Tis the season of change. First off I’ve changed colleges. Having finished my law degree I’ve fecked off up To NUI Galway to pursue journalism. Which ties in with my second change, the city. I knew nothing about Galway as little as 3 weeks ago but am settling in nicely, getting lost among the side streets and finding out that people here love to give directions to a lost langer from Cork.

I’m also calling it a day with ‘I caught you a delicious bass’ for various reasons, 10 of which involve it’s ridiculous length for a blog title. But fear not loyal reader(s) I will continue to post my ramblings on the wild wide web, just over the road at gypsieswithknives.wordpress.com. The new blog will hopefully have some sort of structure, being mainly music based and get more love and attention than this auld yoke.

So you may be asking yourself, what is Melt! festival? Where does it go on? And if I’ve never even heard of it why does it get included in such an exclusive (or more realistically, lazy) list? Well it’s a pretty exciting music festival located outside Berlin and is the first stop on my 6 week inter railing excursion, so this post is fairly self-indulgent but shur feck it.

 Considering I’ll be at the festival in 3 days time I know alarmingly little about the event, what I do know is that it has a cracking line-up combining household international acts with small German favourites. According to Wikipedia the festival is described by its organisers as electronic meets rock and the lineup does nothing to betray this assertion with plenty to keep rockers and ravers happy. The average attendance is under 20,000 rendering Melt! one of the more intimate European gatherings. Aside from the music attractions apparently include a museum of modern machines and a lake, perfect for those over-heated gig goers in need of a dip. Kicking off this Friday, the running order has been available for a while and impressive though the lineup is, a disgraceful level of clashing is sure to leave yours truly with a few tough choices. Heres my provisional plan:

Friday: 16:40 Midlake, 19.30 Pantha du Prince, 20.30 Two Door Cinema Club (over Jaime Xx), 22.00 Delphic (over Health and Jonsi), 23.00 Four Tet (over The Xx and Yeasayer), 1.00 Kele (only some of his set), 1.40 Foals, 3.30 Kode 9,  5.30 Simian Mobile Disco.

Saturday: 18.00 Futureheads, 18.45 Holy Ghost!, 19.30 Blood Red Shoes (end of their set), 21.00 Friendly Fires (over Darwin Deez), 22.00 Miike Snow (over The Big Pink and Jaime T), 23.30 DJ Shadow (over The Dirty Projectors), 3.00 Moderat (start of set only), 3.45 A-Track,  5.00 Tiga.

Sunday: 19.30 Fred Falke, 21.30 Goldfrapp, 22.15 Fake Blood, 23.15 Massive Attack, 2.00 Crookers.

It’s basic human nature to indulge an absurd level of expectation when rare celebrations, such as the World Cup roll around. Equally natural is the tendency to suppress the almost inevitable disappointment with such occasions, convincing oneself that what is unfolding is just as wonderful as we had all hoped and dreamed. So lets just nip that bit of nature in the bud and admit that World Cup 2010 was pretty shit. Don’t get me wrong, it wasn’t without its moments, and Germany and Uruguay can consider themselves absolved from blame providing arguably the Cups best entertainment in the somewhat farcical third/fourth place play-off. But overall WC 2010 will be remembered as rather forgettable.

On paper it ran according to plan with Spain, who have by some distance the best squad in the world, capturing their first WC trophy beating a dogged Dutch side. While this current Spanish squad may be worthy of wold domination, their play rarely suggested as much over the month, losing their opening match to a nothing Switzerland outfit and scraping out four 1-0 victories en route to glory. As for the Netherlands, they flattered to deceive for the most part, while they impressed against lower opposition in the early stages, the final revealed them a team built to kick lumps out of the opposition and rely on the wizardry of Schneider and Robben to get them the goals.

Our memory of World Cups gone by is coloured by whatever drama arose in the latter stages of the competition. With this in mind I refused to get dejected by the Cups slow start, it was bound to pick up once we hit the last 16. But it simply didn’t. When I strain to think on encounters I was genuinely happy to witness far too few come to mind ( Brazil v. Ivory Coast, Argentina v. Mexico, Argentina v. Germany, Germany v. England, Uruguay v. Holland, Uruguay v. Germany). What we really wanted to see was the best players performing to their capabilities on the world stage, what we got was a relatively non-existent Ronaldo albeit playing in a poor Portugal side, a Messi who tried hard but had nothing like the influence he’s shown for Braca, a Kaka who offered nothing and a Torres who looked so ponderous it was almost Berbatov-esque.

What we did get was confirmation that Alex Ferguson wasn’t crazy when he signed Diego Forlan, the striker carried Uruguay much further than even they could have hoped for. Germany, with scant regard for banishing stereo-types were efficiency personified. Though it may not have seen it at the time the injury to Mikael Ballack my have been a blessing as Loew found the perfect midfield balance in Khedira, Schweinsteiger and the dazzling Ozil. The inexperience of a squad with an average age of 25 came to light in a semi-final against Spain which mirrored Barcelona’s domination of Man Utd in the 2009 Champions League final.

And England, where to begin? Capitulation was their destiny long before they boarded the plane to SA but the manner of their exit was nothing short of humiliating, so much for the golden generation eh? What will annoy English fans the most is that after all the hype they never really turned up at the competition. When a painful 1-0 victory over Slovenia is greeted with declarations of “we’re back” you know you’re in trouble. Capello’s credentials are not up for debate, the man is a top-notch manager but he may have misfired in SA. Failure to adapt a system that clearly wasn’t working showed poor planning and provoked fear that England had no plan B. In hindsight the British media may come to concede that a team with players like Upson, Heskey and Shaun Wright-Philips was never likely to be crowned world champions.

So it’s over, and we’re left to wait another four years to get overly excited, forget all about how bad 2010 was and get let down all over again (does anybody remember how bad WC 2006 was? utter shit!!). Spain, the best team in the World are fittingly recognised as such while Germany, the best team of the cup must wait four long years.

Good riddance to a Wold Cup defined by the lack of goal line technology, a dodgy ball and vuvu-fucking-zelas.

EP offers and altogether different experience to Oxegen. The capacity is under half and the acts tend to be a little less mainstream targeting a different audience. Diversity is abundant at Stradbally’s best weekend with prams and Zimmer frames as welcome as glow-sticks and Buckfast. While Oxegen relies on chart-toppers to draw in the masses, EP’s lineup combines household names (The Frames, Mumford and Sons) with old school legends (Roxy Music and Leftfield) as well as cult favourites (Bonobo, Fever Ray). The range of genres on display is a bit more varied with acts catering to ravers, moshers and everyone in between.

Electric Picnic is a music and arts festival, and the event serves up more than just great tunes. The Body and Soul area has all kinds of wacky and fun exhibitions as well as poetry, film and gaeilge for those who stray from the stage area.

The lineup has yet to be completed but it already makes for compelling reading. If I manage to beg, steal or borrow the money for a ticket come September here’s who I’ll have on my must see list;
Fang Island,
Caribou,
LCD Soundsystem,
And So I Watch You From Afar,
The Redneck Manifesto,
Crystal Castles,
Friendly Fires,
The Bloody Beetroots,
Dan Le Sac vs. Scroobius Pip,
Bonobo,
Massive Attack,
The National,
Modest Mouse,
Mumford and Sons,
Hot Chip,
Fever Ray,
Sebastian Leger,
Jackbeats,
Joker & Nomad,
James V McCMorrow,
Field Music,
Villagers,
Memory Tapes.

1. Nas and Damian Marley – As We Enter
2. M.I.A. – XXXO (remix ft. Jay-Z)
3. Klaxons – Flashover
4. The Drums – Forever and Ever Amen
5. The Acorn – Restoration (four tet remix)
6. Kendal Johansson – Blue Moon
7. Zola Jesus – I Can’t Stand
8. Janelle Monae – Cold War
9. CEO – Come With Me
10. Boxsharp – The Green
11. Lorn – Glass and Silver
12. The Little Ones – Lovers Who Uncover (Crystal Castles remix)
13. Coer De Pirate – Comme Des Enfants (Le Matos Andy Carmichael remix)

It’s easy for my opinion of Oxegen as a music festival to be marred by flashbacks to 2007′s mudfest which was dominated by future convicts pissing on/burning tents and racing to see how could pass out earliest in the day BUT it would be unfair and plain silly not to recall that amazing Daft Punk performance or the delayed but ever-so-awesome showing by Muse as well as countless other memorable moments. When I dig even deeper into the memory pit to the simpler, sunnier days of Oxegen 2005 I’m met be fond images of sun-bathing gig-goers, a sublime lineup and farmers tans for everyone at a festival that was beginning to make a real name for itself. When you look at who’s going to be taking the stage at Punchestown this July it’s hard not to be tempted.

Oxegen doesn’t jump out as the most diverse in terms of the genres of music it caters for focusing primarily on indie-pop and dance but what is undeniable is the appeal of the artists they have snapped up in these areas. Eye-catching performers are dotted across all stages too with Heineken Green Spheres and 2fm/Hot Press Academy stages boasting acts which will drag even the most lethargic/hung over attendees from the main stage.

While finances forbid me from from going to Oxegen before embarking on a 6 week inter-railing trip, here are my weekend must-see acts(timetable clashes not accounted for, I fucking hate timetable clashes):

Friday: Villagers, Frightened Rabbit, Fatboy Slim, God is an Astronaut, Plan B, Jay-Z,  Arcade Fire, Vitalic, Erol Alkan, Simian Mobile Disco.

Saturday: The Drums, Kele, Bombay Bicycle Club, Yeasayer, Calvin Harris, Hot Chip, Cathy Davey, Ellie Goulding, Rise Against, Two Door Cinema Club,  Muse, Kasabian, Florence + the Machine, Dizzy Rascal.

Sunday: Mumford & Sons, We Are Scientists, Chase & Status, Fake Blood, The Golden Filter, Broken Social Scene, Delphic, Local Natives, Laura Marling, The Prodigy, Eminem.

We’ve Been Talking is the eagerly anticipated debut album from Wicklow post-rockers Enemies. The album was officially launched last Friday the 11th June at Whelans but us sneaky Corkonians gone and grabbed ourselves a preview last Thursday when the quartet rocked the Quad bar with support from local heros Elk. I even managed to get my hands on a copy of the album, it was all very cloak and dagger.

It was about this time last year when I stumbled across Alpha Waves, the band’s first EP and was well and truly blown away. Post-rock and math-rock are two genres in which Ireland boasts an embarrassment of riches including household names such as The Redneck Manifesto, And So I Watch You From Afar and Bats, to name just three. With these genres so densely populated you’d have to wonder how any act can stand out from the crowd. In Enemies case it boils down to raw talent and a brilliantly polished sound, a sound which earned them a tour of Japan based on Alpha Waves alone.

As they rocked the Quad in a performance that bore the signs of the appetizer before Fridays main course it was undeniable that the new material represented a shift from what had gone before. Alpha Waves was a quint-essential post-rock release, it ticked all the boxes, the five tracks stretched out over thirty-six minutes with Out of the C clocking up 9.49. The EP is a feast of crescendos served on a bed of upbeat pick-tapping which bares utmost fidelity to post-rocks tendency towards build-climax-rebuild progressions.

I wondered whether it was merely the volume of the live performance masking the bands customary intricacy, but the album confirms a slightly different direction. In a test of duration We’ve Been Talking beats Alpha Waves by a mere two and a half minutes despite having four more songs. Enemies have traded in the seven minute epics for shorter, dancier and catchier (can instrumental songs be catchy?) tunes. It’s not that the guitar signatures are any less carefully crafted rather they’re designed to create songs which encourage you dance like an idiot rather than stand perfectly still in awe-induced paralysis.

The album has a remarkably uplifting sound which permeates through each song, ‘Nag Champa’ and ‘Fierce Pit Bosses’ would make fitting inclusions on a soundtrack for a Ned Flanders biopic. ‘Gingerly’ and ‘We’ve Been Talking’ are two short beauties in the middle of the album which portray a previously absent appreciation for simplicity. We’ve Been Talking jigs and reels its way along nicely and is already raising its hand for inclusion among the best Irish releases of the year when we encounter ‘Creamist’, ‘Piano’ and ‘Morse Code’ the LP’s final and strongest moments. The dual drumming on ‘Piano’ engages perfectly with the noisey guitar and probing bass while Morse Code again deploys two drum kits before a raucous display of guitar-tapping and symbol crashing brings the curtain down on a brilliant album.

Elk’s performance on the night can’t go unmentioned, the trio have just finished recording thier latest EP and based on first hearing the songs seem to retain the characteristic energy while bringing other elements to the table, daycint.

5 – Bullard’s Celebration

Saying you don’t like Jimmy Bullard would rank right up there alongside hating Santa, he’s probably the most liked player in British football due to his care-free play with a smile attitude. When he scored a late equalizer from the penalty spot against City he reenacted one of the most bizarre and ridiculous displays of management I’ve witnessed in my years following football. Phil Brown’s infamous on-pitch outburst deserved and almost needed to be laughed at and Jimmy’s cheeky mimicry did the trick brilliantly.

4 – Step Forward Danny Rose

The North London derby is always one of my favourite fixtures. Spur’s impressive form made this seasons clash with Arsenal that bit tastier. When the teams flashed up on the screen I, like most others I’d imagine was had one thought – who the fuck is Danny Rose? Ten minutes later we got our answer.

3 – Well He Does Score Goals

So I’m hung over in the backass of nowhere after my friend’s birthday. My equally fanatical but less hung over accomplice drags me to the pub to watch the Manchester derby. God, I fucking hate City. United dominate, much to my surprise, ever the pessimist I’d feared a rout in favour of the home side. Possession and territory count for very little though when you’re chasing an in form Chelsea. Then up pops that little ginger wizard. Paul Scholes is by some distance my favourite ever United player and this header typifies what he was best at in his prime. Last minute, last effort and it’s a double over City, hangover erased.

2 – Welcome to United

Owen had failed to really impress since his arrival at Old Trafford but he could hardly have won the fans over in more dramatic style. In what must be one of the games of the season his brilliant last-minute finish sparked bedlam in the stands on and on the side-line before Hughsy got all upset over the time. A brilliant game, a brilliant goal and Owen is a United player, even if he never scores again.

1 – Face in the Crowd

Football often throws up something unexpected, that’s why so many love the game. Sport in general is fantastic entertainment because while there may be favourites and predictions, the fact remains nobody knows what will be the outcome and when the unforseen unfolds live before thousands of viewers it really is something special. But sometimes we get more than just an unbelieveable result or performance, we get to witness genuine human interaction at its best. Who says there’s no place for reality TV?  When referee Mike Dean sent Arsene Wenger to the stands in one of the opening games of the season it was a truly remarkable spectacle. The Frenchman had just seen Van Persie’s last-minute strike ruled out for offside after United had scrambled back from a goal down to muster a 2-1 lead, suddenly he finds himself amongst the Old Trafford faithful, camera phones going like the clappers and the referee apparently out of ideas, all in all it was a bad day at the office, but for United fans it merely added to the occasion.

So how will we remember the 2009/2010 season? The season of a genuine title challenge? The end of the Big Four’s reign? The horror show at Fratton Park? The year we all shouted for Fulham in Hamburg? Well, first and foremost what must be conceded is that this season represented a drop in the standard of England’s Premier League. Supporting evidence is commonplace, no English side made it as far as the Champions League semi-final for the first time since 2003. The all-English clash of 2008 is but a distant memory and based on this season, won’t be a reality relived any time soon.

The fact that the ‘big four’ didn’t enjoy the armchair ride of recent years is down to their new-found mediocrity as opposed to a significant jump in standards elsewhere. That said, credit must go to Arry and his Spurs for a tremendous season, in which they featured among the most appealing and compelling to watch.

As a ManU fan, you’d expect Liverpool’s demise to inspire unbridled joy but as a football fan it’s a shame to see such a proud side, once such a force in England and Europe, crumble into mid-table nothingness. Xavi Alonso’s departure, Gerrards inexplicably poor form and Torres’s patchy fitness the primary contributors. Throw in a manager whose anything but the people’s champion and ownership conflicts and you’ve got a team freewheeling on a downward slope.

With the best manager, the best team and by far the best squad in terms of depth, Chelsea have few excuses for not wrapping things up much earlier. Inconsistency was a feature throughout their season, you have to wonder how a team can lose, and deserve to lose to the same team they put eight past on the final day. United merely flattered to deceive and were always the pretenders in the run-in, their inferiority confirmed by defeats home and away to Ancelotti’s blues. Ronaldo’s absence may have been the catalyst for Rooney’s greatest season to date but the England prodigy couldn’t shoulder the burden of Ronnie’s absence on his own, despite the unspoken expectancy for him to do so. With Rio and Vidic unable to reestablish their partnership of recent seasons and not to mention the always entertaining if cringeworthy Gary Neville Show at right back United’s defence was less daunting for visitors to Old Trafford.

And now for the moment you’ve all been waiting for: Michael Carrick! I feel so weak, so powerless, all I have are words, surely not enough to properly convey the worthlessness of the South Africa bound Carrick. He does nothing! Now now, that’s a bit harsh he is well able to miss crucial penalties against teams like Burnley. When you look at the arguments made by those in the pro-Carrick camp the same tripe is constantly recycled, they play better when he’s there, he does a job in midfield, he’s a good passer….bollox! When it’s backs to the wall time and you really need that commanding presence, someone to step up to the mantle in the way any of the ’99 midfield quartet would have, where is Carrick? As Fletcher tackles all around him, Nani and Valencia torment fullbacks, where is Carrick? I’d even call into question his passing, he’s rarely the one to put Rooney or Berbatov (don’t even get me started) into space, he has officially been credited with 2 assists this seasons. He’s notched just 17 goals in 188 appearances. Fabregas, Lampard, Gerrard, Milner, Modric, Arteta, can we honestly say theat Carrick merits inclusion on this list of top-class Premiership midfielders. If one signing is made by Sir Alex, it would want to address the Carrick situation problem.

It says something about the season that the most gripping battle was for fourth place. Villa, City and Spurs all looked favourites at different points. Once again O’Neill was hampered by a wafer thin squad, a predicament certainly not applicable to Man City who have so many players they don’t know what to do with them - Santa Cruz, Ireland, Petrov, Wright Phillips. But it was Harry’s predominantly British army, with a good old-fashioned centre-back partnership and an unlikely hero in the shape of Gareth Bale, who prevailed. Late season form was enough to suggest that Everton could have been in the running were it not for injuries.

At the less glamorous end of the table Pompy’s exit from the top-tier was a formality from  Christmas onwards. Pityful form, the shame of being the first Premier League club to enter administration and just to prove that fairy tales don’t exist defeat to Chelsea in the FA Cup final. Burley collapsed after a wonderful start particularly at home, the departure of Owen Coyle a turning point in their ultimately disappointing season. Meanwhile no amount on half-time public tongue-lashings could have saved Hull from the drop.

 The 2009/2010 season: exciting, unpredictable and utterly, utterly disappointing.

Ghost is the second album from the london based instrumentalist. It serves as a welcome reminder as to just how powerful and beautiful the acoustic guitar can be. Unlike ‘Spencer Park’ however, the focus of Ghost is on the minimal. It’s abundantly apparent that Stevens has a special command over the guitar but he favours enticing, carefully crafted tracks over self-indulgent embellishment. ‘Big Sky’ is defined by the simple riff which remains a constant from start to finish.

The most impressive feat achieved by Stevens on Ghost is what is notably lacking among the likes of Rod y Gab, variety. Admiration for technical ability is something quite removed from attachment to a song. Whether it’s the starry glockenspiel on ‘Eleven’ and ‘Glide’ or the haunting presence of orchestral strings on title track ‘Ghost’, Steven’s always conjures up something a little extra to nail down the desired atmosphere. The result is an album baring that all-encompassing, cinematic sound which draws you in without the need to utter a word.

If all this wasn’t enough to win you over then throw the fact that Stevens, perhaps taking a realistic approach to the world of illegal streaming, provides his albums on a pay what you want basis. Both Ghost and Echo are available for download from his bandcamp site.