Posts from 4th February 2005

Feb 05


Blog 7Post a comment • 205 views

My preferred spelling of ‘love,’ I think, because it sounds off, and therefore either soppy or stupid or fun or some combination of the same.

My emotional life is something I’ve kept more to myself over time, and I admit the regrets and self-condemnations (and sometimes even the petty jealousies over those I know who have found the right balance where I have not — the part about it all I like the least, because it means I’m pointlessly angry over someone else being happy) are not what I would call something to share except with those that are dear close friends, of more patience than I.

But lurv, that feeling of warm trip-over-yourself affection…that’s a beauty, that’s good fun. Can happen in a moment or you can realize it over time and when it all clicks, what a treat it is. It’s not the only thing about what love in general can mean, of course, but darn it’s a nice vibe. :-)

The poetry of Dan Corbett.

Do You SeePost a comment • 891 views

The poetry of Dan Corbett.

The best weather forecaster on telly seems to be getting more of the BBC1 slots he deserves. These are just a few of the lines delivered in his compelling, reanimated-Bob-Monkhouse style at the end of yesterday’s lunchtime news:

“Yes, maybe the nice weather heading out in the midday hour. That big warm coat you’ve got: you won’t be needing it today… Here is the view in that Manchester. Look at that! The rain: wet all day for shopping. Not the night for the washing there.”

There was loads more but he was saying it faster than I could write it down.

THE FT TOP 100 SONGS 89.5 Skeletal Family – “Promised Land”

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89.5 Skeletal Family – “Promised Land”

The first of more than forty goth records in the top 100, this track was unanimously agreed upon by everyone at Freaky Trigger in some pub around Christmas. Two even sported tattoos of the band.

Skeletal Family were from Keighley in the West Yorkshire delta. They were never a Champions League goth band and most of their other records were tuneless arse. I know this because I have them.

As was the custom, the Skeletals were often asked if they were a goth band “No,” they said, “we write the kind of doomy music and silly bollocks lyrics that pleases us and if any socially inept bangle-arm freaks buy it, it’s a bonus.”

It was around the time of Promised Land that I came out. I asked my parents to switch off the TV, “Look, I’ve got something to tell you.” They shuffled together and smiled, their fingers entwined, “Mum, dad, I think I’m a goth.”

They were fine about it and had suspicions anyway. Their friends’ kids didn’t paint their nails black or listen to Gene Loves Jezebel.

Promised Land is a cracking song. It even dented the danker regions of the charts and the world was theirs for the taking. Well, not the world but a prestigious support slot on the Sex Gang Children tour. It all ended in tears and runny mascara as various band members listened to their own records and left the band in embarrassment. The crimped-up singer went on to form Ghost Dance who, she insisted, were not a goth band.


I Hate MusicPost a comment • 295 views

Day 19: The Block Party

Ah the gleaming skyscrapers of Manhattan island. A beautiful, beautiful sight. That said, the bars on the ground floor of a lot of these edifices were the most beautiful thing, and as soon as I got myself some money, they would be my first destination.

Unfortunately this proved to be somewhat of a problem, me not having any real identification. In the end I went to the New York Public Library because they have free internet access there. I spent the time trying to contact my bank, and get some money sent over. Very little luck. On the way out though I was stopped by one of the security guards.

“Hold on, aren’t you that renowned British music hater who is missing feared dead.”
“Um, possibly. What makes you say that.”
He indicated down to his newspaper, which had the headline Renowned British Music Hater Is Missing Feared Dead. I borrowed the paper and discovered that whilst I was lost at sea the container ship limped into port in Miami, where I assume Crispian was now. This left me with a dilemma. I thought of going to the police to try and reconnect us, but I still fit the description of the fugitive who escaped with Simone (unless the description was of an Angela Lansbury lookalikee). Anyway, I don’t like going to The Police, for obvious Sting related reasons.

I had no money, no way of phoning Miami and still had not had a drink. So instead of swallowing a g&t like I would have loved, I swallowed my pride and pulled out the flier to Simone’s Block Party, up in Harlem.

Let me shorten the experience to a few words.
Drink + Music = Bad Tanya
Still, I managed to wangle a phonecall to the shipping company in Miami during setting fire to every Gang Starr record I could lay my hands on. Scarpering before the police and fire service turned up, I could not help but smile at my actions which turned this Block Party into a probable Cell Block Party.

LISA ‘LEFT EYE’ LOPEZ – The Block Party

“I do what I want to do!” laughs late lamented Lisa! Never a good sign. The things that pop stars want to do routinely include triple albums, acoustic jams and sleeping with minors. But wait, let’s find out exactly what Lisa wants to do.

“I do what I want to do – right foot, left shoe!”


What? Is that it? Fucking hell, watch out society! Given immense wealth and fame the thing you really want to do is put your foot in the wrong shoe? Christ, even “zig-a-zig-aaah” is better than that. You don’t actually need to be a pop star to find out what happens if you put your right foot in your left shoe, Lisa. You waddle around a bit at best, fall on your arse at worst. Any three year old child could tell you that. That is the most feeble example of nonconformity since Blood Sausage boasted about not tucking their T-Shirts in.

(Worse still, wilfully getting your left and right feet confused could lead to all sorts of nastiness involving, let’s say, brakes and accelerators. Hmmm….)

FT + New York London Paris MunichPost a comment • 1,837 views

May well keep you occupied for hours. For example, an insight into “Fake Plastic Trees”:

“He’s saying they’ve made the Earth sp wso worldly it wears the (w)hole Earth out, him. Circumcision though not say makign it plastic, cutting skin is thought plastic surgeriish, and form there they have faked everything.. so fore the sake of Radiohead’s very name.. he had to do hi sname justice with this song ,ya and so now I would pay that dude or for his science if I was you first, W/$ isn’t it so sirty how they thought foreskin dirty, think sex so dirty and condoms, and their clean is so atomic – and ignorant, they think dirty so doctor money, crazy 666 math anyoen fall into devil’s seperated freedoms of near nothingnesses, could almost seem nahtziism is a more pact force.. yet nahtzis had so see a term ‘minor’, unvaluable person, small massless unworkworthy, waste of shortsight.”

Yes indeed!

The previous post, summarised

FT + New York London Paris Munich1 comment • 218 views

The previous post, summarised

DJing The Office Party

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DJing The Office Party: what I learned.

i) Even rockists like “Love Machine” (when they’ve drunk their way through a five-figure bar tab) (I should have trusted Pete on this)

ii) Whatever the shortcomings of the Chemical Brothers as a ‘dance act’, which essentially they’re not any more, “Galvanize” lives up to its title in re. a generalist dancefloor.

iii) The 80s are basically dead. A year or so ago the standard-issue 80s floorfillers were still a high point of the set; last night they got a solid reaction but there was no sense of surprise or excitement. Some tunes can still work well if included amongst other stuff. And Wham! seems impervious to age even if I’m heartily sick of that song.

iv) Which means the nostalgia pendulum is swinging elsewhere, judging by reaction to the early 90s tunes played – in particular the ‘rave’ set, the bigger chart rave tunes (SL2, Utah Saints, etc.) having been thoroughly recuperated as just ‘pop’. Not everybody was dancing to them but the people that were, by no means all ex-ravers, were going mental for them.

v) I remember people at the time in the early 1990s saying that nobody would remember the tunes in 10 years. This seemed to me plainly wrong (for one thing it’s the hooks people remember) and I’m glad it has turned out to be.

vi) How and why did “Don’t Stop Me Now” become THE Queen song? As an aside: when they were good, Queen really were bloody good, no?

vii) “Crazy In Love” is very slow and it now seems odd that people ever danced much to it. 2 years ago it was difficult to imagine dancing to anything else.

viii) If there’s one thing I tend to do wrong DJing to a party crowd, it’s a reluctance to slow the tempo a little when you’ve got the floor on your side. Last night there was a lot of jumping around – hurrah! – but there was a bump’n’grind element which we could have encouraged a little more (translation: dammit, why didn’t I play “Goodies”?). Club FT is largely sexless so we can go full-on for hands in the air shrieking Scooterjoy. Office parties have a tension that needs exploiting. (Props to Steve and Pete for their erection section finale though!)

ix) There is no point in having a chill-out room at an office do.

x) Even if he has effusively thanked you after the party for your DJing efforts, do not trust your boss to remember what your actual name is. Yours sincerely, Tom Vernon.

on the LATE (and silly) ARRIVAL of the

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on the LATE (and silly) ARRIVAL of the G.F.NEWMAN-NESS of DUB DOB DEEB

ok DDD is i. going to be sacked fr shaggin a defendent, yeah stick it to the man hurrah! oh wait…)
ii. takin his corrupt brother-in-law (=home secretary) down (w.his dad-the-also-high-ct-judge as collateral damage).
iii. fightin the forces of govt corruption and sleaze singlehandedly (except that the entire legal profession is rootin for him apart from the corrupt ones
iv. a one-man personality-cult army of whorin robin-hoodlike righteousness IN A WIG

last night he proved his goodness by sitting in on and taking over the judgin of his squeeze mrs mills (thus totally humiliating her) (she is completely incompetent and an emotional flibbertigibbet) (this is supposedly counteracted by her obsessive stalkerish desire to kidnap and smother adopt a “problem child” and raise him brilliantly despite spending her entire time in the court-room) (yes yes there is a solid feminist point somewhere in here, it’s just that the plot-writers can’t see it through their “just-think-of-the-children” piety frenzy) (and dear GOD jenny seagrove is still a terrible actress)

the “forces of reactionary evil” are represented by a civil servant so monumentally tactically inept that all drama is postponed (haha it wd be cool if he wins, by eg lamming DDD w.the lead piping in the conservatory): basically all he does is say (to other judges) things like “if dib dob dog is allowed to continue the unleashed forces of evil will be thwarted, can’t you help me?” and they say “yes of course hey wait a minute!!?”

in a daring break w.past practice, the inherent drama of the courtroom is endlessly broken up by meaningless tension-leeching digressions (mostly related to the “problem child”) (who this ep wz threatened by national security goons w.being kidnapped and chucked out of a window!!)

the idea behind this last ep.wz that if the probably innocent underling charged w.stealing thousands of pounds from his maniacally corrupt and slimy boss (and bi lover!) (“my client is a knight of the realm! how can he be homosexual also?”) is falsely imprisoned, then a – strangely small – bribe to the home secretary will be revealed and the STATE WILL TOTTER!!

it is must-see garbage!! DIB DIB DIB!! DOG DOG DOG!!