Punk rock and Paradise

Dear readers — welcome to another writer’s edition, a chance for you to look beyond our intimidating façade, peek behind the curtain and perceive the inner workings of our journalists' news-addled minds. Recently, Laurence regaled us with his public fountain fixations, Arthurian obsessions, North Walian excursions and Beatrix Potter hot takes. This time it’s the turn of Mr David Lloyd, one of Liverpool’s most beloved writers as he celebrates crime podcasts, punk rock memoirs and the long-waited return of spring:

And now I'm in Paradise
Or that's how it seems
When Spring has sprung upon this Oblong of Dreams…

Without further ado, please enjoy David’s latest (but far from last in the pipeline) contribution to The Post, including what he’s listening to, reading and eating. And don’t forget to leave a comment when you’re done!

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What I’m listening to: I love Ladytron. And I love that they are back and as languidly seductive as ever. Their new single (do we say ‘single’ and ‘out’ any more, or is it just ‘track’ and ‘dropped’?) A Death In London hits the sweet spot perfectly: a little bit Saint Etienne, a soupçon of Stereolab and a healthy side of Roxy Music. Bonus points for the sultry saxophone in there too. It brings to mind a parallel universe where Astrud Gilberto  is a singer in the Human League. There’s a veritable Ladytron take over this month (in a majestically under the radar way, of course — there’s no temporarily blinding billboard at the top of Islington which, by rights, there should be. Instead of that one about Lee Butler doing Reminisce) with the band playing at the Arts Club on the 19 March, the band’s Daniel Hunt in conversation with the wondrous Jayne Casey at Rough Trade records on 22 March, and their album — Paradises — out March 20. There was talk of the band making new music with Soft Cell. Since the death of Dave Ball that seems, sadly, unlikely. If I die before I get to the end of this piece, be sure to play Destroy Everything You Touch at my wake. Thanks. 

Some podcast recommendations: By some pleasing coincidence, two of my favorite BBC podcasts have both been helmed by Liverpool presenters. I’ve just finished the breathless romp that is The Missing Madonna, presented by Olivia Graham, who’s also behind the excellent podcast for feminist pop culture zine, Polyester. 

The Missing Madonna recounts the 2003 theft of Leonardo da Vinci's Madonna of the Yarnwinder from the imposing pile of Drumlanrig Castle, in Dumfries and Galloway, recovered via Liverpool private investigators in a high-stakes drama of gangs, Liverpool lads, dukes, and undercover deals. It’s a real blast. Expect plot twists, great pacing and plenty of WTF moments. It’s like Hollyoaks does Line of Duty. The podcast amassed over two million downloads, and it’s not hard to see why. Bonkers. 

It’s a few years old now, but my ultimate favourite remains Death in Ice Valley — a BBC World Service podcast co-presented by Liverpool-born documentary maker Neil McCarthy alongside Norwegian journalist Marit Higraff. This podcast investigates the 1970 mystery of the "Isdal Woman," found burnt in Norway's remote Isdalen Valley with cut labels on clothes, wigs, and coded notes suggesting espionage amid the Cold War. Immersive field recordings are used to chilling effect (headphones recommended, unless driving) such as crunching snow, whipping wind, overlaid with a static-crackling electronic soundtrack. Sound design doesn’t get better than this. If you’ve not, you must. 

What I’m reading: I’ve just finished Flesh, last year’s Booker Prize winner by David Szalay. It’s a suitably meaty tale (although the naughty bits fade somewhat as the protagonist moves through life. Which is reassuring). If you’re a Hardy fan you might spot shades of The Mayor of Casterbridge in the slow-mo unravelling of István, whom we meet as a troubled teen, and whose life we follow, watching its trajectory wobble increasingly out of his control. It’s a masterfully told exploration of masculinity, detachment and dislocation. Just don’t have it on Audible when you’re at a Costa drive through: chances are the filthy stuff will have you blushing as you reach for your flat white. 

I’ve finished it just in time to dive into Penny Kiley’s new memoir, Atypical Girl (Polygon). “I’ve always been a bit mistrustful of nostalgia, because looking backwards isn’t very punk, so revisiting those times for the book made me think,” Penny tells me. 

“I guess it was a kind of mid-life crisis document for a while. I got interested in who we were then and who we are now and the connections between them, which is one of the things my book’s about.”

One of the city’s best chroniclers of the music scene in the late 70’s and 80’s, the book follows Penny's relationship with the music scene from the turbulent Thatcher years into the mercurial culture of today. 

“Sometimes I think I would love to get in a time machine and go back to Eric’s just for one night to experience that excitement again. Maybe the first time I saw the Clash in 1977, or one of the local band nights when it felt like a club and a community rather than just a venue. But I wouldn’t want to stay there, because I’m happier now with who I am.”

The start of spring: After the world’s worst February ever, it’s good to see spring’s trifecta spiking through the damp soil in my local park. Snowdrops giving way to crocuses, before the daffs start to get all blousy on us. But you’d never know it in the city centre, would you? We remain one of Britain’s least-green urban cores. And before you say Chavasse Park, the more I think that was a missed opportunity. 

It feels othered, somehow — cut adrift from the real business of shopping. Seeing as we’re in the season of discussing Williamson Square around here, I vote for turfing the vast expanse of concrete in the middle, sprinkling some wildflowers and hardy perennials on it and bringing a real sense of softness and real environmental intent to the city (and some wildlife too). It’ll make a nice change from all those hideous Instagram-ready doorways adorned with faux blooms that are the only crop we seem to be harvesting these days. 

What I’m eating: I don’t have dinner in the city. I’m too delicate for that. The world is too loud. So I’m big on off-peak snacking, and I chart my journey around the region knowing there’s a spot where I can enjoy a little light grazing. To the north, I’ve been heading to Cafe Riccado’s, in the shadow of Bramley Dock, for the best coffee in town and a piadina - a thin Italian flatbread, folded and filled with whatever takes your fancy. And, now that the nice folk at Make have removed the dead foliage in the courtyard planters, and replaced them with living greenery, it’s a pleasant - and rare - outside space in the Ten Streets neighbourhood.  To the south, it has to be the gorgeous Épicerie Fine, on Smithdown Road. My pick? The Toulouse sausage tartine takes some beating. Then again, is there ever a reason to refuse a Croque Madame, when politely offered? To the east, I call ahead for cake at Prescot’s Albion Bakehouse – their afternoon teas, complete with dainty china crockery of course, are worth skipping lunch for. Heading west and home again to the Leisure Peninsula, a stop at Cafe Me+Nu at Start Yard in Birkenhead is, by some distance, the best thing to have come out of Birkenhead’s blink-and-you’ll-miss-it renaissance. Their Greek flatbread with fried chicken, hummous, yoghurt and pomegranate is all your major food groups in one serving.

Talking of food, which I do tend to, I’ve recently fallen for the ferments (yeah, I know, ten years behind everyone else. Shut up at the back). My new favorite shop is the Blue Whale Chinese supermarket on Hanover Street. They’re big on seafood, as you’d expect, but for me, it’s the thrill of browsing through their brightly coloured packets and bottles of broths, pastes and sauces that gets my umami motor running. I’m all about the miso (fermented soybean paste), glazed over salmon. They’re quite free with their geography here - you’ll get lots of goodies from a grab-bag of Asian cuisines. Shoyu (an aged and fermented soy sauce) adds depth and lip-smacking deliciousness to most things, and Doubanjiang and Tianmian (fermented broad bean & chili paste) deliver a deep, spicy, funky umami (Tianmian is sweeter). Add a few spoonfuls of that in your stir fry and look whose cooking game suddenly grew up. My gut bacteria have started to send me flowers. Check out their range of chop sticks too. Exquisite. 

Got a book, TV, podcast or place recommendation for David? Let him know in the comments below.