Chicks Dig Hip Hop

Chicks Dig Hip Hop: exactly what it says it is - a weblog, by women, devoted to hip-hop. And go into the archives for some of the liveliest blogvoices commentary I’ve seen. Why are there so few webogs about hip-hop, hmm?

The Best Barmaid In London?

The Best Barmaid In London? Possibly. Now everyone knows that Pumpkin Pubs has a strange predilictation for The Rising Sun on Tottenham Court Road - usually known as The Riser. Strange because these days there really is little special about the pub to recomend it. Its stupidly expensive, the decor is about as average as central London pbs get and it no longer serves the Belgian beers (or indeed Scottish Oat Stout) that previously made its name.

Now however they may have hit upon a new ruse. It would appear that in their recent recruitment they have unearthed a gem - quite possibly the best barmaid in London. Professional, quick, chatty without being intrusive. And she had her hair in bunches, which may say something about me but I think they are unusual enough to warrant a mention. Our rowdy behaviour in the Riser on Wednesday did not faze her, nor did conversations about breast implants and fatty deposits looking like maggots. Its early doors, but at the moment the Pumpkin Pubs Barmaid of the Year 2001 is… “Pigtails”.

Oxford Calling, Oxford Calling….

Oxford Calling, Oxford Calling….this is just to say that the Pumpkin Publog is back to its former Blogspot glory, now the whole server problem seems to be under control. We would have contributed, of course, but we had no guarantee that any money we sent would have been rightfully spent, i.e. on drink.

Reportage on Oxford pubs begins and ends with The Crown for me currently: it serves Premier and it has a juker with Kirtsy MacColl’s Galore on it, allowing me to tearily, or rather beerily, pay tribute to the flame-haired dead songstress, to the delight I’m sure of my fellow punters. I go there mainly because it’s not a student bar, I must admit. Chin chin!

And the second must-click link this evening is

And the second must-click link this evening is this review of Almost Famous by Richard Meltzer. Meltzer uses it as an opportunity for a massive personal onslaught on Danny sugerman and another forgotten 70s teenaged rock writer: it’s bitter and scabrous, and pretty entertaining. Cameron Crowe comes off better than the aforementioned but it still confirms the film as one I’ve got damn-all interest in watching. This link via metascene, which should be a feature in all your bookmarks as it’s consistently excellent (and thankyou Mr. Metascene for your very kind e-mail which you sent Blue Lines ages back and which, like an arse, I never replied to.)

Must we fling this filth at our pop kids?

Must we fling this filth at our pop kids?: where’s Bill Grundy when you need him?

Of course

Of course if you do want to see what my favourite rockmags are you could always look here.

So when does Everett True think was the golden age of Melody Maker?

So when does Everett True think was the golden age of Melody Maker? Surely not when he was writing a load of grunge-rock pieces for the paper? Still, the more dewy-eyed reminiscences about “the Maker” the better - it gets it out of people’s systems and they can get on with the real business of writing popcrit that means something beyond an ageing cabal of hacks and wannabe-hacks pining for better days. (And yes, I’d include myself in that, obviously). There is no more point in canonising rock critics and particular eras of magazines than there is in canonising particular records or artists or years: I have my particular inspirations, so probably do you, but rather than beat our collective chests about them let’s get out there and do something with them.