Posts from 23rd September 2003

23
Sep 03

Apparently Frank Bruno is in a confused state…

TMFDPost a comment • 525 views

Apparently Frank Bruno is in a confused state, slightly hysterical and generally quite mad. So why did it take them twenty sodding years of the clown to lock him away?

I like my boxers mean, not comedical.

Rockist? me?

Everyone will hate us like they hate the Sun?

TMFDPost a comment • 378 views

Everyone will hate us like they hate the Sun? Why is that? Well that is what will happen if I make a joke about Frank Bruno going mad. The man was sectioned last night and had been reportedly suffering from depression. And when you think about it if you are a very grown man, with fists like brieze-blocks whose only regular employment is dressing up as a woman at Christmas you might be depressed too. Especially if as part of your job you regularily got brain damamging punches to the temple. And you used to be a boxer.

The most interesting part of the headlines is the euphemism Sad for depressed. The sun sez “So Sad” on its cover, knowing very well that
a) It is quite sad that Frank Bruno, a beloved if wife beaterly personality is off his rocker
b) Being sad is a bit like being depressed. To the layman. Who knows nothing abotu psychology and does not want to know anything THANK YOU VERY MUCH.
Hopefully he will be out again soon, in a better state of mind. As he says , he’s no loony like Mike Tyson. But let’s lay off the Widow Twanky for a year.

Not Another Fucking Landscape.

The Brown WedgePost a comment • 239 views

Not Another Fucking Landscape.

I have been working nights in a gas station, namely Petro-Canada, which used to be public, but is now owned 72 per cent privately. They push the Canadian identity thing pretty far, with a red and white colour scheme; stylized neon maple leafs and gas cards featuring the work of the group of seven.

The group of seven were Canadian landscape painters from the turn of the century until the mid 50s, and were mostly responsible for the self mythologizing hinterland we are known for (Canada is one of the most urban nations on the planet, and we are located mostly within 5 hours of the US border, but we avoid these facts and replace them with images of shield and arctic countries.) For the avant or pseudo avant gaurdists in this nation these 7 are the enemy’not for their work, which ranges from banal to brilliant but for what they represent.

They are the painters that are taught first as Canadians, as examples of our virtues, as documenters of who we are as a nation. They are our painters, and they are popular for that reason. They have become a brand. On these Gas Cards, you cannot tell the difference between Carimacheland Jacksonand they have no details on the back of title, date or medium. They are also eastern, with occasionally, an 8th from Vancouver added (this would be Carr.) Sometimes there is an effort to show them as visiting the west, like a show ofHarrisand Jackson’s work in the Edmonton Art Gallery two years ago or the huge survey show of the Seven and the West in Calgary 6 months ago, but mostly its Ontario and Quebec plus Vancouver. Once again our mythology is decided by Eastern elites, and we have to be begged to let in.

There is very little to be said about the film Underworld

Do You SeePost a comment • 475 views

There is very little to be said about the film Underworld that isn’t said on this ILE thread. A high in concept low in thought rip-off of Blade 2, it consists mainly of Kate Beckinsale proving that she has her fathers gift for comedy. Pity this is a serious as cancer melodrama about the TWUE STORWEE of the blood fued betwene Wampires and Lychen. Which is some sort of mold right? Anyway some bloke got a virus and in some sort of Bibular rip-off of Cain and Abel (and Buffy prolly) one kid became a Wampire and one became Mold. And verily they got on like a house on fire, or at least like master and servant until Bill Nighy got a bit arsey one day and decided wouldn’t it be fun to have an immortal war. Like what they have in comics or something. Then without a by-your-leave or any thought as to how any of this could actually make any sort of sense, we are in Budapest, where the hospitals are staffed by Americans and the police never do anything. Wampires are now all speaking in English accents except, with a nice twist in received wisdom, the bad guy who is a Meercan. And if the rest of the film makes you laugh then at least you might get your moneys worth. I thought it was bobbins.

The Royal Oak and Simply Indian, Borough

Pumpkin PublogPost a comment • 953 views

The Royal Oak and Simply Indian, Borough

In some ways The Royal Oak is a bit of an oddity. It’s one of only two London pubs tied to Sussex brewery Harvey’s, and as such there is an inescapable association for me with some of the country pubs I frequented in my semi-bucolic youth. I have a suspicion that it secretly wants to be the Compton Arms, but its location down a side street in Borough puts pay to that, and what’s left is a fine boozer indeed.

The beer’s unsurprisingly good. The surroundings are comfy without being fussy. It’s even kept the two bar split, which is always a good thing in my pub book. However, what really makes it for me is that it manages to be both a locals pub and welcoming to strangers at the same time, an all too rare combination in London.

It is also happily just along the road from Simply Indian, which even more happily is unlicensed and lets you bring in big jugs of beer from the pub. So after a few pints our now rather intoxicated party rolled along the road with for a curry with a couple of jugs of the Harvest ale.

I don’t know if the place started out as an upmarket takeaway, until the owners decided to put a few tables out front, but it certainly feels that way. It’s none the worse for it either: basic, but done right, without either being self consciously minimalist or unwelcoming. The lamb samosas were just as good as Sarah said they would be, and my Goan green curry was nicely mouth puckeringly sour.

After such a fine combination of curry and ale, I was left wondering why pubs don’t collaborate with curry houses more often. It certainly makes more sense than the bafflingly common Thai/pub combination.

KITTY KALLEN – “Little Things Mean A Lot”

Popular28 comments • 2,451 views

#21, 10th September 1954

A friendly advice-to-lovers number that politely refuses to distinguish itself in almost any way – except that Kitty Kallen seems hooked on rolling her ‘r’s, and as soon as you notice this you spend the whole song listening out for it. There’s a nice fake-out moment near the end too when you think you?ll be getting a smooth trumpet solo and Kallen plus orchestra crash back in for the final chorus: otherwise “Little Things” is thoroughly modest and thoroughly pleasant.

The Thing about working nights is deciding which music to play

FT + New York London Paris MunichPost a comment • 256 views

The Thing about working nights is deciding which music to play, its all about keeping awake and keeping your customers interested…Some people do this by trying to play into their desire for cock rock and chart country. I do so by shocking them enough to say what the fuck but not enough to say fire my ass.

I start off with some synth pop to wake me up, Jarvis Cocker talking about stained raincoats, Momus singing orgasm addict, Jr/Sr telling me to shake my coconuts and some of the stately homos of England. As i get closer to the witching hour, a couple of mixed cds about death, murder and sex–classic country, so to speak. The further it gets into the night, the more i want to avoid dealing with drunks and assholes–to punish them for their idiocy, noise is produced–George Anthiel, John Cage, Metal Machine Music.

About two, when i am about to fall asleep, punk keeps me awake, and as the night winds down mopey english pop and folk work as lullaby–its only been a week but the system seems to work.