Each passing day sees human beings displaying a terrifying capacity to maim and kill one another in the name of religion, nationalism and a myriad of other forms of fundamentalism. I don’t care what-the-fuck you believe in and I’m not particularly religious myself, but there is something very primal and instinctive about ‘Thou Shalt Not Kill’ that makes it impossible to argue with.
Sometimes, it seems trivial to write about music when there’s so much really bad shit going on in the world, but then, one of the things that makes music so amazing is its capacity to transport you, even if only for a fleeting moment, and let you forget about everything else.
And 2003 was a fucking brilliant year for Irish music, with quality albums from the likes of Snow Patrol, Turn, Future Kings of Spain, Ten Speed Racer, The Tycho Brahe, Ann Scott, Damien Dempsey, Berkeley, Messiah J and the Expert, The Crayonz, Jetplane Landing, Barry McCormack, Paddy Casey, Simple Kid, Halite and David Kitt, as well as The Frames’ Set List, probably the best live album in the world ever. Internationally, too, there was much to admire, in the shape of Josh Ritter, Radiohead, Hot Hot Heat, Kings Of Leon, The White Stripes, The Darkness, Tindersticks, Hammel On Trial, Nick Cave, The Hidden Cameras and Daniel Lanois.
But the album of the year for this listener is BellX1’s Music In Mouth, an emotionally charged collection of songs that resonate with real passion, warmth and humanity. From the ferocious guitar assault of ‘Tongue’ to the gorgeously elegant ‘Eve, The Apple Of My Eye’, this is one of those albums where your favourite song changes all the time. I’ve had my mitts on it since early summer and it still makes an appearance on my stereo system at least once a week. Fuck recommended, this should be prescribed.
Single of the year, meanwhile, is a toss-up between Beyoncé’s manic ‘Crazy In Love’ and Jetplane Landing’s feral sonic onslaught, ‘Calculate The Risk’.
Elsewhere, the live highlight of the year was undoubtedly the Thin White Duke’s appearance at The Point. Considering I arrived at the docklands venue in a state that could best be described, to paraphrase Eamo, as “tired and emotional”, the fact that Bowie carried me along on a two-and-a-half-hour wave of elation was some bloody feat.
Watch out next year for Chuzzle’s amazing harmonies, Bill Coleman’s soulful heart-songs and The Chalets’ bristling garage pop. In the meantime, here’s to praying for a Dublin All Ireland win, a Grand Slam for the rugger buggers, a new midfield general for the national soccer team and a little bit of that piece, love and understanding…