Posts from 22nd January 2001

Jan 01

Swish Cottage

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Swish Cottage writes about the Kirsty MacColl memorial service.

Elision Fields

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Elision Fields: good review of the Magnetic Fields’ 2-night London shows. Harder core Merritt fans than I might demur but I found a lot to agree with here.

The complete text of Stuart Home’s

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The complete text of Stuart Home’s Cranked Up Really High, which is a rather good book about punk rock (very rude to Greil Marcus!). It’s in super-unwieldy text format but I’m sure you techie people can work out a way round that.

A special AICON plea

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A special AICON plea: can we please have some of you men reading FT sending your pictures in? This is not to say that women sending their pictures to Am I Cool Or Not are unwelcome – in fact when I started the feature I thought I’d be lucky to run one female pic every two months, my assumption being….well, it’s obvious what my assumption was. But as it stands women sending photos in are on quite a long waiting list, whereas in terms of men I’ve got I think 3 photos to run, one of which is manifestly absurd. Since I’m trying to alternate genders this is a headache-in-waiting. Come on lads! Only one man has ended up cool so far – uphold the honour of your sex!

This weekend I finished Paul Morley’s

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This weekend I finished Paul Morley’s Nothing which I urge everyone to buy. A response – belated, possibly, though that’s the (a) point of the book – to the suicide of his father, it’s one of the most intelligent and affecting things I’ve read for a long time. It also shows that he’s still got it, stylewise, and it’s got some pop music content too. Here a Morley non-fan from his NME days reviews the book.

Smells Like Steve Perry

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Smells Like Steve Perry: “wannabe Chuck Eddys”, we were called by Mark Richardson on ILM recently, and there’s a fair bit of truth in that. This though is the best refutation (best cause it’s only partially refuting things) of the Eddy ‘method’ I’ve read.

Am I Cool Or Not?

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Am I Cool Or Not? – Cool or Fool: the decision, once again, is yours.

The best jukebox in Soho?

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The best jukebox in Soho? So the Golden Lion bigs itself up – and this may well be true. Its certainly odd, having two machines feeding to what one must assume be one Jukebox Hive Mind controlling the pubs tunes. How this works if tracks are being picked simultaneously we do not know. That said – even if it is the best jukebox in Soho – it is relatively difficult to tell if your drinking companion insists on slapping godforesaken rubbish like The Waterboys “A Bang On The Ear” on. He’ll get a bang round the back of his bleeding head if he does that again. (For those of you not there I shall just say CMOT3M to you – you know the score).

I was actually in The Golden Lion twice this weekend. Saturday night it was rammed and the juker was not an option. I did ask the award winning (but surly) bar staff if they could turn the TV on to Match Of The Day – as VH1 with the Jukebox is a deadly sin. They refused, causing chagrin. On Sunday the place was much more salubrious and football had made its way on to the television. However the blokes toilets were under about four feet of water.

All this said – The Golden Lion is one of the best pubs in Soho. Its unassuming in a sea of pub poseurs. A bit rough and ready, and the beer selection is nothing towrite home about. But if the alternative is the horror of LVPO’s over the road – you are certainly better off. As Romilly Street hits Dean Street, for looking, and we’ll get back to you on the jukebox.

Hot For Dogs

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TMBG answer to Squeeze’s “Cool For Cats”, and specifically the question not posited by Difford and Tilbrook – What if condiments could fall in love? Hot For Dogs is the heartwarming (in the way that bile – when produced in sufficient quantities – will warm any part of the body) tale of a romance between the ketchup and the mustard on top of a Jumbo Dog served after the fourth innings of a baseball game. Set to the backing of chugging ZZ Top style guitar, djembe and accordion, The Hot Dog also has a supporting cast of fried onions and the wedding chapel of the purchasers mouth. The song manages to raise not a single smile from its elaborate ampropomorphism of tangy taste providers – and the bathos raised by the contrived yet unsurprising “being eaten” ending is so weak it would be better renamed showeros.


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cutoffaPOPear – via Tim this is James Lucas’ blog and he gets an extra big fat link which you must all click on to make up for the fact that I’ve not responded yet about the CDs he so kindly sent me. Sorry James, I’ll get to it!