Well, here it is. Solo album #5 and very nearly Waning Gibbous, but that was too negative, and also a nu-folk band from Brighton, or so I’m told. What’s it all about? It’s hard to say without saying “the usual shite”. I enjoy writing music. I write about what I know. I don’t know much. This is a very self-aware record, which is hard if you’re aware that what you’re doing may not be any good. If I’m honest I can say that I didn’t really have fun making this album, compared to the Prozac-dulled victory of my first, the shocked glee of my second, the strutting & punching bravado of my third, and the lazy arrogance of my forth. How do I feel about Waxing Gibbous? I don’t know, but I like it more now than I did 2 weeks ago. Maybe it’s my age, or cynicism. Maybe I’m sick of the sound of my own voice and realise that I’ve been stretching what little it is that I have to say over the course of too many years. Or maybe I’m just pissed off that I don’t fit in anywhere. The leftfield doesn’t want me because I’m too normal and I use choruses. The mainstream didn’t want me and still resents me for trying to ruin Christmas. Could I maybe try to sound more like James Blunt or James Morrison? Actually no, I doubt I could even try. Could I pass myself off more seriously, like Will Oldham or Nick Cave? No, I don’t have enough character.

So here I am. I write a song about socks. I rap and I play some slap bass. I convince King Creosote & The Pictish Trail to do backing vocals to cover up the fact that I can’t really sing that well. Barry from Mogwai plays piano again because I can’t really do that either, and Jenny sings a bit more because my voice becomes too grey after a while on its’ own.

I keep on going. This is a very personal album in that it does contain all the crap little lines I’ve jotted down in my wee book over the past 2 years or so, which are then chiselled and connived into being songs. I don’t feel like I’ve given that much away though, this album doesn’t make me cringe as much as previous attempts. Although I suppose there are still a few lines that I try to ignore, in the hope that no one will be able to see the real meaning hidden behind their blatant statementing.

Being a singer/writer/musician I’m not really prone to histrionics or ego-antics, so I can thus say with no little weight that this’ll be my last solo album for a few years. I’m not quitting, I just think that Malcolm Middleton has said enough for the time being. I’d like to try something new, something instrumental, someone new, something different. Who knows, but That all seems more exciting than This these days.

Anyway, enjoy the album, sorry if it’s arrived somewhat over-hyped ;)

Myspace: http://www.myspace.com/malcolmmiddleton


1. Red Travellin’socks
2. Kiss At The Station
3. Carry Me
4. Zero
5. Stop Doing Be Good
6. Don’t want To Sleep Tonight
7. Shadows
8. Ballad Of Fuck All
9. Box & Knife
10. Made Up Your Mind