Aroma, Mirth

From the kitchen door
Aroma of custard pies
Promising much mirth

Debut by Björk

This is a remarkable album by any stretch of the imagination. Up to this point Björk was best known for the indie rock of the Sugar Cubes, but she effectively reinvented herself when she moved to London in the early 90s carrying a demo tape of songs that she had been working on since she was a teenager. She found a natural home in the club culture of the time and teamed up with producer Nelee Hooper from Massive Attack, finally finding someone who understood what she wanted to do.

This album combines dance floor beats with quirky musical sketches and improvised ideas set to string arrangements including a harp and tabla played by Talvin Singh. On top of this Björk’s unique vocals are probably the most divisive element, ranging from from ethereal pixie girl to unexpected yelps and growls over a huge range. Personally, I absolutely adore this style, your mileage may vary.

Lyrically it’s as strange and lovely as you could wish for, with a struggle to find love and acceptance in a confusing world being a constant theme. One of the tracks There’s More To Life Than This was recorded live in a nightclub toilet and perfectly captures the feeling of wanting to steal a small boat and sail away to a small island like some sort of Moomin.

Little-My-tastic!

Cool Evening, Dark

The long summer day
Gives way to gloaming darkness
Cool evening air

B-52'S by The B-52's

Local music is the best music. Not the big bands playing arenas, but the quirky upstarts playing the pubs and clubs in your home town, where you take a chance and maybe find something that you love. I’m lucky enough to live in Sheffield which has a vibrant music scene (past and present), but if I didn’t live here then I think that Athens, Georgia circa 1980 would be a pretty good alternative.

Aside from REM, the B-52s are probably the best known example from the post-punk new wave era, with Rock Lobster being a reliable floor filler at Student discos back in the day. The rest of the album shows that they are more than a novelty act, with lots of interesting and quirky tracks mixing punk energy with 50s retro vibes. The overall effect is a huge amount of fun and still holds up well.

Seafood-tastic!

Of Sinister Sharks and Mesmerising Mermaids

The clink of gold and the shimmer of precious gems filled the air of the castle as the companions took a well-deserved breath. For several glorious days, Krisanna did nothing but sort her treasures into order of shininess and make sure that Robbie the privy seal had suitable accommodation.

However peace is a fleeting luxury for adventurers. A dark shadow crossed the window — a royal raven had arrived, bearing a grim missive from the King. The Northern Fleet had vanished without a trace. The companions were ordered to sail to the ominous Isle of Requia and investigate the noble Evito family, who were whispered to practice the dark arts of sorcery.  

Bastonn, knowing his barony well, guided the group toward Freeport, the bustling hub where they could charter a vessel. The two-day horseback ride was a bruising, uncomfortable affair, with Krisanna managing not to tumble off the back of Orla’s galloping horse.  

Upon arrival, Bastonn sought out the town’s Burgermeister to announce their royal mission. The official grew pale, warning them of "hellbeasts" roaming the forbidden island. Bastonn scoffed at the superstition, focused instead on the sloop waiting for them in the harbor. They immediately christened the fine vessel the Salty Sea Duck and marched into the smoky depths of the Serpent’s Quill tavern to find their captain. There sat Gunder Vixler—a duck who possessed a delightfully piratical and weathered demeanour.  

While Orla and Krisanna hit the local markets to acquire proper nautical gear (and a skull-and-crossbones flag, because branding is everything), Bastonn dug into the local archives. The rumors he uncovered were chilling:  A massive shipment of weapons had recently been sent to the island's Obsidian Keep, and whispers claimed Duke Evito had been seduced by the cult of the Red Priests, who served a malevolent entity named Vermesh.  

Orla and Krisanna gathered their own unsettling intelligence. Orla heard the Duke was no mere mortal, but a lord of the Fae capable of bending nature to his whim—and that a beautiful, finger-eating mermaid haunted the local waters. Krisanna’s findings were even darker: Vermesh was no myth, but a terrifying vampire lord.  

With a colourful, diverse crew that boasted a surprisingly handy otter-person, the Salty Sea Duck set sail. The voyage was smooth sailing, save for Krisanna using the ship's rigging as her personal, nautical climbing gym.  

Suddenly, the horizon darkened. The jagged, black silhouette of the obsidian fortress loomed over the Isle of Requia. The waters surrounding it were a tragic graveyard of shattered wood, floating debris, and the shattered ribs of the missing fleet. Captain Vixler dropped anchor, and the party lowered the jollyboat into the murky, treacherous waves.  

As they rowed toward the first wreckage, a longboat emerged from the mist, crewed by four sinister figures clad in yellow coats. The strangers threw out grappling hooks, attempting to board and seize the party's boat! With lightning-fast reflexes, Bastonn flashed his knife, severing the heavy rope and sending one of the attackers tumbling into the sea. Within seconds, the water began to churn—sharks! Shifting from combat to rescue, the heroes hauled the soaking, starving man from the jaws of the predators. Terrified, the survivor wept, telling tales of a cataclysmic red lightning storm that had utterly obliterated the King's fleet. Looking further inshore, the party could see vile, winged beasts roosting like vultures on the masts of sunken ships.  

Navigating through the flotsam, they encountered Rosetta, a resilient ship's cook who was fishing from a floating platform of debris. She had salvaged a cache of weapons. Bastonn immediately coordinated the longboat to begin ferrying Rosetta and other survivors back to the safety of the Sea Duck, but Krisanna’s eyes were locked on the loot. Rooting through the salvaged arms, she pulled out a gleaming, ornate Admiral’s cutlass and claimed it for herself.  

The next wreck they investigated was torn open by heavy cannon fire. Two blue-jacketed sailors cowered on the hull, confirming the party's worst fears: the devastating red lightning had been shot directly from the keep itself. Looking up, they saw the obsidian fortress was now entirely choked by roiling black clouds and pulsed with ominous red static.  

Krisanna spotted the colossal, terrifying skull of an Imperial Shrike fish breaking the water's surface, its massive jaws sporting four glowing tendrils and a trap of wicked bones. Ever fearless, Krisanna scrambled up the bone structure. Orla tried to follow, but lost her footing and plunged into the icy, dark depths. A shadow darted through the water—a harbor shark, closing in fast! Bastonn lunged forward, executing a flawless rescue to pull Orla back into the boat just in time.  

It turned out the "mermaid" was home. But this was no beautiful maiden; it was an Ursoloth—a terrifying, ancient creature of the deep. Krisanna tried to placate her with a chocolate biscuit, which was flatly ignored. Orla, bold as ever, puckered up and offered the beast a kiss instead. Charmed, the creature revealed her name was Angelica and hissed a warning about an ancient, sinister force dwelling deep within the island's palace.  

Krisanna, driven by her insatiable treasure sense, offered a different trade for a glimpse at the monster’s hoard: her own finger.  

Chomp!

In a flash, the digit was gone. But the prize was magnificent—exquisite jade statuettes of mice and heavy silver cutlery. Oddly enough, Krisanna's finger immediately began to regenerate... though it grew back looking suspiciously like a wriggling, purple tentacle.  

Krisanna’s internal treasure compass twitched again, pointing toward a deeply submerged wreck guarded by nesting dragon hawks. Peerless into the crystalline deep, they could see mountains of gold coins, but the seabed was alive with a horror film: zombie-like skeletons of the drowned crew were still mindlessly performing their naval duties under the waves, all while massive sharks patrolled the perimeter. Krisanna stared longingly at the sunken gold, swearing to find a way back down once they had the proper gear.  

Next, they stopped at a jagged spike of black rock where two marooned philosophers were aggressively debating the concept of free will while trying to catch supper. They noted that when the red lightning struck, an unholy, deafening scream had echoed across the sea. Bastonn added them to the rescue manifest.  

Further along, a fragile raft carried a family of fisherfolk. They wept, explaining that a sudden torrent of lava had wiped out their coastal cottage. While rumours blamed the Duchess, the family refused to believe she could be so cruel. They begged the party for a favour: deliver a small toy boat to their Granddad Oskar, who was waiting somewhere on the main beach.  

Their final encounter before making landfall was a tragic old man drifting on a timber raft, his tongue so badly burned he could barely utter a sound. Parched and suffering, he gratefully accepted a cooling drink from the party, and in return, handed over a bundle of mysterious letters to be delivered on shore.  

With the beach finally in sight, the party rowed past one last, stomach-churning anomaly: a massive, undulating mountain of thousands of tadpoles, fused together into a single, giant, quivering mass of jelly.

Wiping the sea spray from their eyes, gripping their newly acquired weapons, and with Krisanna flexing her new tentacle-finger, the companions braced their boots against the prow. The black sands of Requia awaited them, and above, the Obsidian Keep crackled with evil intent.

The Doors by The Doors

To lose one talented rock star to the entirely foreseeable effects of drugs and alcohol at the age of 27 or 28 is a misfortune, to lose dozens of them is starting to look like carelessness.

As with Tim Buckley, Jim Morrison had a reputation of being some sort of mythical shaman poet. However, for all of his allusions to philosophy and classical Greek mythology he was still just a horndog reeling from one whisky bar to the next looking for another “little girl”. It shouldn’t have been a surprise that less than five years after this debut album he would have piled on the pounds, had a voice that sounded like a retired coal miner and be dead in a bathtub. What a waste.

That being said, this album was one of the defining sounds of the late 60s, along with Sgt Peppers and Pet Sounds. Morrison had a great singing voice that was perfectly backed by Manzarak’s hypnotic keyboards, Densmore’s jazzy drums and Krieger’s solid guitar riffs. Lyrically, well, we’ve already covered that, but they had their moments. The End will always now evoke that scene in Apocalypse Now, and Break On Through and Light My Fire are still thrilling numbers.

Aldous-Huxley-tastic!

Salvia

Today I learned that
Salvia is a type of sage
With three syllables