Cal Cashin

@calcash.in

Mercurial music writer. As seen on @thequietus.com, @sonemic.com, and beyond. Complete works: calcash.in

In my opinion, the last year has probably seen my writing get markedly better. This, of course, means that it now takes me approximately twelve times longer to write even the simplest pieces

Went to see Marc Evans’ masterful new film Effi o Blaenau last night. Welsh language drama set in a spectacular slate-grey mountain backdrop. See it if you can!

Compiling and organising my notes and reviews from this year, and it's time for a belated mid-year thread on my favourite 20 albums of the year so far. Recommendations not welcome, but encouraged, begged for, pleaded for.

I don’t think I’ve listened to one of their records in a decade, but I will absolutely always go and see Oh Sees in whatever guise

"It blew my mind the first time I heard Yma Sumac sing. This album has moments that I still search for in other musicians and other places, but it is just untouchable to me." Eartheater on Yma Sumac - Voice Of The Xtabay buff.ly/FoGm9NS

Yma Sumac - Voice Of The Xtabay album cover. The artist in green, wearing gold coloured jewellery and headpiece, with a volcano erupting in the background and two stone idols. Titles in white against a black background.

so my actual analysis is that sometimes when you're innately good at a video game it weirdly ends up putting you at a disadvantage, as you plough through bosses without needing to actually learn attack patterns or whatever, until you reach a level where Your Thing no longer works and you get stuck

Marie Le Conte@youngvulgarian.marieleconte.com · 3w ago

god it's soooooooo rude of Spain to have studied our strengths and weaknesses as a team and decided to play in a way that neutralised the former and exploited the latter, urgh

When people ask me if I have any good stories from when I used to interview rock stars for a living my mind often goes a bit blank, and to be honest a lot of it was quite ordinary and unremarkable, but on the other hand there is this.

24 years ago I was sent to a London pub by a newspaper to interview and drink whisky (no “e” over here) with Lemmy, who was in the band Motorhead and, before that, slightly less famously, Hawkwind and, before that, much less famously, Sam Gopal. We had a good chat: about being from the part of the Midlands north of the River Trent, about books, and about roadying for Hendrix in the mid-60s (him, not me; I was minus nine at the time). When the record company PR sidled over to tell me my time was up, Lemmy waved him away. “No, no, I’m enjoying this,” he said, commandingly. I realised at this point that I had another question I’d been meaning to ask but hadn’t. “Are you scared of anything?” I said to Lemmy. “Nothing,” he replied. Then he paused and frowned for a moment, as if an idea had suddenly occurred to him. “Oh, maybe snakes,” he said. “It’s because they’ve got no shoulders.”