I only go for girls I’ve no chance with

This morning I received another package from my indie-addicted friend. He managed to surprise me again, but we’ll talk more about that later when I review what I believe interests everyone the most – the mix tape (Andy, how in the world we subscribed to this I don’t know...)


Now like always, there were some albums in the package as well. I must tell you I feel a bit guilty, cause I’ve never sent Simon anything closely as gorgeous as what he’s opened my eyes to over the course of the last eight months. Guess I'll simply have to face it, the man’s one of my greatest influences… maybe one day this padowan will outgrow his master. But not today.


Simon discovered Arab Strap for me, having thrown “New Birds” into the mix last time around – some three months ago. It wasn’t just a discovery. The song kept growing on me until one day I realized I was listening to it on a nearly daily basis. So naturally, when my friend asked me what records he could share with me this time, Arab Strap was the first thing to cross my mind.


“Alrighty, then” he said. “Their last album is good.”


No Simon my man, it’s damn gorgeous.





What’s up with some of us listening to this music and loving every darn bit of it? Conor Oberst, Arab Strap, The Counting Crows, The Cure? Tons of pity, years of regret. Hours wasted playing records into the night, windows wide open, lying alone and wishing we weren’t. Why can’t I be like everyone else? Find a girl who loves me, create a family. It’s not like nobody loved me – this would actually be a huge overstatement. No, it’s me who wants something I can never have. Hey man, I just found it, here’s an answer, put wonderfully by Aidan Moffat, the guy who obviously knows a thing about them lonely nights, self-restraint and dreams that eventually add to your regret, because…


...I only go for girls I’ve no chance with.




Well, doesn’t he put it nicely? Dreams can be a heckuva curse, especially when you’re not the one to seek easy paths or get real’ lucky real fast. Wow, I even wound up with a rhyme. Anyway, before I get even more sidetracked, let’s look at this great great band a lot of people have never heard of.


What we got here is a Scottish band, who play indie (which basically stands for something you play to express your feelings, not giving a further thought about record labels, let alone airplay – I know that’s a funny explanation, but it’s the only one I got). Run by two talented folks – Malcolm Middleton and the awesome Aidan Moffat, who by the way has just become one of my favorite male vocalists – Arab Strap is all about searching. Moffat’s strong Scottish accent and the band’s reliance on repetitive yet meaty riffs backing up Aidan’s morose lyrics make AS one of the most unusually sounding collectives on today’s alternative scene. As honest as The Bright Eyes and (at times, provided they want it) nearly as sophisticated as The Cure, Arab Strap can be as tough a listen as either, unless of course you relate to lyrics like:


I never slam the door these days again, I’m never here. And you know where to find me with my oldest friend I hold so dear / Me and him go back a long way and his advice has always been sh*te. But he knows how to make me laugh, I’ve never bothered if it’s right / But sometimes when I’m with him I just stop being me. And he knows, on my own, I could never be the man he’s always wanted me to be / He makes me treat girls like sh*t. / He makes me lie to them and use them. I think he loves to watch me playing games and he loves to watch me lose them. (“Who named the days?”)


Whoever’s had a friend like that will be given a chill listening to this song. And it’s just an example of how painfully sincere this band is.




The sad thing is I can’t thoroughly compare Monday at the Hug & Pint (2003) to the previous four AS albums. However, knowing what a wonder “New Birds” (from Philophobia, 1998) was, and having also listened to some of the highlights off their fourth LP “The Red Thread” (2001) Master Breden has generously added to the mix, I believe you can’t really go wrong with an album of theirs. Of course, it’s no radio friendly batch of catchy tunes, and it’s never indie the way, say, Radiohead are (or rather once were) indie. I’d actually say it’s got something very peculiar to it, something that might make you like these guys more than a whole lot of bands out there. One thing goes without saying - this is no background music. No sir, Malcolm and Aidan demand all of your attention, and only then will they reward you greatly.


However, and just perhaps, if God has spared you those lonely nights and you don’t really have a reason to cry while listening to stuff like this, then perhaps steer away. Granted, you may appreciate Monday at the Hug & Pint as a work of contemporary art. On the other hand, the only way you really can appreciate this album is by letting it help you cry every tear that’s been waiting for another lonely night in that dark cellar in your heart, ready to burst out. It is then that before you fall asleep, you know you won’t be dreaming tonight again, and the first rays of the morning sun will make you feel better.


Some cure, eh?


May the force be with you, Master Breden.


Thanks.