iJamming.net

Made it home from NYC Friday afternoon in time to
a) Enjoy the stunning mid-afternoon view of the streams and lakes as the bus wound from Kingston through Woodstock, Shady, Lake Hill and Willow (and yes, those are their real names)
b) Post my rather hazy reflections from Thursday’s long night.
c) Go for a proper run to shake off the cobwebs and prepare for Sunday’s Kingston Classic, and
d) Get showered and changed in time to welcome some of our Phoenicia friends for a local birthday party/spring celebration. This one was far more civilized and childlike than Thursday night’s Manhattan bar-hopping, and though the air was decidedly cold, we stuck it out on the deck until the sun went down. The highlight, surely, was when the various kids, who ranged in age from 5 up to 11, asked for and were granted permission to head over the road to the Village Park. We continued to hear them screaming from several hundred feet away, which we took to be ongoing confirmation that they were alive and well. We would not have had the same nonchalance about the screaming – nor letting them run off to begin with – were we still in the City.

What’s a birthday party without… Popcorn? And cake? The kids are alright, alright.

There were, of course, some decent bottles of wine opened, including a 1995 Chateau Musar from Lebanon’s famous wine-maker, Gaston Hochar, a wine I would drink every time I pop the cork if I could only afford to. There was also some good music on the 6-CD changer, including new albums from Hot Chip and Banco de Gaia (both of which showed up on my actual birthday – thank you Mr. Postman), and Bruce Springsteen. I almost fell out with one of my new friends up here when she started royally slagging off the Boss, but then how many other people can claim that their dislike of America’s Greatest Man stems from going out on a date with him at Max’s Kansas City back in the 70s?

This morning the celebration was consummated when Campbell finally got round to giving me my birthday present – a brand football (and yes, I do mean football) – he’d handpainted himself, presented with the promise that he would play with it with me. He may yet be the first kid to get turned on to the Most Beautiful Game via the Playstation.

I’ve made the point to friends a few times (I may even have made it online) that birthdays don’t always come round when you want them to – especially not the big ones. My 40th hit at a point I wasn’t quite ready for it; I was quite miserable about the whole process. Two years later and this one came round at a time where my life seems much more sorted. Life does not begin exactly at 40 and I wouldn’t pretend, either, that 40 is the new 30 or any such simplistic marketing slogan. But I would say that I’m enjoying this fifth decade on earth, and as long as I don’t have to write down my age too often, I don’t feel it. Cheers.

This one goes out to… the friend who drove Michael Stipe from his own party, by asking if he didn’t agree that The Replacements are the greatest American band of all time.
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If you’re going to have to get older each year, you may as well celebrate the fact with a party. And if you’re going to take on managing a rock band as you get older, with the ludicrous amount of work it entails, you may as well get that band to play your party and make you feel special. Last night, the stars aligned nicely when Radio 4 performed an invite-only show at their record company’s offices to celebrate the impending release of their album Enemies Like This and, what with all the free food and drink and many many friends who came along (some at my invitation, but plenty whom I did not necessarily expect to see), I got to have the best birthday party in years. Thanks to Anthony for announcing the fact to the whole wide world and to the Astralwerks people for the cake.

It helped that the group played a superb set. (Would that we could do all shows with only a vocal PA.) It didn’t help that it was over at 9pm, which left FAR too many hours of partying ahead. We took ourselves over to a party under a Spanish restaurant on 34th Street, where Michael Stipe, my upstate “neighbor” Grasshopper from Mercury Rev and Sam from Interpol were celebrating a musical collaboration at some art event or other with their own open bar and a suitably illustrious crowd. A quick Capairinha at the Essex Street Lounge and we finished off the night at The Annex, a new music club on Orchard Street where Tiswas now takes place on Saturday nights and other Paul from Interpol can occasionally be heard DJing. I hesitate to guess what time I finally got my head down at a friend’s place in Greenpoint; what I do know is their phone alarm went off at 7:30am and continued going off every five minutes until I got up, found the culprit and stuck it in the fridge.

I’m out of practice at this sort of thing. (Partying, that is, not putting Blackberries in the fridge.) You have to believe that I’m usually tucked in by midnight these days and at my desk by 9am every morning. The truly scary aspect of it all is that I used to pull those kind of long, star-studded, open-bar-hopping nights three or four times a week. It’s good to know they’re still there to tap into when I feel the pull of the big bad city. It’s just as good to know I no longer have the temptation on my doorstep.

You can hear Radio 4’s new single ‘Enemies Like This’ at the group’s myspace page. The single and album of the same name are both out in the States on May 16, ‘Enemies Like This’ the single is out in the UK on June 5, followed by the album on June 19. The group will be playing France, Belgium, Holland, Germany, Spain, the UK and Greece in May and June. They will then be touring the States through June and into July. Full dates here.

THE CHARLATANS (UK): SIMPATICO

WHO: The Brits that won’t quit release ninth studio album in 17 years. And best one in five.
WHAT: The Charlatans – and full disclosure, I consider them good friends – have a career-stalling habit of following each creative leap with an artistic step back. If 2001’s Wonderland (reviewed here) marked a successful middle-aged move from rock to soul, 2004’s Up At The Lake so dismally failed to deliver on that promise that it did not even see release in the USA. Fortunately, Simpatico not only shows the quintet moving into an ever more relaxed but easily emotive soulful haze, keeping the riffs simple, the melodies pure and affording the arrangements all the breathing room in the world, but it also finds them moving into reggae vibes with (surprising?) authenticity. ‘City Of The Dead’ may be copped from an old Clash title – and that might be why Tim Burgess effects a mighty good impersonation of Bob Marley – but ‘Sunset and Vine’ is such a decidedly hip-sounding dub instrumental that no casual listener could possibly recognize it as The Charlatans. Growing old in a rock group never sounded so graceful.

WHY: Some people think The Charlatans should have called it a day before the Stone Roses’ second coming. The group themselves – and there aren’t many lovelier people to have stuck around this business – know too many grown men and women who would never forgive them for succumbing so easily. I have had some of the best days and nights of my life at Charlatans shows and, thanks to Simpatico’s confident yet casual maturity, I can now look forward to many more.
WORDS: “We’re not here to educate, we only want to stay up late.” From ‘NYC (There’s No Need To Stop).’ Hey, no one said they were angels.
WINNERS: A trio of tributes to the major Anglo-American capitals: the Clash-rap ‘NYC (There’s No Need To Stop),’ the gliding bass-driven ballad ‘When The Lights Go Out In London,’ and the cinematic conclusion ‘Sunset and Vine,’ the lack of vocals for which should not disguise Tim Burgess’ input. (The Charlatans’ singer now lives in LA.)
WHINE: That its patchy predecessor Up At The Lake and Tim Burgess’ equally unbalanced solo album before that may well prevent Simpatico getting its fair share.
WEB: The Charlatans’ web site tries hard not to come across all corporate – but you still have to register if you want to stream the new album. Watch the video for debut single and opening song ‘Blackened Blue Eyes’ instead.
WINE: Tim, Mark, Jon, Martin and Tony will rarely so no to a tipple or two. Simpatico’s shimmery, summery vibes are positively Balearic, so let’s go for a white Spanish wine: the CASTRO BREY ALBARIÑO from RÍAS BAIXAS will sip nicely alongside a Simpatico sunset.

“Pabst Blue Ribbon is annoying. Now, I’m all for cheap drinks, but, let’s face it, there are much cheaper ways to get happy than drinking that stuff. The alcohol content isn’t high, and no one’s drinking it for the taste. Anyone drinking it for the hipster image, well, that’s just sad.”

Williamsburg lounge bar Soft Spot tender Matt tells the truth about beer-swilling billyburg hipsters and their (lack of) taste. The L Magazine, April 25.

CASTRO BREY ALBARIÑO, RÍAS BAIXAS, SPAIN, 2004

The majority of Spanish white wines have an inauspicious reputation, and for good reason: made from old warhorse grapes like Garnacha Blanc and Verdejo, they’re inexpensive and taste like it.

In the far north-west corner of the country, however, just atop the Portugese border and alongside the Atlantic Ocean, lies the distinctly unique region of Rías Baixas. Here the indigenous Albariño grape dominates, producing wines of uncommon character and quality. Albariño also has a life just below the border, too – where it trades as Alvariñho in the rightly-named “green wine” of Vinho Verde – but in Rías Baixas it seems to produce a wine of notably more substance.

Wine designed for sunshine: the modernist look of the Castro Brey Albariño.

Take this modern/minimally-designed bottle from Adegos Castro Brey, the label of which has the mottled feel of a sticky backstage pass. It emitted a greenish-yellow hew, a honeydew-melon aroma, a good bright citrus kick to the teeth, welcome flavors of peach and apricot, solid body, fine balance and, though the finish was short, the overall impression was of refined quality, a wine punching far above the weight of your usual Spanish aperitif.

Albariño may not be a common grape, but nor is it any longer a provincial secret. The fruits of the Rías Baixas region are fast finding their way across the European Continent and over the Atlantic as wine-drinkers rightly seek out ever more geographically unique tipples. Prices, of course, have risen accordingly: you can expect to pay at least $15 for what was once mere peasant wine. But rest assured: your taste buds will come out feeling appropriately richer.

MUSIC: This sunshine wine will put in a spring in your step. So will Best Party Ever, the debut album by The Boy Least Likely To.