Lofts Are Hot - Fact.

Lofts are massively hot - fact. I live in one, I work in one, and the similarities to a sauna are uncanny. Technically, I should be really thin and have amazing skin and all the other good things saunas do. I have none of those things though. Instead I am constantly hot and bothered and unable to sleep (which, granted, is a benefit at work). Very very annoying. At the same time, if it gets cold and starts raining again, I WILL complain. Such is the in-built British reaction to the weather.

Job update- still no job. Quelle surprise. I felt slightly better when I heard on the news yesterday that 16-24 year olds had the highest rates of unemployment right now. Well obviously I didn't feel better, than means I have more people to compete against when applying for jobs, but I like to use such statistics to back up the fact that it really is bloody difficult, and I'm not just being lazy, which is the view my mother holds about the situation.

I went on a CD binge in HMV, and was a bit annoyed that HMV actually had everything I wanted, am I becoming too mainstream, or are HMV actually starting to stock things are aren't just in the iTunes top ten? Whatever, a small internal tussle ensued but I'm over it not. So here's the gems I picked up.

We Were Promised Jetpacks - These Four Walls. Scottish four-piece who recently supported Frightened Rabbit, and in a smart move got their debut album out whilst the hype machine is still in full flow. Musically a cross between Frightened Rabbit and My Latest Novel - all is-it-the-end-of-the-track pauses, tinkling glockenspiel and tracks that start, wander off somewhere else, and then come back again. Lyrically - er, immature. By all means go for rhyming couplets, but do them properly - lightening/frightening is not clever. It's no where near the raw, hard-hitting lyrics of Frightened Rabbit, but it's clearly just down to life experience. I would say it's an age thing, but Alex Turner wrote Whatever People Say I Am... at 18, and Alessi from Alessi's Ark was even younger when she wrote most of her debut. So it's not an age thing, therefore it must be experience. Clearly these boys haven't had their heart broken yet. Still, an amazing debut, and Scotland continues to reign supreme.

Bill Callahan - Sometimes I Wish I Were An Eagle. Number one, amazing album artwork - a hazy, sunny, scene of horses in a field! Anyway, the ex-Smog man goes it alone after walking out on the band two years ago. It's hard to shake off the association when listening to it, especially as that voice IS Smog. But Bill Callahan seems to have exercised his demons from the Smog fallout, and this is a relaxed, carefully crafted album. His voice is, as expected, still centre stage, and underpinned with lush orchestra arrangements. It's certainly not full-blown, grandiouse sweeping strings, but subtle and poignant augmentation. The album seems very comfortable, like he's being doing this all his life, and emits a bit of a warm glow, like the cover art. But of course the flip side of that is that it's very safe and that maybe he's not really pushing himself with it. But ultimately it's lovely to listen to, so what's not to like.

Dirty Projectors - Bitte Orca. Ok I haven't actually listened to this yet, but the couple of tracks I've already heard are more than promising, so I'll be sinking my ears into as soon as I'm done with Mr Callahan.

Finally, I met Roddy Woomble. He's a bit like a pixie.

About as committed as I am to anything else...

I think my commitment to this blog probably mirrors my commitment in relationships - pretty piss poor. Never mind.

So, in a Twitter stylee (yes, I have succumbed - @catrionahelen - in my defence my dad’s on there. And David Ford. So it can’t be all bad) here is the last 2 months summed up in 140 (ish) characters: finishing uni - massive anti-climax, not enough celebrating, staring down the barrel, bit of a life crisis.

Yeah, quarter life crisis. They exist. Although I really don’t intend to live to 80. And everything people say about how hard it is to find a job right now - totally 100% true. C’est impossible. I’m not even going to get into it otherwise I will descend into (further) madness.

I’ve been attempting to produce the festival programme for Glade. Biggest nightmare EVER. Talk about too many cooks, there are about 4 guys who *think* they’re in charge, and refuse to communicate with each other. If I didn’t actually have the pressure of needing to produce something at the end the whole episode would be pretty damn hilarious.

I am washing my hands of it come Monday. No doubt it’ll rumble on for at least another month whilst they change their minds, change it back again, and maybe even cut a stage or two. But it costs me £8 every time they implement a little change, and HSBC are not happy with me as it is, and quite frankly after 3 weeks of it I think I’ve had my fill of dance, dub-step and breaks. And no, I won’t be taking them up on the offer of a free ticket, thank you very much. God knows what a bunch of ravers would do to a little indie girl like me. Probably daub me in neon paint and tie me to a totem pole.

The new and long awaited My Latest Novel album is amazing. Those guys really know how to mix up rhythms with amazing results. Who would’ve thought a change from 3 to 4 time could actually make you cry? Not me. And who doesn’t love a Scottish accent.

Also Drever McCusker and Woomble are playing the Wimbourne Folk Festival. Amazing! I was speculating if they’d actually get someone decent, and there they are! Cannot wait. Roddy Woomble in Wimbourne. Quite the juxtaposition. And also alliteration.

So, to end this brief flurry of excitement and commitment, I’m decamping to Twitter, my new love, at least for this week.