Letters Have No Arms have packed their bags, put their travel hats on, and moved to a new land!
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I know, I know! I've been notable in my absence. Notably absent. Absence duly noted. Thankfully, Eliza's been holding down the LHNA fort in said absence. In my defence, I've been oh so busy; pretty much working non-stop since getting back from Spain a few weeks ago (more on that in the coming months...). And yet it's no excuse! So sorry, dear reader!
Here are a few pretty special recent covers (+ an older one) for your listening pleasure:
I leave Athens at 16:00. Slight delay. Long lines at security. Please remove your laptop. Place your phone in the basket. Enjoy your flight.
Touch down at 18:05. Rubber spinning on the cold black ground. It's dark outside. Thursday evening. GMT +1. Barcelona. Brand new airport terminal - white, bright, with floors so shiny they make you dizzy. My mom and brother are waiting for me behind the sliding doors - 'hi Steven' is written in the dirt on the back of the car. Follow the arrows and leave the glittering multi-layered parking building. Now we're driving on the toll-road, heading south along the coast. Tunnel after tunnel burrowed through the coastal mountains. I look out, attempting to make out the surroundings as they speed by in a dark blur. I see myself reflected in the window. I look tired.
We get to the newly rented house on the edge of town (there's a river running behind it). My upstairs room overlooks a school - small energetic voices echoing across the wintry fields and surrounding hills and mountains. When the river's dry, people walk their dogs in it. Melville is jumping, embracing me as another human to love and be chased by. Throw Garfield! Throw Garfield!
My brother is in love. Returned from England on Monday. Cambridge. Did you know Cambridge has canals? Couples rowing, discussing Chaucer and last night's television. Possibly.
He's considering a move there. Bright white future mornings. Rented films. Fish and chips and Easyjet trips.
E is arriving on Sunday and I miss her. The outside temperature is 11C degrees. Enjoy your stay. Click click click on the shiny black floor.
Letters have no Arms would hereby like to unequivocally state that it in no way, shape or form encourages and/or condones providing alcohol to alcoholics. Letters have no Arms is very sorry for any offence and/or discomfort caused by any callous statements it may have made, and duly recognises its social responsibility and duty towards, well, everyone. For this reason we have decided that 100% of the proceeds of this post will go a rehab programme in your area. Kids, alcohol is not a joke. It's a drink.
While they used to just be an interesting bonus on a purchased CD single, now they fill, cram and clog the internet (have you seen the Hype Machine lately?). It seems no self-respecting single gets released these days without having a Soulwax, Mstrkrft, Tom Campesinos!, Rihanna's Gardener, the drummer from Editors, and that super rare Ducks Duck and Fucks remix of their latest single.
Problem is, what happens to the song? You know, the actual song. That thing the artist wrote in the mddle of the night, the tune that came to him when his girlfriend left him for his best friend’s sister. That (supposed) piece of art. It’s hard to see where Soulwax et al come into play there, no? My point is that it more often than not distracts, takes away from the original, and serves no real artistic purpose. There are of course the occasional successful* remixes, ones that truly add something to the song. These are unfortunately few and far between, and tend to get lost in the murky depths of mediocrity. Enough already.
Seriously, what's the point? Musicians are musicians and DJs are DJs. Let's please just keep it that way. It's like the local butcher making a special appearance slicing bread at the bakery (with attendees whispering among themselves "that he really is better as a butcher, but still pretty cute").
. These 'events' usually just end up with a group of rabid fans (clutching posters and cd singles), hipsters and groupies standing around awkwardly in a clothing store or club, bobbing their heads to that Gang of Four song you hear every week at your local indie club anyway.
Recently they've even started popping up at festivals. So you see your favourite band's name on the bill, only to be disappointed when you see 'dj set' in small letters underneath.
Please stop it.
Instrumentals
Or to use another word: FILLER.
"How many album tracks do we have so far, guys? Hmmm, hey, how about that demo we haven't bothered adding vocals to yet because it's already extremely boring? Why don't we just add that and be done with it!"
Some bands even release entire instrumental albums (e.g. Beastie Boys, Peter, Bjorn and John). I don't mean bands that make (almost) exclusively instrumental music (Mogwai, Explosions in the Sky et al). I mean bands who usually use lyrics, purposelyopting to refrain from using them. Nobody buys them, nobody likes them, nobody asks for them at gigs and nobody burns them on mixtapes for friends. Please stop making them.
Letters have no Arms! loves music, art, film, books and trains, and is based in a large dusty city at the end of Europe. We'll soon be moving to another. We post things we like.
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