I'm beginning to see how this strange hobby of mine goes in cycles. Last week saw me needing to turn lost days and cancelled trips into something of a coherent journey. It didn't work hugely well, and there were times when the need to be somewhere else without purpose made me pretty miserable. But this week, I'm back to the idea of being somewhere else without purpose for fun. When travelling, and the experiences and thoughts it throws up are the backdrop to pretty much everything I do, perhaps I should just embrace these periods of strangely dull eventlessness, and enjoy the strange opportunities they engender?

Take this week for an example. A trip without a destination as such - setting off early, a pleasant wait at Temple Meads for a train to Salisbury. The route less travelled onto the Southern as it's usually so busy, but pleasantly bearable at 07:23 on a Summer Saturday. A quick switch at Salisbury onto a London-bound unit, and again the route less travelled via Andover to Waterloo. I doze, listen and read - it's bright and sunny out, and it's nice just to be going in a direction I don't often travel nowadays. Once, when it was the cheapest way to get to London I used it a lot, and accepted the shorter day I'd get in the capital. Even today, oddly, the first class fare was cheaper than the standard. Zooming through Woking and the suburbs reminded me of a railtour to come, and got me pondering where to head on arrival.

On getting to Waterloo I made something of an error and headed for the bus far too early. I should have hung around the busy station a little longer. Instead, hoped onto a Euston bound service - but thought better of it at Tavistock Square and alighted to get coffee in the same spot I'd visited a week or two back. Quiet, and frequented by Spanish tourists who tumbled out of the cheap and cheerful hotels around the area, this was an odd, high-windowed spot where people watching was confined to indoors. Wrote and thought a bit, getting myself a little down in the process. Was this strange pointless dash what I was now confined to? Would the next few weeks be just as oddly lacking in direction? Decided to stroll into the area I've grown to love around Judd Street and up to the Euston Road. Could happily have gone further, but decided that it was time to visit the station. Shopped a bit, finding a new convenience store into the bargain, then headed down to the platform to see the London Midland service to Crewe arriving.

These slow services on the West Coast have intrigued me for years. In Silverlink days they were split into two separate services at Northampton, with few travelling through to Birmingham directly. Now there is a more interesting pattern, with units being uncoupled and heading for Birmingham, while the rest of the train heads along the Trent Valley, calling at smaller stops before taking in Stafford, Stoke and the loop back to Crewe via Alsager. The new, fairly nippy Class 350s are comfortable enough - but begin to get a little hard on the back after a couple of hours. Nevertheless, had a lazy run along the coast, seeing scenery I miss from a Pendolino porthole. Arrived at Stafford to find it quiet, but heavily Policed - later realising this was due to the Weston Park arm of the double-venued V Festival. Did something I've never done before, but which these less focused trips facilitate, and wandered into Stafford. Greeted by a beautifully well-kept public park surrounding the canal with an ornate bridge, then a walk between impressive civic buildings, a church and overhanging black-and-white town houses into the pedestrian area. Little there to distinguish it from other places, but a pleasantly busy town nonetheless. Wandered a little and thought about stopping for coffee, but I only had an hour - so the station seemed a better bet. Arrived to find the coffee machine broken, so ended up nursing a hot, weak cup of tea and listening in to the Police chatting about the festival.

The train home arrived on time and surprisingly quiet. Found my seat and settled in for the journey home, early than usual. The clouds closed in a little which created some spectacular sunset scenes as we headed into the golden glow over the West Country. On reflection, it had been an interesting and relaxing day. Isn't that, after all, what it's all about?

I'm afraid these tired old bones can only managed one festival each year, and thus regular readers will have seen me tireless rant on about Homegame during the summer. I can only apologise, but in my defence I'd point out that just that one fateful afternoon in the Erskine Hall has led me to artists who have produced some of the most interesting and exciting releases of the year - with Rachel Sermanni and Mercury-nominated King Creosote and Jon Hopkins alongside Martin John Henry who is shortly to release his solo record. The other artist who played that afternoon, and whom I've waxed lyrically about often and to anyone who will listen, is Iona Marshall. Iona's voice originally reached me via Glasgow PodcArt, who've championed her gently lyrical, Caledonian take on ambient folk for some time. However, it's not always been easy to track down recordings until now, as Iona is a fiercely independent spirit, and is genuinely taking a do-it-yourself approach to music via a series of collaborations, home-made CD-R's and playing anywhere and everywhere she can it seems. The digital release of this EP makes her music more widely accessible and will, I'd hope enable her to reach new ears.

Opening the record, "Aquamarine" is of surprisingly straightforward folky construction with plenty of space for Iona's voice. At first, this is deployed in it's purest form - beautifully clear, capable of wineglass-shattering high notes and sounding like it just rolled in from the Perthshire hillside. Later in the song though, her voice becomes an additional instrument, looped and duplicated. Far from destroying the curiously ancient, nautical atmosphere, this in fact strangely enhances the sense of dark rooms and creaking beams. The sea, it seems, is never far from Marshall's music. "I Music" increases the pace and volume only slightly. Deftly picked on an electric guitar, this grapples with the motivation for artistic creation. While listening to these songs, it's easy to forget that this is an entirely self-released project recorded in a Glasgow living room - and this song perhaps goes some way towards outlining her approach to music and musicianship. An uplifting, infectious chorus which wouldn't be out of place on a big hit single follows, but Iona's voice never fails to tie the song to its traditional roots.

The breadth of Iona's songwriting vision becomes evident on "Hail Madonna". Overall this is a much more complex and dense work, using lots of electronic trickery to support a simple and fragile tune. Meanwhile Marshall sings about clinging to the frail edges of sanity, negotiating the pitfalls of modern life, and seeking a talisman to see you through the horror of what to others is probably just another day. On the surface, it's a technically clever, engaging tune - but looking deeper into the lyrics this becomes a far braver and more impressive feat, dealing with subject matter rarely tackled successfully in my experience. However via Iona's sensitive approach this comes across as honest, heartfelt and triumphant. Meanwhile, "Storm Queen" returns things to a more domestic scale despite beginning with otherworldy whispers. Sparse instrumentation supports Iona's voice which carries the galloping melody through the humdrum city streets to the waters edge and once again out to sea. Her ear for a neat phrase is ever apparent, and surely it's impossible not to be delighted by observations like "the eye of the cockerel on the cornflakes stares me out"? Things come to a close via "Touch Down", an expansive piano-led piece which switches tempo and skips through endless electronic loops and skittering beats on its complicated journey. Once again, the lyrics reflect the landscape - hillsides, canals and rivers negotiated as Marshall's voice soars above the map. It's a fitting ending for a record which is deeply anchored in its place of origin.

The five songs on "I Music" illustrate that Iona Marshall has the uncommon ability to exist in many worlds at once, with the traditional sitting comfortably alongside more experimental approaches - and not least the knack of inserting fantastically catchy pop sensibilities in the brew too. This EP manages to take me back to that quiet, spellbinding afternoon in Anstruther, when we were gently coaxed out of our hung-over states only to be intoxicated again by Iona's songs, and her incredibly versatile voice. Along with her fairly recent De-Fence Records release this forms part of a growing testament to genuine hard graft, commitment and the ability to write damn fine songs.

The "I Music" EP can be purchased from Bandcamp.

Iona Marshall - Hail Madonna

In my wilderness years where I was almost entirely out of touch with much in the way of contemporary music, I'd often find myself wandering around Glasgow and spotting that Y'all Is Fantasy Island were playing somewhere - everywhere in fact, as they popped up in every corner of the city at seemingly regular intervals. I often thought to myself it was a ridiculous name for a band, but a strangely intriguing one too. Somehow it stuck in my mind and I resolved one day to follow up on the instinct and check them out. Indeed a couple of years later I finally found myself devouring their albums and hoping I got to see them play at some point. I never managed to, as the band unfortunately went on indefinite hiatus somewhere along the line and finally, quietly announced their demise during 2010. Aside from some instrumental work for films, this is the first solo record proper by Adam Stafford - the songwriter-in-chief and creative force behind almost all of YiFI's rather fine back catalogue. Again though, I approached this with perhaps a little trepidation - some of Stafford's output in the interim has been challengingly experimental or downright contrary - part of what attracts me to his music I'm sure in some ways, but not always an easy listen by any standard. However what hooked me into YiFI over and over again was his ability to deliver strange, sometimes complicated stories in the space of a song, and "Build A Harbour Immediately" is full of those moments.

The first hint of how this album might sound came with "Fire & Theft" which was perhaps an impossibly easy choice for the single with its infectious, joyous pop and sinister undertones. In many ways this is the most YiFI-like track of the entire album too, with it's nagging, echo laden guitar hook running throughout. Touches of apocalyptic paranoia flit through the lyrics, sung in the weirdly chipper tone of the genuine fanatic, and topped with a curious sing-song chorus at the song's ending. It's a weirdly happy song which hints at underlying doubt and fear with it's "steely voice to whip your bones" a clue about what's to come perhaps? Meanwhile, "Cathedrals" is a gentler paced rumination on time, change and the complexities of relationships, taking a fairly oblique and perhaps longer view than the average throwaway love song. A duet of sorts, the complicated guitar parts are gently embellished with strings, which build towards a portentous but restrained ending. True to the track's name, it's hard not to envisage lofty ceilings, skyward swooping buttresses and shafts of light through stained glass with the atmosphere created here, while Stafford's voice occasionally drops to a low growl here before soaring to impossible heights in the chorus.

I remember an earlier version of "Police No Speech" surfacing on a compilation which was stark and empty, with Stafford's voice unnervingly close to your ear. This version is sweetened somewhat by background flashes of steel guitar and a female vocal foil, but it retains the sense of unease in it's genuinely disturbing lyric. The incongruence is disquietening, with the melancholy but delicate tune playing on as an uncertain but unspecifically horrifying tale unfolds - a break into a home by family members, grooming, burn marks on the stairlift, the smell of death and lilies. Just enough detail to make things uncomfortable, but not enough to sate curiousity - and here, in the techniques which deliver the spine-tingling chill of the best mysteries, Stafford's literary qualities shine through. Thinking back to some of the experimental post-YiFI work, much of this centred on Stafford experimenting with using his voice as the sole instrument. "Shot Down You Summer Wannabes" harks back to this having been a free single release a while back, and is entirely constructed from vocal loops with the addition of a strangely soulful lead vocal. It's a neat trick perhaps, because if this epic, almost-gospel piece had been recorded with traditional rock band instruments, it would have been all too easy to end up with an overblown and cloying outcome. Instead we have a fragile, strange and engaging song. The soul undertones persist into "Step Up, Raise Hands" which is one of those songs which should be a chart-topping hit in another universe. It's a surprisingly straightforward, but encouragingly low budget Motown stomp - but even here among exhortations to "dance like you're born again" there are the dark edges which mark Stafford's often baleful presence as he threatens to "force my face into the crotch of the monograph". A shredding guitar solo utterly defies the soul element for a moment, and I'm again struck by the joy of Adam's singing - his voice much more assured given the space and stylistic variation of these songs. This is absurdly catchy, instantly memorable pop music. It probably wasn't quite what I was expecting, but I'm damn glad it's here!

"Build A Harbour Immediately" drifts in with delicate, duelling guitar melodies - one on target, the other out of focus and off-key. Stafford adopts a Dylanesque drawl here, which is then manipulated and twisted to become am eerie moan. Meanwhile an operatic backing vocal keens and soars before receiving the same distorting treatment. It's a strange parody of prettiness - an uneasy form given to familiar elements. Likewise, it makes virtually no sense at all to describe something as an 'acapella instrumemtal' but that's exactly what "Frederick Wiseman" is. On the surface, just a shimmering chorus of looped backing voices, doubling and building until a swooning lead vocal soars over the backdrop. Eventually the voice falls away, leaving the chattering loops to decay into sinister whispers, which remind me of the highly dubious Electronic Voice Phenomena that all the best ghost hunters claim to receive. Not for the first time on my eerily quiet morning train I find myself looking over my shoulder down the empty carriage. The preponderance of the word 'crystal' in band and song names just now is odd, but here it is saved to appropriately describe the epic closing soundscape of "A Vast Crystal Skull". Issued in with a suitably shimmering, brittle opening things develop with a cinematic, road movie sweep. I first heard this track on a slightly miserable tilting run up the Clyde valley, with dark skies with fast moving silver clouds casting shadows on the valley floor provided curiously fitting scenes. Given space and freedom again here, Stafford's voice dips and soars, arcing over the atmospherics, most particularly the uplifting sweeps of slide guitar which spiral skywards.

The revelation across all of these varied and complex songs is Stafford's mutable, often powerful and hugely versatile voice. in the confines of YiFI it seems Adam often had a little less space to explore this, as he was forced to up the pace to match the harder-edged sound they began to develop, losing some of the finer vocal qualities. However, on "Build A Harbour Immediately" it's given free rein to twist oddly, whisper strangely - and sometimes to just belt out a soulful tune. This collection of songs is almost disconcertingly diverse, often lyrical and packed tight with ideas which threaten to burst out of the songs which contain them. Close to some of his finest work here, Stafford is a remarkable songwriter capable of delivering chillingly observed and sometimes far from easy-to-digest stories, whether in the shape of tight, literate pop music or the more expansive and experimental elements he employs. I get a feeling that this going to be one of those releases which ends up all over the end-of-year lists.

"Build A Harbour Immediately" is available as a digital release and a limited edition yellow tape now from Wiseblood Industries. It will receive it's official launch on 20th August at Stereo in Glasgow, alongside Paws, Miaoux Miaoux and Mondegreen at "Ayetunes vs. Peenko 4 - The Revenge". You can also find the entirety of YiFI's output in a single download costing absolutely nothing here.

Adam Stafford - Police No Speech

Regular readers, should any remain now the music stuff has headed elsewhere, may recall the 'Lost Weekend' series. Occasions when planned trips didn't happen but advance fares and hotel bookings had to be used. In fairness, I've had some fairly interesting trips in the past off the back of these happenings, and I've rarely let things get me down after the initial frustration of cancellations. This one was however a bit different - the plan had been a Crewe-Fort William trip with the Deltic on Wednesday and a Preston-Edinburgh run with Class 50s on Saturday. Two interesting and much looked-forwarded to trips which were annoyingly cancelled only a matter of a couple of weeks before they were due to run, ostensibly down to a lack of available stock from WCRC. With the politics out of the way, and the difficult realisation that booking on the re-runs would be difficult given how much I'd invested in this week, I turned to working out what to do now. Having thought that returning home between Wednesday and Saturday wasn't necessary I'd committed to a whole week away.

One target had been obvious from my first base of Crewe - a dash up to Glasgow on the 05:57. So, Wednesday morning saw me bleary eyed and troubled having watched a night of unbelievable rioting occuring in London and beginning to kick-off around the country. Scotland, from the perspective of Twitter and Facebook friends, seemed unaffected - indeed there was a degree of curiosity and amusement about what was happening here - until the news broke about the Sony Distribution Depot being destroyed, and many small record labels stock with it. The trip was gloomy and tense, and the skies dark to match the mood. It had been raining non-stop in Glasgow for days and was supposed to be this way all week, with warnings all over the place about floods. I stepped off the train at Central, feeling a hint of the old enthusiasm right away, but then saw the rain and dashed for the coffee shop. I skipped from shop to shop all day, watching Glasgow getting drenched. I've been soaked through here many, many times - but this was a little too much for even the seasoned locals, with street-corner smokers staying indoors. I wasn't sorry to head back onto my train for a thoughtful dash home. I felt rough, felt like I'd missed an opportunity to be in my favourite city because of the rain and a lack of planning, and was thinking grimly of the week ahead...

Movebook Entry

Thursday would have been a very sleepy day in the original plan, as the Fort William trip was due back at around 00:30 had it run. Instead, I had another restless night in front of 24 hour news and still managed to be up earlier than I needed to. The main trip today was the relative short relocation to Preston for the rest of the week. Decided to head into Manchester and to use the time to cover one of the Northern Rail Class 180 diagrams. Breakfast and then into Piccadilly for coffee and lounging about watching people. A tram across town revealed some evidence of damage from rioting, but it didn't seem to be keeping people away from the shops. On this evidence a thought I'd had about returning here later in the week didn't seem so bad. At Victoria, I waited time for the service to Blackpool North, deciding to take it all the way to the coast. As booked, a 180 turned up and I settled in for the run, picking the same coach as the loudest and most abusive family I've ever come across - and that's in years of being associated with Children's Social Care. Considered reporting them somehow, but realised that this bunch were actually taking their kids to the seaside so couldn't in fact be all bad despite appearances. Put away my prejudices in order to entertain the usual ones at Blackpool. Didn't even exit the ticket gates this time, waiting for the 180's run back to Preston without facing the grim-visaged Northern staff at the ticket line. At Preston I quickly found the hotel and checked in, heading straight out to find food. Realised oddly that I remembered a lot of the walk from looking carefully at the pavement on my last very slippery and icy December visit to the city! Realised too that Preston practically closes down at 5:30pm. Eventually found a Tesco Metro and during my shop mentioned how surprised I was that one of Britain's newest cities was shut up so early. The young lady gave a nervous chuckle before speaking - and I realised later that most locals do the same before talking about their town. Still, a brand new Premier Inn meant a comfortable night ahead.

Movebook Entry

Friday dawned a little clearer, and I enjoyed a late start by visiting Starbucks and watching Preston wake up. Down to the station for one of the first off-peak stopping trains to Manchester - a pretty rickety Class 142, full of OAPs who I understand get some sort of concession on rail services in Lancashire? Once into Manchester, descended to the Tram Stop and waited the first service out to the short MediaCity UK extension. I'd tried to do this once before during it's uncertain first days of operation, but today managed to get to the terminus among the smart new BBC offices and the growing knot of businesses in the area. Couldn't manage the Eccles-bound side of the triangle in off-peak service though, so returned to Cornbrook and waited what seemed like ages for a tram to St.Werburgh's Road - the stub of what will be the Airport line eventually. Noted the former rail alignment heading off into the distance beyond the stop, and reasoned that it's a damn good thing that this light rail scheme has prevailed here over guided busways and cycle routes. Look forward to returning to cover the rest of the line when it's built. With new track covered for the first time in a while, headed back to Victoria to take the Class 180 back to Preston again. A short day out, but at least I'd managed to find a productive purpose to what could have been a very dull day. Headed out to see some bands later, which was an experience in itself. Preston is a strange city...

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I'd desperately tried to book a variety of things to fill my week, but given I had only a matter of days to sort things out as decent fares were disappearing fast, things had been a little hit and miss. I'd thought of a trip to Edinburgh - but completely forgot that the festival was on, and both accommodation and tickets were at a premium. So, I'd ended up booking a second dash up to Glasgow today - managing to stick around for a bit longer too. I'd thought about heading for Edinburgh once I got there, but having practically written off my trip earlier in the week I decided to stick around the city a bit. The early run up began irritatingly as the Train Manager refused to open the rear set where my reservation was at Preston. Given a crowd of other folks with seats there pestering him, he did so at Lancaster necessitating a dash back down to the unit. Ended up in a nice, empty coach as a result though - and enjoyed the trip immensely. With the weather comparatively fine, had a wander around the city and visited the record shops. Explored some places around the river which I'd not visited for years too, noting how they'd changed - and the passive provision for a future light rail scheme. A day in Glasgow is always a bit unrewarding though now - I want to be around for music in the evening, or have the chance to wander further afield. Felt this acutely today, having felt like I'd wasted a week - and certainly one of my days up here. So, rather miserably set off back to Preston, despite an amusing journey were a drunken Celtic fan bet me I couldn't correctly guess which side the platform would be at each station!

Movebook Entry

It turned out to be a strange and mixed week - with the odd mood because of the rioting, the terrible weather, and my general miserableness at feeling like I was wasting time and money. However, I enjoyed my travels and it was good to be away too. I still find Preston a strange and confusing place, but it was much nicer to be there without worrying about slithering around on ice this time. It's time to focus on future travels and the next Glasgow visit now however...