What can you say about an album where George Fucking Harrison is the highlight? Sure, John Lennon is here, offering two plodding white blooz jams in a complete surrender to The Rock — an unwise move considering how the terminally limp Let It Be[…]

I was a pop widow!
When Freaky Trigger‘s editor commissioned this piece, he was no doubt thinking of (or guiltily hoping for) some kind of gender-neutral meditation on the mystery, beauty and sadness of record-rack romance. And believe me, I tried,[…]

My name is Tanya Headon. I hate music. All of it. And I’m bloody good at what I do. Which is why, when picketing a gig of The Feeling I managed to get over 90% of the fans to agree with me that they are just soft rock bobbins and their new albu[…]