Posts from 25th January 2001

25
Jan 01

(Continuing the review re-runs, while I do other stuff…)

New York London Paris Munich1 comment • 185 views

(Continuing the review re-runs, while I do other stuff…)

BUCKCHERRY – “Lit Up”

Don’t don’t do it: my hunch is that more great music has been made on cocaine than on any other pop star drug. Certainly the 90s had a bad time of it, with mediocrities under the influence turning into, well, louder mediocrities, but that doesn’t diminish the sheen and decadence of late-70s urban disco, or the murk of solipsism and paranoia that turns Bowie’s Station To Station into a choppy, compelling avant-funk masterpiece. Buckcherry probably don’t stay awake at night pondering such questions, but they almost certainly do stay awake at night, if you see what I mean: to say “Lit Up” endorses drugs would be like saying the Pope endorses prayer. The music is overdriven glam-metal swagger, of course (they pronounce it “coh-caayuhn”, bless ’em): like most styles which embraced the ridiculous from the start, it can never sound knowing or dated. That isn’t to say Buckcherry are any good, but they’d fall nicely into the “sucks with energy” category, which is a great deal more than you can say about their powder-fuelled British counterparts.

Pitchfork review the Clientele

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Pitchfork review the Clientele – don’t like it much. Memo: more exotic instrumentation and high-concept song-suites next time, Alasdair!

“The Seventies Were The Coolest Decade Ever

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“The Seventies Were The Coolest Decade Ever….Because Of All My Mates!” – it’s Victor Bockris talking about the 1970s as the nexus of all good things in post-war American culture, actually quite interestingly. Possibly he’s just proving the theory that the golden age is when you were n years old but he’s doing it in an intriguing fashion. Rather too much hagiography of the usual suspects: at least he doesn’t leave out disco. Can’t remember who I stole this link off, my profound apologies.

The Vocoder Revival

New York London Paris MunichPost a comment • 391 views

The Vocoder Revival, drawing the comparison – obvious but one which had passed me by – between the fact that Vocoders are all over 00s pop like measles and the 1970s wah-wah boom. A thought occurs to me: possibly the Vocoder plague is a subconscious reaction to the ProTooling of pop. Since the tracks being made are so ‘artificial’ now anyway, why not accelerate than unreality by fucking over the voices completely? Well, no, probably it’s just that Cher had a big hit with a Vocoder single, damn.

Eine Kline Bongwater

I Hate MusicPost a comment • 954 views

(With customary apology to newcomers to the relative obscurity of this item. I rip the piss out of John Lennon below. And indeed on most of the other pages too.)

A tribute to both classical prodigy and early death boy Mozart and the late eighties US indie stars of the Shimmy Disc roster (stars in a 40W lightbulb from the distance of two miles sort of way). As a tribute it is akin to making a statue of both out of giraffe’s fecal matter. Ein Kline Bongwater attempts to be a vague cover version of Bongwater’s “The Power Of Pussy” set to a Mozart like twiddly clasical backing. This grand project is scuppered by three things:
a) The Power Of Pussy is a lousy record, and is actually quite offensive when sung by a man who is one.
b) Mozart was rubbish, and TMBG are no Mozart’s when it comes even to pastiching classical music
c) It is played exclusively on an accordian.

As any publican will tell you, you do officially have to be 18 to get served alcohol in a pub

Pumpkin PublogPost a comment • 213 views

As any publican will tell you, you do officially have to be 18 to get served alcohol in a pub. I can assure you that by the age of 18 any girlie worth her MAC lipliner will have been practising the application of makeup for, ooh, at least 10 years. Therefore making errors is unlikely. Men, however, do not usually have much practice in slapping on the slap, which is why many drag acts and musicians look so shit (Fat Bob Smith springs to mind…).

This is entirely beside the point but hey, whatever. And if fragments of fingernail (must be a bloody violent manicure) wind up in the pork scratchings, how could this possibly make them taste any worse?

But I’m not sure if grooming is the answer (to any question at all really). Maybe I should just educate my drinking companions in the art of being where you said you’d be when you said.

I’m a liberal soul

Pumpkin PublogPost a comment • 298 views

I’m a liberal soul, and I would have no significant objection to any discreet self-grooming within the confines of the pub. However, my tolerance for such behaviour is low, and if I suspected a flying fragment of fingernail had landed in my porky scratchings, or if the stench of nail varnish affected my enjoyment of my drink, I would not be happy. I would be likely to take extreme action, such as raising my eyebrows in the direction of the culprit, moving tables or even tut-tutting. Be warned. Non-invasive slap surgery is fine by me though. Especially if the maker-up makes an error and gives us all a good laugh.

Murray Lachlan Young should clearly be barred from all pubs. What on earth is the Licensed Victuallers’ Association for if it’s not to shield us from the threat of Murray Lachlan Young, and his vile habits?

Murray Lachlan Young

Pumpkin PublogPost a comment • 323 views

Murray Lachlan Young picked his toes in the pub.

Apologies for changing the subject

Pumpkin PublogPost a comment • 254 views

Apologies for changing the subject particularly as this thought struck me whilst visiting Headington’s Mirabai Tandoori, not in fact a pub, but some guidelines should surely be adopted by pub owners on the display of old awards.

Let me explain: the Mirabai boasts not one, not two, not three awards for hygeine, given by some nebulous cleanliness quango no doubt. All well and good – the catch? They are dated 1988, 1989 and 1990. Now my first thought on seeing this is not, oh, how clean the place must be but rather, goodness me, it must be really filthy by now.

Similarly with pubs, which will be in the habit of leaving two-star Good Pub Guide rankings from 1982 up on the door or some Egon Ronay food mention from the mid-70s (“Great chicken and an exquisite basket. Serves Double Diamond.”). I would propose a regulation imposing a five-year limit on the public display of these trophies: it’s for the pubs’ own good, you know.

Fruit machines had crossed my mind

Pumpkin PublogPost a comment • 447 views

Fruit machines had crossed my mind, of course, both as a way of passing the time till mates turn up and as a way of paying for the drinks when they do. The problem being that it’s not easy to stand at a fruit machine and keep close guard on the handbag, gym bag, coat, scarf, and sundry paraphernalia that I generally carry round with me. AND hold a drink and a fag. And keep an ear out for the phone ringing. And I’m not very good at those things besides (the fruit machines, not the holding drink thing).

A broadsheet newspaper is indeed a good thing to hide behind – with the added bonus that you can always tear out two little spy holes so you can see if your mates have arrived without being seen to be looking up every time the door opens.

The point about avoiding nose and toe picking is valid (has anyone ever seen anyone doing the latter in a pub?) – but how’s about more refined self-grooming? What if I did my nails in the pub (finger, not toe)? Or my makeup? I’m not suggesting I bring my manicurist into the pub (like I’ve got one! In the same fantasy realm as my personal trainer and chef) or a fully lit mirror, but surely subtly fixing the warpaint is OK?