing, clever lyrics, speaking of love running through the heart and veins. "Mississippi Isabel" draws up a character that we meet later in the album, with words that sound like a nursery rhyme, the whole song has a 60s feel to it, as does the following track, "Bam Bam". Crying out, "You keep me warm in the cold night air!", it's joyous and playful, with very Beatles-esque, swooping "oo-ooo-oo's" in the backing vocals.

The lyrics come first in "Love Lust" and captivate you. It references "Mississippi Isabel" again, an earlier love, and lyrically is gorgeous. It's a little heartbreaking, tainted with regret, and goes through a change of pace.

"Polar Bear" takes a darker turn - a dance, a masquerade. "Lady Percy" follows it. "If you agree to be my love, I'd build you a world that fits like a glove. It is psychadelic, playful, a love song of promises.

"Ivory Road" has a gorgeous violin sound, King Charles' charisma shining through in his voice and witty, speedy lyrics, twisting in a Dylan reference. Soft arpeggios through the verse make it that little bit haunting. It's romantic, sleepy, then jumps into life.

"The Brightest Lights" is a collaboration with tour-pals Mumford and Sons, the addition of a banjo really giving it their touch. It's a travelling song, an uplifting footstomper. Next comes "Beating Hearts", a love song, simple melody on an electric guitar.

"Coco Chitty" is so different from the other songs - a heartbreak song, sounding more like country than others. The chorus gets me every time -
"I don't need to see you, to know how beautiful you are,
And I don't need to find you, to know you've gone oh so far,
And I don't need to wait for you to know you're coming home,
Oh but darling, I need to love you, cause you're my heart and my soul."

Twinkling piano keys give "Wilde Love" an odd sense of joy, but it talks of killing something loved - shame and guilt. The sense of voice in the chorus is so powerful, as are the strings, and messy, playful backing vocals. It's followed by "Mr Flick", sounding that bit darker and grizzlier, rocks harder, the definition of "glam folk" truly making sense. It stops and starts to make room for drum patterns to glow through, some of the lyrics are spoken.

And then, everything softens as the it fades into "St Peter's Gate", much more guitar driven than anything else, and a lot more minimal. It concludes with "Love Is The Cure", continuing the same lyrical wit of earlier tracks with the simplicity of the song that comes before it - "Love is the cure for the soul's disease."

This album is like nothing else - psychedelic, and strange, and clever He's all the fun of Mika, all the wildness and character and royalty that Prince is, but this is still essentially folk music, just bright and fun, and full of extraordinary character.

King Charles is playing shows in the UK every night in April; he began tonight in Nottingham, and the rest of the dates can be found here.