Sunday, October 23, 2005

grab your ankles, it's kingdom time

Dave's other other band, The Azalea City Penis Club are nearing completion of their debut album. Here you can hear an MP3 and watch a short film of the recording process, and here is their site where there are some photos, including these two of Robin.

Thursday, October 20, 2005

Crescent welcome the world

The elusive Crescent, one of England's finest bands finally have a web presence, after eleven years and four albums. There is even a video for the track "Spring", and some photos of the enigmatic Matt Jones, which proves he really does exist.

We are off on tour in USA and Canada on tuesday with Broadcast, so this may be the last post for a while. If you have some time to waste, check out my friend Tom's blog. Tom intersperses social commentary with completely impenetrable IT jargon. For the most part I have no idea what he is talking about.

As I explained to a friend the other day (sorry for cribbing emails, Paul), I am trying to stop reading or caring about current affairs because my influence upon the collective stupidity of humankind is close to nil, thus mustering even a passing interest in world developments is arguably an absurd waste of time. Far more important is the fact that my workshop roof is leaking and I need to get it patched, then I can embark on a four week spree of binge drinking and rock music.

See you over the ocean.

Monday, October 10, 2005

Thursday, October 06, 2005

wrong kind of jacket

Neglected musical sub-genre of the day: Aspirational Sports-Rock
Example: Chesney Hawkes - I Am the One and Only
Location: Longwell Green Bowlplex

Anyone read Phillip K. Dick's the Minority Report?
Prepare to start being arrested for something you don't know you are about to do.
Just for fun, compare and contrast with Maggie Smith in Gosford Park: "I know what they want before they know they want it".

Thanks to Tom for the link.

Watched Dig!, a film about the rivalry between two bands whose pin-prick egos swell and deflate in time to the rythmic chants of the A + R sycophants who see something revolutionary in their rather average indie rock. The Dandy Whoreholes spend $500,000 on a crap video before they’d even shifted a unit. Then they get a track on a cell-phone commercial and sell loads of records so it's okay. Their mates the Brian Jonestown Massacre don't sell any because their main-man, Anton Newcombe, like Pete Doherty, is a completely deluded fuckhead who can't get his shit together. We watch him snort coke, shoot smack, kick audience members in the face and beat up his band, while his entourage waits patiently for him to finish his magnum opus which will be so amazing it will be, like, so amazing. Everyone is content to indulge the genius, who churns out sub-Jesus and Mary Chain tripe at a rate of one song an hour, but can't finish making the record because he is slowly but surely turning into Billy Corgan. These people don't deserve freedom. They should be exiled to North Korea. The high point of the film was The Dandy Whorehole's Zia McCabe -by far the most likeable of the bunch- getting her tits out on stage.


Guy in Philosophy Class Needs to Shut the Fuck Up