An ever-increasing and very frequent occurance for us on Saturday mornings is that we don’t know what the fuck we’re doing. This is a marginal step up from our previous disposition of the whole not-knowing-what-the-fuck thing being applicable to life. We have an idea, most of the time. However, the new coupling of the standard mode of sleep deprivation with the added modern spicy twist of actually drinking Red Bull (work gave us a mini-fridge for our office, you see. Finally, we get the respect we deserve. You’re not a real label/music company/anything in fact, until they give you a mini fridge. And regular restocks of the incidiously delicious and possibly-slightly-illegal energy drink that you simply cannot help but tuck yourself into on the reg owing simply to the sheer abundance and availability of these strangely enticing looking cylindrical shiny cans) which more or less meant we were reduced to the intellectual capacity of a pubic louse when it came to entertaining our long-time ally Cara Dattani last night, who came to watch the tennis with us in Finsbo and actually forced herself to give a shit about it at the same time. Cheers Cara. You truly earned that Mexican food and/or Corona (thanks for the tenner by the way). Anyway, here we are, waking up to texts from our father asking us whether it’s cool or not to take his foldy-chair to Rolling Stones because he likes to chill out like all truly great men do and another from Victoria saying that the best-laid plan of going to get her shit from Wood Green so as to take it to Battersea has hit a brick wall owing to the fact that we can’t get to it, as well as enticing messages from the sun directly outside our bedroom window telling us to get our arse in gear and start enjoying it. Like a goddamn movie soundtrack or something. Enter London’s Night Flowers who fulfil that very same legacy that has cropped up in the last 10-15 minutes pretty much like the perfect-fitting fresh pair of shorts that we bought from some place in Westfield last weekend when we were at a sort-of similar loose end with our waking moments last Saturday. This music is pretty much perfect; so it seems more than fitting that double-whammy Track Of The Day Single Beds and North doth arriveth to our ears on the same day that it is released as a double A-side, and, even better, for gratis via their bandcamp. BONUS. We mentioned movie soundtracks right now. We mean an 80’s movie soundtrack, really, like Breakfast Club or something like that. Or, for your more modern contemporaries given that we are becoming increasingly more aware that the people we hang out with – and as consequence are more likely to read our crappy blog – are born in the 90’s (is that why they show Jurassiac Park and Back To The Future on the telly ALL. THE. TIME now?), we’ll go ahead and say that this sounds like constituent members of The Cure (somewhere between Just Like Heaven and Friday I’m In Love), Ride, Teenage Fanclub and Silversun Pickups all buddying up and rewriting the Drive soundtrack. Get some of this.
Night Flowers – Single Beds
Night Flowers – Norths