What I'd be playing if I weren't going to Glastonbury

Tom Ravenscroft's music blog: listen here.

As it's Glastonbury this weekend it means I don't have a radio show to do. Someone in a similar position may regard this as a good opportunity to take a break, but for me it means I have a week's worth of records I don't know what to do with.

I guess this is where having a blog comes in handy.

I would have opened the show with Electric Wire Hustle - "Again (Scratch 22 remix)" which features on K7 records' new DJ Kicks album, compiled by the Motor City Drum Ensemble. There are no two ways of putting this; it is deep house and normally the sort of thing I'd hate but it is frankly sexy as hell and it would have made for a great opener.

Electric Wire Hustle - Again (Scratch 22 Remix) by Scratch22  

To show I wasn't turning into a deep house kind of guy I would have then stuck on Maria and the Mirrors - "Travel Sex" to restore my cool. MATM are from East London and are very East London. I saw them play live a couple of years ago and they were awful, really awful; they looked interesting and weren't. Their new EP, though, is really good; noisy as hell and the kind of thing I wish British bands would make more often, a welcome escape from indie schmindie windy. Listen to it here.

At the end I would have left you with "Sabbath Moon" by MsTrS, off their new album Acid Witch Mountain, a film score to a movie that doesn't exist. It will leave you scared, while I jump into a cab to a fashionable East London venue that I won't be let into.

Sabbath Moon (mastered version) by MsTrS 

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“Minoan pendant”: a new poem by Mark Granier

“Yes – I press my nose / to the pleasantly warm glass – / it’s a copy of one I saw / cased in the cool museum”

Yes – I press my nose
to the pleasantly warm glass –
it’s a copy of one I saw
cased in the cool museum –
gold beaten to honey, a grainy
oval dollop, flanked by two
slim symmetrical bees –

garland for a civilisation’s
rise and collapse, eye-dropped
five thousand years: a flash
of evening sun on a windscreen
or wing mirror – Heraklion’s
scooter-life buzzing and humming –

as I step in to browse, become
mesmerised by the warm
dark eyes of the woman
who gives her spiel and moves
softly and with such grace,
that, after leaving, I hesitate

a moment on the pavement
then re-enter with a question
I know not to ask, but ask
anyway, to hear her voice
soften even more as she smiles
and shakes her hair – no.

Mark Granier is an Irish poet and photographer. He is the author of four collections of poetry, most recently Haunt (Salmon).

This article first appeared in the 16 June 2016 issue of the New Statesman, Britain on the brink