Monday, May 19, 2025
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In the closet

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As we approach the end of term, thoughts of travel naturally arise, so many adventures home and abroad. The main thing with these is to return rested and restored, replete with memorable anecdotes for the endless cocktail hour that is Hilary Term. Since no good story features wardrobe embarrassment, either in the content or the delivery, do proceed carefully, as follows:

 

Maximize sartorial options on the road by treating your travel case like your closet, storing toiletries, books and other diversions in a separate satchel. Wear your heaviest pair of shoes and pack your lightest (pair or pairs), and travel out in the same ensemble in which you will return.

 

Whilst abroad, remember our earlier encouragement to appear effortlessly arrived, which is to say, as if you never left. Nothing tells a tourist more than ‘travel’ kit, and while the destination climate may well require special arrangements (shorter trousers, or a tie you can wear to the beach), do resist the temptation to wear wrinkle-free fabrics, anything with ‘extra’ pockets, or a jacket that compresses into a key chain.

 

Especially if you have arranged particular engagements before departure (such as dinner reservations, a debutante ball, or something fancy dress), it pays to pack accordingly, so do give some thought to what might look best on each day’s occasion. We know some very fashionable people, not all of them gentlemen, who wear only certain colours which they know do well together. While the practice is slightly conservative on the home front, though no less effective for this reason, it makes eminent sense when taking the show on tour, celebrating the freedom of reduced circumstances. Finally, do leave a small amount of space in your packing for chance acquisitions, bearing in mind that intensely regional dress tends not to travel very well, if at all. Depending on how far you’ve ventured, all manner of sartorial indulgence may be justified, by the certain knowledge that none of your friends will return in the winter with the same pieces in their closet.

It’ll be lonely (planet) this Xmas

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It’s the season of good will to all men, roughly translated as major family time that you’re not getting out of. Time to sit around the fire, playing board games and have deep and meaningful conversations about everything that’s happened over the last twelve months, precisely the last time when Trivial Pursuit came out of the cupboard. Some people love Christmas, some people hate it, so we thought we’d look at some places to escape or embrace those Christmas traditions, and whether now is the time to take a little break to somewhere infinitely more exciting.

As Tony Wheeler, the co-founder of the phenomenally successful “Lonely Planet” series argues, as students, this is the most exciting time in your life to travel: “I still like that idea of [being] young, going off on a first trip, changing your mind forever. That’s still something that really appeals to me. Young people are in many ways pioneers, they’re doing things that later on would be too uncomfortable for them”.

Convincing enough, but most people spend their time and money travelling over the twelve weeks of the Summer vac. So is there any case for going away at Christmas, when prices and gimmicks are hiked up to the max? I asked Tony about the pros and cons of visiting places at peak times: “I think there’s very good reasons why there are peak times. But in some places, it’s so overpowered, so if you can, find things that are just a little bit off peak. You go to France in August, and every Frenchman is on holiday, you can’t find a place on the beach. But you go just one month away from it and suddenly the crowds have disappeared.” It’s true that avoiding “wall-to-wall crowds” is probably a positive thing, but the advantages of long university holidays, starting well before the school holidays break up, mean that we can just about avoid the absolute peak time, as well as getting all the perks of the winter season. After all, there’s no substitute for the sparkly lights and Christmas trees in Brussels or Paris.

When I contacted the STA travel press office, they were more than happy to ream off a number of festive destinations with all the promises of crisp snow and warm food: “Scotland is amazing at Christmas as it’s cold, crisp and often snow covered. Paris is indulgent and luxurious – freezing cold in the winter – and perfect for feasting and winter festivities. And Amsterdam, being one of the party capitals of Europe, is the ideal place to spend New Year.” Add to that their special discounts for students, package deals and off-peak rates, and that traditional Christmas abroad is looking all the more enticing.
So it’s possible to do this holiday perhaps cheaper than originally expected. A further few clicks on the Internet, and I’ve found, surely the ultimate Christmas location: the Santa Claus village in Rovaniemi, Lapland. I’m reliably informed of it’s history by the website, which says that “about a hundred years ago, a passer-by started spreading the word about Ear Mountain and the existence of its inhabitants. Santa wanted to safeguard the tranquillity of his secret hiding place and came up with a superb idea that also allowed him to meet people who love Christmas and his many friends who come to greet him.” Wasn’t that clever of Santa? I don’t think its me being overly cynical to suggest that perhaps this isn’t entirely true. It’s not that I don’t want to believe it, it was a very sad day indeed when my Mum told me Father Christmas didn’t exist. But can you escape the fact that most Christmas activities are just put on for tourists?

Wheeler’s view on this is clear and pragmatic: “Look, they are put on for tourists. But I don’t think there’s anything wrong with that.” Enjoyment should be the most important criteria, and those traditional destinations are often the very best for that warm festive feeling, “go somewhere like New York, and Christmas is one of the best times of year. The place feels like Christmas, there’s unusual snowfall as well, which is even better”.

Yet the man himself, Wheeler not Santa, likes to spend his Christmasses in Australia, where his family are very much of the view that “Christmas should be summer”: “it’s entirely different what people expect. When do you go skiing? You go skiing in August? That’s the time you go skiing! But I like it either way, I’m very happy with Christmas being in the middle of summer, but I’m equally happy if I flip it around sometimes, and have a winter Christmas.”

But there’s a good reason to be somewhere entirely different for the 25th Decemeber. Whether coming from a tradition of sand or snow, Christmas is always an illuminating time to be elsewhere from the familiar according to Wheeler: “I rather like being in weird and wonderful places at strange times. I’ve had Christmas in Burma once, which was very strange, I had Christmas in Khat Man Du once, and it still is a little bit Christmassy. The mountains are covered in snow, it’s cold and chilly. Quite a few places try to put on something for the tourists there. Khat Man Du was a good place at Christmas.”

It’s interesting talking to the founder of the most successful guidebook series about peak and off-peak, popular and unusual destinations, as he’s probably personally contributed considerably to many of them being so. If a restaurant is mentioned in a Lonely Planet guidebook, it will be swamped with visitors, flouncing the competition through the sole merit of being printed within that hallowed blue cover.

Wheeler admits this is “a concern, no question. One of the things we’ve learnt over the years is to be cautious about places where we have too much influence. If we do a book about New York, London, Sydney or Paris, if we say “this restaurant is really good”, or “this restaurant is really bad”, its a factor, but it’s not an overwhelming factor. But there are some places in the world, where we have a disproportionate influence. You go to Vietnam, and the majority of people are going to be using our Vietnam guide, so we have to be really cautious of how we treat places there, because you can make or you can break places. We’ve learnt over the years to use our influence carefully, when it needs to be used carefully.”

But although these writers have a great deal of influence, the nature of their influence is changing thanks to the Internet. I asked Wheeler about how he thought online forums were changing the nature of the guidebook: “I think these days people are looking for information in all sorts of different ways. Print isn’t dying, print is as popular as ever, it’s just that it’s not always on paper. We’re reading more than we ever did. We’re having to send our writers out to research things, not really knowing how it’s going to end up. They’re researching things which may end up on the website, may end up on an iPhone or iPad or in a book.”

The Internet and technology has functioned to raise our expectations of information, “What we’re seeing at the moment is with the latest digital phones and smart phones you can do so much more. You have that advantage of things you can do digitally which you can’t do with a guidebook. We used to send the writers out and say “get us a good restaurant”. Then we had to say, “here’s a good restaurant, and here’s the website for it”, now we have to say “what’s the latitude and longitudes of it, pinpoint the position of it.” That’s becoming what you have to do these days.”

So Tony Wheeler and the Lonely Planet attempt to raise the standard of travel around the globe, whatever the time of year. But, crucially, and perhaps surprisingly, there is very little pretension surrounding him. I’m sure I’m not the only person to have met a snotty Lonely Planet carrier who’s out to find “the real, local experience”, but this is not Tony himself: “If it’s authentic, and you want that element about it, then that’s great. But I’m not particularly worried about authenticity”.
And this is our ultimate point. Christmas is so marketable, it’s not going to be ignored by half-savvy businessmen. But that doesn’t mean we should dismiss it either. “I’ve been to lots of places which have no interest in Christmas, it’s not one of their holidays at all, and with tourists there, they’ll do something for Christmas with that. It’s more fun being there at the time of a local holiday, and jumping into that, doing something you haven’t experienced before, but hey, there’s nothing wrong with our holidays as well.”

Creaming Spires

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Oh em gee. Big Willy is getting married to Babykins! I’m talking, bien sur, about the royal engagement, which does sound like a euphemism for a sex act (slurping Cava out of an appropriate orifice? Coming simultaneously whilst wearing taffeta?) but is, for once in this column, quite literally what it sounds like, our Prince is marrying his Uni sweetheart. Shucks. Now I imagine this event has more relevance to students here at Oxford than to most. There must be, say, a strong ten percent of us who are related to one of the happy couple, or at least our families are mutually involved in some sort of time share arrangement in the Bahamas. Hell, I sat next to a girl in hall last night who lives down the road from the Babykins clan (they’re a lovely, normal family in case you’re wondering). But my issue is, they don’t seem like a very sexual couple, do they? I mean, I wasn’t expecting Will to start rutting away at Kate’s soon to be royal vajayjay as soon as the camera faded out on the announcement, or for Kate to be coquettishly wiping a suspect substance from her lips in between declaring her excitement at impending queendom (though that would, in the words of Camilla Parker-Bowles, have been ‘wicked’) but I don’t get any, you know, vibes from them at all. To the extent that the thought of Kate calling Will ‘Big Willy’ gives me a little bit of vom in the back of my throat (how appropriate it seems to evoke the gag reflex that Kate has presumably forever suppressed in her ambitious quest for a royal title). Maybe I’m wrong. Maybe in St. Andrews they were constantly braving the notoriously freezing highland temperatures with alfresco sex jaunts, getting frisky under kilts or doing unorthodox things with shortbread. But it seems unlikely somehow. It is generally hard to ascertain the nature of another couple’s sex life though, isn’t it? Unless they live in the room next to you in college AND HAVEN’T REALIZED THAT THE WALLS ARE PAPER THIN AND I CAN HEAR YOUR WHINY INTERCOURSE WHEN SHE ALLOWS IT ONCE EVERY FEW WEEKS SO PLEASE SHUT UP. Shame this column is ‘anonymous’. Cough. When I allow my mind to wander to regal coitus, I imagine that Big Willy and Babykins will have sex three times in their life (with their clothes on) purely and entirely for procreational purposes, and then apologize to one another afterwards. And good for them. Things would get really creepy if the royals started getting sexy. I mean, there’s a reason it’s dark in Kukui and that’s because watching such highly bred specimens getting nasty is like looking straight into the sun. You’re witnessing something horrifying but oddly compelling. Hurrah for Kate and Will, then. And a merry Christmas to all.

Playing your cards right

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‘In simple terms I can see, hear and speak with people in the spirit world, as well as read people’s past and predict their futures. It still amazes me when I say it out loud!’ As self-professed ‘Britain’s best-loved psychic’, Sally Morgan holds herself with a confidence and self-belief that barely betrays a career of more than twenty years facing down sceptics and cynics of her ‘gift’. It’s only in the last 4 years her career has expanded stratospherically with TV programmes Sally Morgan: Star Psychic and Psychic Sally: On the Road, two books and a third on the way in 2011, a nationwide tour and even a documentary about her recent gastric band operation.

Today Sally has joined the steadily-growing ranks of TV psychics trying to satisfy the nation’s hunger for the paranormal and supernatural. Having done readings for the cream of ITV2’s Z-list and reality TV stars (Brian Dowling, Kym Marsh, Danny Dyer…), I have to admit I was a little shocked when she revealed her most distinguished client to have been Princess Diana.

‘I was her psychic for over four years but our relationship was strictly professional. I remember one Boxing Day whilst having a big family dinner the phone rang. I answered it and was amazed to hear Diana on the end of the line, apologising for disturbing me and my family, obviously I told her it was no problem. It was such a hilarious moment as my mum was doing the typical, “I mean who phones on Boxing Day…who is it?…who is it?!” and I was trying to mime to her, whilst listening intently, “It’s the princess, the Princess of Wales”. I think that is the only time I have broken off from a roast turkey! She was a remarkable woman whom I highly respected; I am honoured to have known her.’

Perhaps it’s the earnestness and honesty in Sally’s words that have earned her that coveted title of ‘Britain’s best-loved psychic’ and the trust of the ‘people’s princess’, but I’d be more inclined to say it’s that she seems a lot less mad than some of the other psychics on the scene. There’s a big difference, she notes, between the genuine ones and the ones who know how to work an audience.

‘For me it is about validation. If they make a connection with you, if they give you information about your life that they could not have known, if they give you validation that they are indeed speaking to a relative or loved one in spirit then you have to just trust your instinct.’ I’m a little wary myself of Sally’s ‘gift’. I am a card-carrying cynic and hardly the first to ask Sally about the ethics of making money out of the gullible who are simply searching for reassurance and the last chance to say goodbye to a loved one.

Her technique is described by sceptics as ‘cold reading’, a term used (mainly pejoratively) for the throwing out of common words, names and images to be seized upon by a (usually already believing) sitter and made to ‘fit’ their life. Inevitably her controversial career choice has led to her being brandished by cynics as a phony and a fake, playing on the emotions of the grieving and the desperate. Indeed her £1.50 a minute ‘live psychic readings’ with hand-picked clairvoyants and her equally priced ‘psychic texts’ seem only to be fuelling the fire for her cynics.

Nevertheless, Sally is quick to justify the price she slaps on her gift: ‘From seeing me on TV, you may think that my life looks glamorous, but I still have bills to pay and mouths to feed like the next person. I would be unable to dedicate so much of my life to sharing my gift if I was unable to survive. I am genuine and it is people’s prerogative whether they want to spend their money to come and see me. The way I see it there is no difference to paying to get your hair done, or buying a new pair of shows; if it makes you feel better about yourself then it is an investment.’

I’m stunned for a moment by the forthrightness with which Sally talks about her ‘career’, for Sally has managed to turn a gift that she discovered at the age of 4 into a lucrative and ever-expanding business. ‘The first “experience” I remember clearly was when I was four years old. I was at nursery and I asked my teacher why my granddad couldn’t be with me. My teacher told me that no-one was allowed their granddad in the class with them and then I pointed at a girl in my class and asked why she was allowed. I could see as clear as day an old man dressed in a full length coat stood next to this girl.

‘The teacher asked me where this man was and so I went right up to him and pointed. The man smiled at me and then just disappeared. No one else in the room saw him.’ Nowadays, it still seems like Sally is trying to get her head around the idea of contacting spirits, ‘as bizarre as it sounds it is like putting a plug in a socket! Just before I go on stage I allow myself to open up to spirit world and suddenly I connect. When I am on stage there are many ways in which people in spirit present themselves to me; sometimes I can just hear them, other times I can see them and occasional my body will act out their characteristics. Messages can often be difficult to pick up and I almost have to sieve through what I am hearing until I can make a strong link. A good way to describe it is to imagine playing ten different radio stations at the same time and trying to just focus on one of them – it’s not easy and requires a lot of concentration and trust. I trust what is being said to me and never interpret.’

Surely she must have a considerable responsibility when channelling the information she receives? ‘I don’t believe that I have the right to edit the information I receive and therefore I generally speak as I hear. There have been a few times over the years where a reading has been particular distressing for me and the person in the audience.’

Sally, with her disarmingly warm personality, genuinely seems like she wants to help people. ‘Even now at the age of 59 and having years of experience I find my gift incredible; I don’t think I will ever fully understand how I can do what I do. Forming a connection between a person and their loved one in spirit is magical. Being able to make that bond with spirit and giving validation to the individual in front fills me with so much joy. I have helped and comforted thousands of people over the years and for that I am forever grateful.’ It’s difficult not to be impressed by her sincerity.

She’s a wily businesswoman, for sure, and she hasn’t missed a trick in charging for the insight of one of her readings, but there’s something very genuine about Sally’s desire to comfort people. I’m not quite as convinced as Sally about the authenticity of her business however; ‘mediumship has gained approval and acceptance in the last decade,’ she insists. Surely she’s got a lot of work on her hands if she’s going to convince the whole world she’s the real deal, hasn’t she? ‘I’m getting a bit fed up with qualifying what I do and so instead of trying to prove my ability I simply ask the sceptics to prove to me that there is no afterlife; prove that I am in-fact mad! I’m still an ordinary person, a wife, mother and grandmother. To be honest I just want to share my experiences of the spirit world and show people that although my gift is bizarre it is amazing too.’

Sally is currently touring the country until November 2011. For dates and venues, check her website: www.sallymorgan.tv

Intoxficated

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It’s ‘morning all’ for the last time I’m afraid. By my calculations we’ve only got beer or brandy left, so I’ll think we’ll go for beer.

I’m a bitter man myself. The perfect pub drink, it has a pleasingly contemplative length to it. It’s all things to all men: a drink to brood over, to laugh over, to get drunk on, though I wouldn’t recommend the latter as it entails a large amount of liquid sloshing around the stomach.

At school we drank it for two reasons: bitter was a “man’s drink” and, more importantly, it was cheap. Prices have risen, but to this day I can’t stand lager: a watery, uriney, fizzy nothing that’s conducive to burping. The odd ‘silver bullet’ with a takeaway pizza in front of the television is fine, but that’s very much a compromise to student living, an acceptance and homage to the lad’s night in.

A lot of people find it hard to tell when bitter goes off, and I find that actually a surprising amount of beer is kept badly. If it tastes vinegary or wrong in any sense, trust your judgment and send it back. Even if the barman disagrees, he’ll probably do the decent thing and give you a different pint.

One last thing. The Intoxificated Awards. Best pub (and most charismatic landlord) goes to the Rose and Crown on North Parade. The Turf gets an honorary mention – perhaps we could give it Best Smoking Area or Best Pub to Celebrate in. Most Attractive Pub goes to the Bear on Blue Boar Street, and Best Bruiser goes to the Red Lion on Gloucester Green, due to it’s proximity to Ladbrookes and 9am opening time. Top Gastro Pub goes to the Black Boy up in Headington, and the Cherwell Cheap and Cheerful Award to the Three Goats Heads.

It ales me to say this, but that’s the end. I know some of you may find it dispiriting, but in the grand scheme of things, it’s small beer. Sayanora folks, and have a good vac.

Best track of 2010: Born Free – M.I.A

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If ever a song was recorded as an excuse for a music video, it was ‘Born Free’. The track itself – a bass-driven and mildly adolescent hymn to, y’know, being yourself and all that – is actually faded out for most of the video’s nine gruesome minutes.

Let’s not beat about the bush: the video depicts an episode in a ginger genocide. Stop sniggering. It’s not funny. A SWAT team batter their way into an apartment building, bash about a chubby couple in mid-coitus, then haul off a man with red hair. He joins a busload of other gingers. They are driven out into the desert, and lined up in front of a minefield. ‘Let’s fucking move!’ bellows the Rainbow Six extra. They don’t. So he shoots a twelve-year-old in slow motion at point-blank range. And the redheads begin to run. And the mines begin to go off.

Director Romain Gavras, the man behind the riot on the steps of the Sacre Coeur in the video for Justice’s ‘Stress’, strikes again with another piece of mind-blowing banality that somehow sticks in your head and keeps replaying itself on your eyelids every time you blink. ‘Born Free’ is childish, gut-wrenching and unforgettable in equal measure. Watch it and weep.

Review: High violet – The National

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Imagine being married to Matt Berninger. If The National’s High Violet is anything to go by, I’d be concerned. ‘We belong in a movie / Try to hold it together ’til our friends are gone’ the front man of The National sings on ‘Conversation 16’, a song with the romantic refrain ‘You’re the only thing I ever want anymore’ which grows more desperate as the song goes along. It fits in with the lyrical theme of the album, which is probably most summarily encapsulated in the title of the opener, ‘Terrible Love’.

That this isn’t just another depressive US indie album is partly due to the compelling play of the rhythm section. Bryan Devendorf’s drumming gives ‘Bloodbuzz Ohio’ tremendous energy from the off, and his atmospheric performance on the opener adds mounting tension and a euphoric climax to what is otherwise a slow ballad.

But what really saves the album from the trappings of stereotype is Berninger’s vocal and lyrical performance. His baritone voice creates distinctive melodies which act as a counterpoint to the simple guitarwork. The thoughtful lyrics convey the concerns of a new father, using hyperbole to maximum effect (‘I was afraid / I’d eat your brains’).

It all comes together in the standout track, ‘Runaway’. Berninger’s vocals suggest a deep-voiced defiance, but his crackling voice as he stretches up to the line ‘What makes you think I’m enjoying being led to the flood?’ reveals a vulnerability and desperation beneath.

Carin Besser, Berninger’s wife, directed the video to ‘Bloodbuzz Ohio’. Let’s hope she’s been listening to her husband’s lyrics, or she might be for a shock.

This Year’s Comebacks

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This year had its fair share of high-profile comebacks. Some of them latched on to the spirit of innovation that we describe in our editorial above, and some of them didn’t.

Sade, the ageing ice queen of British soul, knocked out the platinum-certified and all-round nice Soldier Of Love, while Phil Collins played his decent cards all too safely with the aptly titled Going Back, a geriatric collection of Motown covers.

Others came back on the radar through different channels. The Rolling Stones made a big fuss out of the re-release of 1972’s Exile On Main St., which became the first album to return to No. 1 after its initial release. And last week, The Beatles’ catalogue finally became available on the iTunes store, following the resolution of the three-way legal dispute between Apple (the electronics company), Apple (the record label), and an apple. The immediate chart success of the band’s downloads will prompt bands like AC/DC – who refuse to upload their music to the iTunes store on ideological grounds – to reconsider their position.

But among the year’s returning stars, three shone particularly brightly. Brian Eno gave us a fairly traditional refraction of the Warp Records sound with Small Craft On A Milk Sea, which nevertheless sounds fresh. As Eno himself has pointed out, the album comes across like a soundtrack without a movie, and it got me yearning for a full new Eno score (his last was for the 1980 arthouse documentary Egon Schiele Exzess und Bestrafung).

Elsewhere, Gil Scott-Heron came out of nowhere (or, more specifically, prison) to make the best album of his career, I’m New Here. The album is at once a fair retrospective of the artist’s troubled career (the lyrical content is overwhelmingly autobiographical) and a startling artistic reinvention: thanks to XL Recordings owner Richard Russell’s minimal production, Scott-Heron sounds as if he’s jamming with Massive Attack.

The seasoned trip-hoppers themselves released Heligoland, their first album in seven years, which served as a timely reminder of where dubstep’s moody production comes from. However, it also outlined the limitations of the trip-hop genre: the ominous urban sound that Massive Attack perfected on 1998’s Mezzanine has been subjected to the law of diminishing returns, and now sounds tired. Is trip-hop dead?
Yet for all this, great comebacks are not as common as great debuts, and this year was no exception. Why? Is it because comebacks tend to be motivated by easy profit-seeking rather than creative impulse? Perhaps because we expect more of established veterans than of unknowns? Or do musicians simply get worse as they age?

These are the kinds of questions that could prompt dozens of half-baked Cherwell articles, and I’m wary of answering them here.

Instead, I’ll celebrate 2010 as a fine year for comebacks, and express my hope that the good old times with the old timers continue into 2011: word has it that System Of A Down, Marilyn Manson and The Monkees are among those planning their return. Promising.

The best new music of 2010

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2010 has spoiled us with a succulent smorgasbord of new music. The sheer eclecticism which has flooded the scene this year has certainly been something to celebrate. For me, the rebirth – or, better, rejuvenation – of great American rock and indie has been the most exciting trend of the last twelve months. Bands such as Best Coast, Avi Buffalo, and Wild Nothing have breathed new life into a genre which, across the pond, had just been showing signs of wilting.

Grimy, growling blues-rock saw a mini-revival this year as acts like the Black Keys, the Dead Weather and Black Mountain all released captivating new material. Meanwhile, The Strange Boys illustrated the timeless appeal of back-to-basics rock-‘n’-roll on Be Brave, while the country-infused Hawk, by Isobel Campbell & Mark Lanegan, and Laura Marling’s I Speak Because I Can, were both examples of great songwriting. Indie-poppers Foals and Kisses also concocted an instantly identifiable sound for themselves on their respective new LPs. However, the best album of 2010 from my point of view came from Beach House.

It’s hard to imagine Alex Scally and Victoria Legrand making a more perfect record than Teen Dream. The album blends woozy, swaying guitar riffs, delicate synth work and haunting vocals into songs of mirage-like fragility. Tracks such as ‘Norway’ and ‘Zebra’ are indicative of the little dream-pop niche that the Baltimore duo have carved for themselves; meanwhile, the skeletal ’10 Mile Stereo’ swells with gradually mounting euphoria. Teen Dream is mature, clever, and astoundingly beautiful.

My favourite individual track of 2010 was the stunning ‘Bloodbuzz Ohio’ by the National. The Cincinnati melancholists released it abck in March, ahead of their fifth album, High Violet. It’s a heavy, smoky, whiskey-soaked number which creaks with almost unbearable loneliness and submission. Matt Berninger’s rich, slow, Johnny Cash-like drone is constantly tugging back at the propulsive cocktail of drum, piano and brass, while the lyrics ache with a palpable hardship.

While an acknowledging nod should go to the likes of Two Door Cinema Club, the Drums and Yuck, in my opinion the best new act this year was Villagers. The Irish folksters’ debut album Becoming A Jackal was released to almost universal acclaim in May; frontman Conor O’Brien shows an adroitness of composition, and an eloquence of lyricism, which place him head and shoulders above this year’s other emerging singer-songwriters.

So another year has almost passed, and it’s time to look forward to the next. I’ll be interesting to hear the long-awaited new LP from The Strokes, the recording of which has been teeth-grindingly lengthy at times. My favourite lo-fi garage-rockers, Smith Westerns, have a new album out in January called Dye It Blonde, while there’ll hopefully be a second record from teenage Dutch two-piece, The Death Letters, who play a stripped-back, White Stripes-style brand of rock. Roll on 2011.

Was the year easy on the ear?

Winter is drawing in; the days are getting shorter, the weather colder. At this time of year, there’s nothing Alex and Matt like better than to curl up beside a roaring fire and reflect on the past twelve months of music over a cup of mulled wine. What changed in 2010? What didn’t? How will the sound of 2010 be defined for posterity?

Most strikingly, the boundary between pop and alternative music became blurrier than ever. After their debut album Sigh No More went double-platinum, folk-rockers Mumford & Sons attracted a fanatical following. Elsewhere, the muted tones of indie minimalists The xx, the adolescent pop-rock of The Drums, and a toned-down, nostalgic Arcade Fire came to define the mainstream rock sound of the year. The xx in particular, what with Four Tet’s remix of ‘VCR’ and Jamie xx’s collaborations with a range of eclectic electronica artists, promoted a new strain of tasteful indie-electro fusion that’ll grow in 2011.

In the charts, the success of acts like Jason Derulo and The Wanted demonstrated the enduring appeal of insipid, lowest-common-denominator music, while the Simon Cowell battery farm continued to breed and milk its annual cash cows. But thankfully, the reactionary spirit that so triumphantly thwarted Joe McElderry’s hopes for the last year’s Christmas Number One remains. A growing desire to embrace the underground has seen genres such as drum ‘n’ bass and dubstep – in the guise of Pendulum, Chase & Status et al – elbow their way into the mainstream.

Accordingly, the standard ‘popstar’ model is growing more sophisticated. Florence Welch and Lady Gaga are following the examples set by Björk and Madonna in cultivating striking, warped media personas. On the other hand, as Laurence Osborn argued last week, the ascendancy of artists such as James Blake and Rudi Zygadlo heralds the emergence of the bedroom producer as a star in his own right. Whereas electronica was once the preserve of weird nerds like Aphex Twin, strands of it are now acquiring legitimacy through their clever Burial-esque sampling of catchy 90s RnB (see ‘Best Single of 2010’, opposite). Blake’s very personal cover of indie singer-songwriter Feist’s ‘The Limit To Your Love’ indicated his genre’s crossover potential.

At a time when cutbacks in funding are plaguing cultural institutions and undermining artistic industries the country over, the UK music industry’s becoming ever more dependent on live shows as a source of revenue. But it’s working – on the back of sold-out festivals like Glastonbury and Reading/Leeds, the industry actually grew by 5% in 2009, and possibly by even more this year. Bestival 2010 stood out as a commercial success story – not only did it sell out, it did so on the back of a non-mainstream lineup that represented a bizarre conflation of genres. Is this kind of all-purpose music festival a thing of the future?

As new music becomes ever easier to record, upload and listen to, breakthrough acts now have to think further outside the box. Although the role of the album as an artistic statement remains important, we’re seeing a shift in focus to the four-minute single, the live performance, and the construction of a striking public image. Whether these trends continue to develop in 2011 remains to be seen.