I dream of Eugene

Oh God! The Pied Piper is ridiculously sexy and also unbelievably friendly - he even blew on my hands to keep me warm when my coat got stolen, and I think I fell in love with him at that precise moment. Wow. Some of that gypsy magic has seeped into me through the pores of my hands because I'm hearing Rat-a-tat-tat and da da da da da in the people's footsteps, the ticking of the clock and the blinking of an eye. It's amazing - Life after Hutz will never be the same.

Someone Likes Yoghurt! Part deux

Got to see Gareth and Emily this weekend as we went to Cardiff for Richard Herring's DVD recording of 'Someone Likes Y0ghurt'. He was hilarious, even though this was the second time around for me, as I saw him perform the exact same material about a year and a half ago at Divas. Pope jokes: they'll always be funny.

Ich bin Ein Berliner

Isn't it amazing how a morsel of good news can turn you entire life around and make the world seem like a better place?

I passed my CELTA interview the day before yesterday and am heading off to Berlin in less than a month and I'm so excited, I can't wait. Loads of reading and organising to do first but it's the happiest I've felt in months (despite the incessant nagging and bitching which has recently become part and parcel of my home life, but let's not go there). The sky looks brighter, career prospects appear more promising, and even the people around me seem a mite bit friendlier. Obviously it's all to do with personal attitude but I just feel the timing for a move is purrfect and flat hunting is incredibly excited as it seems you can get quite a lot for your money over there. Big on Ikea storage compartments and wooden floors, a nice little two bedroom place would appear to set you back less than 600 Euros a month, which sounds pretty good to me.

Most depressing day of the year: It's official!

According to the man on the radio.
Not for me though as it's my birthday tomorrow.
Although come to think of it today has been fairly depressing, but not really any more so
than yesterday.

Swinging like a hammer

Last Thursday's news in the Swindon Advertiser notes an incident in which a Year 11
boy was left unconscious after having been struck several times by a hammer on the
school tennis courts.
http://www.adver.co.uk/display.var.1118267.0.schoolboy_attacked_with hammer.php

As horible as this is, it reminded me of a newspaper headline Phil alerted me to a few months back while we were staying in Swansea: "Baby 'swung like hammer'" . Having never heard the term used in this way it seemed like quite a bizarre analogy to make, and was a departure from Swansea Evening Post's prediliction for "probing" news stories which are regular headline news, possibly a nod to the city's large homosexual community. I'm well aware that "probing" is sexual innuendo, as opposed to specifically homo or hetero; however, the term seems so synonymous in the popular consciousness with "anal" as say "pert" or "baps" - words which could just as easily refer to noses or bread (but usually don't), that I feel justified in mentioning it here.

Anyway, this got me wondering about other possible uses of the term "Swinging hammer".
The results?

• The Urban Dictionary suggests the RHCPs usage of the term in Dani California is a
• reference to communism. http://www.urbandictionary.com/define.php?term=swinging+hammer
• (but isn't everything these days?)
• Fotosearch gives 20 images of stock illustration ofswinging hammers
• (for some reason, here is just one)
• http://www.fotosearch.com/ART311/ind015/

• Probably the most exciting-sounding hit (pun intended): Swinging Hammer Scrub Mulching Mowers http://www.ryetec.co.uk/forestry_mulcher7.html

• The rest were pretty boring, and actually about tools which were "swung like hammers" apart from one hammer website in which the hammer was "swung like an axe", presumably to avoid using the word too much, and thereby having the article result in tedium .http://www.diydata.com/tool/hammer/hammers.php

• "Hang gliders and hammers… two items not normally related in the same breath…!"

I also found a charming story about "Old Pedro", a Mexican trailer park resident and silly know-it-all "Walter the gringo" who goes hang gliding over Mt. Whitney. Some nice pictures, and lots of hammer swinging, because apparently Walter was meant to remove his counterweight hammer from the hangar prior to his flight, but being the arrogant young upstart that he is, he forgets about the a common flyers’ "warning decal which read REMOVE BEFORE FLIGHT" because, TREATING EVERYTHING AS A JOKE, Walter figures this warning "more as comical than necessary". Oh, the fool. The story is called "Hammer bound for Hell" , which is a great title and it's worth reading for that reason alone. http://www.learntoflytrikes.com/story_HammerBoundForHell.htm

Yo Sushi!

Pretty good for a first attempt, eh?

The Sonic Marble Run

Above: The Sonic Marble Run at the Grant Bradley Gallery.

Usually I'm pretty sceptical of sound art, but Oliver Jon Pigott has done something amazing with this. Using metal tubing, wires, CDs and pipes, speakers distort the sound of rolling marbles which splinker, plonk, and clang their way through this gigantic version of the 'Mousetrap' game. I met a woman who had taken her toddler here the other day and couldn't resist coming back on her own for a second go.

Happiness
These last couple of days have been fantastic! Yesterday, for example: after weeks of fruitless searching, I finally found the guitar of my dreams in Dan's tiny guitar shop, which is tucked away in a tiny street, just down the road from Zero Degrees. It's a really beautiful acoustic guitar and is quite reasonably priced too. Now I just have to wait until Monday to pick it up so that Dan can give it a make-over by rubbing his "magic sparkly spunk juice" over it. Can't wait.

I now have a Spanish guardian angel who always seems to be looking at websites on tango classes or wandering the streets of Bedmo whenever good fortune strikes. I stared at his back for evidence of strapped down wings today but his jacket was too puffy to tell for sure. Still... I have my suspicions.

Eviction imminent

We were served with what those in the biz commonly refer to as a NOSP (Notice of Seeking Possession, cheers Marches) yesterday. This was kind of exciting I felt. Two months to get out. It's good in a way because it should kick us all into gear a bit and force us to make a decision about what to do with the rest of our lives. Either that, or we're homeless. I think it's because everything in the house keeps breaking; lights, shower, boiler and the landlord would rather sell up than invest any money fixing the place. Oh, well, it was short but sweet...

Downtown 81

Happy New Year!

2007 Already, whoo hoo!

We went to a New Year's Eve party at fingerless hoodlum Andy Skellam's luxurious penthouse apartment in Clifton Village and drank copious amounts of whiskey and beer (but strangely no champagne). It was a fairly small, exclusive gathering consisting of housemates James and Marietti, fello hairy Buddah Dan, and a couple of other people I didn't really know, but they seemed very nice.
We played charades using only one word or the power of mime to guess the celebrity in the top hat, which exposed my sheer ignorance of any figure in the public eye. The best example of this would be my description of Boris Becker as "That Tory guy with the hair" to the bemusement and amusement of the entire party. Same first name though, so pretty close I thought.
After much dancing and singing we shouted at Andy's neighbours who actually pay a lot of money to rent houses around that area, perhaps under the misconception that it's a nice area and that drunken twentysomethings won't be leaning out of the windows screaming "Happy New Year/Andy's got gonorrhea!" at them. Ha! The fools.
At the end of the evening Alex broke the zip on my boot which was a real problem because our house is about an hour from Andy's, my drunken logic led me to believe that cutting across the zip with a pair of kitchen scissors would in some way help me to re-thread the zipper. Thank God Dan dissuaded me from this course of action and Andy had to bind my boot up with some string like a young Chinese girl for the long walk home. I was amazed that it lasted the journey. That's why NOT to buy cheap ass Primark footwear!

Beautiful songs by The Fingerless Hoodlum:-
http://profile.myspace.com/index.cfm?fuseaction=user.viewprofile&friendID=99931195

Feeling self indulgent?

Well, Christmas is now over and 2007 is nearly upon us. What do I have to show for the past year? Not a lot to be honest. Just getting drunk and making a tit of myself, saying stupid stuff to people I know and people I don't, flitting about from one crappy job to the next (oh God the STATE of my CV!!!!!). Running out of money.
I'm broke and lazy and nobody has replied to emails or text messages in two days.
Plus I don't feel very well, my back aches and my throat is sore.
A friend of mine asked me if I ever read the Myspace pages of people I fancied/really, really , really wanted to be friends with and checked out their other (female) friends - a great way to research the competition. Now, although I AM very much attached, I do have certain male friends who have been a little quiet/crap of late. So I took this great advice and I did it today. Several times in fact. And it's depressing, probably quite psychologically damaging too. Their friends are all either dirrrty peroxide grrrls or pretty little waifs who deliberately spell things wrong so as to appear cool and "arty". And they're all so bloody happy ALL OF THE TIME!!!!
How do you meet these happy-go-richie-luckies? I demand my own one.
Is nobody bitter or sarcastic or lonely any more? Surely it can't just be me?
WON'T SOMEBODY PLEASE ANSWER A BLOODY EMAIL, I'M A GOIN' CRAZEE HERE!!!!!!!!!!!!

Thanks goodness I have such a grrrrrrrrrrrrreat song on my blog otherwise this could be depressing. Uplifting...... Oh yeah, almost forgot - I passed my MA.

Dressing up

Can't believe it is nearly Christmas and I have no suitable dresses for the festive season.
Today's task: Adorn an old black dress with a lacy top (which used to belong to my mother in the 70s) with some white satin ribbon so as to magically transform it into the kind of beautiful monochrome outfit Regina Spektor might be seen wearing in the 'Fidelity' video. Blue Peter eat your heart out!

Ipswich murder enquiry: Tom Stephens' Myspace

Ohhh.. yes, yet again The Guardian comes up with with thrilling and cutting edge news regarding the Suffolk murder enquiry:

"MySpace has admitted that it took down the profile of Tom Stephens, one of two men arrested in connection with the murder of five women in Ipswich, to "preserve" the information for police.
Users can delete their own MySpace profiles, but in the case of Mr Stephens the social networking website took the decision to block access to his page following his arrest.
"We have taken down the profile and preserved the data should it be useful for law enforcement in their investigation," said Hemanshu Nigam, chief security officer at MySpace. "

I'm not surprised given the self-evident importance and relevance to the murder enquiry of Tom Stephens' Myspace page which in the clear interests of the public, The Guardian chose to publish in its unedited, full glory on Monday.
The Guardian's comments of the Myspace page betray its importance at uncovering this calculated killer, helpfully informing readers:
"The grainy main photograph on the 37-year-old's profile on the top social networking website shows him smiling and wearing a fishing hat. He has eight people listed in his "friends space"."

As if this information in itself were not bad enough, the article continues with further damning evidence of Mr Stephens' guilt including a sinister predisposal towards lactose heavy desserts and possible transexual tendencies...

"Clicking on the photographs section reveals six images of Mr Stephens, including one in which he is holding up a can of custard and another in which he appears to be wearing eyeshadow.


Finally, as if this information had not already, if not made us feel that we are getting inside the mind of a tortured killer, then at least evoked sentiments of some unease, we are told that Mr Stephens has no respect for authority, "In the companies section, he says he is a "team leader" and has worked for Tesco "from 1997 until they sack me".
He also has a penchant for classical music, rather like Alex in a clockwork orange (Canon in D Major by Johan Pachenbel is the soundtrack to his profile page).

This is BORING and LAZY journalism at its best, telling nothing whist pretending to reveal everything. If it was meant to suggest that a brutal serial killer could have a Jekyll and Hyde existence, in which his online life seems normal and innocuous this piece may make some sense, but the tone of the article does not suggest this. Worryingly, it's almost comical in its apparent "objectivity". I'm not a sick person by the way, I am disgusted and horrified by the murders.
Laura Barton's follow up piece "How do you know who your 'friends' really are?" advises Myspace users to "Just say NO to strangers!" in a somewhat patronising and condescending manner which evokes the attitude of a neurotic mother of an eight year old boy who has just been allowed to walk to the bus stop on their own for the first time:-
"Generally I ignore anyone I don't actually know - a policy that has served me well, except in the case of the bodybuilder from Birmingham who sent me a follow-up email some weeks later, demanding in forcible capitals: "DO YOU WANT TO BE MY FRIEND? YES OR NO? ANSWER ME. I did not answer him. After all, I decided, that's hardly the way to speak to a friend."
Very sensible, Laura. You clearly have a sixth sense when it comes to character judgement. We should all follow your lead and EVERYTHING WILL BE OK.
AAAAAAAAARRRRRGGGGHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Iggy and the Stooges

www.yaquoi.com

All Tomorrows Parties

All Tomorrow’s Parties, ‘The Nightmare Before Christmas’
Butlins, Minehead. Dec 9-11

The idea of hosting a music festival in a disused Butlins holiday camp is unsusual; the reality is downright bizarre. Despite spending the majority of the weekend running around all over the place with several people from Sheffield in a drunken stupor, I still actually managed to see quite a few bands. There’s a scene in Wet Hot American Summer where a group of camp counsellors go into town for the day, it’s all very nice at the beginning of the afternoon with ice creams and BBQs, but their day rapidly takes a turn for the worst and finishes with them fraternising with the homeless and jacking up on the floor of a shit ridden squat. This is a pretty good analogy for my experience of last weekend’s atp.

The journey started with “The Fear” because cheap Ebay tickets meant that we had no idea what the other people in our chalet were like, they could have been mentalists (we already knew they were Northern, and so was Jack the Ripper). As luck would have it they were all very sweet and hilariously funny too which was an added bonus.

More that 6,000 people were at the gig and frequent queues made the atmostphere a little strained at times with queues stretching all around the holiday camp. Unexpectedly popular bands such as The Melvins, Deerhoof, Dinosaw Jnr. and Gang of Four were forced to play a second set on to compensate for the fact that not everyone could get into the venue to see them.
The weekend’s line-up was curated by Sonic Youth’s ageless Thurston Moore and was largely mid-nineties US alt rock based, including Iggy and the Stooges, and of course, Sonic Youth. The colour of the wristband you were allocated determined which day you were allowed to see the two headline bands, Sonic Youth and Iggy & The Stooges, we had a fairly low key Friday and only saw stoner rock outfit Bardo Pond who were pretty predictable. Yawn. So we played on a couple of arcade machines and then it was back to the chalet for red wine and TV. Incidentally, there are two ATP channels programmed by the festival curators so if you get bored watching the bands there is always something else to keep you occupied, Garbage Pail Kids:The Movie turned out to be a great Saturday morning hangover cure.

Saturday was more eventful due to The Melvins and Deerhoof playing a second show. The Melvins started off a bit weakly but the double drumming towards the end of the set was amazing. Deerhoof were fantastic, energetic and fun. Haling from Oakland and San Francisco and with a Japanese singer they played beautiful music to make you smile and want to jump around like a crazy bean. Sugary sweet pop melodies with childlike lyrics about rabbits whilst bouncing around the stage are set against by crunching guitar parts. I love this band - they were so happy and catchy that they were one of the best bands of the festival. If Little Red Riding Hood were a musical, it would sound just like Deerhoof.

The big disappointment of the festival for me was probably the now uber trendy Gang of Four who played all the hits but really didn’t sound that great. The singer’s voice was too quiet and weak in the mix and the bands’ outfits were such a conscious homage to the 80s it was painful to watch four old men gurning around on stage pretending to shoot the crowd with guitars held like machine guns. Cheese-o-rama.

Sonic Youth, however were amazing. I just couldn’t believe how young they looked even after playing having been together for what must be more than 25 years. They played a real mix of old stuff, a few songs from Goo and Daydream Nation and some tracks from Rather Ripped. It was a polished and eclectic set which had so much energy and enthusiasm and charisma it was ridiculous. After the gig we caught up with two people from our chalet – Tom and Jo. Tom had decided to dress in Jo’s ripped New York Dolls T-shirt and skinny jeans and had apparently spent the duration of Sonic Youth screaming “YOU’RE RUBBISH” and “I MIGHT BE GAY!” to the delight of the people around him. Actually he fell asleep halfway through the set which was a pretty big achievement because, oh boy, they were loud. I bought a yellow T-shirt which cost 15 whole English pounds!

By the time Sunday rolled around we all pretty much felt like death having consumed an excessive amount of alcohol in the Irish bar and Jumpin’ Jacks. Anyway, we used it as a real day of rest and went to the museum of Bakelite (described on the flyer as “a dream come true” and thus, given the “Nightmare before Christmas” theme of the weekend it seemed pretty fitting). Actually it was quite interesting and very kitsch. Lots of brightly coloured cups and saucers, vacuum cleaners, cookers, bikes, even bakelite teeth! Upstairs was a museum of farming implements- sycthe's and pig ringers mainly, so that was an added bonus. On the way back we stumbled upon a Cider farm where we stopped for a refill, a cup of tea and a slice of cake before heading back to see The Stooges. Punk rock Sunday, eh?

Can’t even begin to describe Iggy and the Stooges. Other than to say he is THE BEST FRONTMAN I’VE EVER SEEN. Just amazingly gorgeous gyrating around to ‘Now I wanna be your dog’ and the ‘fun house’. Iggy bounced around arms flailing, jumping into the audience, inviting everyone up onto the stage to dance with him it was fantastic to watch. Probably the best gig I've ever been to.

Final night turned out to be messy fun after watching Be Your Own Pet. Drinking, dancing, drinking, drinking and then a great Crayola chalet party with a sweet little band where everyone was having a lovely time.

Music reviews

I recently stumbled upon some reviews I wrote a while ago about a few bands I saw play the Louie. At the time of writing I duly sent these off to Venue music ed. Julian Owen who seemed pretty keen...that is until he read my damning comments about The Transpersonals. Ha ha!!
Little did I know these guys are homies (not to be confused with homos), until I read later issues of Venue in which Julian extolled their virtues and talent - virtually non-existent the night I saw them. After describing the Transpersonals' bass player as a potential child molester, it was perhaps wishful thinking that I could win Julian over with my dazzling prose work, and so my career in music journalism was tragically over before it had even started.


The Great Admirers/The Rivals/The Transpersonals

THE LOUISIANA BRISTOL
(TUE 22 AUG)

An obsession with the likes of Julian Cope, Adam Ant, and Morrissey is the diving force behind the sweet and slightly self deprecating, Great Admirers. Although their brand of sub-Belle and Sebastian style indie pop is a little insipid and sometimes irritatingly saccharine, the band’s limitless energy and enthusiasm tends to detract from this. TGA are at their best with catchy tunes like ‘Hemmingway’ and ‘Keynsham’ which emphasise singer/songwriter Pat Reid’s brilliantly perceptive lyrical wit and his genuine love of 80s New Wave.

The Rivals drew the biggest crowd of the night, primarily comprising leather jacketed and greasy haired trendies. Clear, hauntingly melodic vocals layered over funk guitar parts and creeping bass lines, are interspersed with spine tingling refrains on the flute and clashing synth chords to a very pretty effect.

Ex. Strangelove vocalist, Patrick Duff, formed ‘psychedelic indie/alt’ band The Transpersonals following a voyage of self-discovery which apparently took him to South Africa where he experimented with hallucinogenic drugs and conversed with various mystics. This tired, Kula Shaker-esque, neo-spiritual aesthete is combined with a musical homage to the tinny innocence of 1960s bubblegum pop, which is well executed enough to almost convince me I’m listening to a Kinks covers band. Their musical style is polished, if intentionally derivative; however, the band’s image jars painfully with pretensions towards an emulation of the purity and naivety of the swinging 60s. Duff looks a freakish mess as he jumps around the stage with guitar slung high across his chest, sporting a mop top and tightly knotted shirt, and the creepy, roving eyed bassist is straight out of Capturing the Friedmans. Although their current sound (and look) may be misguided, the band are clearly competent musicians and the heavier, rock-out tracks at the end of the set reveal a spark of originality. Perhaps this is the new sound Duff has been searching for?

Apples of the ground of the sky: Herring

Since my last post, I have finished my fantastic but short-lived job at Sky and opted for a more lucrative and convenient position in tech. support for BT Broadband. It ain't thrilling stuff, and although I am passing my POL's with flying colours, when it comes to doing practical and useful stuff like configuring my laptop for a wireless connection,I am at a loss. God only knows why the network cannot assign an IP address to it, and how I should rectify this. It's bloomin' annoying.
If I can't actually help customers fix their IT problems when Iget to take their phone calls next week, I have at least met some interesting (and pretty offensive) people in the training group, and I'm having fun too.


Last night we went to see Richard Herring. He was funny but a combination of annoying hecklers and a surprisingly conservative audience seemed to throw him a bit and he said that he felt he had to cut out a lot of material he had planned to use for the show for fear of offending the audience. I felt this was a shame as he had some really funny ideas, but as he rightly said "Once you've covered the rape of the stigmata of Christ, where is there left to go?". Just wish I'd had the chance to find out!

Reach for the SKY

So I finally got that high flying media job I've been hankering after since I was a wee lass. In a call centre, sorry, a contact centre ( apparently customers don't like the term "call centre" as it's much less fluffy and friendly than "contact" therefore the original term is now obselete). I knew my Masters Degree would come in useful, and this job with all its advantages such as; a £5.90 hourly rate; half an hour lunch break; stressful coversations with "angry" and sometimes "raging" customers (recognising the differences between the two types is all important but I'll come to that in a bit); having to get up at six fourty five just to get to the office on time; and the fact that my first two days pay will be withheld until I've stayed there for five weeks, are factors highlighting the benefits of the level of success in the workplace a humanities graduate can hope to achieve after higher education. Boundless prospects and opportunities give way to disilusion, depression, poverty and acceptance. I've moved from a state of career denial into one of jaded acceptance regarding the kind of job I can hope to get, I've read that just recognising this is the most important FIRSY STEP so hopefully my bitter resignation has prevented the need for an intervention to be staged!

4 Hairy Buddhas

Went to see Andy, Stanton Delaplane, Dan and Dave play their second Hairy Buddhas night at the Landsdowne on Sunday and 'twas much fun. Very cosy, lots of pretty candles and slides courtesy of Andy's housemate James. Be good if they could get a regular acoustic night here as it's a nice little venue. More people there than last time too.
Yesterday I bought a ukulele for £15. Got to learn how to play it.

Warm Squash and Walnuts

Great little recipe courtesy of the Guardian's River Cottage Cookbook Supplement last week.
Easy peasy and pretty damn tasty too!

1. Cut a good sized squash into chunks.
2. Cover well with olive oil, and sprinkle with salt and pepper.
3. Pop in the oven at around 200C for about an hour or until the squash is roasted.
4. Add 100gms of walnuts to toast, after the squash has been in the oven for 45mins or so.
5. Line dishes with pre-prepared herb salad (the recipe suggests using a rocket salad but I found that coriander worked really well with the roast squash).
6. Cover salad with roast squash pieces and toasted walnuts, and enjoy!

Best to eat this ASAP as the squash doesn't hold the heat very well and it's consistency changes as it cools. But we found this so good that it really didn't last very long anyway.