Tag Archives: friday trem

Friday Trem: What A Rose Is

Closing time, I’ve had more than my fill
legs keep walking, get me over the hill
stars above never answer back and never
dare to judge misery and misbehaviour

for in that rose contained was
heaven and earth in little space

Closing time, all alone in filthy weather
cars go by on their way to who knows where now
streetlights shine, rain and mist create a halo
just like mine – if you love me, why won’t you say so?

for in that rose contained was
heaven and earth in little space

Friday Trem: Goodbyes

One of my favourite acts of the late 90s was Dave Pearce’s Flying Saucer Attack, whose eerie, folky, bedroom-shoegaze was the template for a lot of what I did with w/trem. FSA had what I call a “complete” aesthetic, which is perhaps unintentionally recalled┬áby the recent Indie game The Rapture Is Here And You Will Be Forcibly Removed From Your Home: reality is breaking down (isn’t it always?), black ships are eating the sky, you might as well give yourself up to it as a shimmering heat-haze consumes everything. Musically, the rule is: let the artifacts consume the signal. Multitrack until the hiss takes over; turn up the feedback on the delay pedal until “ringing” resonant tones start to emerge from the fuzz. It’s an approach to the constraints of low-tech recording that makes a virtue of necessity, of not having Kevin Shields’s budget to blow. FSA probably softened me up for Xasthur, which Simon Reynolds once described as sounding like Robin Guthrie “doing warm up licks on his guitar and FX rig, hampered by the world’s most disabling migraine”. A major point of continuity between w/trem and Spiral Jacobs is that I’ve had the same shit microphone for about 16 years.

Anyway, here’s a tune that cleaves quite closely to the FSA palette in some respects, although it’s brighter and more drum-heavy than they usually were. It’s one of the instrumental interludes from Speaks Your Weight.

Friday Trem: Detention

An actual song, with actual lyrics.

What happens?
What happens next
for the hard of working
textphone and fax?

You don’t pay attention.
You don’t pay enough tax.
You’re famishing
for nuclear secrets.

You’re sickening!
You’re sickening!

What happens?
What happens next?
You’re weakening,
you’re weakening.

What matters
couldn’t matter less
to the hard of thinking
who dreamed up this mess.

They hand down detention
and they pay for sex.
They’re stifling
your intellect.

You’re thickening!
You’re thickening!

Friday Trem: Drill Here Fore Seismics

The title was taken from a graffito on an abandoned petrol station in Leicester. Who the author was and what they meant by it I never found out, but this was before anyone very much had heard of fracking.

The most obvious influence on this one is Radiohead’s Kid A, in its more tranquil moments.