Hello, there. I’m Darren, and this is a collection of stuff I’ve written over the years, mainly about music but there’s some other stuff too, such as film, TV and merch. You’ll also find the odd bit of promo for videos and music I’ve made. Thanks for dropping by.
Ben Folds owes me 200 quid. If it wasn’t for Ben Folds Five’s self-titled debut LP, I wouldn’t have walked into Argos one day in 1996 with the cunning idea to buy a Yamaha PSR-215 keyboard. The plan, of course, was to hammer away at it until I was a maestro and become a world-famous pop star, or at least learn a few honky-tonk chords and pretend to be the Quireboys’ Chris Johnstone. (Actually, perhaps Ben ought to split the cost with Chris - would that make it more affordable, guys? Let me...
It must be getting on for 10 years since I last saw Redd Kross live. It’s not through wilful neglect - the band just haven’t been around. Now in a reformed state, the Kross - as absolutely no one has ever called them - are midway through a block of Spanish shows. Last night’s gig at the Underworld in Camden, London, was their only UK date. The result? A heaving venue and a major dollop of expectation, which for the most part the band lived up to superbly.
The last train home would be leaving at 11.37pm. Pretty good. The gig, at Brighton’s Engine Room on the seafront, was bound to be over by 11pm, so I should have had plenty of time for a leisurely stroll back to the station. And I probably would have if Ginger’s car hadn’t broken down en route to the venue (the word ‘diesel’ was tossed about), leaving a roomful of fans anxiously eyeing their watches.
Farewell to ‘Sneaky’ Pete Kleinow, steel guitar player with country-rock pioneers The Flying Burrito Bros, who died last weekend aged 72 after an 18-month battle with Alzheimer’s.
The Burritos created one of my all-time favourite albums, 1969’s The Gilded Palace Of Sin - a shimmering, crafted tapestry of rock ‘n’ roll, country and soul that wrote a fresh chapter for the popular-music blueprint… and makes me a go a bit wibbly. They were natty dressers, too...
Considering that it’s one of London’s smallest venues, the Water Rats in King’s Cross rarely seems to get crowded in an uncomfortable way. Even with a bona fide member of The Wildhearts unveiling his new band, there was plenty of room at last night’s gig to swing (admittedly miniature) cats, which is doubly welcome when there’s socialising to be done. Old friends + cider = a good night out before the band’s even played a note.
Phew, that was touch and go. Is there a national pumpkin shortage? I usually see them in supermarkets a few weeks before Halloween, but this year they seem to have been scarce. I searched high and low yesterday afternoon for a medium-sized one. I ended up rummaging through a grotty-looking display in Sainsbury’s and buying a much larger model than I normally do (I had to give the cashier a hand to lift it). That baby’s gonna take some serious scooping out.
If you’re looking for an objective view of the show that Dan Baird and his band Homemade Sin played at the Borderline in London yesterday, you’ve come to the wrong place. For me, it was a night of beer drinking, hardcore foot tapping and scrunched-faced singing along - to arm-hair-raisingly good songs, many of which were my rock ‘n’ roll education when I first heard them in my teens. It’s hard to stand back and gaze at Dan Baird with anything but...
“Our approach is that we’re a rock ‘n’ roll band that sounds like a country band.”
- Gram Parsons (1970)
I know that my blog seems to be turning into a eulogy for deceased musicians, but bear with me; it’s just that time of year. And, really, these anniversaries are just an excuse for me to write a few words about some of my favourite artists. I get to talk about the living all the time when I write about bands I’ve seen, but… well, dead men play no gigs.
"I’m not a saviour, and I’m not a saint The man with the answers I certainly ain’t I wouldn’t tell you what’s right or what’s wrong I’m just a singer of songs"
…so sings Johnny Cash on A Singer Of Songs, a track from 2004’s mammoth Unearthed set. Stately, humble and moving - especially in the wake of what had happened just a few months prior to its release - it’s one of my favourite Cash performances,...
Last night I caught the train to Twickenham Stadium and saw my sixth gig by the Rolling Stones in just over a decade. And despite my general dislike of stadiums and annoyance at the outrageous ticket prices that the band now charge, I enjoyed it.
I’m forever seeing people moaning about the state of Keith and Ronnie’s musical chops, but I saw nothing but a fine display of rock ‘n’ roll guitar-slinging last night - not to mention the perfectly dangled...
