A time for not bothering…

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So, what did you get for Christmas? I got a bath mat.


That wasn’t all of course – a fetching Mark Rothko was a particular treat. But the absence of new tunes was a first. And it felt rather odd.
Sure, I am in the lucky position of receiving most of my music via the lovely PRs up and down the country, and having just bought my first home, friends and family made more ‘practical’ (see: bath mat, cafetiere, wine glasses…) gift-buying choices, but this lack of new plastic or wax was a trend seemingly across the board.
Rather worryingly, among my family, friends and colleagues I only know one soul that acquired a new record. His name is Nick. He works in Daily Post Sport. And he’s now getting into this. Hardly, one to set the juices flowing for the new year.
The trend is all the more worrying when you consider that record shops are apparently ‘giving’ their products away. What with Zavvi on the brink of collapse and Woolies now defunct, you’d have expected dozens to have feasted on their carcasses, if not to give, but maybe just fill a few notable gaps in the ol’ collection.
Then there’s the record tokens – a festive staple from the Auntie Pat and Uncle Tommy’s right across the country. But no, none of them this year. In fact, the vast majority of people I know visited the sales and all left empty-handed. And while I realise Alexandra Burke (defo the worst key change in music history) and compilations like That’s What I Call Wanky Bellrings At Christmas are hardly going to tempt you to part with your moolah, you’d expect someone, anyone, but Nick, to be buying a CD.
Of course I did invest in one new record over the festive period. Well, it’d just seem wrong not to. A trip to one of the country’s finest indies – Piccadilly Records on Oldham Street, Manchester, served up its usual temptations and after much musing I plumped for the electronic epics by LindstrÃşm on his dazzling I Go Where You Go; the kind of record which sprinkles you in sugar before drizzling sensual percussive creamy beats and washes of fractured drones. A bit Nigella then. How very Christmassy.

LindstrÃşm: Where You Go I Go Too (Edit)
ps: Surely someone other than Nick got music for Christmas… Surely?

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