"I've been waiting for a phone call all my life - where the hell's my phone call?" Bingo Gazingo

"Bob Hite is still the record collecting freak that he always was... His collection is rapidly approaching the 100,000 mark! Hite remembers the Californian earthquakes of 1969 with a shudder: ‘I went down to the basement and the wall was swaying in and out.’ The records, ranged along the wall in racks, were in danger of being hurled on to the floor with great force. ‘I just stood and held them back,’ the ‘Bear’ continued, ‘if they go, I go too...’ He was fortunate, unlike Richard [Hite], who rang him later ‘... in tears. The quake had taken all his records and thrown them to the floor, it had ripped the place apart.’ "
Dark Star magazine, number 22, December 1979

I read this many years ago - 1979 at a rough guess - and it left a lasting impression as an example of record collecting freak behaviour par excellence, although I can’t really believe he had anywhere near 100,000 records. One hundred thousand?!
I even bought a Canned Heat album on the strength of it, and when it was good, those three of four great singles, it was very good but when it was bad...
And if I was important enough to inspire thoughts of terrible revenge, it wouldn’t take him - or her - long to figure out where to send that earthquake in order to cause maximum carnage.

Sometimes I read more about music than I listen to it... I suspect this is very wrong (see also: spending more time downloading music than actually listening to it).
Music Writing by Carson Arnold (via the also new-to-me The Rock and Roll Report) is huge and deserving of some proper attention...
"... the importance of Black Sabbath is still crucial. They're the autograph of the new world to which nobody honestly understood except the burning days of youth. Just as important as Beethoven, Coltrane, or Hank Williams. They're the shadow casted when the sixties took position backing down. Any kid already and always has Sabbath blood streaming through their veins, ready to rock, they need not be instructed how."

"difficult people slip away" - LWB

"the SADwyw works in conjunction with servers listed on the tracker.sunwave.com tracker, and sources say, they even tried to buy hotline once! WHICH WOULD MAKE ALL SERVERS VULNERABLE TO THIS BOT! EVEN IF THEY ARN'T LISTED ONA NY TRACKERS AT ALL!

STAY OFF THIS TRACKER, AND WARN OTHERS!

There is a new version of Hotline out. v1.9 from a new company. We have it on good word that the reason Hotline disappeared was because the company was forced to hand over its code to the government. When you think about how close BigRed was to releasing its golden master, this allegation sounds very possible. BigRed would not put their name to a product that provided the government an easy access onto anyone's site. This new version may have software tracking embedded into it. This could be a government product."

I love all this Trojan for the Feds talk. But, every day, people keep disappearing, and there is a terrific smell of fireworks in the acidic autumnal rain.

I was asked to think of some songs to tell the DJ to play at thingy's wedding just to make sure they're not overwhelmed by Birdy Song cheese with oompah interludes, even though I'm not going cos it's in Germany although that's not the real reason. So this off the top of my head was the 50 songs I'd play, and in some cases want to hear at a wedding, avoiding as much traditional horror as possible, but remembering to try and please some of the people, some of the time. If you think you can do better... just... go and do better then.
It's a good demonstration of 1) why I should be a DJ and 2) why I'm not. I could come up with a better list if I thought forever and ever, but it was a nice exercise in putting myself in the head of the wider constituency. Of course, you wouldn't hear more than 2 or 3 of these at MY wedding, which is next Tuesday, on the Moon, to Nush out of Big Brother, and you're all invited.

Groove is in the Heart - Deee-Lite
You're My First My Last My Everything - Barry White
Sweet Caroline - Neil Diamond
Brown Eyed Girl - Van Morrison
Disco Inferno - Trammps
Dancing Queen - Abba
It's Not Unusual - Tom Jones
Stayin Alive - Bee Gees
Wake Me Up Before You Go-Go - Wham!
Play That Funky Music - White Cherry
A Message To You Rudy - Specials
Give It Up - KC & the Sunshine Band
Boogie Nights - Heatwave
Heart of Glass - Blondie
Whenever Wherever - Shakira
Love Shack - B-52's
La Vida Loca - Ricky Martin
Baby One More Time - Britney Spears
Beautiful Stranger - Madonna
Get This Party Started - P!nk
(Groovejet) If This Ain't Love - Spiller
Kiss Kiss - Holly Valance
Can't Get You Out of my Head - Kylie Minogue
Move Your Feet - Junior Senior
Dreaming of You - the Coral
Girls and Boys - Blur
Smells Like Teen Spirit - Nirvana
Fell in Love with a Girl - White Stripes
I'm Like a Bird - Nelly Furtado
Daydream Believer - Monkees
Moving On Up - Primal Scream
Pure Shores - All Saints
More than a Woman - Aaliyah
Freak Like Me - Sugababes
The Only One I Know - Charlatans
Last Nite - Strokes
Hot in Herre - Nelly
Digital Love - Daft Punk
Clint Eastwood - Gorillaz
Unbelievable - EMF
Teenage Kicks - Undertones
Common People - Pulp
Bohemian Like You - Dandy Warhols
We Are All Made of Stars - Moby
Beautiful Day - U2
Don't Stop - No Doubt
Sing - Travis
Hey Jude - Beatles
At the River - Groove Armada
Always on my Mind - Pet Shop Boys

...and goodnight.

"I'm walking through streets that are dead
Walking, walking with you in my head
My feet are so tired, my brain is so wired
And the clouds are weeping"

Give it a rest with the walking around in unending torment will ya?!!! Yes but I am hearing the White Stripes doing Love Sick, the kickoff track on Bob Dylan's kickstart album, and nevermind if it's been used to sell underwear, I was surprised to hear them do it, that's all I'm saying, I'm not saying I'm walking through streets that are dead. Not saying I'm walking, walking with you in my head!
It occurred to me that the overwrought wavery thing Jack White does with his voice that makes him sound like such a ham at times, it's his way of distancing himself from emotional lyrics that he feels dishonest about attempting to replicate, especially in public, so he does it to add colour yes, but also to draw attention to the secondary nature of performance over creation. It's the dishonesty in that continual replication of the original emotion which is fake, and it ties in with the uniforms and all the tomfoolery over him and Meg. Who wants the simple truth on a plate, wearing a sweaty chainstore t-shirt.

Things I learned from the absurdly difficult Guardian Guide ‘Pop the Question’ quiz:
L7 performed as Camel Lips in John Waters’ Serial Mom
JA RULE stands for Jeffrey Atkins Represents Unconditional Love Existence
Jarvis Cocker’s real name is Darren Spooner (not true)
Elvis Costello wrote Party Girl about Liv Tyler’s mother

Things that fall into the ‘I sort of knew that already’ category:
Elvis’s brother was called Jesse
Curly Watts (Coronation Street) was once in a band with Johnny Marr and Andy Rourke
Bill Rieflin and Scott McCaughey are the other guys in REM

Feeling like I'm almost 16 again
Lately I have been rediscovering my inner teenager - I didn't have to look very hard - and excuse me for dripping with acne and backed up sperm, but I have been rocking out, in my own very special way, mostly doing a funny little sitting down dance that I'm glad you can't see, to Led Zeppelin. The BBC Sessions and How The West Was Won mainly, but also some other live mp3s, especially a very early one of The Train Kept a Rolling where they are introduced with the utmost seriousness "Ladies and gentlemen, please welcome the Led Zeppelin." So I'm glad I'm not the only one...

"After a brief 14-second piece indexed as "LA Drone" (see also Labradford), "Immigrant Song" kicks in. Not like a rock writer cliché (" . . . and then the DJ kicked in with a dope beat!"); I mean that somebody kicks over the world and a little bit of smoke goes poof! out of the speakers. Zeppelin perform with actual maturity, if we believe Nietzsche's definition: "Maturity is the recovery of the seriousness of a child at play." Sasha Frere-Jones, in the Village Voice.

Immigrant Song consumes the world, it blows the bloody door off and stops you breathing. The thing is, Led Zeppelin were criminally illegal to like between 1977 and not long ago. In England, anyway, where we are so scared of sex that we have to invent weird new Spanish Inquisition Rock Laws every other week. Not like Americans who have lots of sex which is true because I've seen them on TV. We need to have more outdoors sex and stop reading Heat magazine.

"It is a well-worn truth, even a piece of furniture, to say that Led Zeppelin are sex. But what could be more reassuring at this point in history than to find out that a received truth is actually true?"

I didn't want to believe any of the hoopla about How the West Was Won bcs I might have to listen to 34 minutes of drum solos when in fact I could be bugging out to some cutting edge microhouse nu-garage flavas (coughs, makes fool of self). But everything you've heard is right and I just wanted to confirm that it's rampant and funky and it'll make you jiggle with joy. But enough about my Moby Dick, just listen to Led Zeppelin!! Note to self - come back later and make this bit funny.

And here's that grouchy rant again, filtered through the MES-speak engine, for no good reason other than I just found the link, and that I find bad language both big and clever. "If you want to talk like the world's greatest Mancunian, paste or type something in the box below."

Where's me booklet from me john coltrane bleeding cd fuckin' gone, huh? Have y'know n it, then? Y'know bloody, being me, what I am-ah, bleeding and I'm fucked if I'm fuckin' gonna deny it, you know, I don't fuckin' lose anything. I don't fuckin' leave bloody crap around with the covers off, there is no possibility fuckin' o' a cd being in the wrong case, bloody record covers don't fuckin' get torn up to provide material for drug consumption, and I won't lend ya anything 'cos bleeding you will either return it late aftah bleeding numerous bloody reminders-ah, in poor condition-ah, or not at all 'cos that bleeding is the way you are-ah, and by ya, I mean whatever you. Listen, so where bloody blimey is it? I remember reading it-ah. Crap don't fuckin' go missing bleeding [see exceptions to the rule what prove the rule parts fuckin' 1, right, 2, and 3] and the incompleteness of bleeding the full package is bloody highly disruptive to me lifestyle, you know, what I bloody blimey am the first to admit needs exploding out of the water fuckin', like some krakatoa to the tenth degree, but before that bleeding happens-ah, I would actually like to find the booklet-ah.

Where's my booklet from my John Coltrane CD gone? Have you seen it? You know, being me, which I am, and I'm not going to deny it, I don't lose anything. I don't leave things around with the covers off, there is no possibility of a CD being in the wrong case, record covers do not get torn up to provide material for drug consumption, and I will not lend you anything because you will either return it late after numerous reminders, in poor condition, or not at all because that is the way you are, and by you, I mean yes you.
So where is it? I remember reading it. Things do not go missing [see Exceptions to the Rule Which Prove the Rule Parts 1, 2, and 3] and the incompleteness of the full package is highly disruptive to my lifestyle, which I am the first to admit needs exploding out of the water, like some Krakatoa to the tenth degree, but before that happens, I would actually like to find the booklet.

I want to download something...
Try the Pocket Internet - short comedy wavs and mp3s (movies, TV).

I found some notes in the drawer and if I can do something, however mundane, with them, I can throw them away:
Every morning breakfast at the hotel was served by the sullen giant, her coltish legs and the mole on her chin. The same tape would play and we'd listen with grim inevitability to Chesney Hawkes followed by Tasmin Archer followed by EMF, then MC Hammer, Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark and the Eurythmics.
I imagined every play of the tape removing another microscopic layer of ferric oxide magnetic particles and replacing them with the chemical properties of the ozone in the air, thus accounting for the gloopy tone to the music. We'd eat faster and faster, determined to get out before we got a second helping of Chesney Hawkes.

I understood the notes I made for that little mise en scène, but what on earth was I thinking about when I wrote this?
"Lib of Baghdad - rep sword, Dutch fingers - scared customs - explanation of Welsh - older woman - press volumes - Mac conga." One of those dreams that seem so crucial upon awakening, but dissolve into gibberish as soon as you try to translate?

I found this clipping in the same drawer and if I can at least, out of context, and without further explanation, throw it in here, then I can at last tidy up that little drawer:
"I think that any intelligent, sensitive peson living in a society like this will tend to feel alienated... And it might strike one as logical to retreat into solitude, to disconnect from the social, and then later reconnect." John Burnside. My italics. Also: "Walking re-place you in the terrain. You are out in the open, explosed. You belong there with all the attendant difficulties and threats."

and the winner is
"...I sit and watch the candle and the flicker of the flame
My writhing shadow twists and turns as though it is in pain
I'm trying to escape the memory my mind recalls
And I cast a lonesome shadow on these lonely, lonely walls..."
-- i cast a lonesome shadow, hank thompson.

News and reviews of the Clientele's upcoming album, The Violet Hour, and a song to download.

The BIG I Am
"You know I'm always moaning
but you jump start my seratonin"
Arab Strap, The Shy Retirer

"Only once in a lifetime a man like me comes along
Shakespeare wrote poems about me even before I was born"
Wilson Pickett, A Man And A Half

Encountered these at random one after the other with those lines standing out amid this marathon dance when every chink of laughter is INSTANTLY cancelled by that little voice, that whispering tip tap tapping voice. He's speaking like it's over. And get it over, just get over it, and ... repetition repetition ... and the raindrops x47 ... and the BIG I am breaks through for a few Hulkish moments of overcompensation.

Previously on Wisdom Goof
A young girl finds herself trapped in a strange dimension of spirits. She gets a job at a public bath house so she can blend in unnoticed. This also gives her time to hopefully figure out a way to save her parents who have been turned into pigs!

I am a fucking midget. I'm short and that sucks and I hate myself. I am also gay, so life seems doubly as hard. Once I was on TV, and just for that reason I am considered the most famous fucking short guy. I hate life. People trip me all the time and hold me up by the rib cage. Just 'cause I am short that means all my friends have to be short, which means I have very little selection. I try to be friendly and I think about drugs a lot.

Not just another fevered ego tainting our collective unconscious.

Chewed to bits by a famished candiru in the Upper Baboonsasshole.

There is nothing, and there never was anything! The stunted linden tree over there is all there is, and the iron fence, and the boulevard beyond it... and the ice melting in the little bowl, and someone's bloodshot bull-like eyes at a neighboring table. And it's awful, awful... O gods, my gods, give me poison, poison!

Feature-length supernatural thriller starring Lindsay Wagner as a fashion designer who discovers she is the target of six beings who have crossed the line between life and death.

The Anytronics Deathstar Strobe is an ultra high powered strobe giving approximately twice the light output of the Megastar.

Reading...
Mike Watt on Kurt Cobain: "He wouldn’t want people to try to sound like him. He wanted to be part of Black Flag or the Germs or something. The last time I saw him, he goes “Hey Mike! It’s good to see you!” And I said, “You too!” And he looked at me and said, “No, I mean it. It’s very good to see you.” He didn’t mean it the way everybody always says “good to see you” – he actually MEANT it. But everything’s clichéd to fucking death, like we’re supposed to know what everybody means because we’re all on the same page, but it’s not true. We’re all weirdos on our separate journeys. And there’s no such thing as “the masses” - just small inspired minorities."

k-punk on the infuriating usage of 'Pop as a Period Signifier' by lazy film-and-TVmakers: "It's 1973, it must be Marc Bolan.... It's 1982, it must be Madness... More or less every second of the soundtrack was buttoned-up into a Pop Period Dressing, pop treated as the equivalent of a Regency fireplace or a bustled frock..."

Wise words from Mostly Weird, Some Normal" "You know what, though? Talking about Radiohead on the internet is a total fucking cliché. I'm stopping right now."

Obs: Nobody knows the Full Line Up these days. In the old days you knew who everyone was, whether it was Queen or Abba or the Sex Pistols. This may be senile myopia.

She chose Bohemian Rhapsody on the karaoke because it's the longest song she could think of, and she wanted to be on stage for longer than anyone else.

Overheard, 16/07/03: 'He's a weird geezer, he listens to Christmas songs all year round.'

"Two against nature tan and lean
Puttin' big heat on skanky things unseen"

"Don't chirrup so loud, Bobby Chariot," Leslie Jo said. "When you come to cheer an ill person up you don't cheer him up at the top of your voice. Perhaps cheering up is too loud, Mr. Waronker?" turning to the Balfronian gentleman.
      But he only patted her shoulder.
      "No, it isn't," he answered. "And it keeps me from thinking too much."
      "I'm going to be quiet," Bobby Chariot shouted. "We'll all be as quiet as mice."

When your dizzy little head won't let you rest. When you can't sleep. You need to go walking... deep, deep into the night...

"I go out walking, after midnight
Out in the moonlight
Just like we used to do
I'm always walking, after midnight
Searching for you"

"I like walking in the park
When it gets late at night
I move round in the dark
And leave when it gets light"

"I'm on the fringes of the night,
Fighting back tears that I can't control
Some people they ain't human
They got no heart or soul"

"In the wee small hours of the morning
While the whole wide world is fast asleep
You lie awake and think about the girl
And never ever think of counting sheep"

"I've got plenty of java
And Chesterfield Kings
But I feel like crying
I wish I had a heart like ice
Heart like ice"

Or just stay up drinking whisky in the kitchen in your sweaty vest. Send me a good staying up all night in emotional turmoil lyric and I will post the best one. If nobody sends anything then I shall invent a winner, which will be rather sad, and you'll be to blame.

I am glowing with manly perspiration and I am going for a walk in the cool air and I will be listening to the Meat Puppets... the first speed country desert hardcore one where "Curt growls, hoots, mumbles, slurs snarls and above all TALKS LIKE A RETARD endlessly and without ambition to cease said action by order of law."

This is the page of Libertines demos, plus Adam Green's take on What a Waster.

On the Beach
"And we can finally settle another issue that has been dogging collectors of this album on vinyl: This is bad news for UK and some German/EU fans of the vinyl - ALL UK copies were mastered using a faulty cutting tape that played at the WRONG speed. The resulting LP played too fast. It really makes a difference to the sound of the songs so I suggest all UK pressing owners frame the damn thing and put it on the wall and listen to the CD. Sorry to be the bearer of bad news."
Well I never knew that. But what do my ears know. It sounds good on mp3s I downloaded of it. I have it on the UK vinyl, unsurprisingly (£2.20 from Beanos, 1980, still VG, wallpaper inner), but maybe now I'll have to get the CD. Sell it to me two times.

Wild Man Fischer> Pee Wee Herman> Sly & the Family Stone
Wild Man Fischer with Mark Mothersbaugh - The Way We Were. "Recorded in 1989 and intended for use in the final episode of Pee-Wee's Playhouse." I'm not sure how it happened anymore, but I was a huge fan of Pee-Wee's Playhouse. Back in the motherfucking day. Initially I was repulsed, but in that special way which I had come to realise meant that I might be missing something (see also: first encounter with Vic Reeves). Heaven forbid that I should be culturally ignorant, or not get the joke.

There was an hour-long Pee Wee show I recorded off TV in about 1989, which I watched on heavy rotation. And if nothing else, Pee Wee introduced me to Sly & the Family Stone! Yes personally he introduced me. I met Pee Wee, or Paul as I called him, in a cinema in Miami, and he drove me round to Sylvester's house on the beach and we had some lemonade... stop it. Stop it.

No, on his show, Pee Wee performed a medley of their hits in a frantic musical education sketch, and the hooks were in me instantly. Up till then, I was embarrassingly ignorant about Sly & the Family Stone. There are some beautful pictures of them on the recently released double CD Essential compilation (strange choice of tracks but worth picking up in the HMV sale.)

I bought Pee Wee tat at every opportunity while in America. Stickers, 3-D cards, tattoos. I bought Rolling Stone when he got arrested. I was very excited when he was in Matilda (but not for long). I have his single of Surfin' Bird. And the first 15 minutes of Pee-Wee's Big Adventure (ooh that's a fantastic page) is one of the few items in my special pagan cupboard of The Holy Documents Of Me, which I have just invented.

Pee-wee: I wouldn't sell my bike for all the money in the world. Not for a hundred, billion, million, trillion dollars!
Francis: Then you're crazy!
Pee-wee: I know you are, but what am I?
Francis: You're a nerd!
Pee-wee: I know you are, but what am I?
Francis: You're an idiot!
Pee-wee: I know you are, but what am I?
Francis and Pee-wee: I know YOU are, but what am I? (5 times)

I read about Sly & the Family Stone in Mystery Train. I remain unconvinced about Randy Newman. Still, I always say that it gets as close to the heart and soul of America and American music as the best of rock'n'roll.

In spite of that, I bought Sly & the Family Stone's greatest hits - the blue one with 20 tracks and a stupid remix of Family Affair at the end - and played it a lot. Even more than a lot! It was, and is, pure joy and one of the few items to be permanently housed in the special pagan cupboard of etc etc...

My Psychic Sly Story: In 1992, I stayed in some grumpy bastard's apartment in Madrid (not you) and I spotted he had the Sly best of among several hundred tapes. I didn't want to talk to the grumpy bastard (that was someone else's job) or suggest what we might be listening to, but I stared longingly at the tape until, as if by psychic will, he was led to choose it - it was one of hundreds remember - and slip it in the tape player. And then we became best mates! No we didn't, he was a miserable asshole (one of several things we had in common to be fair) No, Running Away came on and everything was in its right place.

There was no need to mention that I was in Madrid in that story, but it added a little exotic detail don't you think. Unless you live in Madrid anyway.

I have two more Sly song stories. Shall we leave them for another time?

I looked in vain for Wild Man Fischer records for years. Clark Gwent taped his first album for me - thank you! The double LP on Bizarre. An Evening With...

What about the Wild Man: His name was Larry. Frank Zappa played one of his songs on the radio many years ago and told a story about Larry and a hammer. It may have been that show, or a Peel show, where I taped Monkeys versus Donkeys. Let us not worry about precise dates - just accept that all of this was a very long time ago. Monkeys versus Donkeys has the catchiest tune in hell and recently, when I visted friends we went to a donkey sanctuary. Then we were on our way to a monkey sanctuary, but it was closed. On a Saturday afternoon when people are travelling from miles around to look at the clever little monkeys and they fucking decided to close. I was so upset and tried to explain why with reference to Wild Man Fischer. Naturally, I sounded like an utter spazz.

"Oh, monkeys versus donkeys, monkeys versus donkeys
Monkeys versus donkeys now
Can't you see that my monkeys have beaten yer donkeys"

I don't want to sound like a hipster doofus, sniggering at Larry the loon. I have 20 years of pure and honest love for that song, and for several others, especially the heartbreakingly funny-sad My Name is Larry. I am not now nor never have been an American, so familiarisation with Fischer through Dr Demento has not been an option. Meaning - my approach to him may be different from that of most Americans familiar with his songs.



Post: Monkeys versus donkeys... on tonight's curiously themed University Challenge, it was Poets versus Nurses! "Oh, Poets versus Nurses, Poets versus Nurses, Poets versus Nurses now..." One of the poets I saw, as the credits rolled because I'd missed the whole thing, was Roddy Lumsden.

"There ain't one soul in the whole world knows my name
Ain't one soul in the whole world knows my name
But it's written up in the sky and I'll see it by and by
There ain't one soul in the whole world knows my name"
Gillian Welch, No One Knows My Name

 You can call me Fred Flintstone, Tarzan king of the jungle...

IRL - a.m.
'I've got something to put in you.'
Delivered like the newsreader on Dead Ringers.
'Have you?'
'No. It's that song. I've got something to put in you.'
'Right.'
Shut up and fuck off.
'You know, by the Electric Six. They did that other one - Danger, danger!'
'I know.'
'I got the album, I'll lend it to you if you like. It's very rocky. Much louder than I thought. It's good fun.'
'Thanks.'

'What is that awful whining?'
'Christ - turn it off Jenny. It was a lovely day till that came on.'
'It's Beth Orton.'
'Oh I like Beth Orton. But this is dreary.'
'Terrible moaning hormonal witch.'
'Turn it down for God's sake!'
'And there's a galaxy of emptiness tonight...'

........

IRL - p.m.
'Oh God who put this on?'
'Winding your way down on Baker Street.'
'Here girls... '
Don't do it don't do it don't you dare say it.
'Do you know who plays saxophone on this?'
Nooo.
'No, give up? It's Bob Holness.'
'Who's he?'

'I like this one. Did you put it on?'
'Do you know...'
Here we go.
'They nicked this from the Rolling Stones. Well not the Rolling Stones exactly but an instrumental record of songs by the Rolling Stones.'
The Andrew Loog Oldham Orchestra. I bought it from Our Price in North Finchley in 1987 for £1.99.
'And when the Stones manager found out, the Verve had to pay back all their royalties.'
'Oh.'
'So even though they wrote the lyrics, and really most of the tune, because they sampled something without permission they lost millions on this song. They must hate playing it.'

Get out of the bathroom and into the sunshine.

Fite
Warlocks "Shake the Dope Out"
vs
Warlock Pinchers "Morrissey Rides a Cock Horse"

Textual sources to the songs on Love and Theft. I'm not sure how to feel about the fact that a whole bunch of lines from my favourite Bob Dylan song in 25 years, Floater ( too much to ask), were borrowed/lifted/adapted, from the English translation of a book called Confessions of a Yakuza by Junichi Saga. I guess I wanted to believe that his muse was reborn, that there was a second act in us all, but maybe that's romantic delusion and you have to suck on whatever juice you can find to get you where you need to be. I wanted that language, those scenes, to have originated in his head. I'll probably listen to it in a different way for a while, and then I hope it won't matter anymore.

Silence of the Lambs: the musical. Diverting. Songs inc If I Could Smell Her Cunt and In the Dark with a Maniac.

Ashfordaisyak update: "It turns out that Ashfordaisyak has changed its name to "Meadow House" (he said that a lot of people had trouble spelling the former name, and that "Meadow House" sounds nicer, which I fully agree, it does). And there's a New Release. It's a 7" vinyl, called "The Hermit" -- AND -- Leper in a Tumbledryer is a/the B-side. It's available at http://www.normanrecords.co.uk."

Words I learned today so I can quickly move on from that morbid collection of quotes below...

Oology is the branch of zoology that deals with the study of eggs, but especially birds' eggs

Corposant. A person sanctified; a holy or godly person; one eminent for piety and virtue

Whigmaleerie has a number of meanings, including a fanciful notion, a piece of ornamentation in a dress, a game played at a drinking club - and a fantastical contraption. Nowadays, it is often applied to a rotating clothes dryer in a garden.

Cheery thoughts for a summer's day
"Ugly people did not do well, because ugly people reflected poorly on the self-esteem of the less ugly. Introverted people cast gloomy shadows. And old people carried a contagion, absolutely fatal to the self-esteem of those around them." Justin Cartwright, Look At It This Way.

During an interview in 1990 Goldin said, "People cling together. It's a bio-chemical reaction. It stimulates that part of your brain that can only be satisfied by love, heroin or chocolate.' Michael Bracewell, the Nineties.

"There is no stench more foul than that of middle-aged male disappointment. There is no sight more tragic than that of a 40-plus-year-old man whose life hasn't fulfilled the glittering dreams of his youth." Danny Kelly, Radio Times.

"I work all day, and get half drunk at night.
Waking at four to soundless dark, I stare.
In time the curtain edges will grow light.
Till then I see what's really always there:
Unresting death, a whole day nearer now,
Making all thought impossible but how
And where and when I shall myself die."
Philip Larkin, Aubade.

Reggae revival
Ninety or so reggae songs (via T.W.A.N.B.O.C.). Impressively, only one is over three minutes long. It has the Bangarang song! And they're ripped at a reassuringly lo-fi 24 kbps 11kHz so they're only about 400k each. You can play them loud and pretend you're a teenager again and it's Sunday lunchtime and you're listening to David Rodigan's reggae show on the radio. It "shaped the musical tastes of a generation"!
There was a mail order record catalogue I used to get back then, and it had intriguing offers like Buy 25 Reggae Singles, or James Brown singles, for £5.00. As I love a bargain, and great fistfuls of vinyl, I sent off for them and was thrilled when they arrived as advertised. It seemed like an impossibly great deal. And, like the ninety or so reggae mp3s on that page, you really couldn't go wrong. One of the singles I got in that deal was Oh Carolina by the Folk Brothers on Blue Beat (pic from author's own collection). It says 1962 on the label but I can't believe it's original, and I'm confused that Bass Culture refers to them as the Folkes Brothers. I'm pleased to say that I don't know anything about how much records are worth or what to look for on labels. I don't own one of those fat Record Collector guide books.
Nor am I an audiophile - crappy 24kbps bit rates suits me fine. And I can't tell the difference between 128 and 160, and mp3s sound just as good as CDs to me. This may be a legacy of my first gig being Motorhead (Bomber tour, you work it out) and being deaf for days afterwards.

Vitamin B Glandular Show offers mp3 of Bob Dylan's "I'm Not There (1956)". "One of Dylan's greatest songs despite the fact that he never really finished writing it (as you can tell by the even-more-mumbly-than-usual parts during the verses where he's obviously fudging the words)," he says about this truly weird and chilling artefect and also remarkable document. I tracked it down in a frenzy of boiling search engines after reading about it in Greil Marcus's' mildly tedious Invisible Republic, and it was worth it. GM says: "I'm Not There (1956) is barely written at all. Words are floated together in a dyslexia that is music itself... you hear the anguish, it doesn't matter if the sentence doesn't make any sense." The anguish is remote, deferred and in all likelihood boss-eyed through a fog of chemicals. Also, it rips my quivering pink underbelly open. So. Get it nie, like that twat says on the Flaming Lips TV ad for the Yoshimi album, with the least inspired Call to Action in C21st advertising history: "If you've got it, enjoy it... if you haven't, get it nie!" (His N. Irish accent, my patronising spelling).
Also, where did 'Flips' for Flaming Lips pop up from? This mateyness of reducing everything to the familiar and chummy by giving it a nickname. Bah!

"I've got this theory that when I get old and ragged (like REALLY ragged, like Bukowski ragged), I'm only going to listen to Scott Walker, Captain Beefheart and Lou Reed.
It won't be pretty. I'm just gonna sit out on the porch without my shirt on and yell at kids." - from People Talk Too Loud message boards

Which Donnie Darko character are you? by Shay

III
There were some more festival highlights on tonight. May I retract what I said about Supergrass yesterday as it was mean. Also, There There was hypnotic in the blue light with the stand up drumming and it had me spinning about. But then they did Fake Plastic Trees which reminds of why I stopped liking them back whenever that was (this may be a false memory but I read the lyrics to that song outside Leighton Buzzard station and a Yorkeish sneer played across my pretty lips, oh so cynical for one so innocent, for one so deeply unworthy), before I started liking them again when Kid A came out. Like they're bothered.
Who else did I see all those days ago? The utterly intolerable Manic Street Preachers played Take the Skinheads Bowling with some energy but little grace, presumably because it was from Bowling for Columbine and is thus imbued with some nebulous political edge, and not because they are big ol' fans of Camper Van Beethoven [meaning: like me].
Dave Gahan was full of beans, and had a lean and hungry look, but good god almighty he was a mic stand waving Gary Glitter singalong load of old toot.
The Roots.
Doves.
The Thrills - all very well.
I was grateful to be tucked up in bed watching Moby rather than knee deep in that muddy old shagged out crowd having to decide whether or not I was going to enjoy myself. He did his thing, including a Creep in tribute to Radiohead who seem to have been crowned the reluctant kings of the world.
Even later - some frantic Streets action from inside the Dance Tent. This was invigorating and rowdy, and in contrast to all the all-too polite outdoor rocking that we'd been seen previously. It's inevitable that the tv broadcasts were going to concentrate on well-known songs by the bigger names. Of course, I'd like to have seen Mogwai, the Kills, Interpol, Libertines, Radio 4, Kings of Leon, Kanda Bongo Man, John Cale, Aphex Twin, Yes (really? really?), the Raveonettes and the Rapture, but that's my fault for not going, and for not watching every last second just in case any of them were shown.

-- Listen again to various broadcasts.
-- Schematic of Line-up.
-- Radiohead's set if it's there.

Days Two and Three
The rest of the festival merged into one long and ghastly day due to my sporadic access to televisual broadcasts. Of course, I had better things to do all weekend than be a passive, second-hand armchair-bound consumer of the festival...
Somehow I did manage to catch the following: bleeding Supergrass doing bastard Pumping on My Stereo which says to all parents "your kiddies are in safe hands, it's all good harmless fun and they'll be back home soon..." To be fair (why?) I like them (being loyal to the point of aesthetic dysfunctionality) but they have been useless for ages now. Probably triffic fun live, but I wouldn't know about that sir.
While Moloko was on (I have no interest in them but they did one of them songs that you'd know - not that one though) I was assaulted by a drunk person, much as one might be if one was at the festival itself. Aren't drunk people frightful, with their stinky breath and loud voices saying the same stupid things over and over. I'm glad I'm not like that.
The Flaming Lips looked splendid with his bloodstreaked face and furry animals grooving. It sounded weedy from where I was though [approx 400 miles away]. I experienced a distressing twinge when they did Breathe.
What can I say about Radiohead? A tiny bloke with a wonky eye and an inexplicable but all-consuming grudge against humanity and a million quid in his bank account should be right up my alley, but I prefer to circle around that alley on the other side of the fence, occasionally jumping up to have a peek. I'm fascinated by what I see, but I know I'm never going to get in there. Unwieldy metaphor, move along.
Electric Six 'did' Gay Bar. All the flag waving tossers in the crowd lapped it up. Lap me up. I jigged about on my own with my pants at half mast, but I'd have been puking my disgusted guts up if I was actually in the vicinity of that crowd. benefit of non-attendance = you are not surrounded, encompassed, suffocated and mentally oppressed by 150,000 of your fellow human beings.
Macy Gray wore a nice outfit but there seemed to be the first of several disturbing drum solos.
I am not in the contituency for Feeder and thus wasted no time on whatever they had to offer.
Polyphonic Spree were probably a trip, if like me, you are frequently overcome by the beauty of the natural world and refrain from polluting your body with intoxicants. Jumping about, robes, french horns.
End Of Part One of Days Two and Three