Posts from 9th July 2004

9
Jul 04

I care immensely about my job

Pumpkin PublogPost a comment • 242 views

I care immensely about my job, I put a lot of thought and effort into it, particularly the wine list. It’s taken a lot of trial and error but I think I have a list which strikes a good balance between decent value, choice and one or two absolute blockbusters if you feel like splashing out. Therefore it pains me when customers insist on things like having their wine chilled to such a degree that you can’t taste a bloody thing. There’s one regular in particular who will ALWAYS say “It will be chilled won’t it? You know I like my wine chilled” with such bleating insistence that one longs to scream look, I don’t keep it in the oven for God’s sake.

Oh my but revenge was sweet tonight. Her table ordered two bottles, and I carried them over. She looked up “It is chilled isn’t it?”

“Absolutely” I replied. She reached out a hand and felt a bottle.

“Oh no” she said, “that’s not chilled at all.” I looked at the bottle she’d felt and my heart soared with joy.

“That’s because it’s red, madam.”

A new way of detecting weapons!

Proven By SciencePost a comment • 241 views

A new way of detecting weapons! Using TeraHetz technology, it can stop terror, hurting (do you do you see). The efficacy of any detecting device is all depending on the person weilding it however. The problem kicks in when with all the whizzy devices and cock-on bloodhounds in the world you security guard is taking home ‘4.50 an hour and probably would not mind seeing some blow up his boss.

(Link yet again from the BBC website. This blog perhaps should be called Proven By BBC at this rate.)

Thanks to

Do You SeePost a comment • 195 views

Thanks to NTK for this preview:
‘… watch out for http://tv.cream.org/ staffers largely escaping the blame in WHO KILLED SATURDAY NIGHT TV? (9.50pm, Sat, C4), a clearly rhetorical inquiry considering that very evening’s entertainment also offers cheery charity-athon BBC SPORT RELIEF 2004 (from 7pm, Sat, BBC1) and Woody Allen’s favourite Nazi occu-docu THE SORROW AND THE PITY (7pm, Sat, BBC4)….’
Love that ‘occu-docu’ but ‘TS&TP’ DOES make for a frictional comparison w/ ‘F*9/11’ so it IS good scheduling in that sense, and defo worth the four hours: look, heat has been boosting the *six-hour* ‘Best of Youth’ so the Ophuls marathon is EASILY do-able though obv DUD scheduling really, kthxbye.

HOW TO MAKE A MESS

Pumpkin PublogPost a comment • 1,118 views

HOW TO MAKE A MESS

1/ Witness arrival of spare Pret food in office, following ‘power breakfast’ attended by boss.
2/ Notice that Pret Cherry Smoothies v.unpopular, take one for later consumption.
3/ Forget about Pret Cherry Smoothie.
4/ Go on work day out, leaving Pret Cherry Smoothie on desk for a whole day.
5/ Return to office next morning to find that fermentation has blown the top off the Smoothie and bubbling smoothie remnant is now all over yr desk, computer keyboard, papers, with flecks on walls behind you and across room, window, colleague’s desk etc etc.

The news is a few months old, but I’ve only just read it and didn’t see mention of it in the blog:

Pumpkin PublogPost a comment • 341 views

The news is a few months old, but I’ve only just read it and didn’t see mention of it in the blog:

The 50 best restaurants in the world, according to Restaurant magazine. The blog world has been all up in arms about it for one reason or another.

Personally, I find the idea of making such a list — the best restaurants, not my favorite restaurants — surreal and ridiculous, enough so that I can’t mind it. Competence you could quantify, sure: and quality of service, and price (but how do you account for different local economies, in that case?), and freshness of ingredients: but how on Earth do you even establish criteria for “the best,” much less weigh them?

And even if Grape Ape and the Superfriends give you the powers you need to accomplish that, how are you capable of determing the 50 best restaurants right now — or even this year? Ideally, you’d go to each more than once: let’s say you go to each twice, that’s 100 restaurant visits represented by the top 50 … which leaves only 265 dining days, which means at best you’re picking your top 50 from a preselected list of 200 or so (in the world!), or you’re not going to a restaurant more than once, or you’re comparing lunches, dinners, and brunches.

And that assumes you only eat out.

The more likely option is that few, if any, of the 300 judges have been to all 50 top restaurants this year, much less a significant number of those restaurants not selected — that the list represents, at its topmost ranks, the significant overlap of its judges’ experiences (which accounts for the French Laundry, as well as Nobu London instead of Nobu New York — it’s a UK-based magazine, so more judges would have been to Nobu London); and at its middle and lower ranks, those favorites which have garnered good reputations or happen to have a handful of fans among people who eat for a living.

Krikey!

Pumpkin PublogPost a comment • 1,148 views

Krikey! Supersize sandwich!

Though it must be remembered that Kingsmill smells of fish, and I wouldn’t thank anyone for giving me the means to get these for free. Ugh.

I read Personal Injuries by Scott Turow on holiday.

The Brown WedgePost a comment • 318 views

I read Personal Injuries by Scott Turow on holiday. It seemed the right thing to do. Turow is the legal thriller writer who got gazumped by John Grisham. There he was, eeking out nice little pot-boilers like Presumed Innocent (Harrison Ford’s wife did it) and Grisham ploughed in with his more streamlined prose, nicely black and white villains and shot Turow out of the water.

This may well be just as well, since it is quite clear from Personal Injuries that Turow is not all that interested in writing legal thrillers. Sure his tale of bent judges selling cases is interesting enough. But with this meat you get the gravy of the lead character, Robbie Feaver who really likes lying. A lawyer who likes lying, there’s a twist – a cynic would say, and Turow makes good gravy out of this. Using this base he delves into an alternative morality based not on objective truth or goodness, but on doing right by people. The progression of the case is truth be told rather dull: the conversations between Feaver and his FBI handler are what keeps this book going.

I like fiction about lying, and liars. The metaphysical side of Turow’s novel in the end overpowers the actual plot and readers looking for a light read would have started using it for a beach pillow before then. The side jaunts into sympathetic lesbianism and terminal illness probably don’t help. I enjoyed it, but the lack of reviews on the usually overwhelmed Amazon site, plus the ability to buy it for 1p on same site suggests that Grisham has well and truly won this one.

Strange Appetites

Pumpkin PublogPost a comment • 299 views

Strange Appetites

I’ve had the flu all week. It’s been getting steadily worse and yesterday I lost my voice completely. Time for a day off. I rang in and grunted to my boss until he worked out who I was and what I meant. I got up, took some medicine and started thinking about food.

Influenza and Lemsip affects my appetite in strange ways. I started with a couple of fried eggs. With loads of black pepper. A sneezing fit necessitated a change of clothing. I watched some cracking South American football and followed it up with a doze.

I awoke with a start. I’d put Relic Hunter into my Personal Planner for 2.15pm. It was 1.45pm and I had a crazy desire for refried beans. I dashed out to Waitrose and returned with three bags of shopping. I forgot the fucking refried beans! Too bad, at least I hadn’t missed the opening credits of Relic Hunter, which was ace as always. I munched on Pringles throughout.

I had one hour before the next episode and had to bathe and eat dinner.

I shoved a pizza in the oven and ran a bath. I love eating in the bath. Our bath has a fine corner to rest a pizza on. I had Tosca on in the background, the perfect bathing and pizza eating music

The second episode of Relic Hunter was equally brilliant. Tia Carrere had to do battle with a forgotten Bronze Age tribe in New Guinea. The music to that show is beyond reproach.

I slipped in a couple of extra afternoon snacks, quickly clearing away all evidence before my girlfriend came home from work. Then I had dinner.

I’m back at work today, feeling better, and slightly porkier.

More Shirty Thoughts

TMFDPost a comment • 384 views

More Shirty Thoughts

This is an extremely obvious point. So obvious in fact, I had to check I hadn’t blogged it before, but it seems not.

It is far easier to view an offside position if a team’s shirts matches its socks. All the linesman sees is a blur, (and anyway he has half an eye on the ball being kicked). If that blur is a red vs blue decision (i.e one team wears red shirts, red socks and the other blue shirts, blue socks), it’s far simpler than a blue & white vs red & white decision.

Have an overdose of Lemsips left me missing something plainly obvious to you gentle folk?

The Square Table: 1 / Rachel Stevens – “Some Girls”

FT + New York London Paris MunichPost a comment • 918 views

The Square Table: 1 / Rachel Stevens – “Some Girls”
Pop Rating: 723 Controversy Score: 205 Length: 213

He almost botches it. This is Richard X’s big shot at writing a Pop Classic and when Rachel’s vocals glide dispassionately in, answered with a limp “Hey!”, I’m thinking – Richard, no, too arch by half. For another ten seconds – a long, dangerous, time – I’m not sure it’s working, and then the chorus hits and everything is absolutely wonderful.

Sometimes I think choruses don’t matter so much these days: a beat or a hook, that’s enough. Richard X doesn’t agree and he pours everything into making the catchiest, cleverest chorus since “Ignition (Remix)”, and once you’ve let the chorus in you start noticing all the tiny little bits of craft in the rest of the record, flecks of gold in amongst the retro buzz and clank that we can already and enjoyably call “typical X”. (Richard’s schtick: he’s the loving keeper of the very machines that made the pop he grew up in, oiling and coaxing them into their final wheezing performances.)

Bits like? The zip-up boots. The Tight-Fit “ah-oohs”s tucked away behind the hit/miss/kiss bit. “and away we go!”. Rachel’s last dreamy sigh of “better”. All of them supporting the two stabs of true inspiration – the word-doubling on the chorus (“other other”: absolute inexplicable rightness) and “HEY! STOP!”. 9 (Tom)

Rachel Stevens + Richard X = glam-racket no-man’s land. Such a strange way of having fun. 10 (Alext)

Rachel probably thinks it’s her ‘Toxic’, Richard probably sees it as another piece in his own little puzzle. They part ways, probably never to meet again. They have served each other’s purposes. And so the story continues… 10 (William B Swygart)

Does she really use the line “I don a pair of zipper boots”? That’s fantastic. I presume ‘my baby’ is Pop Music; he calls me when he wants, he likes to tell me the things he’s done. It’s a little machinelike, that T-Rex-T-Raumschmiere stomp complete with hydraulic squeaks and thuddering tomtom, Stevens’ voice a carillion of bells over the top. 9 (cis)

safe to say richard x is still stuck somewhere in the 80s. will he ever escape? it treads the same pleasuredomes as miss goldfrapp but this track is much more palpable. goldfrapp is much too smug to grasp the real nature of SM Pop, it’s an art project she needs to master. the kinkiness is much cheekier in “some girls.” even though i can’t see this reaching number one, it’s glorious pop music. rachel realizes it too – she’s going to be stuck with nr two and the never dying dream of the top. in a sense pop should be like this – three minutes in which you already sense you’ll be forever trying to grasp the
eargasm again. 9 (stevie nixed)

The design and construction of a radio-certified, utterly disposable Ear-Grabber:

1. Start with a declaration about one’s baby and what it is they do (take the morning train, drive a car, etc).

2. Throw in a ‘!!’ to give the listeners something to pump their fist to. (“Hey!” always works).

3. You need a chorus. Make it big, swaggering, dumb and instantly memorable.

4. Lyrically, explore seduced/abandoned territory. Promise to make the singer a star.

Richard X stands a pretty good chance of becoming ‘our’ Phil Spector. “Some Girls” rolls off the assembly line filled with the stuff of great pop singles. Plus, it fairly glistens (and who doesn’t love a tune that glistens?) 8 (Henry Scollard)

Glam rock never did sexy or seductive, just unapologetic randyness – short skirts or tight trousers hastily borrowed from an older, wiser mate. The thrill of Rachel’s new one is to hear her sweet, demure vocals roughly manhandled by by a pumping, libidious neo-glam production, and coupled with the shout outs from the girl-crew (“hey!”- perhaps glam invented the possee cut?!), “Some Girls” gives the vibe that Rachel is being peer-pressured into a drunken and probably lewd night out on the tiles. I’m getting excited just thinking about it.

The verse sounds like she’s busking it a bit, searching for words, but the fluid poetry of the chorus- “this won’t last for long not forever and the champagne makes it taste so much better”- provide a personal touch. A track like this about living for the moment is enough, for now, to make her pop queen. 8 (Derek Walmsley)

Richard X makes very expensive fan-fiction. What if Barry Blue had offered a discarded glam-pop song to Bananarama instead of writing “Hey Young London” with them? What if Martin Rushent produced it? What if they used it to follow up “Sweet Dreams My LA Ex”, which was a stronger composition but ended being half as fun as “Some Girls”?” 8 (Diego Valladolid)

I like popband independence moves a lot (at least in theory) because they encourage singers to distinguish themselves from their former lives as drastically as the mainstream will allow. That often entails another movement in the great dialectic between pop music’s mainstreams and its outlier sections that makes pop music so much more interesting nowadays than contemporary movies, televison or literature.

So here you have a participant in the S Club diaspora singing about thwarted-but-resilient ambition and desire (“you said you’d make me a star”) to the ricochet echoes of Kompakt at its stompiest or maybe Add N to X’s “Monster Bobby,” both of which in turn stole anything worth stealing from “Rock & Roll Part 2,” – which was just about everything. Or maybe its sonic godfather is the Sugababes’ version of “Freak Like Me,” bootlegs, sample aesthetic, you read Wire Magazine so you know the drill. Or maybe what it really sounds like is Amii Stewart’s “Knock on Wood,” which was disco, which means avant-garde except not except really actually yes. 7.6 (Michael Daddino)

It comes in like Doctorin’ The Tardis. Sadly the girl with the dullest name in pop is no Dalek in her zip-up boots and her boyfriends car – despite the sleek engineering of this pop chassis. Both great and uninspiring at the same time, probably because it seems churlish for FHM’s most attractive woman in the world moaning that she doesn’t get what she wants. Especially when she keeps trapping on about wanting a number one. How many number ones do you want. If that’s what it’s all about rejoin S Club Bleeding 7. (Pete)

Sounds like somebody marched Amii Stewart’s cover of “Knock on Wood” out of Disco High School’s detention hall, glue-gunned a Gary Glitter tape into a draggy-batteried Walkman and duct-taped it over the poor thing’s ears, handcuffed it to an arcade game called Dance Dance Adolescence and spent three and a half minutes making it hop around on the platform as the lights flickered and flashed beneath it. For doing so they deserve a goddamned medal. 7 (George Kelly)

Initial thoughts on first listening suggest that this might be some sort of unholy Mix of “Morning Train” and “Rock and Roll Pt. 2”. Whattayaknow: it kinda IS.

The lyrics are a glorious mishmash of nonsense. What am I to make of: “Some girls always get what they wanna wanna; all I seem to get is the other other.” Dylan it ain’t, but the kidboppin’ splashy liquid elastic hooks inspire double dutch head bobbin and buttock wagglin’.

Right where this gets a little flimsy we get a halftime save with a returning seven dwarves chant, an overdone trick that works here mostly due to its utter incongruousness. We’ve been playing up in the falsetto stratosphere till now; suddenly finding a bass grounding inspires a fake crescendo – a multitrack layer of echovocals and whispered cmons is a windup and the decrescendo to the vanilla syrup
final chorus is the pitch.

This makes me want to put on bunny ears and hop around Grand Central Station while wiggling my nose. Six listens later I can’t imagine playing this more often than once a month; my jaw hurts from chewing bubblegum already. It’s a helluva shiny soapbubble tho.

I REALLY liked “LA Ex” and that and this are my sole exposure to Stevens. She’s pretty much unknown in America; when’s the invasion start? 7 (Forksclovetofu)

Her message seems irrelevant to the bigger plan: the continued takeover of pop by Mr X. Of course he knocks up a great bounce n’ stomp number that’s almost enough to carry the whole thing along by itself. This appears to be enough to satisfy me THIS TIME… 7 (Steve M.)

Sheena Easton. “Call Me.” Adam Ant? And all that Botoxed regret and pathos and “make me a star” preening makes me imagine a blown up and watered down “Dancing Queen”. And would someone PLEASE hire a real choreographer to spice up her video? Swerving like a duck-dancing Betty Boop in a poofy mini-skirt is not the new hottness. American analogue: Jessica Simpson covering Jewel’s “Intuition”. 7 (David Raposa)

I was disappointed it’s not a Racey cover! It has the same kind of cantering beat as LA Ex (good thing) but the singing seems weaker, more lifeless and bored, with less conviction – perhaps because the rather dreary, whiny lyrics can hardly be sung with belief by a glamorous megastar, and perhaps because lines like “All I seem to get is the other other” are pretty lame whoever is singing. There are some strong manly ‘whoas’ in the back of some sections and a bit of double-tracking to try to beef it up, but its hooks lay flat for me, despite the perky beats. I like the production, but it isn’t enough. 6 (Martin Skidmore)

I’ve tried, I listened to it for 8 or 9 times straight, each time hoping there was a reason why i was listening, some kind of musical key that would emerge, some kind of hook that would open the rest of the tune. Or I was hoping to hate it enough to bury it in vitriol and bile. But I’m just bored – and so you get a little over 100 words on how the dance beats are all the same, and the voice is girly with out being really sexy and i think the lyrics are about fame but they arent sufficently clear enough to be about anything. So I shrug. 5 (Anthony Easton)

Thematically coherent, if nothing else. Richard X’s abandoned spaceship production and Stevens’ various vocal tricks do give the impression of a singer with a threatened career pulling out every hook, every gimmick that she can think of. As a musical persona, a desperate diva is still more interesting than a successful one, but there lies the biggest problem: if this single does become a smash, it’ll have defeated its purpose, because Stevens will be successful again. And since the only interesting part of her new image is that she’s commenting on not being exactly that, she’ll be rendered useless once again. The best way out of this of course would be to forget about the whole rockist maturing as an artist bollocks and just go back to the silly, assumedly dorky image of her S Club 7 days; but alas, that moment has probably passed. 5 (Daniel Reifferschied)

It starts off sounding like an Adam and the Ants song, or is it Vindaloo by Fat Les? I dunno, it tries, it really tries. “Dreams of number one last forever, it’s the only way to make you feel better” – such a poignant lyric, considering the chances of Rachel getting to number one have all but disappeared. A few years of FHM and Maxim and maybe a guest spot in Hollyoaks are all that would seem to be on the horizon :( – you promised to make me a star. If only S-Club Proper could sort out their differences and get back together! 4 (jel)

I played this for about 15 minutes, trying to figure out whether I liked it or not. Then my little sister comes along and says ‘Turn that shit off.’ The end. 2 (Bushra)