Over the last few months, via the musical grapevine, the band Fanfarlo has kept reappearing on my radar. But it wasn’t until visiting the UK in October that I actually heard them for the first time. I was able to catch them at the Brudenell Social Club in Leeds, where I was initially only there to catch opening act First Aid Kit. After settling on the fact that I could walk away completely satisfied after their set, Fanfarlo took the stage. While on record they sound a bit harnessed and calculated, their live show illuminates their talent enthusiastically. Created by ex-Swede Simon Balthazar, the six-piece band is based out of London and has been actively touring Europe and the US on their debut record Resevoir throughout 2009. They also just played CMJ and have again been added to the SXSW 2010 roster.

Balthazar sings with a sweet and bold voice (similar to that of Beirut’s Zach Condon) and is backed by an amazing group who each play multiple instruments to form a big full sound, reminding me of the Arcade Fire. Have a listen, but more importantly, check out some live footage.

Fanfarlo has recently been recording a number of “Laptop Sessions” where they perform covers. You can find those here, as well as some music videos.

I can’t really afford ATP this year – I hope they’re going to do some other UK shows around then.

So, how to take the rumours reported in the Guardian that they’re trying to rope in Mozz to help next year ?

“As a result it seems that Moz has been in talks with the BBC, who screen the annual caterwauling competition live and must therefore have some say in what goes on.”

Well, take it firstly with a pinch of salt. It is only a rumour after all, and secondly? Just because he’s (almost) a national icon, it doesn’t mean he’d stand a chance of winning. Eurovision has always been, and surely always will be, a celebration of the mediocre.

Bon Jovi and Take That had previously announced headline dates at the new stadium, but the never-ending chronicle of building delays and financial wranglings saw those gigs forced upon the poor burghers of Milton Keynes instead.

For those long-suffering people in the edge of London, it looks like there will be no escape from Matt Bellamy’s fever pitch. Lock up your cats.

Anyway, The Kleptones.

So I revisited their site recently and was met with two pleasant surprises. The first is that they’ve reposted their entire discography in files that are of a uniformly quality bitrate. The second, and biggest pleasure, was the discovery of their latest album of mixes, a two-disc concept album covering a day in the life of an average joe. The mash-ups throughout the disc are strong, inventive, and playful while still managing to convey the feeling of a cohesive storyline.

Download the whole thing here. And, as a sample, here is one of my favorite tunes on the album:

MP3: The Kleptones “1800 – War Of Confusion”

News on the line-up due next week, which in ATP speak usually means around Christmas.

But the formula of the exterior belies the beauty of the interior.

During our affair, shortly after they moved to Beggars, the band released a double A-Side single on 10 inch vinyl. On one side was ‘The Hum Is Coming From Her’, and on the other side, with Robert Creeley, a track called ‘So There’. I believe it was billed as Robert Creeley and the Mercury Rev Orchestrata.

We must be talking 11 years ago, maybe 12.

I adored that track. It was a diversion from where they’d been before. Creeley reading some of his poetry and the band cooking up a storm behind him. One of those things where it made no sense yet it made perfect sense. A cacophony. A beautiful mess.

And I’ve not listened to that track for years. I never had it on CD. I’ve never been tempted to hunt it down online. And yet when I saw that it was on the tracklisting for the 2nd CD of this compilation, I clicked the ‘Buy It Now’ button in a second.

The CD came today and I was half excited, half terrified. What if I’d just been embroidering the memory and the track was actually just a mess of noise, not a glorious mess, just a mess.

I skipped straight to that track, and as Creeley introduced the reading, the band just circle around him in the background, tentatively hunting for the beat.

And then it explodes, and its glorious, my god its fucking glorious. Its not a mess at all. Its a symphony.

I’m back.

But if I’d seen the Tindersticks on tour back then, and they’d just knocked out the album, in track-by-track sequence, I’d have been pissed off. Part of the gig magic is the unpredictability, as they themselves would perhaps say, the Not Knowing. And maybe Don’t Look Back circumvents this by being a series of events. It’s not like they’re going out on tour and playing the same set a dozen times in two weeks. It’s a one-off, unless they sell lots of tickets, in which case it’s a two-off.

I’m rambling, please forgive my conflicted feelings.

The Tindersticks fansites are full of speculation. The band have not played live or released anything for a few years. They all seem to be getting on quite nicely without each other. The band seem to be on hiatus – is this gig going to be a swansong?

No, it is an event.

That second album establishes its mood from the first with the strings swooping all over El Diablo En El Ojo, and Dickon’s mumbled words drawing us in ever closer. It’s music of smoky rooms, of bare lights, of peeling wallpaper. It’s hugely atmospheric and yes, it is thrilling to see this many people up on stage skillfully re-establishing that intimate landscape.

And that gig-magic is still there, just a little off-kilter. Instead of the anticipation and the hope that they might play our favourite song, you’ve got the nervous knowledge that, 2 tracks down the line, they’re going to play My Sister, Tiny Tears, Travelling Light, or Mistakes.

Stuart isn’t very chatty, it’s not a perfect gig, and if push came to shove, I’d take the first form of magic over what we were given here, but for a band that’s so close to hibernation, this show is a triumphant vindication of their art and a surprisingly uplifting reminder of how sad music can still make lots of people very very happy,

And I’m sure I’ll feel exactly the same about next years series of shows. And I’m sure that I’ll still go to one of them.

Unluckily for the young Scottish fella, the temperature in the venue is much the same, and I doubt whether it smells any more fragrant than backstage. Yes, the Bloomsbury Theatre is a lovely intimate venue. No, it doesn’t have air conditioning.

When word got out that Roddy Woomble was taking time out from Idlewild to record a folk album, it wasn’t exactly earth-shattering news. His band had, after all, moved from shambolic punksters to rocking only slightly harder than Coldplay. Roddy’s solo album, so it seemed, would just carry on moving up the mainstream. But Roddy takes his art seriously, and in conjunction with a load of genuine folk folk, he’s made a tender sofly-spoken album that stays in the memory for far longer than it’s relatively short running time.

It feels like Roddy has surrounded himself with friends on this album, whether they be Idlewild pal Rod Jones, or folksters like John McCusker and Andy Cutting. Possibly because of this, it feels far more communal than you would expect of a solo album. It’s coming at the folk idiom from a very different angle to Springsteen earlier this year – instead of the rollicking foot stompers, these are largely introspective songs that conjure up a real feeling of a time and a place. The easiest way into the album is via As Still As I Watch Your Grave, this being the track that sounds most like Idlewild. But From The Drifter To The Drake is perhaps more rewarding, a true half-breed between folk and rock, and unlike anything on his previous albums.

Stopping off at the Bloomsbury in the middle of a short tour, Roddy, accompanied by many of the supporting cast from the album open with a crowd-pleasing acoustic version of You Held The World In Your Arms before diving headlong into the new material. Without the safety net of the band, he’s far more chatty, and its far more involving than any Idlewild gig I’ve seen before. When somebody shouts out for Captain, he asks “Do you really think that would work with a cittern and an accordion?. As my mother used to say ‘You’ll get what you’re given’”

And, despite the oppressive heat, he gets a fine reception, the aforementioned As Still As I Watch Your Grave seeing a response rivalling that of American English at the end of the set. As triumphs go, its a quiet one, but its a triumph none the less.