I have been meeting the internet again. You would be surprised how well the internet scrubs up in real life. You might expect to meet amorphous sluglike sociophobes, but no, I am consistently impressed by their loveliness. They have amazing cardamom salted almond fudge and tea and biscuits and they make you laugh and gasp with horror (NOT at their noses, Birdy, ). Even Derek the cat is much lovelier than you would ever imagine in real life. Ian, admittedly, did spill algae down his jumper, but we've all been there, haven't we?
The next few days may be light posting only. I am heading for Paris, where the brain twin and I are planning to firm up our strategy for world domination in 2010, visit the secret Maje outlet shop and cackle. We are going to an actual New Year party and everything and there are ponies to try and kidnap in the Tuileries, so we'll be busy, busy. Ok, that's a lie, mainly we'll be eating cappucino eclairs and cackling.
I'm not sure I wanted to do a big, 2009 retrospective anyway. Far too much went on to distill into any sort of coherent summary. Good, awful, weird. It will take me five years to recover from my 2009 sleep debt alone, I reckon, let alone have any perspective on it. How about this, instead? Everyone give me your top 3 pieces of music of 2009. They don't actually have to have come out in 2009, just something you discovered in 2009 (I am saying that to cover any sneering at my choices as ancient. We're backwards in Belgium, okay?). No agonising, just choose something.
I did my three, but then I got shy. There's nothing quite as personal as exposing your musical preferences, is there? Or am I being peculiar? I'd rather tell you about my eating disorder, or my reproductive history than tell you about some of the albums I own. Actually, I'm curious. Is this specific to me, this intense coyness about what music I like? It isn't, is it? I'm sure it's a product of the relentless mockery we would visit upon one another when I was growing up for being into slightly the wrong kind of shoegazing indie dronery. There wasn't much to do in York, so we hung out in Rough Trade Records trying to out-obscure each other.
I digress. In any event, after toying with Florence and the Machine (Rabbit Heart - love it, but it's become too ubiquitous) and Kasabian (Fire - great, but blokey), I went for this:
Regina Spektor: Dance Anthem of the 80s
Far was this year's summer holiday album for me. I don't think it's anywhere near as good as Begin to Hope, a bit tame, a bit too chanteusey. I liked it better when she did stuff with geetars too, being that sort of a frozen in 1994 type of girl. But I do really like this track.
(I'll be interested to see if this brings the male readers out of the woodwork, even if just to sneer at my choices.)