Connolly’s Corner

  • ๐—–๐—ผ๐—ป๐—ป๐—ผ๐—น๐—น๐˜†โ€™๐˜€ ๐—–๐—ผ๐—ฟ๐—ป๐—ฒ๐—ฟ – this week: Black Salad – Kaminski

    ๐—–๐—ผ๐—ป๐—ป๐—ผ๐—น๐—น๐˜†โ€™๐˜€ ๐—–๐—ผ๐—ฟ๐—ป๐—ฒ๐—ฟ – this week: Black Salad – Kaminski

    Welcome all to ๐—–๐—ผ๐—ป๐—ป๐—ผ๐—น๐—น๐˜†โ€™๐˜€ ๐—–๐—ผ๐—ฟ๐—ป๐—ฒ๐—ฟ, a series of weekly reviews by Charles Connolly – an artist in his own right. Here, Charles delves into the greatest brand new singles brought to you by the best unsigned artists on our electrifying and eclectic set of ๐™‰๐™š๐™ฌ ๐˜ผ๐™ง๐™ฉ๐™ž๐™จ๐™ฉ ๐™Ž๐™ฅ๐™ค๐™ฉ๐™ก๐™ž๐™œ๐™๐™ฉ playlists.


    ๐˜ฝ๐™ก๐™–๐™˜๐™  ๐™Ž๐™–๐™ก๐™–๐™™ – ๐™†๐™–๐™ข๐™ž๐™ฃ๐™จ๐™ ๐™ž


    Charles is sick of regurgitationโ€ฆ


    Youโ€™d probably think I would be far too exhausted to write an article this week, what with having been crowned (or “coronated”, if you wish) just a few days ago. But I have commitments, and they must be fulfilled. I am not however going to be talking about my Coronation or anything to do with the extended celebration weekend. A glorious time was had by (almost) all, but we must now get back to work – if reluctantly. God Save the King!


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  • ๐—–๐—ผ๐—ป๐—ป๐—ผ๐—น๐—น๐˜†โ€™๐˜€ ๐—–๐—ผ๐—ฟ๐—ป๐—ฒ๐—ฟ – this week: Brand New Day – Dorian Whisper

    ๐—–๐—ผ๐—ป๐—ป๐—ผ๐—น๐—น๐˜†โ€™๐˜€ ๐—–๐—ผ๐—ฟ๐—ป๐—ฒ๐—ฟ – this week: Brand New Day – Dorian Whisper

    Welcome all to ๐—–๐—ผ๐—ป๐—ป๐—ผ๐—น๐—น๐˜†โ€™๐˜€ ๐—–๐—ผ๐—ฟ๐—ป๐—ฒ๐—ฟ, a series of weekly reviews by Charles Connolly – an artist in his own right. Here, Charles delves into the greatest brand new singles brought to you by the best unsigned artists on our electrifying and eclectic set of ๐™‰๐™š๐™ฌ ๐˜ผ๐™ง๐™ฉ๐™ž๐™จ๐™ฉ ๐™Ž๐™ฅ๐™ค๐™ฉ๐™ก๐™ž๐™œ๐™๐™ฉ playlists.


    ๐˜ฝ๐™ง๐™–๐™ฃ๐™™ ๐™‰๐™š๐™ฌ ๐˜ฟ๐™–๐™ฎ – ๐˜ฟ๐™ค๐™ง๐™ž๐™–๐™ฃ ๐™’๐™๐™ž๐™จ๐™ฅ๐™š๐™ง

    Charles walks like anโ€ฆ


    Egypt is a funny place, much like no other. Until recently, much of its famed land lay barren and dry. In fact, this land is STILL pretty desolate. Of course, Egypt is not only desert. I think many donโ€™t realise its bustling cities and modern way of life. What do we imagine when we think of Egypt? Whatโ€™s the absolute number one thing that springs to mind? Well Iโ€™ll tell you. Itโ€™s Toblerone. A stone version. Thousands of years ago the Egyptians took a bite of the delectable Western chocolate treat and loved it so much, they decided to build a huge shrine in its honour. Quite fascinating, really! I mean, just how on earth did they get their hands on a bar of Toblerone in the middle of Egypt? And wouldnโ€™t it melt in the burning heat of the sun? The answers to these questions will forever remain unknown. There are other such peculiarities as how they built these trianguloid structuresโ€ฆ A system of ramps, rollers and pulleys? Simply very strong men? Very strong women? And what about layers that arenโ€™t on the โ€œground floorโ€โ€ฆ? They just threw them? Lobbed them up in the air and hoped for the best? These stone slabs weigh roughly 2.5 tonnes each!! For you Europeans, thatโ€™s 2,267,960 grams. I could probably just about manage the 960, if I remember to take my vitamin pills. So whatโ€™s it all for? Just for the sake of a bar of chocolate? Well, yes. And that is why Toblerone is so popular to this day. Their stone equivalent is now more famous than the chocolate bar itself, so people buy the bars to show their affection and appreciation for the gargantuan feats of engineering. Swings and roundabouts!


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  • ๐—–๐—ผ๐—ป๐—ป๐—ผ๐—น๐—น๐˜†โ€™๐˜€ ๐—–๐—ผ๐—ฟ๐—ป๐—ฒ๐—ฟ – this week: Breakout – Ross Cantrell

    ๐—–๐—ผ๐—ป๐—ป๐—ผ๐—น๐—น๐˜†โ€™๐˜€ ๐—–๐—ผ๐—ฟ๐—ป๐—ฒ๐—ฟ – this week: Breakout – Ross Cantrell

    Welcome all to ๐—–๐—ผ๐—ป๐—ป๐—ผ๐—น๐—น๐˜†โ€™๐˜€ ๐—–๐—ผ๐—ฟ๐—ป๐—ฒ๐—ฟ, a series of weekly reviews by Charles Connolly – an artist in his own right. Here, Charles delves into the greatest brand new singles brought to you by the best unsigned artists on our electrifying and eclectic set of ๐™‰๐™š๐™ฌ ๐˜ผ๐™ง๐™ฉ๐™ž๐™จ๐™ฉ ๐™Ž๐™ฅ๐™ค๐™ฉ๐™ก๐™ž๐™œ๐™๐™ฉ playlists.


    ๐˜ฝ๐™ง๐™š๐™–๐™ ๐™ค๐™ช๐™ฉ – ๐™๐™ค๐™จ๐™จ ๐˜พ๐™–๐™ฃ๐™ฉ๐™ง๐™š๐™ก๐™ก


    Charles reeds allowedโ€ฆ


    Do you remember when you were 20 or so? I mean, I know some of you are maybe not yet 20, and others of you might be thinking โ€œwell, of course I remember; it was only a few years agoโ€. But letโ€™s face it, for most people who read these articles of mine, age 20 was a while ago. I think I can safely say that. So, DO you remember it? Do you remember the feeling? Do you remember what you were thinking? Do you remember what your big, bold plans were? Did you have plans to change the world? Were you instead rolling around on the floor in a stupor, wondering what all the fuss was aboutโ€ฆ? Maybe Plan A with a side portion of Plan B? I think a lot of us were ready and poised for great things, no? As if it was all a matter of course. That things would simply fall into place. I personally had my entire early life mapped out. I was going to break out. Not in hives, but by the age of 23 I was going to be a rockstar/popstar. Obviously. I was going to be married at the age of 27, and the rest would simply just happen. At the age of 21 I already had my music degree from a tiny music college in a cruddy part of London (which has since moved to an equally cruddy part of London), and I sort of assumed I would simply โ€œbe discoveredโ€. HA!! My naivety was slightly astounding when I look back on it. Worryingly so. These days I am a realist to the point of pessimism. But only because the reality is not so hot. I mean, just look around. I donโ€™t see the vibrant smiles of 1996. The carefree attitude that once ruled London. Things seemed genuinely to fall into place. Breakout was obvious and inevitableโ€ฆ


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  • ๐—–๐—ผ๐—ป๐—ป๐—ผ๐—น๐—น๐˜†โ€™๐˜€ ๐—–๐—ผ๐—ฟ๐—ป๐—ฒ๐—ฟ – this week: Broken Love Song – Rich Allen

    ๐—–๐—ผ๐—ป๐—ป๐—ผ๐—น๐—น๐˜†โ€™๐˜€ ๐—–๐—ผ๐—ฟ๐—ป๐—ฒ๐—ฟ – this week: Broken Love Song – Rich Allen

    Welcome all to ๐—–๐—ผ๐—ป๐—ป๐—ผ๐—น๐—น๐˜†โ€™๐˜€ ๐—–๐—ผ๐—ฟ๐—ป๐—ฒ๐—ฟ, a series of weekly reviews by Charles Connolly – an artist in his own right. Here, Charles delves into the greatest brand new singles brought to you by the best unsigned artists on our electrifying and eclectic set of ๐™‰๐™š๐™ฌ ๐˜ผ๐™ง๐™ฉ๐™ž๐™จ๐™ฉ ๐™Ž๐™ฅ๐™ค๐™ฉ๐™ก๐™ž๐™œ๐™๐™ฉ playlists.


    ๐˜ฝ๐™ง๐™ค๐™ ๐™š๐™ฃ ๐™‡๐™ค๐™ซ๐™š ๐™Ž๐™ค๐™ฃ๐™œ – ๐™๐™ž๐™˜๐™ ๐˜ผ๐™ก๐™ก๐™š๐™ฃ


    Charles celebrates 5 years of Connolly’s Cornerโ€ฆ


    Well…!! Here we are again, with another instalment of the CC machine. But this one is a little special. It’s one that I never really thought I would reach. I have been writing these things every single week for five years. Five bloody years, can you believe?! That’s the age of the New Artist Spotlight. Half a decade! You all know this as Tuesday Review Day, but for me it’s Monday. I always write these on Mondays. To me, Monday means writing day. It’s my weekly dose of creativity, where my mind goes wherever it wishes. Monday is never free, for I am busy doing this. Just this. Yes, it takes most of the day. It may seem like a half-hour dash, but it’s really not. Hence why I’m stunned to have reached this milestone. What milestone…? Well, my 250th review, of course!!! What a lotta woyds.


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  • ๐—–๐—ผ๐—ป๐—ป๐—ผ๐—น๐—น๐˜†โ€™๐˜€ ๐—–๐—ผ๐—ฟ๐—ป๐—ฒ๐—ฟ – this week: BURN-OUT – J.H.M

    ๐—–๐—ผ๐—ป๐—ป๐—ผ๐—น๐—น๐˜†โ€™๐˜€ ๐—–๐—ผ๐—ฟ๐—ป๐—ฒ๐—ฟ – this week: BURN-OUT – J.H.M

    Welcome all to ๐—–๐—ผ๐—ป๐—ป๐—ผ๐—น๐—น๐˜†โ€™๐˜€ ๐—–๐—ผ๐—ฟ๐—ป๐—ฒ๐—ฟ, a series of weekly reviews by Charles Connolly – an artist in his own right. Here, Charles delves into the greatest brand new singles brought to you by the best unsigned artists on our electrifying and eclectic set of ๐™‰๐™š๐™ฌ ๐˜ผ๐™ง๐™ฉ๐™ž๐™จ๐™ฉ ๐™Ž๐™ฅ๐™ค๐™ฉ๐™ก๐™ž๐™œ๐™๐™ฉ playlists.


    ๐˜ฝ๐™๐™๐™‰-๐™Š๐™๐™ – ๐™….๐™ƒ.๐™ˆ


    Charles strikes a match and waitsโ€ฆ


    The life of an artist can be an arduous one. But then again, so can any life. Letโ€™s focus on the artist side of things, since thatโ€™s what we all are. Artists, right? Being an artist used to mean just that. The arty type who is brilliant (or so they think) at arting, and not very much else. It was always forgiven that they could barely brush their teeth and dress themselves, because โ€œoh, just LOOK at what they createโ€โ€ฆ Correction: artists could do these things, but would very often not bother (in the same way that they would forget to eat), because it was just not important to them. Art ran in their veins. It was their raison dโ€™รชtre. It plagued them. It excited them. It sedated them. Once they had created their latest masterpiece, it would be handed over to the man who knew nothing about art, but who was good at business. It was his job to advertise it and eventually flog it. There could even be a whole team involved. The artist was left to do what the artist was intended to do. Art. This way, everyone was happy and everyone stuck to what they did best. If said artist wanted to celebrate the completion of another piece by drinking himself into oblivion, then so be it. Little would suffer as a result, except maybe his liver.


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  • ๐—–๐—ผ๐—ป๐—ป๐—ผ๐—น๐—น๐˜†โ€™๐˜€ ๐—–๐—ผ๐—ฟ๐—ป๐—ฒ๐—ฟ – this week: Bye! – Ed Eagle

    ๐—–๐—ผ๐—ป๐—ป๐—ผ๐—น๐—น๐˜†โ€™๐˜€ ๐—–๐—ผ๐—ฟ๐—ป๐—ฒ๐—ฟ – this week: Bye! – Ed Eagle

    Welcome all to ๐—–๐—ผ๐—ป๐—ป๐—ผ๐—น๐—น๐˜†โ€™๐˜€ ๐—–๐—ผ๐—ฟ๐—ป๐—ฒ๐—ฟ, a series of weekly reviews by Charles Connolly – an artist in his own right. Here, Charles delves into the greatest brand new singles brought to you by the best unsigned artists on our electrifying and eclectic set of ๐™‰๐™š๐™ฌ ๐˜ผ๐™ง๐™ฉ๐™ž๐™จ๐™ฉ ๐™Ž๐™ฅ๐™ค๐™ฉ๐™ก๐™ž๐™œ๐™๐™ฉ playlists.


    ๐˜ฝ๐™ฎ๐™š! – ๐™€๐™™ ๐™€๐™–๐™œ๐™ก๐™š

    Charles bids you all adieu.

    Saying goodbye is rarely easy. Saying farewell is often hard. Leaving the room for good is a tricky thing. Leaving a partner can be worse. Sometimes itโ€™s for the best. Sometimes itโ€™s one sided. Sometimes itโ€™s amicable. But often this mutual parting agreement can be fuelled by hatred and resentment. Why were they ever together? Was it ever good in the first place? Was it initial attraction and fun times, followed by bickering, turning into serious slam-door arguments? Should this sound even remotely familiar, one should never actually wish harm to the other party. One should wish them well, with the hope that they find someone more suited. If however there is to be a mutual separation, who does the dumping? Youโ€™ve hated each otherโ€™s guts for so damned long, but youโ€™re used to each other. Itโ€™s routine. Habit, if you will. Well now itโ€™s time to kick that habit. Youโ€™ve rid yourself of that foul odour and those shamefully stained fingertips, and now it is time to shed another burden. But that burden is feeling the same! โ€œMy, how the turn tablesโ€. It reminds me of Sam and Diane in Cheers. The constant argument of who dumped whoโ€ฆ We all want to get there first, but sometimes they just get there quicker. In which case, โ€œSOD YOU!โ€ – and what a relief it is to be rid of this curse.


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  • ๐—–๐—ผ๐—ป๐—ป๐—ผ๐—น๐—น๐˜†โ€™๐˜€ ๐—–๐—ผ๐—ฟ๐—ป๐—ฒ๐—ฟ – this week: CAGE – The Blindfold Experience, Wilko Wilkesย & Shayan Regan

    ๐—–๐—ผ๐—ป๐—ป๐—ผ๐—น๐—น๐˜†โ€™๐˜€ ๐—–๐—ผ๐—ฟ๐—ป๐—ฒ๐—ฟ – this week: CAGE – The Blindfold Experience, Wilko Wilkesย & Shayan Regan

    Welcome all to ๐—–๐—ผ๐—ป๐—ป๐—ผ๐—น๐—น๐˜†โ€™๐˜€ ๐—–๐—ผ๐—ฟ๐—ป๐—ฒ๐—ฟ, a series of weekly reviews by Charles Connolly – an artist in his own right. Here, Charles delves into the greatest brand new singles brought to you by the best unsigned artists on our electrifying and eclectic set of ๐™‰๐™š๐™ฌ ๐˜ผ๐™ง๐™ฉ๐™ž๐™จ๐™ฉ ๐™Ž๐™ฅ๐™ค๐™ฉ๐™ก๐™ž๐™œ๐™๐™ฉ playlists.


    ๐˜พ๐˜ผ๐™‚๐™€ – ๐™๐™๐™š ๐˜ฝ๐™ก๐™ž๐™ฃ๐™™๐™›๐™ค๐™ก๐™™ ๐™€๐™ญ๐™ฅ๐™š๐™ง๐™ž๐™š๐™ฃ๐™˜๐™š, ๐™’๐™ž๐™ก๐™ ๐™ค ๐™’๐™ž๐™ก๐™ ๐™š๐™จ & ๐™Ž๐™๐™–๐™ฎ๐™–๐™ฃ ๐™๐™š๐™œ๐™–๐™ฃ


    Charles is content in his cageโ€ฆ


    Europe in the Summertime. A song I wrote years ago. Europe is fun in summer. We think of Roman piazzas. We think of English coasts. We think of Spanish villas. Sun, sun, sun, as it relentlessly beats down upon our already scorched arms. Summer is the time to get away. Americans call it vacation. We, in England, call it holiday. A break from the norm. A time to eat ice cream without feeling it has to be squeezed into a swift lunch break. But is it simply a break from the norm, or is it more than that? Is it wanted or is it needed?


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  • ๐—–๐—ผ๐—ป๐—ป๐—ผ๐—น๐—น๐˜†โ€™๐˜€ ๐—–๐—ผ๐—ฟ๐—ป๐—ฒ๐—ฟ – this week: Canโ€™t Stop Feeling – Blue Royals

    ๐—–๐—ผ๐—ป๐—ป๐—ผ๐—น๐—น๐˜†โ€™๐˜€ ๐—–๐—ผ๐—ฟ๐—ป๐—ฒ๐—ฟ – this week: Canโ€™t Stop Feeling – Blue Royals

    Welcome all to ๐—–๐—ผ๐—ป๐—ป๐—ผ๐—น๐—น๐˜†โ€™๐˜€ ๐—–๐—ผ๐—ฟ๐—ป๐—ฒ๐—ฟ, a series of weekly reviews by Charles Connolly – an artist in his own right. Here, Charles delves into the greatest brand new singles brought to you by the best unsigned artists on our electrifying and eclectic set of ๐™‰๐™š๐™ฌ ๐˜ผ๐™ง๐™ฉ๐™ž๐™จ๐™ฉ ๐™Ž๐™ฅ๐™ค๐™ฉ๐™ก๐™ž๐™œ๐™๐™ฉ playlists.


    ๐˜พ๐™–๐™ฃโ€™๐™ฉ ๐™Ž๐™ฉ๐™ค๐™ฅ ๐™๐™š๐™š๐™ก๐™ž๐™ฃ๐™œ – ๐˜ฝ๐™ก๐™ช๐™š ๐™๐™ค๐™ฎ๐™–๐™ก๐™จ


    Charles is backโ€ฆ


    Did ya miss meโ€ฆ? Yes? Not particularly? Well, either way, Iโ€™m back. I have been not hither, but thither. Not only was I taking a break from this here Corner (it can get a tad claustrophobic at times), but I was busy being elsewhere. Not London, not England, and not even Britain. Europe in the Summertime – THATโ€™S whatโ€™s been happening! Yes, I know Britain is in Europe, but, ya knowโ€ฆ It is but it isnโ€™t. Itโ€™s a different kind of Europe. Britain is just not very โ€œEuropeanโ€. I needed to feel that European thang. Sometimes I do Italy, but this time I did not. This time, my girlfriend and I went up into the sky and landed in her original turf of Poland. Thankfully, the aeroplane did not burst into flames or do anything it shouldnโ€™t have done. I donโ€™t think I have ever had such an absurdly packed schedule while on holiday. Aside from buses, trams, tubes and cars, we were taking trains almost every single day. Not to mention a ridiculous amount of walking. Doesnโ€™t sound much like a holiday, does it! The thing is, I have never been one for lying on a beach for a week. Even the idea bores the hell out of me, as the sun burns the pale out of me. This constant movement is the very momentum that keeps things bubbling. Then and now, I just canโ€™t stop feeling! There was modern urban city. There was beautiful old city. There was countryside. There was beach. There was river and sea; food and sun. Museums and memories; nature and manners. We covered so much yet really very little of this vast land of Po. I live for feelings, and feeling was basically all I did for those ten days.


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  • ๐—–๐—ผ๐—ป๐—ป๐—ผ๐—น๐—น๐˜†โ€™๐˜€ ๐—–๐—ผ๐—ฟ๐—ป๐—ฒ๐—ฟ – this week: Cash Money Honey – Grayson Foster

    ๐—–๐—ผ๐—ป๐—ป๐—ผ๐—น๐—น๐˜†โ€™๐˜€ ๐—–๐—ผ๐—ฟ๐—ป๐—ฒ๐—ฟ – this week: Cash Money Honey – Grayson Foster

    Welcome all to ๐—–๐—ผ๐—ป๐—ป๐—ผ๐—น๐—น๐˜†โ€™๐˜€ ๐—–๐—ผ๐—ฟ๐—ป๐—ฒ๐—ฟ, a series of weekly reviews by Charles Connolly – an artist in his own right. Here, Charles delves into the greatest brand new singles brought to you by the best unsigned artists on our electrifying and eclectic set of ๐™‰๐™š๐™ฌ ๐˜ผ๐™ง๐™ฉ๐™ž๐™จ๐™ฉ ๐™Ž๐™ฅ๐™ค๐™ฉ๐™ก๐™ž๐™œ๐™๐™ฉ playlists.


    ๐˜พ๐™–๐™จ๐™ ๐™ˆ๐™ค๐™ฃ๐™š๐™ฎ ๐™ƒ๐™ค๐™ฃ๐™š๐™ฎ – ๐™‚๐™ง๐™–๐™ฎ๐™จ๐™ค๐™ฃ ๐™๐™ค๐™จ๐™ฉ๐™š๐™ง


    Charles counts his pennies and considers his class. Being broke in the music industry…


    As hierarchy, status and class dissolve fast, one vulgar thing unites us all. I speak not of โ€œAll You Need Is Loveโ€ by Ringo and his mates, but actually of โ€œAll You Need Is Cashโ€ by their spoof tribute, The Rutles. It all used to be about class and social standing, here in Britain, regardless of wealth. I gather that in the Ewe Ess of Ay, these are synonymous with money. They come as a package. Traditionally in Britain it had always been about background and ancestry. If one was born into an aristocratic family, that person would be an aristocrat. If one was born into a working class family in a mining town, that person would probably continue the line. Although there is now much considered wrong with this, there was usually comfort in understanding oneโ€™s way of life. People were usually pretty happy with their status – one knew oneโ€™s place – except for the muddy middle muddle, which has always been lost. I am one of those middlians. Striving for no apparent reason, other than the feeling that it is what I am supposed to do. Modern Britain, along with most of the rest of the world, now makes it simpler. The richer you are, the more successful you are, and therefore the better you are. Money, cash, spondulicks, dollars, pounds, yen and the feebly and unimaginatively named Euro – call it what you will – it runs and rules our lives now. It is everything. And I hate to say this. It should be love, happiness and contentment, but it is pounds, shillings and pence, with emphasis on the larger denomination. We even see it in music. Pop songs used to be about love, but increasingly they are about fame and fortune. Money โ€œCanโ€™t Buy Me Loveโ€ – true, but it can buy me just about everything else. Even I wrote a song – Tap When Youโ€™re Ready – about contactless payment – God help me – where a spoilt woman wants to know the man is with her at all times, just in order for him to plonk down his card whenever something might pique her fancy (listen on our brand new NAS Rarities, Oddities and B-sides playlist). Money is everywhere. Nay, money is talked about everywhere. It has become less about greed and more about need. The struggle and the compulsion. Long gone are the days of simple subsistence. And donโ€™t get me on to money in the music industry. The Small Faces had it right, with โ€œAll Or Nothingโ€.


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  • ๐—–๐—ผ๐—ป๐—ป๐—ผ๐—น๐—น๐˜†โ€™๐˜€ ๐—–๐—ผ๐—ฟ๐—ป๐—ฒ๐—ฟ – this week: CircleWalk – Sano Hill

    ๐—–๐—ผ๐—ป๐—ป๐—ผ๐—น๐—น๐˜†โ€™๐˜€ ๐—–๐—ผ๐—ฟ๐—ป๐—ฒ๐—ฟ – this week: CircleWalk – Sano Hill

    Welcome all to ๐—–๐—ผ๐—ป๐—ป๐—ผ๐—น๐—น๐˜†โ€™๐˜€ ๐—–๐—ผ๐—ฟ๐—ป๐—ฒ๐—ฟ, a series of weekly reviews by Charles Connolly – an artist in his own right. Here, Charles delves into the greatest brand new singles brought to you by the best unsigned artists on our electrifying and eclectic set of ๐™‰๐™š๐™ฌ ๐˜ผ๐™ง๐™ฉ๐™ž๐™จ๐™ฉ ๐™Ž๐™ฅ๐™ค๐™ฉ๐™ก๐™ž๐™œ๐™๐™ฉ playlists.


    ๐˜พ๐™ž๐™ง๐™˜๐™ก๐™š๐™’๐™–๐™ก๐™  – ๐™Ž๐™–๐™ฃ๐™ค ๐™ƒ๐™ž๐™ก๐™ก


    Charles welcomes you to Ruby Tuesdayโ€ฆ


    What a week I have just had. You must permit me to ramble and go to excess this week. Well, Iโ€™m going to anyway. Hush, I donโ€™t get paid for this. And advance apologies to Sano Hill for going on. Recently I have been working hard on a production in collaboration with a mystery NAS artist you all know well, but whom shall remain nameless, at least for now. It is going extremely well, but it can go to oneโ€™s head, this art thang. It can get a bit much, so one needs breaks from time to time. Monday evening was the first of these breaks. My girlfriend and I felt like watching a horror film. Not terrifying gore-filled heart attack inducing horror, but the old kind. The quaint, amusing Vincent Price kind. And so we sat down to watch The Raven. Yes, The Raven. as in, Edgar Allan Poeโ€™s The Raven. We contemplated watching it standing up, but thought this to be altogether rather uncomfortable. โ€œWhile I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping, As of some one gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door.โ€ – yes, THIS was what I wanted. Such charm and style in the old way. The film was just as I had hoped for. A break from reality. Something to take my mind away from music – something for which I rarely wish.


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