Posts from 14th January 2005

Jan 05

Cat’s Out of the Bag, Back in the Store Room

The Brown WedgePost a comment • 233 views

Cat’s Out of the Bag, Back in the Store Room

A rumour (Tyler Greene on the usually too clever for his own good Modern Art Notes, is the only thing on paper so far) has been floating that the new MOMA is so over grown and so badly designed for crowds that one of the more minor gems has been ruined, maybe to the point of being unrepairable.

The sculpture in question is by the late Anne Truitt, an under rated post minimalist who takes the wind out of any of the theories of masculine art is big feminine art is small that have been popping out regularly since the 60s. In the middle of a critical revival, this piece called Catawba (after a form of Cape Myrtle–tying natural instinct into geographical time and place) was a recent acquisition by the museum.

The piece its self is a squat, oblongish figure painted a dark, deep green bisected by a slick black band–shorter then most of trait’s work (which can reach up to 12 feet) but still managing a stark, formalism order.

Having this piece ruined because of a badly designed crowd control is a tragedy, and having the museum obsfucate what has been damaged and why it has been is immensely frustrating.

Tyler Greene:

Alexander The GayTe.

Do You SeePost a comment • 280 views

Alexander The GayTe. Ho ho ho…
Alexander is a very silly movie, but surprisingly good fun. Surprising considering it is three hours long. It ditches any idea of historical authenticity the moment Tony Hopkins’ Ptolemy rears his head, and then spends the rest of its time trying to get across the idea of what it might be like to be Alexander. Ie, quite hard.

The Alexander Story is actually a bit of a dull one. He fights battles, he wins battles. GOTO 10. Until you meet some elephants. And the elephant battle is one of the best five minutes of cinema I have seen in ages, even down to the arty/dafty colour desaturation.

Alexander is full of rot, terrible acting, and a ponderous script which does not always hang together. But what a failure it is. A full blooded, enjoyably bad film which makes Troy look like the immature piece of dullness it actually was. Blondes do have all the fun.


I Hate Music1 comment • 824 views

Day 4: The Ocean

As I write this the container ship Jonah is merrily ploughing its way through the Atlantic Ocean. The wind is at our back, which makes very little difference when your boat is basically a floating brick, but it is a bracing day out on deck. After five minutes I returned to the very basic cabin, where poor Crispian was lying doubled up with seasickness. Apparently this happened to him the first time he saw Jaws too. And Jaws II.

“Crispian. You know the best cure for seasickness?”
“Gin and tonic?” He suggested. There is that servant-mistress bond between us demonstrated.
“Well, yes, but for more than just the usual restorative power of the juniper berry. They say if you keep your eye on the horizon, the steadiness soon counteracts the lurching of the ship. But who wants to be out on deck on a day like this?”
I cracked open a bottle of tonic as I poured him a draught.
“Note the way the level of the liquid slops up and down. Level with the horizon. You just stare at the top of tonic water in that glass and you will soon feel better.”
It worked almost instantly. Which is just as well, because almost as instantly I drank the G&T, being unable to resist, and removing his remedy.

Led Zepellin: The Ocean

A very similar sort of queasy effect can be obtained by listening to The Ocean by Led Zep. Who told Robert Plant that singing like that would do anything but scare away the birds who were continually trying to nest in Jimmy Page’s hair. Though thinking about it, if the birds had attacked Jimmy Page in a Hitchcock fashion, no-one would have had to put up with Physical Graffiti.

The Ocean is the last track on Houses Of The Holy, which means that unless you have the constitution of an ox, you probably never heard it. It is just as well as it contains about as much Bobbie Plant showboating as anyone can stand. Nonsense lyrics of course, about the ocean getting lost, and mountains, and probably dwarves. You know it was around this time that Led Zep considered financing and starring in a version of Lord Of The Rings. Though apparently in their version Tom Bombadill was going to be the hero, and the Zep would either play him or the Ents. As admirable as this whacked out idea was, and as dependent on drugs as it was, would you go see a film about a hippy and some trees? Mind you, would you buy a record with the human version of whale song on it? The Ocean is such a song.

bloggin eggheads crooked timber discuss lefty fantasy-maker china mieville

The Brown WedgePost a comment • 292 views

bloggin eggheads crooked timber discuss lefty fantasy-maker china mieville:

(i haven’t read this yet so can i just for now register my sadness that the essay’s 1st x-hed aint TWO OR THREE THINGS I KNOW ABOUT HIM)

let the grand poobah-fication

Proven By SciencePost a comment • 237 views

let the grand poobah-fication BEGIN:

(translation: PBS founder, ‘berboss and BRAINSCIENCE god-queen GEETA DAYAL wrote the vvoice coverstory this week)

“I start to wonder what a rat version of Dark Side of the Moon would sound like”

Publog Drinking Experiment cont’d.

Pumpkin PublogPost a comment • 354 views

Publog Drinking Experiment cont’d.

Following in Pete’s wake I present the effects of getting drunk solely on humble cooking brew Carlsberg:

– positive experience, no great feeling of drunkenness at any point, just a gradual heightening of volume and enthusiasm. It is possible that I would have banged loudly on about the Narnia books without being several pints of Carlsberg to the good, but perhaps with less glee.
– lots of pissing (as you’d expect, to be fair)
– mind felt sharp and stimulated, memory fairly clear the next morning.
– no appreciable hangover.
– did however induce serious hunger. My experiences with premium lager are often worsened by its appetite-killing properties, I end up not eating anything and feel even worse the next day. Carlsberg though led to me scoffing a BLT sandwich and then making two large slices of cheese on toast when I got myself home. Num num (except the cheese was a bit nasty).

Real Actual ‘Gay Ray’

Proven By Science1 comment • 1,065 views

Real Actual ‘Gay Ray’ (except not a ray). Some blue sky thinking from the Pentagon.


FT + New York London Paris Munich1 comment • 563 views


How to judge how much a band affects ones life? How about the medium of karaoke?

I like karaoke. I rather like flicking through the big book and picking whatever takes my fancy at that moment. I do not have standards that I always do, not any more. Where is the fun in that.


What I Go To School For is tremendous fun to sing. It is tremendous fun just to read, but straining for the notes and the three-in-one harmonies can easily be sung by one person. Year 3000 is even sillier (and has my name in it). You Said No allows a decent shouty rant bit as well. And of course the most karaoke friendly dance move is the Busted jump, you are literally staying on the spot.

I have never sung Thunderbirds Are Go! I need a karaoke night now to commiserate.
Buh-bye Busted!

*Except for the one in New York, and now that there Americee will never have the chance to fall for the ‘Sted.


FT + New York London Paris Munich2 comments • 757 views



Ah Busted. I saw you at Wembley Stadium. By myself. I sat in a row of three seats on the balcony as close to the front as the balcony allowed. I appeared to be the only person drinking. How I smiled as I handed over my three pounds for a pint of Carling in a plastic glass. And then more. And then some more. I was the tallest person in the venue, at 5″2. And possibly the oldest person who wasn’t a parent. How I loved you Busted. How I mocked you, YOU, CHARLIE, when you did your solo emo song which was k-rub. How I thought, “that will never be a single”. And now, it’s over. It’s all over. I suppose I could transfer my allegiances to McFly, but since the Popjustice BUSTED WZ ROBBED TRAVESTY I’m afraid my principles won’t allow it.

Those were the days, my friends. We thought they’d never end. We’d sing and dance… forever, and a day. We’d live the life we choose, we’d fight… and NEVER LOSE! For we were Busted fans! And we were sure (SURE!) to have our way.

What, I’ve stopped my touching tribute just to recite song lyrics by Mary Hopkins/your common or garden local drag act?

It’s a fair cop.

PS it has occured to me that a tribute to Busted should be written, to the tune of A House’s Endless Art just so we can all shout “TORY BUSTED, ARRR OII PEE”. Good old “A House”. Any Music-Ian readers reading – get on it.

Just a Bit of Fun

The Brown WedgePost a comment • 102 views

Just a Bit of Fun