In the heart of Middle England over the weekend, I killed time with my copy of Palatine, the mostly excellent and entirely out-of-print Factory Records compilation. That official site is in some kind of construction limbo, and this would appear to be[…]

Moby Sells Out (link via Catherine). Oh Lordy, it’s Ironminds again, the voice of musical common sense, and I don’t mean that as a compliment. This article overlooks the main reason why all 18 tracks of Moby’s Play have been license[…]

The Age: Popstars: more tactics than talent? “Pop stars are the antithesis of work. Or they should be.”. Frothy but interesting article from Everett True. Yes, I can’t believe I’ve written that sentence either. His argument fa[…]

Eek! You go home for one weekend and you find when you come back you find you’ve turned into a blog-meme. Or something very similar. Thanks to Prolific, my little Top 100 Albums list has rapidly become the most-hit thing on the site over the la[…]

A 1993 12″ on Bob Stanley’s Icerink label , a whispering campaign suggested that Supermarket where none other than Kraftwerk themselves, sneaking out of retirement and into anonymity. Of course Supermarket were nothing of the sort: but it[…]

You thought it was The La?s, but no – the most irrelevant Scousers since the Farm are Space. I would do a full ?How to write a Space record?, but all you need to know is add in 1930?s Noel Coward-esque nasally spoken bit and generally make a to[…]

The emperor has no clothes. And he’s got a tiny dick: IndiePlanet‘s Mr Crankypants examines the MP3 situation. This section of his critique, focusing on the legal side of MP3s rightly finds that most legal MP3s are (literally) shit. The o[…]

cf. Muse.[…]

DUEL! – ROUND 2: and into round two we go. The Charlatans are dragged back to the pop arena to square off against the Smashing Pumpkins, and your comments count.[…]

So lately I’ve been listening to a bit of Slabco stuff, and really enjoying it, mostly for the more-than-pleasant sensation of hearing breakbeat music which isn’t as thoroughly up its own impeccably-trousered arse as our homegrown stuff. […]