“My Friends Don’t Talk To Me Anymore”
It really is incredible that we’re a fraction of a milimetre into the rather lengthy dateline that is this year and we’re already fucking pooped. Man, this weekend was necessary. There was not much to be had by way of prolonged restfulness, however. It started out with two of the Racing Glaciers chappies, all dressed up for Carly’s warehouse party thingy that in all honesty is a bit like hell on earth for us (but apparently that’s what people want these days. We ARE 30, you know) but with a day spare, who subsequently crashed in our living room for a bit. This largely involved watching non-narrative documentaries about, well, the world and also some deep chat about theories of contentment. There was also some chat about Jeff Buckley. And shoegaze. Lots and lots of chat about shoegaze. We took the opportunity to update the chaps on a recent change in our circumstances resulting in our newfound ability to get on with things that we’ve wanted to get on with for quite some time (despite our endless moanings alluding thereto), as well as a change in friendship policy for 2015 which seems to be working out pretty well so far. Couple this bit of the ostensible chat with the guys big-love for shoegaze, and inevitably current Track Of The Day’ers Skeleton Frames came up. This band of men-and-a-woman hail from Exeter and Racing Glaciers remember them from a recent live jaunt (we’re guessing in or around the Exeter area, using our mighty powers of logic and deduction/assumption) whereby apparently this lot rocked so hard and loud that it made Matt Scheepers do a literal shit. We’re kidding. About the shit bit. Kid uses the toilet like most normal people do and he wouldn’t just shit unless he thought it absolutely necessary under the circumstances, or if he just lost bowel control. We like this a lot. It reminds us of the best bits we dig about the genre – and if we’re namedropping, which we’re found doing quite often (although those that criticise us for it seem to forget that they do it all the fucking time too), its a bit Smashing Pumpkins, a bit Big Deal, a bit Joy Formidable, with a sprinkle of madness vis-a-vis Foe. With the right form of amplification in form of production, this could be really something. Come on, producers. Produce the absolute fuck out of this.