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I like to say that my political retirement must be one of the earliest on record: I quit the Scottish National Party when I was twenty-one, and after being active nationally for some years in the party I am quite sure there is a “Sliding Doors“-esque parallel universe version of me who is still heavily involved and, who knows, is perhaps even a career politician.

I don’t envy my imagined alternative self for a microsecond. I’ll not bore you with the reasons why I gave up active politics (though when I left the SNP I did not stop supporting them or voting for them), but it left me in a position where I could enjoy commenting on politics without any line to tow, or indeed also enjoy being utterly apathetic if I felt like it.

One consequence of this has been that I now read considerably less political stuff than I used to, and probably wouldn’t have read the 2010 biography of SNP leader and Scottish First Minister Alex Salmond had I not received it as a present last Christmas. I had every intention to read Salmond: Against the Odds before May’s 2011 election, but various things got in the way and as such I ended up reading it after that astonishing SNP landslide which I am sure would have changed the tone of the biography had it been released now. Though of course, that’s the problem with biographies of people who are still alive and displaying few signs of changing that designation – there’s no perfect time to write them because the story is still constantly being written.

I should declare a brief connection before I continue – I know the book’s author, journalist David Torrance, from university days and recall on one occasion being interviewed by him for the student newspaper, Gaudie, while I was president of the university’s SNP society. David’s article quoted an unnamed source as describing me as a “psychopath”, which proves firstly that he was set on a path for high-powered in-depth journalism and secondly that I made the right choice when I got out of politics.

Alex Salmond, for the uninitiated, has been SNP leader for two stints, the first beginning in 1990, and became Scotland’s First Minister in 2007 when the party won a wafer-thin victory in the Scottish Parliament elections, a lead unexpectedly extended in last year’s elections to create the parliament’s first-ever overall majority. The major consequence of this is that there will almost certainly be an independence referendum, probably in 2014 or 2015, and these two major votes past and future will prove a fascinating new chapter to the book if ever David Torrance chooses to update it.

At times, Against the Odds reads like a general history of the SNP or a summary of Scottish politics through the later 20th century, rather than a pure biography, but then again this is firstly reflective of the frequent perception that Alex Salmond is the SNP or that the party is a one-man band. Because more than being First Minister, Salmond has been one of Scottish politics’ biggest figures for years, and his incredible skill, political astuteness and phenomenal debating ability that has swept aside many opponents all suggest that had he been a member of a UK party, he’d doubtless have been a major frontbench figure and, most likely, a Prime Minister if he had been of the Labour or Conservative member. And secondly, Salmond is an infamously private person, rarely discussing his private life and – unusually for a major politician – fiercely keeping his wife from the limelight.

As such, though it is surprising it has taken so long for a biography of such an important figure to appear, the book is all the more remarkable that it is able to tell us anything of Salmond at all given the subject’s tendency to privacy. It reveals stories from Salmond’s early years and family history, while quoting friends and colleagues – often anonymously – from throughout his studies and career. If I have a criticism of the book, though, it is the frequent quotations of one figure from the party’s history, Salmond’s long-standing rival and critic Jim Sillars, who – as far as I recall from my active SNP days, was little more than an irrelevance to the party at that time so must be even more so today. But it demonstrates a depth of research and a balance of perspectives that does leave as few stones unturned as possible in the portrayal of Salmond’s life.

The question at the heart of the book is what makes the man who became First Minister tick, and in a life seemingly devoid of ill intent, scandal or personal failings, the answer seems to be a genuine passion for Scotland and an enthusiasm for revealing its untapped potential. The author, to my knowledge no SNP supporter himself, has therefore produced a book that will probably reinforce the views of Salmond’s fans, reassure any neutrals, but provide no new ammunition to his enemies.

Scotland is at an important point politically, with a party and parliament dominated by one man who will (rightly or wrongly) be firmly centre stage in the forthcoming independence referendum. It’s right that we know something of that man’s history, and so Against the Odds is an important book, and engagingly written.

It’s not making me miss active party politics one bit, though.

Last year I blogged a review of the excellent Max Brooks book World War Z. A documentary description of a fictitious future war against zombies, it was one of my favourite reads from last year and which, as I mentioned at the time, was to be turned into a film.

With part of the film set in Philadelphia, the search for somewhere that could play the part of that soft cheese-inspired American city began and, oddly, Glasgow was the winner. This is rather akin to the famous story of Charlie Chaplain once coming second in a Charlie Chaplain lookalike competition, though of course it also speaks of the financial incentives offered by Glasgow City Council.

I was in Glasgow for work from Wednesday until Sunday last week, and the event we were running was located just a short zombie shuffle from George Square, where the main centre of filming action was.

For many, the key draw was a chance to see the film’s star, Brad Pitt – though the closest any of our event’s participants got was a brief glimpse of one of his stunt doubles. For me, though, the appeal was the surreal and quite convincing way that Glasgow city centre was dressed up as an American city.

The attention to detail was impressive – everything from roadsigns and pedestrian crossings through to newspaper stands, cars and even tourist information signs. Such was Glasgow’s appeal with its grid system city centre and grand early twentieth century architecture that it was a good fit as an American city.

Our event was regularly interrupted with the sounds of gunfire and screaming from outside (and yes, the jokes about how Glasgow normally is were done to death), and at one point we were barred from leaving our building while the street outside was used for filming.

I managed to get a few photos of the streets, although not sadly when any filming was taking place. Take a peek at them on Flickr.

My scepticism about the film, explained in my post last year, remains, but it will be fun to watch it in order to spot bits of Glasgow that I recognise, and to remember that I was just metres away when those parts were being filmed.

It is, apparently, out in late 2012. If the zombies don’t rise up and kill us all first.

I went to the cinema at Eden Court last night with some friends to see Life in a Day, an unusual and surprisingly effective film experiment.  The premise, created by YouTube, Ridley Scott and others, involved asking people all over the world to submit videos of their lives taken on one particular day – 24 July 2010.

Prompted only by a few questions, such as “what is in your pockets?”, “what do you fear?”, and “what do you love?”, thousands of hours of footage were submitted and various extracts were put together.  The result is an astonishingly moving and inspiring portrait of humanity, from its dramas to its equally beautiful mundanities.

The film leads us intimately into the lives of a diverse and seemingly disparate collection of people throughout the world.  A young Japanese man living with his toddler son in a cramped and untidy apartment, poignantly lighting an incense candle each morning to his seemingly dead wife.  A young South American boy who works as a shoe shiner.  A group of goat farmers somewhere in Europe.  A destitute man and his family living by a graveyard in an Arab country.  A gay American man documenting his “coming out” over the phone to his grandmother.  A Korean man nine years into his round the world cycle trip.

We often discover little about the people we see. Subtitles (where needed) tell us their words, but not their names, countries or occupations.  Such things are left for us to ponder but then quickly dismiss as we realise that it is the everyday details of their lives, rather than the headline biographies, that matter more and which more meaningfully illustrate their humanity.

The film’s “stars” and “co-directors” are seemingly unconnected individuals, yet connected that day either by their desires to film themselves or by others’ desires to film them.  The project brings them together as strangers in a collective sharing of their moments and experiences that day.  As the film progresses, whether Asian families struggling to make ends meet or Americans battling with classic “middle class” problems, the commonality of people becomes more apparent: we discover that love of simple things like family, friends and food is universal; that love of God or fear of death is widespread, that everyone wants to be happy, that most people are essentially good.

Despite the plethora of languages, accents, standards of living and locations, the film presents the clear impression that we are pretty much the same, and life goes on in often ordinary ways for people all over the world.  We see laughter, tears, dancing, mourning and celebration. We see a few births and deaths, we see meals eaten alone or together, religious ceremonies being performed, and possessions or loved ones being cherished.  There is joy and sadness, but also great humour – both intentional and otherwise.

But there is another side to the film that in a sense grabbed me more strongly – the scenes of different countries and cultures around the world.  Whether it is the family on a simple boat on a river overshadowed by the massive luxury liner in the background, a dramatic night-time thunderstorm in an industrial coastal city, or an Afghan man taking us on a tour of the bustling, colourful markets of Kabul, it is the places that join the people in becoming the film’s characters.  The places, as much as the people, are a key part of the story.  While we might easily talk about the portrayal of humanity’s diversity, beauty and commonality in this film, the same is also, perhaps inadvertently, true about our planet.

It’s a film that can affirm your faith in humanity, yes, but more than that it can fuel your desire to get out and explore this incredible world of ours.

Twitter is a great way of discovering great examples of the sorts of stuff you’re into, not least music.

When you tweet about a certain topic, you will often find yourself being followed by someone who has searched for that same topic.  The downside to that is the huge amount of spam on the go in Twitterland (just tweet words like “iPad” and see what happens), but sometimes there are gems.  If I tweet about the music I like listening to, I get the occasional follow from bands who presumably find me on the back of search terms like “post-rock”.  One such band was MinionTV, who I blogged about some time ago, and whose magnificent music I was thrilled to discover.

Then, a a few weeks ago, I was followed by the Echelon Effect (Twitter | website | Bandcamp), so out of curiosity I listened to a bit and was instantly hooked.  The Echelon Effect, a one-man outfit from England, produces electronic post-rock soundscapes and have a haunting and ethereal yet quietly energetic feel.  With soft, gentle rhythms, beautifully subtle melodies, echoey samples and an aura evocative of film scores, the music is engaging but because of its subtlety I have found it is firmly joining the likes of Boards of Canada, Ulrich Schnauss and Lindstrom as great music to write to.

Like many relatively little-known musicians these days, much of the Echelon Effect’s discography is available free online, though of course you have the option to pay what you like (and the more you pay, the more able they are to spend time making music).

I can highly recommend taking a peek at it, and although I am not sure I have a clear favourite yet the first track of Seasons Part 1, Recalling Winter’s Casualities (right), is proving to be a real grower and the album Mosaic is a particularly consistent one.

Overall, the music is not demanding or in your face (though I don’t wish to imply it’s in anyway simple or shallow), and the way that the tracks blur into each other to create wide, sweeping sounds that provide a magnificent soundtrack to a day.

Have you ever been to, or heard of, Biceps Land?  Nope, me neither.

But it exists in the world of popular board game Articulate.  We were playing it with friends last night and it came up as one of the anwers in the “world” category.  Searching on the internet renders no mention of such a place, either real or fictional, and the only hits are for pages where people are asking the same question – including this one on the official Articulate Facebook page.

It was one of the cards I drew, and I managed to successfully describe it by pointing at my biceps and saying “imagine a theme park devoted to this muscle”.  It makes Biceps Land all the more mysterious that an imagined muscle-based tourist attraction is the most obvious and sensible explanation for what it might be.

If anyone’s ever heard of it, do spill the beans on this seemingly unheard-of landmark.

Incidentally, in the same game last night, I was given the clue to a person which was “he betrayed Jesus Christ”.  ”Robert Powell!” I declared triumphantly.

Turns out I’d misheard “betrayed” as “portrayed”.

I’ve uploaded some photos from my trip to Edinburgh last weekend, including the Explosions in the Sky gig and the day’s exploring of Edinburgh I wrote about here.

The gig was excellent, and EITS were on top form, delivering a show that was powerful, gripping and beautiful.  I was really glad I made it down to it.  They played plenty of their best tracks, including a good few off their new album, and (perhaps this makes me sound somewhat old) the best thing was it wasn’t too loud – the music was allowed to speak for itself and not rely on excessive volume to make an impact (I’m looking at you, Mogwai).

That’s the second time I’ve seen them and I’d happily see them again.  I’ve been listening to their new album a lot lately and think it’s cemented itself in my top 10 favourite albums.

On Saturday night, Nicole and I went to Eden Court to see Milton Jones on his live stand-up tour.

You’ve perhaps seen him on TV shows like Mock the Week, with his hair by Wurzel Gummage, shirts by Nelson Mandela, and a signature array of one-liners and puns.  With a quick, off-beat mind and perfect delivery, Milton Jones’s set was a rapidfire delight, with quip after quip coming so soon after each other that you barely had time to finish laughing at or digesting the previous one.

That makes Jones’s set sound very basic, and in many ways it is, and he definitely sticks to one narrow type of comedy.  But he does it so brilliantly, and I remember reading an interview with him where he said that typical comedy involves jokes lasting several minutes, whereas with one-liners you need so many more.  I wish I’d attempted to count the individual jokes in fact, as I’m sure it was well into the hundreds.  And delivered with impeccable timing, responding brilliantly to audience interaction, and with of course no notes and not a jot of hesitation, it was clear that Milton Jones is at the very top of his profession and what he does requires huge skill, thought and wit.

But it wasn’t just two hours of non-stop one-liners and puns (which frankly would have done me fine).  The set was livened up by a few extra interesting formats, and an excellent support act in the form of James Acaster, whose gently cheeky humour will see him, I think, becoming big quite soon.  Acaster’s rant about the three sides of a cheese grater that nobody ever uses was especially amusing.

If you get a chance to see Milton Jones live, do take up the opportunity.  I’m very glad I did.

The new album by Explosions in the Sky came out earlier this week.  It’s called “Take Care, Take Care, Take Care” and it is excellent.

There’s always a special thrill to a first listen of a new album by a favourite band.  It has a reassuringly familiar sound but also exhiliratingly different and fresh – what are they going to come up with next?  I had a couple of listens on my way down to Glasgow for work on Tuesday (hence the otherwise unrelated photo at the top of this post).  In EITS’ case, they came up with a thoughtful, energetic almost mournful offering that is up to, if not beyond, their usual standard.  It has only six tracks, but with all bar one coming in at over seven minutes, you’re certainly not short-changed.

The first track, Last Known Surroundings, is a beautiful intro, with a slow, tense almost stadium-rock build up that gives way to some almost ethereal, Sigur Ros-esque guitar noises and a rhythm that gives a pulsating spine to the song.  The follow-up, Human Qualities, starts out as a brighter, sweeter waltzy tune (EITS’ best tracks, for some reason, are in my mind those that are in 3/3 time: I don’t know why, but that metre seems to give their music a rhythm that captures and draws you in especially strongly), at least to start with, switching over halfway through with a near-sinister break to a more edgy, atmospheric melody that builds to a frantic cruscendo.  Then comes Trembling Hands, a short, catchy burst of energy; giving way to a more gentle tone in the fourth and track (Be Comfortable, Creature, and the particularly beautiful Postcards from 1952).  The finale, Let Me Back In, starts unusually – it’s one of the rare EITS tracks to have a voice sample – but gives for a rousing finish to an excellent album.

The album creates a soundscape evocative of discovery, mystery, innocence, wanderlust and is a little more alive and upbeat than their previous albums – which of course are mostly brilliant in their own way and their 2003 album “The Earth Is Not A Cold, Dead Place is probably in my top three or four albums ever).

It’s good to know that EITS have the capacity to keep delivering after all these years, and I can’t wait to see them live in Edinburgh next month.

After having got tickets for Explosions in the Sky in London in May, a friend and I are now a bit annoyed that they’ve just announced an Edinburgh date, which we are hoping to make instead.

So if you are interested in a couple of tickets to see EITS at the Roundhouse, London on Thursday 19 May, drop me a line.

If you’re not a fan, maybe this is what converts you!

And in related news, the new Mogwai album is just out today, so I am off to iTunes to have a listen to my newest acquisition…

Nicole and I were in Aberdeen last weekend, the highlight of which was seeing Mogwai live at the Music Hall on Friday night.  It was a great gig, with a mix of old favourites and some tracks from their forthcoming new album.

The venue is a grand old place, and with the seats up in the balcony being unrestricted it was possible to get a really wide perspective on the gig – not just literally in terms of the photo opportunities, but figuratively in terms of being able to take in not just the noise and the stage but the whole venue as well.

Support came from The Twilight Sad, who I’d never heard before, and they were excellent – long, energetic, sweeping tracks of guitars, percussion and – a little oddly – saxophone.  I’ll definitely check more of them out.

Mogwai themselves were, as is their wont, loud.  Very loud.  Even being at the back of the venue there wasn’t much escape from the loudest excesses of the tracks, and while it sounded great, it did get a bit much; especially at the end when the ubiquitous and true-to-form fifteen minute wall of feedback came.  Much as it’s good to go out with a bang, and the final track – annoyingly not Mogwai Fear Satan, the second time out of three that I’ve seen them miss out their classic gig finisher – was very good, the screeching feedback did come over a little self-indulgent, unoriginal and pointless.  After a minute or two, they’d made their point, but they made it over and over again.

I’m not complaining (much), though my eardrums took most of the following week to recover.  The gig was great, the new tracks were good, and I’m definitely looking forward to getting the new album (which is out very soon).  I’ve put a few photos here.

Getting back to Inverness on Sunday with just forty minutes to change bags, it was straight off to Edinburgh for a couple of days’ work (and a pub quiz squeezed in on Monday night).

I’ve not been travelling much for work so far this year, but I’m already in need of a bit of a break.  Thank goodness for a four day weekend that starts today and will hopefully be productive on the writing front.