September Song: The Best Music of the Last Month...

It's time for the month in music, a selection of the stuff wot I have been listening to over the last four weeks. 

First off is a tune from New Zealander Jeremy Mason, a man whose set I just caught the end of when he supported Miss the Occupier and Popup earlier in the year. He has just released a new EP called You'll Never Know Anything and it's rather lovely, reminding me of Tom Mcrae as it juxtaposes dark imagery with gentle vocals and minimalist acoustics. Fom the EP this is Fly Along with Ghosts:

Fly Along With The Ghosts by Jeremy Mason 

Next is Laki Mera (who you can see on TV above). They have had their song Crater remixed by the mighty Mogwai and it is understated and quite delicious. Have a taste for yourself:

Laki Mera - Crater (Mogwai Remix) by Just Music label

Regular readers will know how much I loved the Mummy Short Arms single Cigarette Smuggling (it's still my song of the year so far in case you're interested) so it was with great anticipation that I clicked on to listen to his new(ish) song Change. It's gloriously nuts, with a bit of Beefheart and a splash of Frank Black, and I have the feeling that we are witnessing someone a wee bit special. It won't be for everyone, but then who would want that? I can't wait for a full album, but as long as they keep releasing songs I'll keep telling you about them. This is Change:

  MUMMY SHORT ARMS - Change by Flowers In The Dustbin

I finally got round to listening to The Fruit Tree Foundation album First Edition. As I'm sure many of you know, this album is a collection of songs which were recorded to raise awareness of the work of The Mental Health Foundation. Those involved include Emma Pollock, James Yorkston, James Graham, Scott Hutchison, Karine Polwart and Alasdair Roberts amongst others. A line-up that speaks for itself. Here is Favourite Son:

 

Finally, I mentioned last month that This Silent Forest were half way through undertaking a song a day over a 30 day period, something they acheived in some style. You can see the fruits of their labour by going to their You Tube Channel but they have a new single out called The Fight. Yes it's folky, and yes, there is a lot of that about, but This Silent Forest play with a panache that few can match and remind me of one of my favourite bands Explosions in the Sky. Not so much post rock but post folk (have I said this before? If so it's worth repeating). But don't take my word for it, this is The Fight:




That's all for this month, so, as Kasey Casem used to implore, "Keep your feet on the ground, and keep reaching for the stars".

Iain Banks' Fiction Factory: The Third Scots Whay Hae! Podcast...

In the third Scots Whay Hae! podcast we work our way through the life and work of Iain (M) Banks. The focus is mainly on his mainstream, for want of a better word, novels but we have Alex Scroggie on the phone to help us contextualise this work with his science fiction. Many of you may feel that we do not deal with the (M) material as we should, but, as the running time ends up well over an hour and fifteen minutes, well time, and a lack of knowledge, was against us.

As usual we would love to hear your thoughts on what we have to say, even if it is only to tell us that we are peddling mince, but I hope you'll find it interesting. You can listen to the podcast, and subscribe to it, at Scots Whay Hae! podcast at itunes or Scots Whay Hae! podcast by RSS. 

The next podcast should be the long promised rammy where Chris and Ali are joined by Ronnie Young to come up with the top five Scottish novels of all time. Feel free to get your choices and heckles in early, and again they may get a mention.

In the meantime, here is the edition of Indelible Ink which looked at Iain Banks' debut novel, the cult classic The Wasp Factory, and which first appeared over at Dear Scotland:

Iain Banks’ ‘The Wasp Factory’
by Alistair Braidwood




Sometimes a writer comes along who is difficult to categorise, who doesn’t fit easily into any genre. Iain Banks is one such writer. Of course as Iain M. Banks, his other writing title, he is an out and out sci-fi novelist, but even that isn’t as clear cut as it at first appears.
He is a writer who loves to confuse and confound and I think it will please him to be so hard to pin down. He is, to use the title of one of his ‘M’ novels, ‘The Player of Games’. For Banks, life is an absurd game that we are all forced to partake in, a compelling puzzle that may have no solution, and this is reflected in his fiction.

This playfulness was obvious right from the beginning. When his debut ‘The Wasp Factory’ was published in 1984 it received as many brickbats as it did plaudits and Banks, in conjunction with his publishers, decided to include a selection of both to preface and advertise the book presumably in the belief that all publicity would be good publicity. Here’s just one of those critiques that show the strength of feeling the novel provoked:

‘As a piece of writing, The Wasp Factory soars to the level of mediocrity. Maybe the crassly explicit language, the obscenity of the plot, were thought to strike an agreeably avant-garde note. Perhaps it is all a joke, meant to fool literary London into respect for rubbish.’ The Times.

Such a view was by no means unusual. It’s difficult to think of another novel which split reviewers so dramatically. Perhaps there is a case for Brett Easton Ellis’s ‘American Psycho’, but there is much more substance to Banks’ novel and those critics should have been able to see past the gothic and gore and understand the philosophical and social commentary that runs through the book. Banks deals with questions of family, gender nature versus nurture and determinism versus free will. What some dismissed as a sensationalist novel was actually very serious indeed, and this mix between the sensational and the serious set the template for all his fiction.

That’s not to say that it is an easy read. There is one scene in particular, set in a hospital morgue, which is almost unreadable and can make you feel ill long after the page has passed. In many ways Banks is a writer of excess be it sexual, violent or horrific. In the novels that followed there is S&M, torture, expensive car habits and expensive drug habits. Banks uses excessive behaviour to sidetrack his heroes, (or heroines; his female characters are almost always stronger than their male counterparts) from their quest to be better, more enlightened, people. His protagonists are all on personal journeys, and along the way they must put aside the more base pleasures to follow their paths. This quote from the end of ‘The Wasp Factory’ backs up this idea of a personal quest: ‘Our destination is the same in the end, but our journey – part chosen, part determined – is different for us all’. One of Banks’ central themes is ‘you might not be able to save the world, but you can try by beginning with yourself’.

This is a difficult book to discuss in the usual fashion. Normally when I talk about a novel I would mention the actual text and plot but ‘The Wasp Factory’ contains a spectacular twist which I worry I’ll spoil by talking specifics. I can say that it is about an unusual family, the Cauldhames’ who live on a small Scottish island and that ‘The Wasp Factory’ of the title is a device built with the specific purpose to torture and kill wasps while trying to predict the future. The rest I’ll let you discover for yourself. If this seems odd then you’ll have to read the book to understand why. In a way this is the ‘The Usual Suspects’ or ‘The Sixth Sense’ of Scottish novels. Like those films the twist at the end of ‘The Wasp Factory’ is not the key to enjoying the book, but it does force you to reassess what you have just read. It’s no exaggeration to say that when I read it for the first time I went back and started again to see how many clues I could find. I still read the last chapter if I have a spare 15 mins as it is an incredible piece of writing. ‘The Wasp Factory’ was Banks’ first literary puzzle.

But you would be mistaken in thinking that he is simply making mischief. His games and puzzles only barely hide his anger, and sometimes fail to altogether. His novels have varying levels of anger driving them, from the comparably mild mannered ‘Walking on Glass’ to ‘Complicity’ which is seething with rage. Often there is a passage which is an out and out rant against a specific political or social problem. I often wonder if these passages are the sparks that precede the writing of the novels. They then become the vehicle that carries his views, and the characters become the mouthpiece, and sometimes avenging angels, of this apparently mild mannered man. In this sense the mainstream novels are as much fantasies as any of his sci-fi output.
Banks’ is a writer who embraces the new. His last novel ‘Transition’ was serialised as a free podcast in an attempt to reach a new audience and he was never content with just writing fiction. His book on whisky ‘Raw Spirit’ is one part travelogue to two parts social commentary. He also took part in a very short series, the Songbook Series, which had novelists compiling CD’s of their favourite music. (Hunter S. Thompson, Clive Barker and Robert Crumb also partook in the venture)  Here’s one of Banks’ better choices. This is Richard Thompson with ‘1952 Vincent Black Lightning’:




Iain Banks is one of Scotland’s most successful novelists, but I think he is also the most under appreciated. The more sensational aspects of his writing seem to overshadow the serious moral, social and political debates that are to be had, and that is a great shame. Partly this is because he doesn’t appear to take himself overly seriously, as any one who’s ever tried to get a straight answer out of him will testify, but I think that is a front. You only have to read the novels to understand that this is a man who takes the business of writing, and of living, very seriously indeed. And that’s how it should be. These days we want writers to tell us what it all means, but why should they? It’s all in the book, as they used to say. Focus on the writing not the writer.

In very different way Iain Banks is as much of a social commentator as James Kelman. Both write to bring attention to perceived injustices in the world, and attempt to move the reader into action or at least empathy. If you’ve avoided Banks because you thought he was ‘fantasy’ or ‘sci-fi’ then I would ask you to reconsider. Just because a writer can spin a good yarn doesn’t mean that they’re not important and worthwhile, something we often seem to forget. Iain Banks; ‘he means it, man’.

Alistair

Van the Man: The Poetry of Ryan Van Winkle...

I'm trying to educate myself in the ways of contemporary Scottish poetry as it has been a hole in my cultural knowledge. When it came to poetry I didn't know much but I knew what I liked, and that would see me returning to old friends and favourites such as Edwin Morgan, Liz Lochhead, Tom Leonard and Don Patterson, but I have been determined to remedy this. The recent anthology of Scottish Islands poetry, These Islands We Sing (see This Island Earth...) is a fantastic collection which includes many poets who I had never before read, and I have also been familiarising myself with the work of Jackie Kay (whose novel Trumpet is a must read), Robin Robertson, Dilys Rose, John Burnside and Ron Butlin on the recommendation of my Scottish poetry guru Roz Davies. As far as tasks go this has been one of the more pleasant and enriching, and there will be a Scots Whay Hae! Scottish poetry podcast in the near future to discuss these poets and more.

One name which has been at the forefront of Scottish poetry over the last year or so is Ryan Van Winkle. He's the Reader in Residence at The Scottish Poetry Library, although I believe he's on sabbatical at the moment, but you can still listen, and subscribe, to his poetry podcasts. I first came across his work when his poem 'One Year the Door Will Open' was the opening piece in The Year of Open Doors collection of poetry and prose and I've finally got round to reading his collection from last year, Tomorrow, We Will Live Here. Van Winkle is an American and this collection is an evocative, sensual, and at times cinematic journey through place and past. Here's an example from the poem 'Hunter Boys & Girls at the Stream':

The boy watches from the muscled hill.
All around is green but the water cuts dark.
The girls are deer grazing, smoking long cigarettes.
They have not shaved for him, the hills, the water.
On their mouths is the taste of mint, he is sure
the cigarettes have been stolen from Mother.

This is a scene which could be directed by Peter Bogdanovich or Robert Altman, and many of his poems place you in scenes which non-Americans will only recognise from afar. But, like Springsteen, Van Winkle sets a broad scene before focusing on individuals' lives and loves, and how place, whether natural or man-made, effects those that inhabit. The cover seems like a nod to Grant Wood's famous painting 'American Gothic', although in this case the couple are looking back into the distance rather than facing front. For anyone with an interest in American culture (and surely that must be everyone to a degree) this collection can only improve your understanding and strengthen those bonds.

Other highlights are 'Necessary Astronomy', 'Bluegrass', 'Open the Connections, She Says' and the collection of verse that make up 'Unfinished Rooms'. The poems have an understanding of nature that reminds me of Lewis Grassic Gibbon, and the poet I am most in mind of is Ted Hughes. Like all of the above there is an ache for times past. I'm sure there are more apposite comparisons, but you have to admit that Springsteen, Grassic Gibbon and Hughes would be a dinner party to behold. There'd be a hell of a fight for the last piece of pudding.

I digress. Here is Van Winkle talking about Tomorrow, We Will Live Here followed by some of his words put to music in collaboration with Ragland:

You can find all about Ryan Van Winkle by going to his excellent website ryanvanwinkle.com where there is lots to explore, but I would suggest engaging with his poetry the old fashioned way, in the form of a paperback which you can buy at Amazon, the The Scots Whay Hae! Local Shop and all good bookshops.

He is also part of The Forest collective whose website you should really take a look at.

Looking at the Stars: In Praise of Gutter Magazine...

You probably already know that Gutter literary magazine is currently the benchmark for collections of new literature and reviews, but I feel I have to point everyone in the direction of the current edition. The quality of the writing between those green covers is reassuringly, and at times breathtakingly, high. For those of you who don't know, Gutter is a collection of fiction, poetry and reviews, and you are guaranteed a well balanced, engaging and entertaining read.

Gutter/05 features great short stories from, amongst others, Eleanor Thom, Kirsty Logan, Anneliese Mackintosh, Anna Stewart, Craig Lamont, Natasha Soobramanien and Allan Wilson, and there are excerpts from yet to be published novels including Rodge Glass's Bring Me the Head of Ryan Giggs, Tracey Emmerson's The Trees Aren't Sad So Why Am I? and Toni Davidson's Beat Versus Benoit (which sent me back to his terrific debut novel Scar Culture). Add in poetry from Ryan Van Winkle, Dilys Rose, Jim Carruth, Brian Johnstone, Rizwan Ahktar and Andrew C. Ferguson as well as 'GAP', one of Ewan Morrison's short stories from his soon to be published short story collection Tales From the Mall (see Talking Malls: An Interview with Ewan Morrison), a translation of Lidija Simkute by Kevin MacNeil, and reviews of Alan Bissett's Pack Men, Andrew Raymond Drennan's The Immaculate Heart, Zoe Strachan's Ever Fallen In Love and Iain M. Banks' Surface Detail, and you have a publication that those of us who love reading should find indispensable. It reflects a healthy national literature with a real breadth of voices and cultures represented, something that has not always been the case. 

You can find more about Gutter by going to guttermag including how to subscribe. If you want to get your hands on Gutter/05 today you can find copies in the Sauchiehall St Waterstones and hopefully many more discerning venues.

While I'm promoting new Scottish writing and where to find it, August also saw the launch of the 29th edition of New Writing Scotland: The Flight of the Turtle. Co-edited by Carl MacDougall and Alan Bissett this thorough collection brings together different generations of practitioners of poetry and prose in various genres. Names such as Valerie Gillies, David Manderson, Allan Radcliffe, Tracey S. Rosenberg (whose current novel The Girl in the Bunker comes highly recommended), Marshall Walker, Danni Glover, Dianne Hendry and Alex Gray. You'll also find some of the writers who appear in Gutter, but the fact there is very little crossover also speaks well for contemporary Scottish writing.

You can learn more about New Writing Scotland, and the other publications that you can purchase from the ASLS, by going to New Writing Scotland/ASLS . You'll find they cater for most tastes, including back issues of NWS.

These collections show once more that Scottish writing, or writing with a Scottish context if you prefer, is constantly changing and evolving, which is what any healthy culture should be doing. Trying to define what makes a writer or a work Scottish or not surely has become as difficult as wrestling an octopus in a bath of lard, and just as pointless. To learn more about ourselves and our culture it is always important to engage with what is on offer around us; and what is on offer will not have fixed meaning. It will always effect different people in different ways.

There is a painting above the Val D'oro Cafe in Glasgow, two minutes from my door. It depicts Jesus crucified on the cross, at Glasgow Cross, and has a cast which features local residents. Every time I pass it I smile and think, perhaps a little less each time, about what it depicts. There is a local pride in the painting, one that apparently crosses religious divisions if a recent vox pop on Radio Four's Lives in a Landscape, aired last year, is to be believed. But when people come across it by accident, whether from Scotland or overseas, they will make their own assumptions and have their own responses to it.

This is how it should be with all art forms. They should inform those who recognise the signs and symbolism used, but it should also have an international interest that has significance beyond the local. Scottish literature has been accused of being insular and preoccupied with the local and national. This is disingenuous as most writers deal with what they have experienced, but those experiences, at least in the best writing, will have universal appeal. Having just discussed Tom Leonard's 'The 6 O'Clock News' with some students from the USA I can tell you that they engaged with the poem completely, not only understanding Leonard's language, but the central arguments he makes. If you're not aware of the poem then here's a link to Tom Leonard reading it:

Tom Leonard 'The 6 O'Clock News'

The American students cared not a jot if this was 'proper' language or not. They also brought their own experiences concerning dialect and language, and the assumptions that accompany them, to the discussion. Some people are so concerned about what is and is not Scots, or if the language used is 'valid', that we forget to take each piece of work on individual merit. They are so concerned over questions of inclusion and belonging that they forget to engage with the work itself, and this is when whole areas of writing; for instance detective fiction, science-fiction, Gaelic writing, urban realism, etc, can be written off without proper engagement with the respective stories or poems. Writing is a conversation between writer and reader, one where, if the writer is successful, both will come away knowing more about the other and themselves. Where those writers and readers come from, and who or what is being written about, is secondary to the success of that conversation.

In case you missed it, here is a link to The Guardian Book Podcast where there was an interesting debate about Scottish literature:

The Guardian Scottish Books Podcast

The most insightful aspect of the discussion asks the question; 'Are writers attempting to fulfil expectations of what a Scottish literature should be?'. The argument behind such a question is that this will produce, and perhaps already has, a reductive and narrow national literature. The question asks us to consider what is required by publishers, funding bodies, critics, and. more importantly, the wider readership and if writers have to fulfil these requirements to survive. What journals such as Gutter and New Writing Scotland prove is that there are plenty of individuals prepared to break out of such apparent cultural and commercial constraints. Despite what some people seem to suggest, contemporary Scottish writing, from the well kent to the never before published, has a strong pulse. 

You Have Been Watching...Come Closer

This Saturday, the 10th of September, there is the Glasgow Première of Come Closer at the GFT. The film is the début feature from Berlin Golden Bear-winning director Peter Mackie Burns, and it is a documentary which follows several different characters in Glasgow as they go about their everyday lives. Filmed over a two-year period Come Closer allows the audience  intimate access to individuals whose lives are linked by the city. It is about change, the constant flux that happens in those individuals' lives as they interact with each other and the places they inhabit, and the relationships that are built up through family and friendship. 

Accompanied by the music of Sigur Ros, the film is a series of snapshots, some inter-connected, some which stand-alone. It is often unbearably poignant and moving, but there are also scenes where humour is found, some of which is dark, and even inappropriate, and this adds to the uncomfortable viewing experience which the director is obviously aiming for. Because Mackie Burns eschews the normal narrative structure of film the audience is never guided as to what to think, and as a result they are never sure what their reaction should be. This results in a work which manages to depict the motives, emotions, triumphs and failures that accompany everyday people’s lives. 

The city becomes integral part of  the story. We are taken to times and places that are rarely represented on screen and there is a raw beauty that matches the stories told. Glasgow gives context to these tales, but is a significant part of the content as well. Rarely has an urban landscape been shot with such understanding. Admitted influences include the realist photography of Nan Goldin and William Eggleston, and the films of Abbas Kiarostami, leading to the striking style of the film. By experimenting with portraiture, narrative and the formal conventions of film, Peter Mackie Burns has created a work which gives the audience a visceral, at times awkward, but ultimately unforgettable experience. You won't leave Come Closer at the cinema door. Here's the trailer:

Come Closer Trailer from Autonomi on Vimeo.

The film is being screened in tribute to the late Bert Eeles who as well as being the editor was a close friend to everyone involved. Having met Bert on several occasions I must say that you would have to travel far to meet as humble, entertaining and personable a man as Bert. 

To book your tickets for Saturday go to Come Closer/GFT. The film begins at 3.30pm and there is a Q&A session that follows. 

To learn all about Come Closer and those who made it go to comecloserfilm.

Only A Game: A Review of Alan Bissett's Pack Men...

In 1984 double glazing company CR Smith became the first company to sponsor Glasgow's Old Firm, openly admitting that they would only sponsor both, or neither. They believed, rightly, that if you chose to sponsor either Rangers or Celtic then hundreds of thousands of football fans would go out of their way not to buy your product. When McEwans Lager sponsored Rangers in the late 1980s and the 1990s I was working in bars in Glasgow and even some Rangers fans would refer to the beer as 'Hun juice'. Celtic fans, and, indeed, any fans who did not support Rangers, would avoid it. Since then all sponsorship deals have included both teams.

I mention all of this to try and put into context how brave Alan Bissett has been in setting his latest novel Pack Men in Manchester on the 14th May 2008 when thousands of Rangers fans descended from Scotland to take over the city which was hosting the UEFA Cup Final. Considering the large part football, particularly the Old Firm and all the sectarian baggage that accompanies them, plays in many Scottish lives it is perhaps surprising that not more writers have dealt with the subject (Des Dillon and Alan Spence are notable exceptions). But then consider the sponsorship example.  Not only does Bissett risk alienating non-Rangers fans (the cover, as you can see, has a Union Jack on it) but it was a day which is widely considered to be one which brought great shame on that club and those supporters who tore Manchester a new one.  Those with Gers sympathies may not want to be reminded of that particular event.

But if people are fickle enough to let such things matter then hell mend them as Pack Men is not about football at all. It is about men and why the concept of 'the gang' seems to mean so much to so many of them. It examines the idea which was exemplified in Trainspotting when Franco Begbie's outrageous behaviour is continually excused with the statement 'He's a mate', as if that needs no other explanation. Bissett's book is a return to the characters of his début novel Boyracers, and has Alvin, Frannie, Dolby and Dolby's son Jack making the trip to Manchester with a group of fellow fans. The central character is once again Alvin, and it is clear from early on that he is way out of his comfort zone and that those bonds formed in early years are going to be sorely tested. Even in Boyracers Alvin was the outsider of the gang, being younger than the others and destined for further education. This gap has grown over the years, and his relationship with Frannie in particular is unbearably tense. This is not a comfortable read at times as Bissett captures the feeling that violence could erupt at any moment, either between individuals or on mass. The songs which are sung on the bus and the casual sectarian banter will be familiar to many readers brought up in Scotland, particularly in the West, and Alvin's dilemma whether to speak against it, which can only end badly, or keep schtum is a common one. It's all very well to believe that for evil to triumph all that is necessary is for good men to do nothing, but arguing that point of view to a bus full of devout football fans is a dangerous strategy at best, and Bissett is aware that the problem of sectarianism is more complex than simple good versus evil. He could easily have gone straight to the usual default setting of simple condemnation of such songs and those who sing them, but instead examines the attitudes behind the words, and just how they are ingrained in the first place.

It is not only sectarianism that Bissett addresses in Pack Men. There is also that other thorny question of class, and particularly the idea of moving between classes, something that is intrinsically entangled with the notion of identity in Scotland. We learn, through a series of flashbacks, that Alvin eagerly embraced the middle-class world of university life, and lost meaningful contact with the other Boyracers. We see Alvin educated in many aspects of life, and emerging unsure as to where he is supposed to 'belong'. His confusion is similar to that of Patrick Doyle in James Kelman's A Disaffection. At one point Doyle, another university graduate, reacts to his brother's accusation that he has become a 'middle-class wanker' with the thought 'Gavin was actually very out of order what he had said I mean you dont call your fucking young brother a middle-class wanker I mean fuck sake'. The inference here is that it is the accusation of being middle-class that burns Patrick rather than being a wanker. Such a move is seen as one of betrayal, of moving away from your 'ain folk', and is one which is at the heart of Pack Men.

As is the case with Kelman, it is Bissett's subtle use of language that is telling. In A Disaffection, the rather formal statement that 'Gavin was actually very out of order' conflicts with the final 'I mean fuck sake'. This linguistic struggle is symbolic and is something which Bissett understands. When Alvin is accused of talking 'like that Graham Spiers' you don't have to be familiar with Scottish sports writers to know that this is an accusation with many layers. As the novel progresses his language adapts to those who surround him, and these linguistic shifts exemplify his internal struggle. The comparison with Kelman (who also confronted the roots and results of sectarianism in his last novel Kieron Smith, boy) is deliberate as Bissett is perhaps the only other contemporary Scottish writer who successfully considers questions of class and the nature of Scottish masculinity in such an incisive and insightful manner. The main difference between the two is that Bissett embraces popular culture and references, something which I suspect Kelman would see as trivialising the political and social points that are being made. If he does feel this he is wrong, and it would be a mistake to think that Alan Bissett is anything other than deadly serious about what his writing addresses. What his prose does do is to reflect the interests and concerns of those he is writing about. Man cannot live by obsessing over political and social change alone. Sometimes we want to list our favourite Manchester bands, reference characters from Marvel comics, and, yes, obsess over football. Such matters don't necessarily prevent serious conversation, although all too often they do. Perhaps these days men no longer put away childish things as they were once supposed to, and this is a modern aspect of masculinity that is rarely examined. Pack Men reminds us that there is more to life than books you know.

Pack Men is a hugely impressive novel, one which gives much more than you are initially led to believe. This is down to Bissett's lightness of touch when dealing with important matters. There is a sense of humour and even handed-perspective which means that it is a more balanced novel than, considering what it deals with, you have any right to expect. Like Alvin, Bissett is trying to see the best in people, even when that best is well hidden. There are characters who initially feel like stereotypes but who prove to be complex and fascinating individuals. This is particularly true of the terrifying Cage and the effervescent Wee Wife, who is one of the best characters to feature in recent Scottish fiction. As the characterisations unfold there are surprises on almost every page as new and unlikely friendships are formed, and secrets revealed. Another positive aspect of the novel is that it deals with sex, and sexuality, in an intelligent and insightful manner, and it is heartening to see a Scottish writer discussing sex and the way it is an intrinsic and serious aspect of life, rather than using it to shock, titillate or humiliate.

I have to admit that I scrapped a full review of Pack Men and started anew on this one. This is because I made the mistake that I have warned everyone else of making, overly concentrating on the football/sectarian strand of the novel. It was only after reading the original back in full that I realised I was selling the novel short. Alan Bissett has once more held a mirror up to modern Scottish society and although what we see is sometimes cruel and ugly he seems to be suggesting that in the right light, after sober consideration about how we can make the most of what we have, we might just scrub up alright.

Pick of the Pops: The Best Sounds of August...

Better late than never here is a selection of the best music to find it's way to Scots Whay Hae! in August. First off are Glasgow band Honey whose sound has been described as psychedelic pop and even shoegazing. Now in some corners these terms are seen as derisory, but not at Scots Whay Hae! where psychedelia, of the right kind, is positively embraced and the passing of Slowdive is still mourned. There is certainly a Cocteau Twins sensibility at work. The following track is Summertone from their EP Taste it And See, and there were a few early mornings where I had the windows open as the rain poured down outside and this was swimming around in my head:

Honey - Summertone by honeyband

Then there are This Silent Forest whose aim for August was to write, record and video a song a day for 30 days. Did they succeed? I don't know, they haven't told me. But from earlier in the year here they are with Falter Discover, and I think this is just gorgeous:

Prince Edward Island's album This Day is a Good Enough Day has accompanied me up, down and around the streets of Edinburgh over the past month, and I can't imagine a more suitable soundtrack. But don't take my word for it, have a wee listen for yer self:

Prince Edward Island - This day is a good enough day by Soundandvisionpr

The most anticipated album of the year, at least round our house, is The Other Half of Everything by ex De Rosa man Martin John Henry which is scheduled to arrive in October. I saw Henry supporting the Seventeenth Century last year and his new songs were of the quality that you immediately yearned to hear them again. Here's one of them; this is First Light:

Finally here are two track from bands signed to the fine label Flowers in the Dustbin, who are building one of the most impressive collection of acts around. First is Mushroom Cloud from Kick to Kill. This is one of those songs which slowly picks up pace until a heads down rush to the finish leaves you breathless:

KICK TO KILL - Mushroom Cloud by Flowers In The Dustbin

And here is another track from the great Mummy Short Arms, who I'm becoming increasingly enamoured with. This is Where's the Mortuary which has a pleasing Bad Seeds feel to it:

MUMMY SHORT ARMS - Where's The Mortuary? by Flowers In The Dustbin

That's it for August. That's it for summer. It may have been a washout but its had a hell of a soundtrack.