Redialled?

Back in January a message popped up on Twitter that caught my attention, it was from the Dials Festival account, querying if there was anyone still out there. Dials which, for those who may not remember, stepped into the fray when Southsea Fest took a years hiatus, had a successful debut before festival retiring itself for SSF's return.

The festival returned, in a smaller form, in 2016 as Dials Days (where the photo above was taken) before it again disappeared into the shadows much like Homer Simpson stepping backwards into a hedge.

Time moves on and, as Southsea Fest has also stepped back into the shrubbery, the sight of this tweet piqued my interest. Is Dials returning? Is there a new(ish) festival to fill the SSF hole in my gig calendar? Apparently so as, according to this tweet, we should keep Saturday 6th October free.

Woo, and furthermore, hoo. Here's looking forward to the first announcement of acts playing, and cue happy dance...

The Fat Lady Sings / Letters Leases Writs & Rings

After moving house I spent a lot of time poring through a near never-ending series of cardboard boxes, locating and decanting items previously packaged away for safe transit, stumbling across all manner of odd items I'd squirrelled away in the process. If I've learnt one thing from moving house it's that, perhaps, I may have a bit of a problem when it comes to not throwing things away (as I appear to have retained a lot of paraphernalia some might think useless). 

For example, inside one box was a piece of orange card that dated from 1993, sent by East West Records to inform me that Irish alternative rock band The Fat Lady Sings were releasing a series of six collectable CD singles from their then soon-to-be-released second album Johnson. The CD singles could be stored in a cardboard sleeve, supplied with the final single, and would feature B-sides and demo tracks. It seems weird to think now, given both the vinyl revival and the death of physical single thanks to streaming, that CD singles were ever a thing. That's the 90s for you.

The Fat Lady Sings were one of my favourite bands of the time. Twist, their first album, is an assured collection of songs that features harmonica-fuelled odes to internal masochism in the face of broken hearted love (Deborah) and likening loneliness to an area of Antarctica (Dronning Maud Land), all featuring lead singer Nick Kelly's distinctive vocals. Fanboy that I am I got to see them play live at The Wedgewood Rooms and, many years later, sought out a solo Nick Kelly play a set in the basement of a Dublin pub (if you ask nicely I'll regale you with the story of how I cajoled an American couple into joining us there and how I ended up post-gig with a signed poster).

Two years after Twist the band, now a three piece, released Johnson. Again an assured collection of songs, with Drunkard Logic's all too relatable tale of failed love viewed through the bottom of a pint glass being a standout (the CD single collection took its name from one of the song's lyrics, "we don't leave ourselves in many things, just in Letters Leases Writs and Rings"). 

Promotion of the second album saw the band hit the road on an extensive six month tour, including three months across the pond, that culminated with a gig at New York's famed CBGB's venue. Sadly the band split soon after, with frontman Nick walking away to pursue both a career as a solo act and, latterly, as a film director. 

Fanboy me, obviously, ensured that I took heed of the orange card and procured all six CD singles (the two released for Show of Myself, the two released for Drunkard Logic and the two released for World Exploding Touch) as and when they were released. I listened, I enjoyed, I stored them all together in the cardboard box supplied with the final single and placed them safely in my record collection (and then, when I moved house, they went into a larger cardboard box).

Amongst the tracks included on the limited edition singles are live tracks (including Twist, Arclight and Be Still), demos (World Exploding Touch and Show of Myself), peculiarities (Creepy Baby, Broken Promised Land) and a rather good remix of Boil. It might be good for my wallet that music isn't packaged in this way any more, and I'm far too old to go in for the completist buying thing (I've even stopped buying Panini stickers, maybe I'm maturing?), though I do miss the days of a boxset of singles. The concept may well have been invented by one of Stelfox's colleagues, and exist only to move product, but they do look rather lovely on a shelf.

Some years after these singles were released, long after the dust settled on The Fat Lady Sings, a lot of the tracks captured in the single collection appeared on the band's retrospective double album; The Fat Lady Singles/Opera Obscura collates the best of the bands output into one handy package. 

And yes, I've bought that too.