Wednesday, April 7, 2010


Right. I've set myself a task: Review the Laura Allan album in the time it takes my ravioli to boil. Why? You might ask. Well it's challenges like this that keep us on our toes, give us the edge so that if ever we should need to do mind-battle with other-worldy creatures we are ready. My body might be that of a tired and approaching middle aged man but there is no reason (degenerative mental illness aside) that I shouldn't have the mind of a mother fucking ninja well into my 90's.

My wife seems to think our generation is going to live longer, that our parents will live anything up to ten or fifteen years longer than there parents and so on. I think she's talking balls. At least I hope she is. Things will go 'Soylent Green' in no time if she's even close to right. We are already running out of water and y'know, the other stuff that everyone is always going on about. Also there's the whole carbon footprint thing whatever that is. All I know is that petrol is more expensive and I miss my V8 Triton F-150 Truck more than most of my dead relatives.

Anyway, changing up the speed a little. I am listening to hippy music. Honest to God hippy music. The most disturbing part is that I like it. Laura Allan is a female Alan Stivell. Alan Stivell is the French or Belgian guy with the wild hair who plays his harp on a beach to look mystic. Alan Stivell records are underrated and very cheap to buy which is something of a travesty - Not least because I own three.

Laura Allan likes to wail, quite literally over her harp. If it wasn't so completely private label, home made and amateur sounding it could be the stuff of cheap perfume ads. As it is it has evolved into something far more exciting: A blend of the spiritual, the quasi-religious. If I listen hard enough through the chimes I can hear open fields, I can see...

Fuck my pasta just boiled over.

Sadly it would appear that my cat-like writing speed is not what it was. A day for tough lessons all round. First I loose out on that tight Italian time-trials bike on Ebay and now this. Maybe the beauteous sounds of Laura Alan can teach me humility, patience, to be at one with a world of burnt pasta and failed   auction site bids? Possibly, but I have a feeling that if I commit this to heavy rotation I could end up smelling of soap and owning multiple cats, buying bulk consignments of dream catchers and mailing them to all of my friends with poetic God tinged well wishes... Maybe I should do that anyway, just to fuck with em?

So we've talked the music. We have talked he music haven't we? To re-cap - Laura Allan is flutes, harp, wind chimes, wailing and the occasional pean to the baby Jesus. Honestly it's not as bad as it sounds. Anyway, moving onto the important stuff. Laura Allan - Hot or not? Shit I don't know. The sleeve shot's a bit hazy and could just be showing her good side. The picture on the back of the record is better (she appears to be naked in both) but I can't decide. She looks a bit 'West Coast granola' for me. I mean, I probably would but... Nope, Google comes up with a completely different Laura Allan (who incidentally would definitely get it) so I'm on the fence with this one.

If you like 'New Age' music circa 1980 this has to be on your 'Needs' list. If not and you fancy something to take the edge of the new Burzum LP why not give it a shot.

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