I have moved to lynnroberts.org

Bob has done it again. The greatest songwriter the earth has ever seen* has, in a not unprecedented move, appeared in an advert for a gas-guzzling Cadillac. The fans are shocked.

This follows his highly amusing decisions in 2004 to appear in a Victoria's Secret advert and in 2005 to sell an album exclusively through Starbucks. And once upon a time, apparently, he went electric.

This most recent "sell-out" isn't out of the blue. Cadillac have sponsored Dylan's excellent Theme Time Radio hour since it's advent on Radio XM.

Dylan fans seem to continue to expect an awful lot of the man with somewhat dubious grounding. He is elevated to the status of a left-wing hero. He was seen as the bastion of folk when he went electric and in recent years the once anti-establishment protest singer has been cashing right in through a number of high-profile dalliances with corporate branding.

Even the Guardian has been weighing in on the debate, probably mainly for the opportuntity to use the phrase "the climes they are a-changing." The columnist seems to have thought that lingerie ads were fair dos, but he has arbitrarily drawn the line at Caddilacs and decided that enough is enough.

Readers of Bob's self-penned biography, Chronicles, will know that Dylan cares little what is expected of him, or what his fans think of him.

*My top three are Dylan, Wilson and Simon (neither Lennon or McCartney are anywhere close).

The antifolk scene is a genuinely exciting place to be in the US. The New-York-based movement, which was started in the 90s, has included and influenced artists such as Major Matt Mason, Jeff Lewis, Regina Spektor, The Moldy Peaches, and Beck.

Imagine my excitement when I discovered there were two antifolk collectives in the UK.

Of the London-based crowd, Emmy the Great was quoted in a Time Out piece as saying "They give people a chance to start out without going through the vetting procedure of the big venues." If the UK anti-folk that I have witnessed is anything to go by a bit of vetting would go a long way.

When Jeff Lewis played Cardiff as part of his tour for 12 Crass Songs, an act with the bizarre moniker 'Filthy Pedro' was shoehorned into the line up between New York street-poet Professor Louis and Jeff Lewis and his Jitters. When I spoke to him before the gig Jeff mentioned that he didn't know of Filthy Pedro and had been told they were UK Antifolk.

They were a disaster: we were subjected to three minute songs with pseudo-intelligent lyrics clumsily referencing Greek mythology and war history. The front man - or the Nathan Barley of folk as he will henceforth be known - removed his shirt and the bass player wore a massive cuddly lobster on his shoulder for the duration of their set as visual shorthand for a personality.

Filthy Pedro created the website Antifolk UK blithely citing himself among the UK's antifolk artists. He employs a similar lack of discretion in naming other acts. He told Time Out magazine "UK antifolk has definitely developed its own personality and the nights over here are really, really rowdy." He continues: "Some New Yorkers are even starting to say we’re doing it better." New Yorkers without ears or eyes, I presume.

DISCLAIMER: When I started this blog I promised myself that I would use it to rave about the music I love, rather than to be scathing about that which I don't, but I wasn't willing to let my objection to the purveyors of UK "anti-folk" lie. These people have incorrectly, recklessly and, my guess is, cynically purloined the term from the genuine and talented folk I admire.

*UPDATE (14-11-07)* I've written to Mr F. Pedro to ask him who the New Yorkers he mentions are.

*UPDATE (16-11-07)* He's written back (what an amenable chap) to say it's someone called Brer Brian. Feel a tad mean for being nasty now. Still don't like his music though.

For a year I worked in a 'financial boutique' in London's West End effing about with other people's mortgages. With a job that was essentially admin, a chauvinist of a boss and borderline minimum wage pay I had to find something else to occupy my time.

The online music magazine DrownedinSound (DiS) saved me. The hilariously irreverent work of news writer Mike Diver kept me going for a while, but as my work ethic ebbed away still further my attention turned to the site's forums. I became what stalwart DiS users term 'a lurker', reading their opinions and ramblings but rarely posting anything. One act consistently referred to was Pagan Wanderer Lu, a friend of the site who was exalted as a demigod by its readers.

"Christians like you are why God invented Lions" - Pagan Wanderer Lu

Now Cardiff-based, Pagan Wanderer Lu shuffles onto the stage after jangly folksters Lucky Delucci. He has the air of a man who knows that what he is about to do is great, but wishes somebody else would do it instead.

Playing songs from his EP, The Independent Scrutineer, he opened with some solid electro and proceeded to flit rapidly between genres; the chaos unified by lyrics which were sometime political, sometimes funny and sometimes, like the cracking "Christians like you are why God invented lions," inspired.

When a support act offers such a triumph of a set great things are expected from the headliner. Lumberjack shirt clad The Stanley Band have plenty of energy and driven, relentless guitars. But half-a-song in I find myself with the almost irrepressible urge to scream "BO-RING" and hide like a naughty five-year-old.

We leave after three songs, distinguishable from each other only by the silence between them. The Stanley Band were given a raw deal by the promoter: their indie-schmindie stylings might not have seemed so bland if they hadn't had to follow the idiosyncratic genius of Pagan Wanderer Lu.

Sweeeeeet:

Sweet Baboo is one of the few unsigned Cardiff acts I'd heard of before I moved here. He played an Oxjam gig on Tuesday (2nd) at the Point in Cardiff Bay. Citing The Beach Boys and Daniel Johnson as influences he mixes weird synth noises with good pop tunes. Listen to tracks.