After a flurry of activity at the start of the year, things have gone a bit quiet lately. In this lull which leads up to a busy period around Easter, I've taken to making trips which don't really gain much in the way of new ground but go back to the roots of my travelling - getting to places I've never visited and collecting impressions of the country I live in. Now, I've clearly managed to visit lots of places over the years, but in many cases I've not wandered far beyond the immediate limits of the station. As my track-bashing obsession has increased, this has particularly been the case and in recent years unless I've been staying somewhere for the start of a tour I've seen little of the towns I visit. As I tried to book tickets for these weekends I realised I'd never visited Leicester. In fairness I'd never needed to, but it felt like an omission I should correct.

The other plan for these trips is to aim for some pleasantly long, relaxing rail journeys to contrast with the fragmented, frustrating weeks I'm dealing with at the office. So, after a quick hop to Weston I found myself on the familiar 06:24 to Paddington. With a fair amount of time at the other end to cross to St.Pancras, I felt relaxed and free of pressure as we sped through a misty morning. I'd slept really badly the night before, and knowing I'd be up early for a Rally in Wales tomorrow, knew I'd have fairly little hope of a decent sleep tonight either, so I stretched out and relaxed. On getting to London, I made a slow progress via coffee and buses to St.Pancras, lingering in a favourite spot before heading for the train. Quite without meaning too I'd booked on one of the now seemingly fewer East Midlands HST services, and it was good to have a spin in First Class on these trains from a company I rarely get to use. The run up the Midland Mainline went remarkably quickly, and with a little weak sun shining through the mist it was a fine journey. I arrived in Leicester to find that the station refurbishment I'd read about was in full swing. The fine brick entrance was mostly cordoned off with the stairs leading up to it removed - I'm sure that's a recent change but couldn't quite remember. Access was via the modern footbridge which connected into the tiled arrivals and departures hall, which despite being adorned with modern ticket gates and information screens, had a busy 'proper station' feel about it.

After negotiating the diversions through the boarded walkways out of the station I got my first glimpse of Leicester in the outside of the station building. I'd seen this from trains passing under the road bridge, and it remained an impressive, low brick sweep. Turning towards town, I noted a very new Premier Inn which might conceivably be useful in the future. This area had obviously seen a fair deal of regeneration, and had a clean busy feel. Crossing and wandering into Granby Street the limits of the scheme were soon reached. This slightly shabby but appealingly open street runs directly into the city, and is home to some fairly impressive victorian buildings. As ever, eyes raised above the (often abandoned) shop fronts are rewarded with little towers, detailed brickwork and remarkably complicated designs which would never grace a utilitarian commercial building nowadays. Finally, after a detour into the market and a small record shop still struggling on, I found the city centre. A sprawling pedestrianised zone with a couple of modern shopping developments. People ploughed relentlessly along this retail river, from one centre to the other. They didn't look where they were going, and despite the not inconsiderably obstacle I presented, didn't seem to see me.

Dipping into a side street to regain my route home, I found myself passing groups of young but decrepit looking drunks. I'm not sure why they'd congregated here, but they lolled weirdly in a little seated area not feet from a busy street where prosperous folk bustled by. Hurrying on, I regained the route to the station passing a band of orange-robed Hare Krisna folk singing and drumming loudly. Leicester is a strange place - a mix of old and new, rich and poor - but with very little middle ground it seems.

My route home, in slightly improved but rather chilly weather involved a detour to a very windy Derby station, then a dwell at Birmingham where I enjoyed coffee and a bit of ethnography, as I watched one of the strange gatherings of emo kids which seem to descend on railway stations on Saturday afternoons. In comparison to Glasgow Central or Manchester Victoria, this was a small and rather less committed bunch - but the hugging and preening was still evident, and the collection of fringe misfits who gravitated around them seemed to be genuinely decent kids. Amused, and somewhat pleased to see this strangely British subculture, I headed for my sleepy train home. Sometimes I feel like David Attenborough out here on the railway.

As 2012 finally starts to hit its stride musically, there are suddenly lots of singles around providing previews of delights to come. After glibly proclaiming the old-fashioned single largely dead sometime earlier in my musings here, I'm suddenly finding lots of bands using just one or two tracks to tease in the weeks up to an album or EP release. What's interesting too is how bands who have perhaps an EP or two under their belts are marking these releases as their 'debut single'. For me this is all good - the idea of new music from an artist you love being something of an event, along with the anticipation it builds can only be a positive thing. So here, hot on the heels of my last round-up of single releases is another one. There is lots to listen to here, and even stuff to see linked below - and you get much less rambling from me in each case too, which can only be a bonus...

Lonely Tourist - I Live Where You Are

One of the highlights of 2011 was getting to hear Lonely Tourist for the first time, and realising with forehead-slapping dismay that while I'd been haring up and down the country seeking interesting new music, here was someone who had been busily hawking his unusual mix of modern-day folk tales, scratchy ballads and wryly observed lyrics not more than a few miles from home. With a self-released album recorded in Glasgow, and some high-profile support slots alongside the regular touring of Bristol pubs Paul Tierney ought to be a much bigger name by now. However, as a second album approaches perhaps things are about to turn his way?

Setting off at his now traditional breakneck pace, on "I Live Where You Are" Lonely Tourist invokes the spirit of Johnny Cash early on with a wonderfully twangy solo guitar. Recording with a full band on this first brand new material for a year, once again this bursts energetically with a tumble of rapid-fire lyrics and half-revealed dramas. The scratchy, skiffly acoustic guitar style fits surprisingly well into this setting and the whole thing cannons along at a satisfyingly breathless tilt. Touching on home with his description of a mood "as black as a winter Glasgow morning", Tierney brings the classic folk song theme of the itinerant hobo right up to date, rattling through a litany of couches, tenements and the vagaries of the rental housing market. Despite it's life-affirmingly singable refrain, this is all about uncertainty - and clinging on to the few solid things in life. Slowing to a pensive halt in the middle, the song builds to a note-bending, spirited wild-west style conclusion. If you're not singing along by now, then I despair of you.

There is an album coming along soon, and Lonely Tourist will undoubtedly bring his humbly simple live show to somewhere near you very soon. You really need to hear this, and whatever comes next...

Lonely Tourist - I Live Where You Are

Lonely Tourist has provided early access to "I Live Where You Are" via a pay-what-you-like deal at Bandcamp..

Where We Lay Our Heads - Bury You

It's hard to tell if Wull Swales is the luckiest or unluckiest musician in Glasgow just now. Having assembled the first incarnation of Where We Lay Our Heads in 2011 and begun to see some genuine success with an EP and some high-profile support slots, things came to an abrupt personnel-related halt at the end of last year. However, picked up and dusted off in the best tradition of impossible-to-repress Scottish bands, the new incarnation of WWLOH has pretty speedily worked it's way to this debut single. Now a four-piece centred on the writing talents of Swales, the band appear to have undergone something of a transformation from the primarily acoustic tracks I've heard previously, and "Bury You" is the first fruit of this new approach.

Opening quietly enough, focusing on Wull's engaging vocals which proudly sport their Caledonian heritage, things take a surprisingly rocking turn as a solid rhythm section kicks in and guitars chug. This is a slow-burning, pensive piece which showcases Alison Cochrane's violin, winding in and out of the song, marking out the rhythm in the verses and soaring dizzily into the choruses. Meanwhile the vocals strike a note just between desperation and sinister obsession, working things up to a crashing ending where a tangle of edgy guitar noise gives way to allow Wull the last word. A masterpiece of dynamics, there are satisfying noisy moments coupled with dramatic silences here, which all fit surprisingly well into the heartachingly desperate minor-key epic. There's no doubting a lightness of songwriting touch here on Swales part, and coupled with a band which seems to understand perfectly how to interpret these songs I've no doubt that this new incarnation of WWLOH has the potential to surpass their previous efforts. And given the speed with which they're operating just now I'm sure they're not going to be standing still, so it's probably wise to catch them in tiny venues while you can.

Where We Lay Our Heads - Bury You

Where We Lay Our Heads release "Bury You" on 19th March, via their Bandcamp and will be taking it on a short Scottish tour with LETTERS, kicking off at The Captains Rest in Glasgow on 22nd March and proceeding to Inverness, Thurso and Skye before heading through to Edinburgh's Wee Red Bar.

Quickbeam - Seven Hundred Birds

Quickbeam were one of a slew of bands I discovered a little while back via by virtue of the ever-surprising Glasgow PodcART just at the right momemnt. On a train trip through bright, wintry countryside this beautifully simple mix of alluring vocals and melancholy traditional instrumentation clicked into place and sent me scurrying off to find out what I could. Apparently named for one of the ponderous, wise old Ents in 'The Lord of The Rings', any sense of whimsy ends there. But the slowed, gentle approach this suggests is an appropriate one - Quickbeam's music is glacial and graceful as much as it is dark and mysterious.

Previewed by a rather special video being promoted with unashamed excitement by Glasgow's emerging Comets and Cartwheels project, "Seven Hundred Birds" is the first single as such from Quickbeam despite a couple of collections of demos which have circulated among those deeply smitten by the band for a while. A plangent bass drum beats the rhythm while a harmonium moans amid spirals of wonderously mournful violin courtesy of recent new member Nichola Kerr. Monika Gromek's vocals are sparing, giving the music room to breathe - but when she sings in her wonderfully understated and gentle way, the atmosphere deepens and the tone darkens. The production and recording of "Seven Hundred Birds" is a triumph too - every gasp from the harmonium captured, silences and spaces preserved to provide a sense of depth and distance - like you're hearing something ancient and reverent. There is a line here where Gromek sings of "a painting that's escaped the frame" - and perhaps that is the best description for Quickbeam? A moment of beauty, briefly and gloriously animated.

Quickbeam - Seven Hundred Birds

You can see the video for "Seven Hundred Birds" here on Vimeo. The single is released via Comets and Cartwheels on 9th April. You can also find the recent teaser "Tide" for download at Bandcamp.

This is by my reckoning, the one hundredth post on Songs Heard on Fast Trains. I still sometimes wonder if I'm not completely barking up the wrong tree here, scribbling away about music I love, and somewhat randomly hitting and missing releases depending on how the blog fits in with real life. Still, it keeps me busy and it organises my thoughts - two incredibly important things just now, so it's likely you're stuck with me for a little longer. It also seems fitting that this landmark posting should go to The Douglas Firs - a band I've not written about before, but which has lingered in the background of my listening for sometime. Last year's "Happy As a Windless Flag" slipped by unremarked here, really only because of my own bad time-management - but had it made these pages i'd have written about dark, sometimes impenetrable and confusing music which is oddly, almost perversely addictive. This EP, while essentially a collection of field recordings and fragments recorded since the album, continues in that curiously compelling vein - and at the same time documents the metamorphosis of The Douglas Firs from one-man bedroom recording project to a full live band.

Available as a download, or a austerely packaged cassette or CD, this EP gives away few secrets from the outside. Even my normally astute mail thief neighbours failed to steal this one which perhaps hints at just how oblique and anonymous the release is. Beginning with "30.11.10", an echoing drone of background noises and feedback which surrounds a distant bass melody, it's clear that this isn't going to present lots of hit pop tunes. "What Remains" continues in a similar musical vein, but adds Neil Insh's plaintive, high vocals along with cascades of guitar and washes of percussion. I'm struck here, as on the debut album, that what sets The Douglas Firs apart from most other acts is that events in the background of songs are often far more important that the immediate foreground. Despite being quite noisy and fairly sonically challenging in places, this is never in your face - never overblown. The skill in building these cinematic scenes becomes increasingly apparent on "Ghost Wardrobe" which takes a simple bass guitar and violin coupling, and turns it into a sinister but beautiful sheen, which has an oddly perfect fit with the theme of spectral bedroom furnishings!

On "Something There" we're faced with a curious chorus of voices, sometimes sweetly harmonic and sometimes insistent and imploring - but always over a weird, industrial background of wind and traffic. It's unsettling and confusing - is this the sound of the Highlands where The Douglas Firs began their journey, or the urban edgelands of Edinburgh? In either case, there is a journey at the heart of this song - a strategy which always appeals to me. There are more conventional songs here too, and "Frameworks" is a example in its gentle acoustic interlude. Possibly the most upbeat composition here and driven by an undertow of bass guitar, Insh uses his high voice to struggle with structures and forms here - vocally and lyrically. Meanwhile "Church Hill" centres on a wavering, uncertain vocal and spartan piano notes which cluster around an echoing drumbeat. Like most of the vocal pieces here the mood is reflective and distant, with an obscure and pervasive sense of melancholy. Despite the simplicity of the instrumentation, it's a surprisingly warm and engaging piece. The droning opening of "The Dream, September" mocks the 'pipes and shortbread tin' stereotypes which scupper Scottish music all too often in the eyes of the world outside. This glitchy, atmospheric shimmer slips from channel to channel in the headphones, providing an interlude before we're transported once again via "South-Folk in Cold Country". This has more than a hint of the sounds of the early New Zealand DIY scene in its sparse instrumentation, military drums and stentorian vocals. There are familiar hints of impending discomfort with the troubled observation that "the indication that all is not fine". Taking advantage of the expanded line-up of the band, distant brass and piano accompaniment add depth and somehow this starts to pull together and make sense of the widely varied sounds which have preceded it.

The pieces which make up this release, whilst not designed to belong together in any sense, have conspired to become a whole which is sometimes shadowy and indistinct, but at others incredibly direct and accessible. The simple recording technology and experimental nature of "ep1" don't always make for easy or comfortable listening, but they document the processes of a band developing and changing, providing some beautiful sound pictures along the way. If the developments here are the future of The Douglas Firs it's going to be a very interesting one to watch unfolding. This is the soundtrack to a movie which will never be made...don't let it become a lost gem.

The Douglas Firs - Frameworks

This release is available from 5th March as a simply packaged CD or Cassette, along with a digital download from Armellodie Records. Proceeds from this release contribute to the recording and release of the band's forthcoming second album. You can read more about The Douglas Firs here.

There is an almost universal rule in planning trips around this early part of the year, which says at some point I'll end up in Cambridge. This is partly because it makes for a pleasantly long, circular journey when done right - using track I neglect at other times of the year. It's also because doing so means a bit of time in London, which is a rare pleasure amid other trips - though promises to be fairly commonplace in the coming few weeks. On the last couple of visits though, Cambridge has offered new things - the guided busway and the new Class 379s last time, and this time a chance to see the completed new platform in use after a rather quick and efficient build.

The day began with one of the textbook beginnings I've adopted in recent times - the early train to Bristol, catching up on news and social networking from the last few days, then breakfast at Bristol cursing Starbucks for the truculence around opening times. I was pleased to see that the phantom seat-stealer wasn't around today as I don't think I could have stomached a scramble for my booked pew this morning, so it was onto 1M21 to Birmingham, watching the sun slowly rise and listening to music. A cracking start to the day in fact, after a tricky few days at work. Had a bit longer than usual at Birmingham so I grabbed a coffee and watched the station coming to life. I never tire of busy stations, and there is something special about being relaxed and quiet while the crowds buzz around. Down to the platform for the 09:22 which was a little late arriving and performed a very swift turn-around, causing lots of silly seat reservation related frustration. Found a comfortable spot and settled in, noting that someone on the platform had already had a heavy day, as a drunk sprawled alongside the train with a couple of Network Rail staff trying to stop him wandering away until we'd left. Finally off, taking the familiar route through Nuneaton and Leicester before heading onto the rural section via Melton Mowbray. It had been a little while since I'd done this, and it was interesting to spot the changes as we headed south and east.

After noting a load of locos lined up at Peterborough and the customary one stabled at March, I settled in for the last bit of the journey. The unit was getting busy with daytrippers for Cambridge, and I was restless to stretch my legs. We soon arrived on the new island platform after a slow, lurching switch over to the left of the alignment. Cambridge has always had a curious one-platform with a middle crossover arrangement, with a couple of bays at each end for good measure, and this solution using a bit of the stabling yard had been talked about for years before finally getting built. Noted a few passengers looking bewildered and asking for Platform 8 though! I'd decided not to head into the busy city this time noting that the busway was still a building site at this end, and contented myself with a spot of lunch on the windy platform, awaiting the train to Kings Cross which was booked, apparently into Platform 0. Resisted temptation to board a shiny 379 for Liverpool Street once or twice.

In the event, the train didn't make it into Platform 0, instead bumbling over to No.3 on arrival. It was a pleasant journey down, made more amusing by how much my presence in First Class seemed to annoy the couple who arrived seconds before departure and glared at me for being present. They were visibly upset when the ticket check failed to see me thrown out of the train too. The run down the southern end of the East Coast Main Line isn't one I do often, and for that reason it's always an interesting one - certainly in comparison to the northern sections which I see more of! At Kings Cross, I wandered into the walkway through the new ticket hall. The sweep of the building was visible, and the large open space was pretty impressive. With the main trainshed roof cleaned and the concourse opened out, there is a light airy feel to the whole station, and this new section promised to change the station into a nicer spot to hang around. I do miss the cafe in the corner where I ended up eating an obscenely big breakfast after the sleeper one morning though! Outside the station I found myself wandering into the area behind the station which was buried behind hoardings. The 'small print' on these reminded you that you should use this private area responsibly, and the moment a down-on-his-luck type stumbled into view, a couple of skinny security goons in ill-fitting blue caps scurried out of nowhere to escort him back to the road. After making a couple of 'phonecalls, I quickly headed back to civilisation and made for refuge on a bus.

Finding myself heading down Farringdon Road, I decided to hop off south of the river and have a look at Blackfriars Station, now spanning the Thames, covering the full length of the bridge - the first London station to do so. The Thames Path was busy, a jazz band pelting out tunes under Blackfriars Bridge, and a stream of people enjoying what had become an unseasonably warm, sunny afternoon. I descended the stairs onto the shingle shoreline, littered with shells and debris. There were a surprising number of folks strolling along the waters edge, the ferries and pleasure boats sending waves against the stones. Took some pictures of the city under the piers of the bridge, before heading back to the path and struggling against the crowd to Tate Modern, then over the busy Millennium Bridge to St.Pauls. Instinctively hopped on a bus again - a No.26 which took me through the city and onwards towards Shoreditch and eventually to South Hackney. I bailed just before it turned East for the Wick, electing to wander over to London Fields station for a run back into Liverpool Street. It was now very warm and sunny, and I was enjoying just being out and about in London for the first time in a while.

From Liverpool Street, it was time to start heading back - albeit a little early. In the event this was a good thing, as after picking up the 205 bus on Houndsditch due to the Crossrail works and getting delayed heavily in the diversion along Beech Street to Old Street, the route was curtailed to terminate at Marylebone. Weighed up my options, bailing at Great Portland Street for the short tube trip to Paddington and a pleasant coffee before heading home on the usual train. Today was a varied and rather busy one - and probably not quite what I'd had in mind when I set out. All the best ones end up like that somehow!