upward at forty-five degrees – julian cope

Summertime’s definitely here. Blazing sunshine, short tempers and a weed-drought. Soon, we’ll have traditional british rioting and looting and a prime minister who fucks off abroad in case the lynch mobs get too close.
And, while everyone else in all of christendom is raving about Daft Punk’s piece of shit new album (yeah, I know. It’s *just* me!) I’m having a wee tapdance down memory lane with Julian Cope’s 1992 masterwork, ‘jehovakill’.
This was the first of his LPs I heard, I think. Much as I loved The Teardrop Explodes, his solo work passed me by in a miasma of rumours of psychedelic punishment and mental damage.
So when this jumped out at me in Leith library in 1993, I was surprised at how fast I fell in love with it.
Like a string of messages from a parallel universe where scousers had invented krautrock, filtered through crop circles and head injuries, the whole album’s a mishmash of new age/psychedelic/just-plain random musings on the end of the last century.
I remember being in a house in the north of scotland, listening to this and the gentleman whose house it was taking umbrage at ‘upwards at forty-five degrees’. I think he found the repetition – or maybe just me – unacceptable.
For me though, it’s an album that never gets old. I’ve listened to it in random order for so long, I can’t readily remember the correct sequence of the songs contained therein.
I can’t recommend this album highly enough. The perfect soundtrack to that couple of warm days we scots call ‘summer’.

Here’s the url to sign up for the new dreich NOiR next month – http://dreichcoalface.wordpress.com/


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