Monday, June 28

Hip Shit Lit

A piece of pure yarbles in the Times about a supposed surge in readers. Yeah, yeah, yeah.

Haven't read Sick Notes - so no comment. As for The Long Firm? Bollocks. I don't know why that chancer bothers. Get out of the way!

Despite my clear unbowed antipathy to all forms of pond life north of the Wash, even I got - almost instantly within its first half-hour of air time - that Our Friends In The North was fantastic.

Toby Litt: that's what can be done with such material (1960s-70s power, corruption and lies), you feckless dreck. Compared to you, Old Hornby has pizzazz.

No - I'm not going to turn into Dale Peck. I do this stuff to praise the great stuff out there. But sometimes you have to lash out at the chaff in the way.

For my American compadres, Our Friends . . . is about twice as long as Angels In America; four times as good; and is relatively bullshit free. Plus: no off the bone nonsense from the likes of Emma T or "Dame Meryl".

posted by DD @ 13:34  5 comments

The Killers

Watching 'highlights' of a tawdry, tired Glastonbury - a bill full of old duffers. The best acts to appear from what I've been arsed to see have been Simple Kid and The Killers.

Yep, the headliners have been routinely rotten. Plus: either the sound is shite or the BBC site feed is shite, but so much of it stank. Admittedly, it almost always does on TV - the White Stripes sounded reedy a couple of years ago. And, as with the Kings Of Leon, I know what they can sound like in a proper venue. Proper, sir? Yes, proper: i.e. there's a roof for starters, and wherever I'm standing I can see the golden neon of a bar.

But man, the Killers. Their singer's cultural DNA is surely this: 35 % Ian Brown circa 1988 and 65% Michael Owen 1998 . . . singing Pulp songs - but thankfully with no twatting about.


I shall be seeing them this summer I hope. The other week I saw Germaine Greer slag them off on Newsnight Review. She's a honey - okay, vintage honey - but WTF does she know about Rock & Roll nowadays? Nowadays? I doubt she has ever known Bo about it. Indeed, I bet that she hasn't even fucked Mick Jagger . . . Now, given her prime, circs and opportunities, that's just not trying.


posted by DD @ 01:07  4 comments

Sunday, June 27

Mozfest

Went to the gig last night - 8/10. Kicked off with a great new song, titled Don't Knock Daddy's Voice - or something like that. Two points off for one too many drifting, lilting songs with Didoesque Radio-2-friendly backing tracks. Come on geezer, what's this: Trip-Hop lite, in 2004!?!

A good cheap slug-shot at Will Young, our beloved isle's current "entertainer of the year", and the man was on good form throughout - which was good to see after his pony performance on the Jonathan Ross Show last week.

We were sat - meaning stood - next to a girl who was a Marc Almond fanatic. Yes, an ever dininishing breed. Hey, I was a good boy: we chatted for around fifteen minutes before His entrance and I never once mentioned Kit-Kats. (I trust I don't need to fill people in on just what Marc Alkmond got up to with a bar or three of those - use your gullivers my droogies!)

Sat behind us was a very haughty - we're talking Nico haughty - Karen O wannabe. And Karen O is so obviously a Nico wannabe. (Go on, baby, start hanging out with Courtney!) Anyway, Miss Haughty had the exact same hair vamp as on the Yeah Yeah Yeah's record cover! And I'm pretty sure she was an american, but it definitely wasn't the real deal.

On Thursday I had a quick look at the website to check out which songs had been dredged up from the back catalogue, and which were being left in slumber. My, how those Morrissey fans are high-strung. Things like "why wasn't there a round of applause for X?" - a guitarist who was mildly ill and couldn't play this series of concerts.

Stocking up on over-priced bottles pre-show at the bar, I mentioned this to a couple of American girls who looked at me as if to say, "like, you just don't get it, do you?"

Well, yeah, I do - and I did, when I was a young, young boy and saw the Smiths three times. (And I'm here to tell you that they were lousy twice, but the one time they were on they were absolutely fantastic.) Fact is, I grew away from it. Thinking back, you could say I was a classic case: one of those whose vegetarianism began in 1983 and boned out early 1988. Go figure, huh? How very, very shallow.

Now: the word heroes means nothing to me; though I do have people I salute - looka yonder to BOAT DRINKS.

Oh - and as we left Gene were playing in the foyer - exactly where they belonged all along. Damn, it's so true. ALL Morrissey fans are superbitches!

posted by DD @ 03:47  4 comments

Wednesday, June 23

Boat Drinks, Baby

On Saturday I went to a fantastic wedding do by the sea, down in sunny, sunny Kent. And indeed, for a good while, it was sunny. And it's always great to get the old gang together. You know how it is.

The couple had hired a crooner (like a Frank and Tony impersonator) who went through the reportoire - great song after great song.

Shame the DJ who followed was a complete sharry all night. Hey! I'd think being a wedding DJ is one of the easier gigs in the world - the room is full of twenty and thirty somethings so pull out the old favourites.

The history of British Pop 1981-2004 will do the job.

Still - a free bar all night! What was that alleged quote of Dylan Thomas' on his deathbed? "Eighteen whiskies - a record I think." Or something like that.

Well, I think I matched that with Brandy & Lemonades. But then I do feel that I can drink that combo every hour of every single day of the rest of my life . . .

posted by DD @ 13:04  4 comments

Tuesday, June 15

Pissed & Off

Appy polly loggies everybody! but I've been getting off my tits watching the football.

Going to a wedding this weekend (the stag raison d for the trip to NYC) which should be fun.

And no, I'm not gonna spill my yarbles about the football. If you care about it at all, you don't need my mincing observations.

Still think England will win, after many, many howls and tears. And that's just the way it should be.

posted by DD @ 13:58  6 comments

Thursday, June 3

Golden Balls

As Euro 2004 approaches I'll get my dig in now (and finish up my yarbles about NYC): walking around Broome and Essex (that kinda LES area), having a mooch at the stores and trinkets on offer along the sidewalks, we had a chat with a guy who - unsurprisingly - picked up that we were from England.

(BTW, I insist on being from London. The rest of England means Bo to me. Bo, I tell thee!)

He said, "Hey, you know that guy of yours who's really famous? Beckham? Well, he was walking up and down here a few months ago and no one, I mean no one was paying him the slightest bit of attention."

Poor Dame David. There's a life that's really going tits up . . .

posted by DD @ 01:46  5 comments

Wednesday, June 2

Cute . . . So Fucking Cute

I may well get very pissed one time and spiel a piece out about Tandem, one of my favourite films.

But until that night, the London Review of Books has this feature on the phenomenon of Cute among Japanese women ie they're dressing up like schoolgirls . . . for the sake of Japanese men!

posted by DD @ 18:18  6 comments