After The Noise
Everything Is Equal
Thursday 12 March 2026
Biffy Clyro – Woo Woo (2013)
Today the rain, wind and miserable weather return to Manchester. Instantly my heart sinks. So, nothing better than indulging in a few tunes from the random playlist.
This has turned into a cheap kind of therapy.
I’m not a fan of everything Clyro-related. I was still a radio DJ when they first appeared and remember playing tunes from their debut album Blackened Sky on air. At the time it felt important. Now, if I listened back, I’m not sure I could name a single track without prompting, though I suspect a few memories would come rushing back if I heard them again.
You sort of know what you’re getting with Biffy Clyro. Bog-standard but nonetheless listenable alternative rock. Some of it works. Some of it drifts past. A colleague at work once gave me a CD copy of the double album this comes from, Opposites. It was mildly pleasing, as I recall.
Many of Horror is brilliant, though Simon Cowell got his grubby hands on it and butchered it. Similar to the horror (no pun intended) of Leona Lewis tackling Run. I may be a mostly reformed musical snob these days, but there are limits. There are always limits.
Some chap called Matt Cardle ruined Many of Horror. I cannot say I remember him, though the name rings a vague bell. Hope he’s well and working.
I’ve got right back on the horse with clean eating. Not a saint, but two meals a day with no grazing. Amazing how much better I’m feeling already. Clarity returns and the day becomes easier to negotiate when you’re on top of your eating schedule.
The fog lifts. The ideas start moving again.
The rain keeps hammering the windscreen and the playlist decides to get obscure.
Dave Bixby – I Have Seen Him (1969)
My AI pal recommended Mr Bixby. A name which has never darkened my doorstep before. His Wikipedia page reveals an interesting life and, as of 2026, he still breathes.
Which is always a bonus.
The only Bixby I know is Bill Bixby, who played the Hulk in the 70s. Maybe they’re related. Probably not.
I was expecting jazz. I’ve been adding quite a bit lately. Instead, this is gentle. Acoustic. Pleasant. Almost flamenco-tinged.
According to Wikipedia this is Christian folk. Wikipedia loves labelling music.
As obscure as things get. And that’s what I love about it.
The car shakes slightly in the storm. Poor people waiting for buses in the rain. And by “poor” I don’t mean lacking money. I mean standing in the rain waiting for a bus while the rest of us crawl past in warm cars.
Traffic does what traffic does. You get caught in awkward places sometimes. People beep. You move on.
Thanks, Dave. You got me through a tricky little moment there simply by giving me something else to listen to.
Just as the traffic settles down, something completely different appears.
Nana Mouskouri – Un Homme Est Venu (1963)
Wow. A blast from the past. The Greek goddess.
I grew up with Nana Mouskouri. Not literally, obviously, but she was always around. Those thick glasses. That voice. This one’s in French, which already puts it in a different emotional space.
She used to turn up on The Two Ronnies or The Val Doonican Show.
I definitely know this song. I don’t know how or from where, but it’s lodged somewhere deep. Possibly a hit. Possibly some vague European TV memory. I’ll need to look it up.
Looked it up and I’m none the wiser. That’s going to bug me now.
Strings. Swirling 60s production. And that voice really going for it by the end. No half measures. Full commitment.
I suspect she speaks about nine languages. Bastard. I struggle with one.
Another one still breathing in 2026. Ninety-one years young.
Then the playlist does what it does best: opens another unexpected door.
The United States of America – No Love to Give (1968)
Another AI discovery, and a brilliant one.
I’d been asking for late-60s psychedelic bands and these lot are fantastic. I’d never heard of them before. Ever. Yet here they are sounding vibrant, inventive and oddly innocent.
Wikipedia describes them as avant-garde and experimental rock. I’d describe it simply as tremendous.
There’s something about 60s music. Early 70s too. An innocence that slowly burned itself out somewhere along the way. By the time Britpop finished eating itself, we’d run out of ideas and started recycling instead.
Which is pretty much where we still are.
One of the joys of this playlist is how it keeps opening doors. Things come off. Things go on. Spotify caps you at 10,000 tracks. I’m not there yet. I did once have the complete Aeolian String Quartet in there though. Eighteen hours’ worth. That had to go.
The drumming at the end of this track is completely unhinged. Like Animal from The Muppets has been locked in the studio.
That’s how you end a song.
And extra Listening Log points for releasing just one album, then splitting up and never reforming.
We love that sort of thing around here.
Another small journey through the playlist complete.
The rain continues.
END OF LISTENING LOG
The Listening Log 