The New Cue #398 July 19: Humanist, Primal Scream, Glass Animals, Hak Baker, Clairo, Fat Dog, Cornershop, Floating Points, Sassyhiya

"Wee mouse. Disappeared."

Hello friends, subscribers and hacking software working its way through your emails,

Welcome to the weekly Recommender edition of The New Cue. Today we’ve got Humanist’s Rob Marshall picking a mind-blower and Ted, Niall and Chris supplying a full whack of music picks for you to get stuck into. Bloody hell, those guys put on a good buffet!

My name is Derek. I write the intros for them every week. Sometimes people call me Del. Other times people call me Stuart. It doesn’t really matter though because I’m not real, the fellas just made me up to eke out the intro a bit. Are you ready to start reading the edition yet? I hope so because this paragraph is ending now.

Here's this week’s playlist:

And for the Apple Music crew here.

Enjoy the edition,

Ted, Niall, Chris, and Stuart

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An Album To Blow Your Mind

Humanist’s Rob Marshall picks Manchester’s crew sort-of self-titled 1989 release.

Next week, Humanist release their excellent new album On The Edge Of A Lost And Lonely World. It’s the second long-player from the project headed up by guitarist Rob Marshall, an expansive and inventive rock record that features guest turns from Dave Gahan, Ed Harcourt, Isobel Campbell and more.

Here is a recent cut from it, an epic ballad featuring Gahan on vocals:

Here, Marshall tells us why The Durutti Column’s 1989 album Vini Reilly is his go-to mind-blower:

The Durutti Column
Vini Reilly (1989)

 “When it comes to albums that transcend the boundaries of music and enter the realm of pure, unadulterated artistry, few records can match the ethereal beauty and emotional depth of The Durutti Column's Vini Reilly. Released in 1989, this masterpiece stands as a testament to Vini Reilly's extraordinary talent and his ability to weave intricate guitar work with deeply evocative soundscapes. 

I'm not exactly sure when I first read or heard the name Durutti Column, but I know I bought this album in a record shop in Sheffield over 20 years ago. What struck me the most initially was the iconic cover: a simple but gentle picture of Vini himself with the distinctive Reilly haircut, which I adapted and made my own for a decade or two. I often bought records based on their covers in the early 2000s, a purchasing art that I seem to have lost.

There are many significant tracks on this record, and Vini is certainly not afraid to open up his heart and pour it into the grooves and spaces of each melody. He is a musician who understands the power of subtlety and nuance, with each track unfolding like a chapter in a beautifully written novel. For its time, the album manages to embrace elements of electronic synths and samples that serve as a backdrop to Vini’s extraordinary guitar work, which never feels dated. This is complemented by his long-term partner, drummer, and permanent ally, Bruce Mitchell’s sparse percussion.

Yet, one track in particular has stayed with me for life. I’ve never tired of it, nor has it ever left me feeling anything but awestruck by its sheer beauty. "Requiem Again" has been the soundtrack to my life for the last 20 years. Despite consisting of just one guitar and a soft, gentle synth, it has the scale and magnitude of Beethoven’s Symphony No. 9. It drips with nostalgia and melancholy, and the notes seem to cry from a place deep within. I’ve never met Vini, but his music has always been a companion and a friend. It offers me light on dark days and soothes the soul in ways that neither medication nor any other remedy could reach. It’s enriching and unforgettable.

It's also the reason I own a Roland Space Echo 201 tape machine.”

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Recommender

Ted Kessler

A novelty single requires a huge amount of charm not to grate. For it to endure, there has to be a kernel of recognisable truth to it, no matter how daft the concept. I’m thinking of Where’s Me Jumper or You’ll Always Find Me in the Kitchen at Parties, disposable one-off songs that linger long after the creators and their ambitions for the work fade. (As an aside, watching Jona Lewie do You’ll Always Find Me in the Kitchen at Parties on Top of the Pops in 1980, I see a preview, too, of Baxter Dury’s future career).