thehesitantcalamari

The Paste That You Love

2013-02-06T17:47:00.000+00:00

There's always an unsure moment when a friend introduces you to one of their friends that you've never met. You've heard a lot about this person, you feel obliged to get on with them at the very least. And then they say something rather controversial on the subject of religion, animals, politics, or on their preferred choice of biscuit. Where do you stand in this moment? It's not easy. There's no middle ground. They're looking at you for support.

You could agree with them. Lay down, accept their point for now. Which would make you a bland, opinionless, arsehole. One of those boring people that just agrees with anything, nodding and saying 'yeah, yeah' to everything. You could refute their point. But there's no middle ground; you'd be locked into a debate. Oh god, they're a twat. They took great personal offence at you disagreeing. The worst part is, two others that are friends of the friend's friend heard snippets of the argument and they side with friend's friend. Great for them. They've ganged up on you and they're kicking you into submission with words. The icing on the cake? They start to use anecdotal evidence.

"When I was in school I had a friend who got cancer who.."

"Two years ago I had a jewish friend that.."

"WELL, when I visited the factory.."

It's horrible. You got badgered into coming here to get shitfaced and you're locked in with these insufferable morons. When anyone starts using anecdotal evidence it's game over. These stories could be true; they might not be. They are probably exaggerated by emotion, but pointing that out makes you look petty. It's related to them and not the bigger picture in any way. Play it cool, turn away. You're forever a twat in their eyes.

Anecdotal evidence ruins lives. Which is why it pains me to use it in today's blog which has decided to resurface like a bloated corpse. The point that I'd like to bring up today is that everything physical is slowly dying. And I have barely anything other than personal experience to back it up. Isn't that annoying?

What I mean by 'anything physical' is just that. Humans don't seem to be attached to physical objects anymore. Which actually sounds pretty nice, doesn't it? It's taken a while for things like Spotify and Netflix to appear and grow legs, but they're here now, replacing CDs and DVDs all the time. A couple of months ago, I saw someone on Facebook posting a status that said -

"Felt so retro today, actually went out and bought a CD lol"

The status attracted a huge number of likes (although I cannot confirm the actual amount because the person in question has unfriended me). When I go around to friend's houses, the compact disc doesn't exactly line the shelves anymore. And increasingly, the same is to be said about DVDs. People don't go out of their way to buy their favourite film; it'll probably arrive on TV, lovefilm, netflix or whatever soon enough (and if not they might just sneak in a quick illegal download). A lot of people I know have sold their collections.

My anecdotal evidence continues to slink into view when I talk about it happening already. HMV, one of the UK's largest music selling franchises has recently gone down the pan. It had attempts to launch a download service over the years, but the efforts were half-hearted and completely outmatched by the competition. I won't be too sad to see it go in all honesty. For such a large shop, there was such an increasingly shitty and overpriced selection of music that ended up being hidden behind a wall of t-shirts, mugs, and videogames.

Aberdeen's biggest independent music shop, OneUp, has also recently closed down. There are mournful comments on the Facebook announcement they made. But we're a generation of Facebook commenters that do nothing; when OneUp announced they had financial problems last year, the sympathy increased, but customers and sales simply didn't. People had good words and fond memories, but couldn't actually be bothered going in. Last year, for an article I was doing on vinyl, I spoke to Yogi, one of the guys at OneUp. Even back then, he was pessimistic about the future of a physical medium. He said that records were for "the true music fans". But when I asked him if there were enough of them, he simply shrugged.

The last piece of horrible anecdotal evidence I will use is the one closest to my heart. The Stool Pigeon is a free music newspaper that was distributed throughout the UK and begun printing in 2005, two months before YouTube existed. In 2009 I picked up my first copy from a record shop in Paisley I frequently visited, as my music taste started to blossom from classic rock into all things new and alternative.

I'd never heard of the vast majority of the bands, but the off the cuff articles with funny, upside down multi-coloured text that called people 'cunts' got my attention. I went there as an intern last year (and wrote a bit about it here) and spent a very educational two weeks running around and getting a bit sick and eating a malteasers ice cream next to a slimy canal in the punishing heat. The publication has now announced it will no longer continue -

"I wanted to do much more online, but the newspaper sucked up nearly all our resources and time. It's proved impossible to do both as well as we'd like and, to be frank, we're knackered."

But look at me! I'm becoming those people. I'm getting emotional here. I can't argue for physical things any more. They take up room, they burn resources, they're more expensive. I could go on about the sake of art, how everyone wants to sacrifice something good and wholesome for efficiency and better money, but all those things have been done to death.

Do we really deserve to be nostalgic? Is it worth getting attached to everything when it'll go away at some point? Reality is a turd-fest, so we may as well deal with it. We're a generation of emotional bloggers that will comment, upvote, retweet and like everything before we lift a finger to take action. If we truly become a nation that has bare shelves and little more than laptops and TVs to furnish our homes, will it really matter? Will we miss it?

My prediction is that we will. We'll miss our new book smell. We'll miss inhaling record sleeve dust. But as soon as we remember how much effort it was to open a plastic case, lift the silver disc, plop it into a tray, and press play, we'll get exhausted and slouch back in our fart-powered chairs. Bliss.

Ye Animals Collected

2012-11-11T15:41:00.001+00:00

A particular brand of snobbishness washes over me when I ask someone about a recent gig they've been to. Well, actually, I don't ask, I usually see it posted in Facebook when I have nothing better to do. How often have you seen a post in a social networking site saying '_____were fucking amazing'? It's a phenomenon that's entirely responsible for how obsolete the phrase has now become. An expression that, despite containing an expletive, has become as startling as a ham sandwich. When people don't go to gigs often, or indeed only once in their lifetime, they don't really know what to expect. The fact that the sound levels varied, or the fact that the lead singer couldn't hold a note and forgot half of the lyrics count for nothing, washed away by the excitement of seeing a bunch of people you're used to seeing in pictures and digitally compressed MP3s in your music collection. Because they played a handful of songs you know, the excitement was so much that the '____ were fucking amazing! :)' garble can consider itself posted five seconds into the first song of the night.

But I'm not saying I'm better than anyone else. I know about this phenomenon simply because I've been in this position a lot. It really does happen to everyone. You can only cut through the wave of bullshit when you get over your awe and properly see it for what it is.

Which is why I feel weird about reviewing live music, or anything for that matter. If I ever hint that I know what I'm talking about when it comes to music, then I deserve a smack. Because I don't, it's all bullshit at the end of the day. I try my best, but music isn't really something that can properly expressed by using words. And so I'm always slightly nervous when I'm expected to review a live performance, I don't know if my appreciation is coming from the adrenaline rush of being in the middle of a thumping gig with songs that I know being played, or if the band is actually decent. If I start to be overly pessimistic for the sake of it, who is to say the band weren't 'fucking amazing', you know?

So, taking this all into consideration, it's a good thing I wasn't asked to do a live review for Animal Collective's performance in Glasgow. Analysis is sometimes overrated. Sometimes you just want to get caught up in the whole experience. Just before seeing the group I excitedly explained to the unfortunate friend I'd dragged along that Animal Collective for me, were what the Beatles were to a teenage girl in the year of 1966. I love their albums, their innovativeness, the sheer joy one can experience from a bouncing, throbbing, Animal Collective track. There's Geologist, like a grinning, bopping Ringo, never seen on stage without his trademark headlamp which he uses to see all his equipment that makes the bleeps and blops. There's Avey Tare, yelping, jerking and screaming behind a stack of keyboards about adobe slatz and dinosaur anatomy. He has blue hair for the set, and mumbles something about eating meatloaf every day between songs, perhaps not realising that the closest Glasgwegians have come to eating such a dish is a slithering, undercooked square sausage. Panda Bear, plonked behind a drumkit, immersing the audience in his beautiful, yet melancholic voice has a brilliant vocal range and a great knack for drumming to boot. And how can we forget Joshua Caleb Dibb, aka Deakin aka 'The Deak'? The band's latest album, Centipede Hz, saw him return to the group after his non appearance on the brilliant Merriweather Post Pavilion album. Despite his absence apparently being brought on by AnCo's rigorous touring, he seems to be the happiest there, twisting his long face into a contented smile, and twirling in the middle of the stage with his guitar like a nerdy Pete Townsend.

But when Animal Collective do come on stage, the feeling that grabs me isn't the twinkle in my gut of being a fanboy. I didn't quite know what it was, but at the expense of sounding like an arsehole, it was good. I don't know if it was the pre-gig joint kicking in, but it felt right. The sounds were jarring the air around me rather than falling at peace with the world. Songs swung into one another like a pendulum, the band barely ever taking a break. It was mostly new material, but it stood up by itself, without needing any sentimental garbage to support it as being a right jolly jape. That said, the sentimental garbage was also great. Animal Collective aren't really a band that goes far into their back catalogue, but Peacebone, Brother Sport and My Girls, all got airings, each of them performed with a refreshingly new slant on the studio versions. I don't know if it's just my impatience, but the slower, more mournful songs weren't as exciting. That said, some songs really needed Panda Bear's fruity voice, glistening over an improvised, ambient space in the set in order to properly build up the next song. And the venue, the ABC in Glasgow, couldn't really handle certain sounds the band made. The sound system sighed as it's generic indie-pop sensibilities were crushed by the wall of strange noises produced by The Deak and his backing band. Even gig security continued to greet the band's performance with unimpressed frowns and sceptical stares.

So what can you really say in conclusion when you've been to a live performance? The £25 you've spent on the hotel, the £10 you've spent on the bus, the £5 you've spent on alcohol and/or drugs, and of course the £20 on the gig ticket itself is gone in 3 hours. When you see through the glaze, bands often disappoint, and if they don't, either an arsehole at the gig, or the sound system will mar the experience. It's also a drag for the bands themselves, going to venues and performing the same songs day after day to an audience that just wants to hear their most popular track. But tours consistently attract people. It's always the highest source of income for bands, high above record sales and miles above the bronze coins they'll receive for having their songs streamed on Spotify. Seeing a band live can't be defended properly, reasoning stacks against it.

But I don't really care about the drawbacks. Momentary, spontaneous experiences are continually sought after by humans, regardless of consequences. Which is why people want museums, culture, etc. Money doesn't really come into it our experiences, or at least, we don't care when we're enjoying ourselves. It's funny that governments see art and entertainment as little more than a business that makes money, as demonstrated brilliantly by our Prime Minister. So all I'm saying is that gigs should be celebrated for what they are - an impracticality. I recommend the experience. Just don't tell me how it was.

Hold onto your knuts

2012-09-03T13:56:00.001+01:00

Here's a book that you probably can
judge from the cover

I was pondering blog topics a little while back, and I settled on doing a topic that I knew inside out. But I've done bands I like to death as a topic. And I was a little stunted for subjects, since I've got the whole jack of all trades, master of none thing going on. I study journalism, but there's not too much you can say about that unless you want to sound like an Andrew Marr wet dream. But as I was squatting over that toilet, unable to sit because the seat burnt my arse cheeks, holding on for dear life, trying not to splash shit on my trainers as I jolted back and forth, I realised something. I knew what I was on like the back of my hand. Not toilets. But the finest transportation service to grace planet earth - Megabus. Because friends and family are spread out between Aberdeen, Dundee, Glasgow, and even Birmingham, I've had to make heavy use of this budget service which has given me an uncountable number of experiences.

Stagecoach Group began Megabus in 2003 for the United Kingdom, and 2006 in the USA. Scouring the US wikipedia page has been interesting, because there appears to be a long list of Megabus drivers that have been caught drink driving, and generally crashing into things. But funnily enough, my search for out of control Megabus UK drivers turned out to be fruitless. Which is actually fair enough. I'm maybe being a little sceptical here, since I've never had any problems with their drivers. The service you get from Megabus is exactly what it says on the tin - low cost travel, and it isn't really so bad. As long as they maintain their toilets properly. Which isn't very common actually. Right away you can tell there is something a little iffy about Megabus before even using their service. You shouldn't judge a book by it's cover. But Megabus is a a bus service, not a library, so let us indulge in some prejudice as we look at their mascot in the picture just below.

...

Picture a sane person. Completely sane. Can you imagine them designing that with good intentions? I'm thinking this. It's late 2002. Stagecoach Group are on the verge of creating a fine, low cost service all can enjoy. They hire a designer to come up with a lovable mascot for this blossoming idea. The designer forgets his project and gets drunk on the very last day. Memories flood back to him, something has to be submitted. In a blind panic, he finishes his bottle of gin, grabs some crayons and paper from the Early Learning Centre, and hops on his bike. But there's a storm. He does the best he can on this creaking little bicycle with the wind swaying him back and forth. It's shite, but it's something. It's submitted, and Stagecoach Group are so pleased with their low cost bus idea that they love the drawing. The mascot has a melted face, resembling a perverted gnome thinking about molesting something innocent with his tangerine slice penis. But hey, maybe some people think it's wonderful.

The mascot is the tip of the iceberg. The toilets, as you may have guessed, are not desirable places to be. On one of my first ever Megabus experiences, the toilet was full, and had a broken flush. A mountain of faeces almost rose above the seat, competing with the thick vomit stain near the door handle that hung in the limbo between solid and liquid. Another visit saw a solitary trainer lying on the floor. The hand-dryer coughed and gave me a small piece of chewing gum, but didn't actually dry my hands. The sink doesn't usually work, and when it does, it takes the skills of a maverick jet pilot to avoid the jet of boiling water it shoots into your chest. And there's also the usual assortment of screaming children, drunks, hambeasts, and people playing their tinny custom ringtones for all to hear.

CHEESE SALAD SIR?

Sometimes I go on the 'Gold' service, which costs a little more, but can be well worth the luxury. These journeys have more comfortable seats, and are generally populated with a small number of polite, elderly folk, rather than a full bus of junkies and thieves. You also get a little sandwich, a drink, and a piece of shortbread, which is fantastic. These journeys are interesting in their own right, mainly for the steward that serves you. Sometimes the steward is sane, but I always hope for psychotically nice man. Psychotically nice man offers you shortbread in a threateningly nice way. His girder-like arms bulge underneath his tiny shirt, threatening to crush his basket of pancakes and jam (and your skull) at the first sign of refusal. His wide smile is particularly impressive, and his hollow eyes that have probably seen countless kneecaps broken stare into your soul and remove any desire to deny a tuna crunch on wholemeal bread. There's also trauma lady, who simply melts into an abyss of mental torment if you refuse her offers, occasionally looking back with a guilt-tripping stare. It's all fun.

Megabus doesn't have a twitter, and it's clear to see why. There are often various problems that would mean that they constantly get harassed for providing a questionable service in some cases. But I'm going to continue using it. It isn't particularly expensive and well...yeah. It's cheap. God bless Megabus.

What I'm currently listening to > \Drokk - Geoff Barrow/

Thanks for reading!

Nuts and Crisps, Paper and Coins

2012-07-10T23:07:00.003+01:00

Every now and again, I talk about a band I obsess over on this blog. There's not a lot of reasoning behind it, apart from the fact that I enjoy doing it, and it would be cool if other people listened to them. For the last few months, that obsession has turned into yet another band that had great prominence in the 1980's, a decade I wasn't even born into, yet one that I won't shut up about. The band this time is XTC, who arrived in the same boat as Talking Heads, Wire, The Police, riding in on the tidal wave that came from the explosion of punk, rather unimaginatively, known as post-punk. This genre had the anger, energy, and spittle of punk, but it was a bit more moody, arty, and, well weird. Singing like you had a speech impediment, and playing synthesizers along with the crunchy, moody guitars suddenly became acceptable.

XTC picked up this way with their first two albums, heading in what only described as an 'arty' sort of direction. They even wanted Brian Eno, the go-to guy for weird at the time, to produce their second album, uhm...Go 2. But he politely declined. And whether or not it was due to that, or the departure of keyboard player Barry Andrews, XTC changed and got significantly more new-wave, significantly more pop, on their third album, Drums and Wires. Don't get me wrong, the band's first couple of albums are great, but the sound is of an unsure band, still trying to find their feet.

Making Plans for Nigel, the only single off Drums and Wires, dragged the band into the charts. The song was written and sung by bassist Colin Moulding, and is about a young man pushed into a future that he has little say in. In my opinion, it's one of those perfect singles that can't be tainted with overplaying, even by a little bit. It opens with an odd little drum effect, and I'd be lying if I said I knew the name of it. But it gives the whole track an odd, offbeat feel, that compliments a thudding bass-line, which is iced over with a neat little guitar part. And it perfectly sets the tone for the rest of the album. On the whole, Moulding's bass-lines evolved for the album with an uncommon versatility showcased on the instrument; a springboard-like thud on Helicopter, a creeping ascent on When You're Near Me I Have Difficulty, a sharp, thudding slide on Roads Girdle the Globe. Producer Steve Lilywhite, master of new-wave, also firmly grounded and trapped the sound the band so desperately needed. He also made a return on the equally fantastic Black Sea, which gave birth to four singles and an album which was filler-free. Even the b-sides released at the time, Smokeless Zone and Don't Loose Your Temper still showcase the band's strengths and could hardly be considered second-rate.

Around this time, the band had solidly been touring for years, and despite being on the brink of fame with a number of hit singles under their belt (Making Plans, Generals and Majors, Sgt Rock is Going to Help Me), primary songwriter and lead singer Andy Partridge decided that he (and the band as a result) could no longer continue touring -

crap food dot jpg

"The problem for me was that I was beginning to absolutely hate touring. I wasn’t a young man anymore and my body was starting to rebel against the lifestyle. We’d been doing it pretty much non-stop for nearly a decade and I was sick of it all: the crap food, the hours stuck on a bus with the same faces and the general soul-destroying tediousness of it. I got it into my head that if I wrote an album with a sound less geared towards touring then maybe there would be less pressure to tour." *

The frustration came to a head at a gig in Paris, where XTC were promoting their latest album, English Settlement. Partridge simply put down his guitar mid-song and stumbled off stage without a word of explanation. The band never toured again, arguably ensuring that they never had a drastic increase in popularity. Despite this, English Settlement gave the band their biggest hit with 'Senses Working Overtime', and the album was critically hailed as one of their best releases.

In the next 18 years, XTC would go on to release eight albums, including Psonic Psunspot, which the band released under the pseudonym The Dukes of Stratosphear, a fictional, psychedelic group that showcased the fact that the group never took themselves entirely seriously. The group's popularity waxed and waned unpredictably, especially in the US where the band's reputation increased a little with singles such as 'Dear God' and an appearance on Letterman, but each album threw something new to the table, and couldn't be seriously regarded as a step backwards.

Sometimes, in these little band reviews, I lick the arsehole of the musical talents each member has. In the case of XTC, the group was blessed with two great guitarists in the form of Andy Partridge and Dave Gregory, but the real unrivalled talent can be found in the band's rhythm section. Colin Moulding, an exceptional, self taught bass player first began with thudding minimalist lines, a standard of most post-punk bands. But as the albums stacked up, there are some great, 'busy' bass-lines on just about every track, that explore each of the songs fully instead of following the root note (a great example of which can be found in the song Mayor of Simpleton). The other half of this rhythm section was found in Terry Chambers, who left after English Settlement and was replaced by a number of session drummers. But out of all the arseholes I've ever licked, this is the one that needs the most attention (excuse that ghastly image). Nowhere to be found on top drummer lists, Terry Chambers, the quiet man's man of XTC left a real mark on the sound of XTC's, the sheer number of perfectly executed styles and beats provided on the likes of Black Sea and English Settlement is dizzying.

XTC are still technically going on the back burner as Andy Partridge, the sole remaining member of the band points out. So there's (probably) not going to be any flashy eighties reunion from the band any time soon. And besides, going with the flow isn't something the uncool Swindonians have ever specialized in.

It seems that YouTube links are still the way to go, so here's a list of some of my favourite XTC tracks -

Scissor Man (Regarded as a "silly song" by Partridge it's nevertheless filled with a catchy, manic energy and a fantastic little outro)

Ball and Chain (A moan about unwanted housing developments in the 1980's. There's something about this video that I love, that I can't quite put my finger on, and it's one of my favourite songs from English Settlement.)

Scarecrow People (One of the group's cleverest songs, lyrically and melodically)

Summer's Cauldron (Woah, 1966 era Paul McCartney called. He's willing to get on his hand and knees for that dub bass-line.)

Deliver Us From the Elements (Not sure what this is supposed to be about, but Jesus Christ, it sounds as if Moulding is trying to warn of the impending Apocalypse, the poor little bugger. Aztecs eat your heart out or whatever)

Towers of London (It's incredibly hard to pick one track from Black Sea, but this grower is well worth the extra couple of listens you may need to give it)

River of Orchids (A truly wonderful track that steps away from what is traditionally regarded as XTC. From the drastically underrated last couple of albums the band put out, Apple Venus volumes 1 and 2)

Radios in Motion (Ahhh, youthful arrogance. Nevertheless, this early taste of the band shows Partridge and Moulding bursting with energy and potential)

P.S - Fun fact. Have you ever heard of Harry Partridge? He's pretty well known as an animator for things like Saturday Morning Watchmen . Well, he happens to be the son of XTC's Andy Partridge. If that wasn't even mildly interesting, then boo hoo, I don't have any more fun facts for you.

P.P.S - Tired blog entry. The formatting is horrible, and I really need to make the effort in tidying this blog up, I'm aware of how ugly it is. Mistakes/awkward sentences ahoy, sorry.

*Here's where I got this quote

Thanks for reading!

Two weeks as a pigeon

2012-06-09T12:02:00.000+01:00

If there's anything of reasonable importance that I have to attend, it's pretty much a given that I'll be late. I honestly don't know how I manage it. I don't enjoy letting people down, and I'm pretty fast on two legs. But in the corner of my mind, there's a very dozy nerve that is in charge of a large chunk of my brain. As opposed to suggesting that I should get my shoes on and brush my teeth, it urges me to watch a mediocre episode of the Simpsons, or pick my nose, or make a sandwich that I end up choking on as my body awakens in a jolt of panic causing my legs to leap forward and my throat to splutter up half digested chunks of hovis and branston pickle.

My name is Duncan James Graham, and I was born in 1991. I have an 'online persona' sort of thing known as 'Calamari'. This is because I am incapable of being witty or funny in the flesh. If someone approaches me in person I'll awkwardly mumble something about my top five favourite Steve Lillywhite produced albums and stare at the ground as they turn back to their friends and discuss Mumford & Sons and their trip to H&M, or whatever. I felt as if I should reintroduce myself because of yet another long absence from the blogging world. This blog to me is like the baby in Eraserhead (a film I recently watched whilst under the influence, which is not an advisable thing to do). Every time I type in 't...' into my browser, 'thehesitantcalamari.blogspot.com' comes up as a suggestion, and I dare not look at the site to see the wheezing, sickly state it has been transformed into. I have yet to take the scissors to this son of a gun and watch it spew fake blood and porridge. But it was still a sad sight to see. So this week, I am doing a blog post based on my experiences as an intern at a publication, known as the Stool Pigeon. The Stool Pigeon is a great little music newspaper/website that I have enjoyed reading for years, but I'll not garble on, because the content speaks for itself and people have short attention spans.

So yes. I'm late for just about everything. And the Stool Pigeon was not an exception to this rule. Thinking London was much like Glasgow, in that you can walk around the corner and you'll probably see some sort of familiar building, turned out to be a very ill-fated assumption. My phone decided it couldn't handle Google maps, so after phoning the editor of the Stool Pigeon and asking for directions, I set off in a direction that seemed to be vaguely correct. I did not see that area ever again during my two-week trip. After walking/running for half an hour in what turned out to be completely the wrong direction, the editor recommended that I take a black cab. Being a little smart-arse, I thought I could rescue the situation by taking a bus, which would be cheaper. When the bus took me even further away from the office, I finally decided to stop being an idiot and I took a taxi. The driver was an exceptionally friendly chap who was bursting with pride about having the Olympics in London. He played tour guide as he waved his hands like an opera conductor, and talked about the first man to bring peanuts to Britain. My general feeling about the Olympics being held in London is total indifference, truth be told. I cannot relate to people getting excited about it, but each to their own, so I lied about my enthusiasm, and did a lot of smiling and nodding because he could barely understand me.

Because of one of my Journalism lecturers, I imagine editors to be large, dour faced, gruff, red faced chaps that bark across the office when someone incorrectly uses parenthesis. Phil Hebblethwaithe, the editor of the Stool Pigeon, was big, but not in the way I imagined. He was built like a daddy long legs and his knees practically came up to my head. But he had a smile that could melt butter, and he paid for my taxi fare.

Stour Space, the location of the Stool Pigeon office, was somewhere that I became completely enamoured with instantly. There was a nice little café below that served home-made soup and things in that sort of vein that I never managed to try. Upstairs were a whole load of studios, filled with polystyrene bodies, boxes, abstract paintings and attractive hipster girls. The building overlooked a canal which shimmered green on sunny days. The entire place had a warm sort of charm. Phil often referred to the place as a 'shithole' and yearned for a sleek office in Soho with an attractive secretary. That was probably because of the mice, which often shat around the new releases which were mailed to the office (a premonition for the majority of the content, one could say), the ants in the shared kitchen which swarmed around any stray crumbs of food, and the screaming baby that seemed to be permanently camped outside the window of the office.

But I'm definitely not one to complain. Sometimes Phil handed tasks to me which he described as tedious, and I really didn't mind. Even the most mind-numbing tasks were interesting. Sifting through and sorting out press releases and CDs was insightful to the sort of content that got in, and it was fantastic to listen to music that wouldn't see a public releases for months in some cases. The most draining task was interview transcribing, which I only really did once. The band was called 'Beach House' and I had a very mixed opinion of them by the end of it. Having listened to some sections over and over again for mumblings, I became very critical of the interviewees. I thought they had some interesting opinions and ideas, but it really boiled down to them being a couple of hippies that said things like "We didn't choose the songs, the songs chose us" and that they spent most of their time "chasing the energy". They seemed nice, but I couldn't take them very seriously.

My most common job at the Pigeon was to post stories for the website. Some of it came from press releases, some of it essentially came from other websites. It just really involved typing it up quickly before it went stale, and also put a little of the publication's humour in. One of my favourite things about the Stool Pigeon is that it doesn't take itself too seriously, ever. It doesn't really care about who it pisses off, and it isn't wrapped up with insecurities and who it can appeal to. So the articles always have a sense of humour, and it isn't necessarily under pressure to reprint hype and press releases.

And I got a gig review put up on the site which I was very pleased about. Trust were an absolutely fantastic band, and their album has to be my favourite release of the year so far (with the exception of maybe Visions by Grimes). Seeing the group perform live was an odd experience, because up until that point, I thought the description of a 'hipster' was something everyone grossly exaggerated for comic effect. I quickly found this wasn't quite the case. Never in my life have I seen such a strange assortment of hairstyles and personalities. Most were incredibly self concious and barely moved throughout the throbbing pulse the live band produced. 90% of the audience stood motionless with folded arms throughout the set. One of the hipsters sported a large beard and a finely waxed moustache that curled at the tips. I know there's something incredibly wrong when someone starts looking at me for dance tips. I had no money for booze, so I tried to flail around like an idiot under the influence of nothing but good music. The beard hipster bounced around a little bit, actually turning his head and looking at the way I moved my arms for inspiration as if I knew what I was doing. I think he gave up in the end. The gig itself was excellent, although the venue was so new that they couldn't hang up my coat because they were still building the cloakroom. You can read my review here if you fancy.

I absolutely loved my time at the Stool Pigeon, and it gave me a real confidence boost for my future path. A lot of my memories of the place are unfortunately of me getting a feverish cold in the last week, snorting and sniffing my way through the ridiculously hot weather. But hopefully, the positive memories are going to shine through in time; chugging tins of cold tomato soup while churning out stories, eating a malteaser ice cream in the sun on my break, looking out towards the canal, and once again getting told off once again for constantly running everywhere.

What I'm currently listening to > \Visions - Grimes/

Thanks for reading!

Moroccan Handjob

2012-03-23T14:46:00.003+00:00

A picture of my room that I sent to a potential renter.
Notice how I've used a low angle to hide the irremovable
stains on the wall and ceiling.

Once again it looks like I'll be moving. It's no real surprise to anybody I know, as I've built up a bit of a reputation. Like an exceptionally poor nude model at a life drawing class who refuses to stop waving his willy about, or a certain football anthem by New Order, I'm constantly in motion. My belongings are spread out over five locations throughout Scotland.

Maybe more considering the occasional t-shirt/sock/pint of blood that seems to go missing during my sofa surfing adventures. But I've got just over a week to move my shit out for some French chap that wants this horrible room. There are still dead flies on the wall that the previous owner left for me, as well as a very big Starbucks mug that more or less made up for that. And instead of cleaning out the room and sorting out my belongings for easy moving, I'm sitting here giving you this nutritious blog entry. Apart from the employment front which has been shite for the past few months, everything is going pretty well. At the moment me and a group from my course have to produce a magazine for our coursework. I'm the features editor, and I feel as if I've done a good job so far. So well, in fact, that I've allowed myself to get drunk and aggressively delete chunks of people's articles through a hazy cloud of pot smoke and seventies electronica. It's not going to end well, but life is pretty groovy at the moment.

Do you ever have a rehearsed speech for anything? You know. The sort of thing you have to explain to people around fifty times a day after getting smacked in the eye with a fucking shinty stick. I sort of have one ready if someone says

Shinty - providing psychotic Scotsmen with weapons
and calling it 'sport' for centuries

"You do hospital radio?" The problem is, I have a particularly bad memory. So I forget the rehearsed speech and I have to come up with a different explanation every time for 'why I do it', and 'what I do'. So in the future, I'll point them to this blog and take a shit in their favourite hat if they ask me again. Because today, I will be explaining the goings on in the Grampian Hospital Radio request show every Sunday night between 8.30pm and 10pm (sometimes Fridays as well).

I first joined hospital radio sometime in October last year. I desperately needed some sort of experience to do with radio/magazines/newspapers, and after seeing an advert in my local record shop I decided to phone them up and volunteer. I started off taking requests in the hospital wards with Nick. Nick is a pretty cool guy. Together, we are a fantastic team - we know our shit. Many volunteers come and go, but a lot aren't up to going through the wards. I'm not being an arrogant dick - it's the truth. Many people have volunteered for the radio as a request collector and left the next week. Although some clearly can't be bothered committing, most people just seem to shit their pants at the idea of approaching people by themselves and asking what they'd like to hear on the hospital radio. But after going around a few times, you quickly realise that everyone is lovely. It's a sad fact that a lot of the patients don't get visitors, and they really appreciate it when you have a chat with them. It can be particularly interesting if they are tripping balls on morphine. For people that are dying, most seem awfully optimistic, which can be incredibly inspiring.

I got offered to be an actual DJ after about 3 weeks of request collecting. It took me by surprise, but I thought 'fuck it'. My first show wasn't that great.

The studio I present in. The man on the calendar is Irish
country singer Daniel O' Donnell who makes sure that I don't
bring food into the studio.

Some of the requests had bumpy starts and I stuttered a fair bit. But by now, my confidence has sky-rocketed. I kick start with a song of my own choice, dig straight into the requests, and play a few of my own things if there is time at the end. And of course, I spout a little drivel between the songs. Sometimes it's just the name and the artist, maybe the position it hit in the charts. Sometimes I talk about Bryan Ferry and his escapades (he recently married his son's ex), and more often than not I end up stupidly dancing around the studio and singing along to a song, which leaves me out of breath for when the song finishes. 90% of the time I have the studio to myself, and turning up a little bit drunk or high hasn't really made a difference (well, I didn't think it did). I don't get paid anything, and I'm probably not that great at it either. But it's incredibly fun and I can't see myself stopping any time soon.

Oh look, the internet is down. Looks like I'm going to have to post this at somebody else's place. One of the fridges doesn't work, the cooker doesn't work, the internet often goes down for no reason, my flatmates are constantly changing and I get lucky if any of them can speak English competently. There are always contact lens cases and nasal hairs filling the sink, not matter how many times I hoover the floor, it never cleans properly, I can't dry my clothes, the gas meter goes down far too quickly and it smells. Why do I miss you already. Goodbye flat, you were a shithole, but we had fun.

What I'm currently listening to > \Modest Mouse - Good News for People Who Love Bad News/

Thanks for reading!

P.S - The internet fixed itself before I finished. Clever girl.
P.P.S - To come up with inspiration for a title I searched my music library for 'DJ'. For whatever reason, a song called 'Moroccan Handjob' was one of the results.

La Ciel Chromatique part 2

2012-02-28T21:19:00.001+00:00

Although I'm not the sort of person that likes to reminisce, I am am unable to stop the fact the fact that I miss some things. I miss my other half. I miss having money. I miss having a working oven. I miss being five years old, having no idea what a paedophile was, building a machine that would kill santa and making thrones out of mud. But most of all, I miss this blog. No. Really. I miss the days where I updated this every single day. After a while I updated it every two days. Two days became four days. Four days became a week. I haven't updated this in almost a month as most of you are probably aware. Which is sad. Ah well. Here's to the 50th attempt at consistency. Updates in my life: Got an interview on Thursday, struggling a little with a massive report due in a couple of weeks, and I'm still a reclusive alcoholic. Going to crack on and discuss my favourite albums from last year, continuing from part 1 a few weeks back.

5.Battles - Gloss Drop

When Tinkerbell takes a dump

In my humble opinion, no 'top albums of 2011' list should be complete without Battles' Gloss Drop. After their solid debut, Mirrored, the band have since shed their lead singer and replaced him with a number of guest vocalists (including Gary Numan, oddly enough) on this release. Battles pretty much do experimental music for people that hate experimental music. The sounds are unique, but the melodies have a playful, childish quality, bursting with energy. The fact that John Stanier (one of my favourite drummers) happens to be on this album also made this an incredibly joyous listen.

4.The Beach Boys - Smile
This is a bit of a weird one. Smile was originally recorded in 1966/1967, but if you know much about the Beach Boys, you'll know that front man Brian Wilson flipped his shit and hid in his room for a few years smoking weed before the recording process was complete. Since then, the mythical album was released in various forms - Smiley Smile was released in 1967, further Smile bootlegs were leaked in the early nineties, and Brian Wilson re-recorded and released the album under his own name in 2004. But is this just the band/record label completely milking the public for the naive fools we are? Probably. Regardless, this version is known as 'The Smile sessions' and it's probably the closest we're ever going to get to hearing the original album as it was intended. Gritty and hard-hitting it ain't. But the group's voice harmonisations and melodic psychedelia touch on a exciting part in musical history, which stands out as a fantastic album even today.

3.Oneohtrix Point Never - Replica
A journey through an endless, industrial jungle from the 1980s with with all of humanity wiped out. Filmed by Stanley Kubrick. On acid. I'm not quite sure how else I can describe this album. It has the most exciting and unique sounds to come out of any experimental ambient album I've heard in my life. The synthesizers chop and change; they buzz angrily, they provide a heartbeat, they softly sigh as if they were featuring on the Blade Runner soundtrack. The samples used on the album are mostly from adverts from the 1980s, funnily enough, but rather than lazily giving the album cheesy excerpts, the sounds are extremely well crafted into intricate, emotional pieces.

2. Colin Stetson - New History Warfare 2: Judges

Try playing 'Careless Whisper' on that beast

Before this album, I'd never heard of a bass saxophone in my life. I suppose I just assumed everyone was playing an elaborate prank on me for a while. But 'Judges' has turned out to be my favourite album of 2011 along with the next entry. Although labelled as avant-garde, Stetson's playing is anything but. Wild, skilful, and completely unpredictable, the sax is completely transformed as an instrument, into something dark and shadowy. Having mastered the art of circular breathing, Stetson achieves fast, uninterrupted playing which will stomp all over any ideas you had of the saxophone being nothing but a platform for cheesy pop or jazz.

1. Fleet Foxes - Helplessness Blues
Giving absolutely no thanks to the generic garbage that is Mumford & Sons, I acquired an opinion that was pretty much "Once you've heard one acoustic-indie sort of band, you've heard them all because they are generic pieces of shit" last year. That was until I gave Helplessness Blues a listen. Fleet Foxes aren't terribly unique with their formula (well crafted acoustic playing with a vocalist that sounds like a bleating lamb), but they manage to execute it amazingly well. The Shrine/An Argument touches my soul in a way not a lot of music does, and the album flows exceptionally well. The tracks aren't cluttered in any way, each instrument is arranged so that it could be argued that any one of them is the centrepiece of the track. There are inspired appearances from a number of instruments and the lyrics are a beautiful compliment to the entire album.

Changed my mind this time, and I'm linking to the songs on youtube instead of making them available for download. It's probably easier for both of us that way. So here's a little selection of some of my favourite tracks from 2011. They come with the usual warning of the music varying heavily. I was going to put them in some sort of order depending on how weird or experimental I thought each track was, but it became a fruitless exercise. Enjoy -

Oneohtrix Point Never - Up
The Vaccines - Norgaard
Fleet Foxes - The Shrine/An Argument
Colin Stetson - A Dream of Water
Primus - Tragedy's a Comin'
Battles - Ice Cream
Protest the Hero - Hair Trigger
The Beach Boys - Surf's Up

I'm suddenly becoming annoyed at really stupid things. One of my dickhead flatmates tied up a full bin bag and just left it in the kitchen, and they think it's a good idea to keep opening the windows in this freezing cold shithole of a flat. So I better end the blog now.

Thanks for reading!

Modest Dog

2012-02-01T01:20:00.001+00:00

Pictures of wasps make my skin crawl, so here's
Sting looking like a twat instead

There are a lot of bad things about getting up early. Everybody knows how ghastly it feels to wake up to a bleating alarm, emerging from the warm hug of your bed covers to the cold and unforgiving world of being awake. But there is one thing I hate even more, and that is the brief, terrifying intermissions that come on show in your head during the 10 minute snoozes. This morning I had to rise at 8 o' clock for the first time in months. I ignored the first alarm, and hit snooze. Falling asleep pretty quickly, I looked over the side of the bed. A number of wasps were crawling about on the floor. Many more were emerging from various items of clothing. Ants, beetles, and a number of other disgusting insects followed, with some taking flight and landing on my face. It was then that I actually woke up in a cold sweat. With much effort, I turned my head to the floor to find out it was just another sick dream. But those vile thoughts lingered for another 5 minutes as I groggily put my clothes on. Ugh. The past week has been uneventful, up until the start of the weekend. On the Friday, I went to a party at a friends, which kicked off an entire weekend of drinking, acting like an idiot, and meeting some great new people. According to sources I ate a BLT sandwich naked in front of two people I'd known for 2 days. I also attacked my boyfriend in my sleep. Again. Elbowing him hard in the face can be added to
-Slapping his face (twice)
-Punching him in the chin
-Attempting to wrench his fingers from his arm
-Spitting in his face
-Talking nonsense to him, which ranges from mumbling about the process of animation to shouting about utility bills
All while unconscious. Aren't I romantic?

I hope you enjoyed last week's post, but I'm leaving part 2 until next week because I think it's a bit repetitive to do two music blogs in a row. This week I'm going to do a review. My last one seemed to go okay, although I gave everything the same rating and I became increasingly aggressive even though the alcohol was pleasant. This week's items are not alcoholic, but I have nevertheless decided to drink some booze in order to review fairly and accurately. The products I will be reviewing this week are the four limited edition flavours brought out by Nestle for the kit-kat. My blog description says I have a love of cider and a sweet tooth. I've yet to expose my sweet tooth to the blogging world so I thought 'why not?'

Kit-kats. Four of the bastards.

So here's the deal - kit-kat is keeping one of these flavours based on the votes on their website. I assume the winner will be the one with the most votes, but these sort of things never seem to work out. My drink of choice is 2 litres of cheap cider, so to to give you a comparison I'm about as drunk as when I finished those three bottles in my last review. I still have 2/3s of the bottle to go. Videogame of choice is Spyro 2, the first flavour is white chocolate. Here we go!

I have to say that white chocolate works surprisingly well with the biscuit on my first impression. This is, however, my first bite. By the end I'm going to be on the verge of vomiting and my teeth will be reduced to dust. It reminds me that I rather like chunky kit-kats. The chocolate is always thick enough and the wafer adds a bit of depth. I doubt that will change much with each flavour. I can't say much else, really. Nestle have white chocolate sussed (Exhibit A: Milky Bars) so you can pretty much imagine what it is like.
7/10

Fuck, these monkeys are hard to kill. 'Sparx' the dragonfly takes the hits for Spyro, so the poor bastard is getting rocks battered against his tiny frame while Spyro chills. I really love this game, fantastic soundtrack too. You know, I used to have a bit of a crush on sp- uhm ahem...yeah, the next kit-kat. Orange! I could eat this normally, but these guys aren't Terry's when it comes to chocolate orange. That piled on top of the fact that a lot of folk aren't keen on orange anyway gives me the gut feeling that this won't win. Not too bad though.
6.3/10

It's just a cartoon dragon you sick fuck, you get
no captions tittering about how 'horny' he is

Yeah, you have to flame the monkeys at the top of your jump, and you have to be really close as well. There are some snails elephants that don't die from the charge attack too, which is a bitch because they are pretty fast. This game really makes me miss the age of platforming games. I don't know if I don't see them as much because shooters have taken over in general, or because I've simply grown out of them. I remember playing a Playstation 2 version of Spyro, and although it wasn't that different it lost a lot of its charm. Ah. Peanut butter now. This is a controversial one for me. In the states, the yanks have fully embraced peanut butter and sugary treats. But I remain distinctly British. My tongue just doesn't seem to appreciate the blend even though I love both separately. But I like this one. A lot. The peanut butter is smooth and creamy, for some reason I just can't like crunchy peanut butter. It isn't loaded with the stuff to a disgusting degree, so I'm very happy. So far this has my vote. Very good.
8.2/10

Double chocolate now. Don't know what to say about this one, really. There is another layer of slightly different chocolate under the main skin. As much as I like chocolate, it's just 'okay' and the concept feels half-arsed. I thought they might have done something to the wafer at least. Again, it isn't making me throw up but it isn't really winning my heart over. Bland.
5.8/10

I'm giving this an abrupt ending, because the booze and the early start this morning are slowly hypnotising me. Part 2 of my 2011 music is coming up next week, so keep yer eyes on this blog.

What I'm currently listening to > \Public Image Ltd - Flowers of Romance/

Thanks for reading!

La Ciel Chromatique part 1

2012-01-21T23:05:00.000+00:00

This was one of the things that came up when I
tried to apply for a job online. And they say the
internet makes everything easier.

So right after I whined about not being able to join a band, I managed to jam with a friend a couple of days after my last post. The whole thing was a completely spontaneous exercise and allowed me live a little and get drunk. It's highly unlikely that anything will come of it band-wise, but at least I know that I've improved since my last interaction with other musicians. And it's back into full swing with the job hunting too. I won't bore you with the whole process. But application websites have been a malfunctioning mess and the people I hand out my CV to have proven to be little better. Although I force myself to leave the flat at least once a day, I have been trapped inside my room with unlimited (yet pretty dodgy and slow) supplies of glorious internet. This is an environment perfect for twisting a pleasant little hobby into an ugly and anti-social obsession, and my love for music has turned into just that.

So this week, I've decided to talk about my favourite music discoveries of last year. The first tHIING (Oh absolutely swell, my caps lock is buggered, fucking piece of shit) I would (oh hey it's back to normal) like to say is that I have no idea if I'm ever going to be a music writer. I love writing, and I love music, so naturally the topic often pops up in my blog. But after reading sites like Pitchfork, my faith in music journalism has decreased significantly. Half the time these plebs spend the review talking about how horrible it was that they spilt their soya mocha latte (complete with ironic marshmallows) over their skinny jeans, and how horrible it is that they have to be paid to listen to more music and daintily tap in a few sentences into a macbook (I'm not the biggest fan of Apple products). Alright, so that was a bit of an exaggeration. But I'm unsure if I'm cut out for the whole thing. I've had people say
"Hmmm, yeah, your blog was good...but I kinda skipped the music parts..boring..."
and
"Don't write about music"
But also
"...solid review!"
And I've also had someone softly hold my hand, looking into my eyes over a plate of roast parsnips, saying
"Your blog...all of it...it's amazing...I wish I could write like you"
And although some of those stories may have been exaggerated a little, they are based on real things people have said, and it shows that reception to my music reviews is mixed. Oh well too bad, this what you are getting anyway. You can skip the rest now. You know who you are.

Hesitant Calamari blog banner '72

Okay, I've decided to split this up into two blogs. This first list is of music is some stuff I discovered last year that wasn't actually released in 2011. If that makes sense. The second part will contain my favourite stuff actually released in 2011, and it might not even be my next blog entry! Woah!

5. Gentle Giant - Octopus
Referring to the 8 songs that make up the album, Gentle Giant's 'magnum opus' pops up in many essential album lists for progressive rock. However, Gentle Giant are quite often swept aside in favour of prog titans such as Yes, Rush, Jethro Tull, and Emerson Lake & Palmer, which is very unfortunate. The band show an amazing display of musicianship without too much guitar wankery other bands of the time were susceptible to. The harmonized vocals are extremely fun and can be insanely clever at times. A must if you like progressive rock or metal.

4.Wire - 154

Reminds me of a painting I made. When I was 3.

I stumbled upon Wire's fantastic debut Pink Flag a couple of years ago, and stupidly ignored every other release by them. 154, along with Chairs Missing, has an eerie, anxious energy. On the opening track, 'I Should Have Known Better' Bassist Lewis thuds away manically, and upon him darkly muttering "In an act of contrition..." you know what you've let yourself in for right away.

3.Tears for Fears - Songs from the Big Chair
Featuring three massive hits, this new-wave album should be a throwaway eighties pop affair. But it isn't. It can do dark and ambient ('Listen') and it can do raucous and energetic ('Mother's Talk', 'Shout'). It's another moan about the nuclearwarthatneverhappened from some limp wristed ninnies, but Roland Orzabal has one of the best voices of the eighties and the music itself is exceptionally well crafted.

2.Test Dept. - The Unacceptable Face of Freedom
Having heard nothing of this band before seeing them on a music forum, I decided to take the plunge and give them a try. This early industrial act made use of scrap metal in their percussion, but rather than bashing objects at random in an avant-garde fashion, a great deal of effort was put into creating pounding, intimidating rhythms. The band also uses a wide variety of strange samples and instruments, but probably the most notable thing about the album would be how scary it is. Fuck the Sex Pistols or System of a Down, I've never heard a band where political viewpoints come through as raw and as harsh as this. Brutal and shocking without any signs of a scream or a chugging guitar, this album is fantastic. If you use this sort of thing as chill out music, then you are officially a psychopath.

1.Leonard Cohen - The Songs of Leonard Cohen
In 1967, before the release of his debut album, Cohen was asked
"Aren't you a little old for this game?" Mr Cohen, now 77, is continuing to tour and is releasing his latest album at the end of the month. Finally listening to his music last year after a request for a Leonard Cohen song came up at the hospital radio, I struggled to compose myself when 'Suzanne' finished. For someone that usually finds 'folk' music incredibly boring, Cohen's bitter tales of fragile minds and loneliness reach out and fill the mind with clear images and emotions. The classically inspired guitar work is a complete inspiration.

Alright, I've made up a little playlist showcasing some of the bands I discovered/rediscovered this year, and it's available to download right here. Here's the track listing too, and please remember that it's a zip file so you'll need winrar/winzip/whatever.

The Replacements - The Kids Don't Follow
Gang of Four - At Home He's a Tourist
Test Dept. - Fuckhead
Tears for Fears - Mothers Talk
Hurts - Wonderful Life
Animal Collective - Grass
The Police - Miss Gradenko
Wire - I Should Have Known Better
Gentle Giant - The Boys in the Band
Leonard Cohen - Avalanche

These tracks were not chosen because of similarities of genres. Some are happy pop songs, others are a brutal mess. You have been warned. Part 2 coming whenever.

What I'm currently listening to > \Alog - Unemployed/

Thanks for reading/listening!

The Name of this band is

2012-01-11T15:30:00.002+00:00

I've been away for a looooooong time, so this is going to be a looooooooong entry. Got a wonderful Christmas present from my boyfriend - a record player! Call it outdated, but the quality of vinyl is fantastic, and I can't help but love the artwork. Raiding charity shops for records has now become an interesting past-time. Stepping into a shop the other day, I found out that Bruce 'Die Hard' Willis had a musical career. I promptly handed the single to the girl at the counter. Her face crinkled up in confusion as she observed the record.
"This is a really big CD, you know that? Do you have a really really big CD player?"

Yep, those are my shoes. Yep, that's
Europe. Yep, that's Bruce Willis.

Work also decided to not keep me on a permanent contract. So I'm going to be doing pretty badly for money in a few weeks. But at least I still have my soul intact. I also had a wonderful party to celebrate my 'happy vagina escape day' and I saw the 'Iron Lady' today. I didn't really care about it enough to do a negative blog review, but it taught me that being old will be like getting high - people who aren't there appear in your room, you move more slowly than usual, and you don't have a fucking clue what is going on.

I've wanted to join a band for quite a while now. I love listening to music far too much, and I've been playing the bass for about 2-3 years. And in actual fact I've attempted to join two bands. On both occasions I never went back a second time. In the most recent case, I responded to a ad from a soft rock band that needed a bassist. Without dressing it up, they scared me shitless because they knew what they were talking about when it came to writing and performing music. Needless to say I shat myself, ignored their e-mails and never saw them again.

But my first attempt at joining a band was slightly different. I remember being at my parents for the summer, bored as fuck. So I decided to look up band adverts on different websites. I was quite sad at this point. Sad as in pathetic, because I often just looked at ads, fantasized myself joining that band, never replying. That day was a little different, because some post-punk band that were influenced by Joy Division wanted to start a band. They were only a couple of years older than me. Not only did I love Joy Division like a little puppy (a depressed little puppy that sung about isolation and death), but their bass lines could be played by absolutely anyone. I couldn't deduce much more after phoning one of the guys, bar the fact that he had an extremely thick Glaswegian accent, but we nevertheless met up the next day. We took a train to a part of the city where the number of abandoned buildings and wasteland increased with every stop. He turned out to be very pleasant and interesting to talk to. I told him about the music I liked and the music festival I'd just been to. He told me about their cocaine loving lead guitarist who may or may not be in the band after disappearing without a word for the last few days and how they'd stolen half their equipment. I thought he was amazing.

"Haha, no there's eh...there's? There is, haha, nothing
wrong with? With! With me, I'm just a little...tired"

Everything looked very promising for the first couple of hours. I was able to play with two other people pretty well. They seemed amazed that I could play Rock the Casbah, and I was amazed by the fact that they could actually write songs. There was no mumbo jumbo I couldn't understand; they simply pointed to the notes I had to play and talked me through it. Things started to deteriorate a few hours in, when I realised I wasn't used to playing for a long period of time at all. My fingers gave out during the songs, and the booze we were all drinking really wasn't helping matters. After that I remember getting very high. I remember them putting me on a couch and getting worried because I laughed without stopping for about half an hour. And I remember getting a bag of marshmallows, and reassuring my mother that I'd be home soon over the phone. It was probably one of the best days of my life. It's a shame they didn't give me another chance, because we got on well and I could have improved. Oh well.

Joining a band, or at least, doing something musical is one of my aims this year. I'm not quite sure what it is, but I better start making a decision soon rather than leaving it to fate. Thinking about it, I've only got about two months of rent + living money so I better get shit sorted then. However, I have some Turkey Dinosaurs in the oven, so it can wait for the time being.

What I'm currently listening to > \Veckatimest - Grizzly Bear/

Thanks for reading!

P.s - I'm on twitter now (@ squidcereal)

Christ Mass

2011-12-26T19:42:00.001+00:00

You know that mood you get in when every little thing pisses you off? I'm experiencing it just now. Every little click, every little breath, every little scrunch just makes you want to physically attack someone with a small wooden statue of a duck. I was in Glasgow today for a brief spell, and even though I generally talk about the city in a positive light, today I could not be bothered with crowds of idiots. Many thought it was a great idea to cart around their screaming, semi-aborted placenta accompaniments in car sized prams through the narrowest aisle in the shop. I persevered and got a pair of trainers that didn't have the soles hanging off.

The film that made me drink raw eggs.
Thanks a lot for that, Sly.

It's officially one year (and one day) since I started this blog. Strong sense of deja vu here, typing in the same spot I did a year ago, once again quaking under the monster that lies within my stomach (although a year ago it was my Christmas dinner, today I just need a shit quite badly). Although I'm at my parents, I was at friend's house for the festive celebrations this year. I didn't come down partly because of work, but I probably could have spent it with the family if I'd really tried. But I've being doing almost exactly the same thing for 18 years, so the change was most welcome. Because my brain had been wired to be used to a certain few things, there were a lot of times where it didn't feel like Christmas. Instead of fidgeting about in anticipation of present opening I was busy the whole day. We watched a few films, wasted time on the silly xbox kinnect and had a really nice walk on the beach with my friend's dogs. Time was also dedicated to peeling vegetables, washing vegetables, chopping vegetables, eating vegetables and watching a vegetable ('Rocky' was on after Christmas dinner). Looking back at my first blog post (I didn't have a fucking clue what I was doing, bless) but I sure enjoyed doing it, and because I abandoned a lot of tradition this year I may as well continue with a tradition of my own creation - reviewing my Christmas dinner (out of 10 this time, the superior method of reviewing).

Ham - 8/10 (although the host was a vegetarian, he was kind enough to let the rest of us chew a warm pig corpse in front of him. The glaze we made was nice. Better than Turkey).

Ricotta looks amazing. But it's
actually as bland as fuck.

Cranberry Sauce - 7/10 (completely homemade and rather good, but I ate far too much and went off it)
Spinach and Ricotta pastry thing - 6/10 (Helped the host make it when I was drunk. Interesting but not my cup of tea)
Some fried parsnip thing with seasoning - 9/10 (oh wow mmm fuck mmmmm fucking yum)
Vinegar-ey potato wedge things - 9/10 (mm oh yeah fucking taste mmm)
Roasted vegetables - (Vegetables. Roasted. Not much to say about that. ¯\(°_o)/¯ )
Mashed potato, mashed turnip - 8/10 (Or 'neeps and tatties'. Pretty ace because I made it).
Cinnamon Waffles - 6.5/10 (Spent a while making these. Not too bad. Not particularly amazing though)

And the result of all this preparation, eating, and merrymaking? Not a blog post, that's for sugar*. But I'm glad I didn't touch a computer in that time. Going onto facebook now, I can clearly see the damage I avoided. A cesspool of statuses bragging about the useless and uninspired shite people got for Christmas. I didn't get a whole lot this year, gift or money-wise, but I really can't complain. Not once was my enjoyment interrupted yesterday by the lack of gifts or family. My friend Adriene looked at me with wide-eyed shock when I suggested that I might not be spending the 25th with my parents and brother. Every time Adriene does this, I tend to get a bit worried too. But my theory now is little more than this: fuck tradition. Every so often I get lulled into a routine. And when you step outside that dull little routine life can be that little bit more interesting. I suppose that's me being selfish again. But there will be time for the feelings of others later.

I'm soooo tired at the moment, so I guarantee bad mistakes in this post. Hope you all had a lovely christmas.

What I'm currently listening to > \Blur - The Great Escape/

* Meant to say 'sure' but there was an error between brain and fingers. I thought I'd keep the mistake though. It might catch on. Just remember where it all started.

Thanks for reading!

A crusade only of the brave

2011-12-16T19:51:00.001+00:00

Watching this kind of film - a great way
to let off some steam. Hahaha!
Kudos to you if you actually got that.

Back in the library my dear readers. I've barely been away from this place over the past week and a bit, chipping away at essays and making announcements about sexually transmitted infections people have when strangers leave their facebook profile left open. There is also no doubt any more about whether or not someone will give me a job. I am now officially employed by the home and leisure section in ASDA (for the yanks that read this, ASDA is a part of Wal-Mart, I think it's essentially the same shop except the only guns we sell are water pistols), working nights. It drains my soul, but the pay is good and the people are nice. I've heard many painful stories about working with customers in retail, but I unfortunately don't have any such tales to tell due to my working hours (between 10pm and 6am) and the section I work in. I only ever see a handful of drunks per night, staggering in to buy a cheap Arnold Schwarzenegger DVD. Or the occasional parent who woke up in the middle of the night in a blind panic, hellbent on ensuring that their spawn had a Christmas present sorted at 1.25 in the morning on the 9th of December. Interestingly enough though, the store I work in sells more alcohol per square foot than any other Wal-Mart owned* store in the world. To say the least, that says a lot about the area that I live and work in.

Ever heard of Primus? Green Naugahyde was their 7th studio album, and it's been one of my favourite albums of the year so far. It's nice to see a band that is still making fantastic releases when they've been around since the eighties. Although never coming particularly high in the charts, the band have popped up in popular culture from time to time, making appearances in guitar hero and Tony Hawk game soundtracks, and composing the South Park Theme. There's something very unique about Primus and their sound. People hopelessly trying to fit them into a genre have simply sighed, given up, and fixed an 'Alernative Rock' sticker onto the band's forehead. Imitation is near impossible, mostly due to the impressive musicianship Primus displays. Very, very few bassists can play Les Claypool's incredibly precise and fast string slapping, let alone imitate it and manage the feat of singing over it. The band's sense of humour is also a unique part of Primus, and a very odd one at that to say the least. You don't even need to listen to them to discover this, with song titles such as 'Pork Chop's little ditty', 'Professor Nutbutter's House of Treats' and 'Last Salmon Man'. Here's a list of their albums and my personal rating

The band's 'in person apearance' didn't go
down too well with the fans

Frizzle Fry - 7/10
Sailing the Seven Seas of Cheese - 8/10
Pork Soda - 6/10
Tales from the Punchbowl - 6/10
Brown Album - 9/10
Antipop - 8/10
Green Naugahyde - 8/10

For a band with three members that uses little more than a bass, vocals, a guitar and drums the majority of the time, the sound varies so intensely between each album. Frizzle Fry and Green Naugahyde have a heavy brand of funk and post-punk flavours, Sailing the Seven Seas of Cheese and the Brown Album have a tight, pop friendly sound, while Pork Soda and Tales from the Punchbowl are full of hazy jams with a dark sense of humour and menace.

This guy is admittedly a little creepy. But he has a bike
replacing his hands. A bike. Where his hands should be.
Jesus.

Guaranteed for every album, however is Claypool acting like every stereotypical circus ringmaster you've ever heard of - standing outside the tent with a toothy grin, encouraging all to roll up and witness the wonders of a Primus release. His eccentric personality perfectly compliments the often silly lyrics, slipping between a nasally whine and a "C'mere boy" type of southern accent. It's hard to comment on the other members due to the fact there have been almost too many to count - constantly leaving and rejoining. I am, however, very pleased to see the return of Jay Lane, one of the original Primus drummers. His funk inspired style was a huge part of the early Primus sound I was particularly fond of, and his reinduction was almost entirely responsible for Claypool's renewed interest in the band.

And this time you are left with no excuse for not at least trying out the band, I've compiled a small selection of some of my favourite Primus tracks for you to listen to right here. Bear in mind that it's a zip file so you'll need winrar or something like that to open it. Have fun!

That's all my coursework done for the Christmas holidays, so I'll try and update this more often. I'd like to get a post in before Christmas actually, but if not then I'll be celebrating a year of this blog on the 25th.

What I'm currently listening to > \Primus - Frizzle Fry (just realised that the opening track mentions Christmas, so you actually have no excuse now)/

Thanks for reading!

Money for Nothing

2011-12-03T16:15:00.001+00:00

There's a high possibility that I'm employed now, and I'm saying that as a glass half empty kind of person. Can't say for sure yet, but after successfully passing one stage of the recruitment process for a local supermarket I've been invited back for a 'chat'/informal interview in a couple of days. So unless I accidentally vomit on my potential employers face I think I'm good. A couple of days ago it was HIV/AIDS awareness day. I have never had HIV before. I have, however, had a blastoise before, so I thought it would be more appropriate to celebrate a bizarre facebook event called 'blastoise awareness day' that was attended by 747 people. A truly noble cause to make the youth of today appreciate the original 150 pokemon. I really shouldn't leave these blogs so late, because I've completely forgotten what I've done this week.

Employment looks good. It might change my social life to nil, but I'm a little bit of a hermit anyway so that doesn't matter too much. It will be quite odd having money to spend. Over the past few months I've become very good at saving money. The problem is that I had to learn these little tip and tricks myself. There are plenty of money saving advice websites out there, but none of them seem to realise quite how bad my situation was. It wasn't rally drastic enough. So may I present the hesitant calamari's no holes barred top 5 ways to save money. If you are also poor, feel free to take advantage. If not, then it's always fun to laugh at other's peoples misfortune.

5. - If they say it's 'complimentary' or free, then exploit the shit out of it.
In big supermarkets there are quite often little counters that offer free samples. At busy times, you can get away with taking a few of the things, walking around the supermarket again, and helping yourself. These people see hundreds of people every day, they aren't going to be too bothered about your greed (most of the time). If you are desperate for tissues/toilet paper, public toilets often leave extra rolls lying about, and if the worst comes to the worst, McDonald's and Burger King have napkins readily available. Need to find a wedding/birthday venue? Some places charge hundreds for this sort of thing, others do it for free. Look around a little, you'll be surprised at what you can find.

4. - Lying to public transport workers.
You need a bus, but you don't quite have enough cash to get to where you want to go. No problem. Say your destination is 5 minutes away, when in actual fact it's at the other side of town. The driver doesn't really enough time to stomp out of his seat and order you out. Trains are a little different, saying as how they actually employ someone to watch out for cheap bastards like me. In that case, there's always the toilets. This, however relies on there being no ticket barriers at the station. And hey, jumping over them is an option, but that's not strictly legal territory.

3. - Supermarket bins are your new best friend.

There used to be talking bins at my old school, like these
scary bastards. I'd imagine they'd get pretty hostile if
you took anything from them.

This sounds awful, but you may thank me when you find a fully wrapped chocolate gateau that is still within it's sell-by date. Seriously, supermarkets have to throw out a lot of good food that gets completely wasted if you don't pick up on it. This is something you need to be pretty careful with though. Not just because those in law enforcement and those working at the supermarket don't take kindly to it, but because you could quite easily aim for that can of peaches and find your fingers coated in mouldy HP sauce and toenails.

2. - Don't stray from the magazine rack
Again, this one requires a large supermarket. That magazine may be a good read, but they can usually cost around £5. Stopping to browse them may prevent you from reading in a comfortable area, but it saves a fair bit. Also, libraries. That's what they are for. What difference does it make if you buy a book, really?

1. - Food isn't that expensive. Seriously, it isn't.

Perfect if you can't afford to shell out fo-
arrrggh fuck not a goddamned egg pun

Maybe you don't want to go raking around in bins, or maybe there isn't that great a selection. But Chinese takeaways charge ridiculous amounts for stuff you can buy in supermarkets for half the price. And going further, you can half the price further for making the stuff in jars by yourself. And it (usually) tastes nicer. Eggs are absolutely fantastic for you. You could spend hours finding out the benefits they produce. And when bought in bulk they are ridiculously cheap. Check the reduced section often, take advantage of special offers, and don't be scared to try the value range, more often than not the quality is still great.

I do hope this has been somewhat helpful, because I've avoided an essay to type this.

What I'm currently listening to > \Animal Collective - Feels/

Thanks for reading.

The Great Curve

2011-11-24T18:26:00.000+00:00

Get the fuck out
of here

The funny thing about keeping up a blog, is that it's pretty difficult when your keyboard doesn't work. It has been slowly deteriorating for a while, and it now rests in pieces. I'll offer you readers an invaluable hint. Even when your keyboard presses return every couple of seconds so that instant messenger conversations have the consistency of diarrhea and 20 different windows of google chrome are opened up, don't punch your laptop. That's what it wants. Needless to say, the keyboard doesn't really work at all now. So this blog is being done at my university library. This is quite good in a sense, because my room is not a productive place to be. If I attempt to write an essay there I'll end up 'taking a little break' after 5 minutes. Multiple viewings of hilarious cat videos and facebook statuses later and it's time for dinner or bed. But I can be focused in the cold, mechanical library. There are no friendly faces to distract me here, just straight faced law students that iron their underwear and drink diet coke. Other things. I now do the request show every Sunday at the hospital radio. I mostly play requests, but when they run out I can stick on my own stuff. It's a lot of fun, but I'm still working out everything.

In case you didn't already know, I'm a huge fan of the band Talking Heads. My favourite album by the group is Remain in Light, a pulsing album full of hazy jams, surreal guitar work and body moving tribal rhythms. The first single off the album, Once in a Lifetime, was one of the band's most successful releases. It describes a man 'living the dream', who is just coming to terms with where he is in life.

"And you may find yourself in a beautiful house. With a beautiful wife. And you may ask yourself, well, how did I get here?"

-"Hey, let's make sure that we have a really cool
cover for our next album!"
-"You know, we could spend 15 minutes fucking
about with it in MS paint and head to T.G.I fridays."
-"Okay, deal."

Do you ever do this? Abruptly waking up from your unconsciousness to ponder where the last few years of your life went? I did it just 5 minutes ago. I told myself I needed to pee before to university. And then a little while later I sort of came to consciousness, finding myself outside the university toilet. But just now I'm thinking about it on a grander scale. It barely seems like I've spent 3 years in university, in the back of my mind everyone looks, sounds and acts exactly the same as they did from high school. It's a bit of a shock when I find out that it's otherwise. At a time where I'm asked in countless job interviews where I think I'll be in 5 years time, I'm just starting to look past the mindless programmed answer I usually give and actually wonder. I honestly wouldn't be surprised if I woke up tomorrow, 5 years old again, staring at my dinosaur posters and my burglar trap. People say that life is simple when you are young, and it pretty much is. But it doesn't make a difference because we adapt. The spelling test and getting onto the next level of Spyro are on par with financial problems and essays on law and journalistic technique. It's the same sort of level of challenge, because you don't know anything harder. My first day at school. My first interview. My first kiss. My first exam. The first time I guided Spyro into Crush's dungeon. My first essay. My first blog entry. They all gave me the same sort of feeling of heading into the unknown.
I was insanely terrified of James and the Giant Peach when I was younger, and now it just seems like a pretty flawed (although fun to watch for nostalgic reasons) kid's film. And one of the weak lines that came from the weak script was
"Try looking at it differently!!!!"

Peach Schnapps anyone?

Conveniently, this vague phrase applies to all the protagonist's problems and somehow makes everything alright. And usually I slate this sort of thing for misleading children. But I think this line is actually pretty relevant. People are very concerned with where they are heading in life. When pressure rears it's ugly potato head, a lot of people cry 'depression!' or 'stress!' If you just blame an unfair life or some non existent illness, then everything is pretty daunting. Try looking at it as another challenge. How did I get here? Who knows. Just forget about it and enjoy yourself for the time being. Life and its experiences are worth all the money in the world. Although my bank can't seem to agree with me on this.

The spell-checker doesn't work (it listed 'but' as a spelling mistake) so although I'm taking extra care there will probably be something silly regardless. Still no zombie photos. Hurry up Adrienne. If you folks give me an hour or so I'll upload 'Remain in Light' to mediafire so you can have a listen.

What I'm currently listening to > \Click-clack - The busy law students typing (I'd be listening to Talking Heads but loading up youtube crashes this shite computer)/

Thanks for reading.

When the Wind Blows

2011-11-09T14:29:00.000+00:00

This explosion was supposed to happen in the sky.
Shortly after this was taken, one of the fireworks hit
a window and the bushes were left smouldering.

Sorry to disappoint, but I'm having no luck on locating the few pictures that were taken of my flyboy outfit for Halloween. I feel that I did a pretty good job, apart from the fake blood that was clearly purple when seen in the light. I also spent a fair amount of time preparing for and travelling to my placement interview for the local paper (including a very last minute dash to buy a new shirt after discovering I had accidentally dripped fake blood onto my good one), only for it to last a grand total of about five minutes. I really have no idea how I did, although I can't remember saying anything too stupid. Other things; here in the UK we celebrate Guy Fawkes night (Hey, celebrating a terrorist nearly blowing up parliament isn't much worse than celebrating the arrival of religion in Ireland when you live nowhere near the place), and that went well. My experiences with fireworks aren't always the most safe, so if you guessed that me and a few others didn't follow the safety guidelines, accidentally launched a very powerful firework at a house, ourselves and some very singed bushes, then you wouldn't be far off the mark. Also. If you ask Domino's very nicely, they'll cut a pentagram into your pizza. Who'd have thought it?

[POLITICAL/SERIOUS POST WARNING, I know this can bore some people, so sorry]

I was reading an article today, about how the UK government is backing US proposals to halt the ban on cluster bombs. To a lot of people this may not seem significant. My image of the cluster bomb is playing 'worms' and bombarding a particularly annoying opponent with multiple little explosions. That's what you get for that holy hand grenade, you bunch of twats. And I mean, war is war, right? Does it really matter *how* someone dies? Saying as how we never have any say in the matter if we go to war or not, I think it's a little better to know we aren't being as stupid as we used to be. There are a lot of things that are plain stupid about the cluster bomb. The most stupid is probably the fact that the multiple bomblets it releases lay unexploded (yet still active) for decades. In 2008, it was reported that there were still 78 million unexploded bombs in Laos, from the US's bombing missions between 1964 and 1973 in the Vietnam war.

I don't seem to be able to recall this level

And we really don't have to go back far in history to see it being used. In the Yugoslavian war in 1999, the UK and the US dropped almost 1,400 cluster bombs in Kosovo. The thing that particularly disgusted me, was that the bombs were coloured with 'bright yellow and red plastic...which is particularly attractive to children'. Weapons manufacturers are arguing the case by saying that the weapon has a 1% fail rate. I'm sorry, but that's not really good enough. When these bombs are dropped, they are dropped in their millions. Are hundreds of unexploded bombs okay? This is assuming the manufacturers are telling the truth. Even if this campaign isn't successful, British weapons manufacturers will still create these bombs for countries that can legally use them. Morals go out the window where there's money to be made.

Now again, I'm sorry for the serious/political nature of the post, it probably isn't what you read my blog for. But countries like the US and the UK feel as if they have the right to bomb countries and police the world when they feel like it. We are shocked and appalled when terrorism touches our countries, even when we don't face threats of being bombed daily. The government will ignore some conflicts and openly involve itself into others. So when our countries feel the need to sign a 'less restrictive treaty', which will effectively legalize cluster bombs again, the least I can do is express my frustration at such a backwards practice.

Heading off to the hospital radio now, need to fill out an application form for something as well. I really need a haircut now too, although it always makes me look about 10 years younger. I better hop to it.

P.S - If I've made any mistakes or assumptions then please let me know

What I'm currently listening to > \Underworld - Beaucoup Fish/

Thanks for reading.

Press Darlings

2011-10-29T21:52:00.001+01:00

My costume choice for this year - 'flyboy' from the
original Dawn of the Dead. If I'm lucky, one person will
know who I'm going as

You may be a Christian, a Buddhist, a Sikh, or a Rangers supporter. But even if you don't believe in something, there always seems to be the nagging feeling that there are forces at work. The bus always seems to be pulling away from the stop, the one day it rains is the one day that you put a great deal of effort into some zombie make-up, and the day you suddenly decide your lifelong ambition is to bring back 'Jim'll Fix It', you click on the BBC news page and bawl your little eyes out. For me it's a case of everything being pushed into next week. Two friends are celebrating their birthdays, my second news day (complete with an 8 o' clock start) is on, it's Halloween, where I want to take another stab at a decent costume, I'm request collecting for the hospital radio, I have an interview with a local paper regarding a 6 week placement, and I have another early start in the form of advanced media law, which also requires a fair amount of preparation. I'm not complaining though. It's better to have too much on your plate than to be clawing at scraps and procrastinating.

I'm not going to claim to be a full blown journalist. That's why I'm eager to get out on placement - I want to be under proper pressure in a news room, I want to find people's stories, I want to see some of my words printed out and sold to hundreds. But my course really has allowed me to dip my toe into the whole thing. I've not just been sitting in a darkened room typing up essays on the theory of journalism. Dealing with real people and real problems is excellent. I've had a problem in the past, being sensitive to anything people say. But when I had a councillor flaring up and shouting about how only junkies visited the local park, I smiled inside, thinking about how great the footage was. I have political opinions, but these days it's harder for me to reach a conclusion. There are very few cases where we have the hero on one hand, and the classic villain stroking his cat and flexing his scar on the other. When you properly listen to everyone's opinions it's hard not to repeatedly fall off the fence onto one side, get back on, fall on to the other side and repeat. But that's the beauty of it - letting people decide for themselves.

Paperboy got points and bonuses, I got a roll and
square sausage and £30 a week

I can't remember the exact moment where I said to myself "I want to be a journalist" but it was probably when I was doing my paper round at half past 7 in the morning. It wasn't a particularly fun or eventful job, but it meant that by the time I dragged myself into school at 9 o' clock I was well versed on the day's headlines. People say print journalism is dying, and people also say there will be those who want the day's news in their ink-stained hands. It doesn't make much of a difference to me either way, it will all simply move online. I will be slightly sad to see newspapers go, I think. If an average joe makes the paper, they may proudly stick the newsprint page onto the wall where it will remain for years. Clicking your way through an online archive is arguably not as satisfying. It'll be the end of an icon. But I don't even know if I'm going to go into newspapers. Radio and TV journalism is also on the table (and I might not be employed at all). But regardless of the format, the honest and slightly cheesy desire to get out a story and uncover the truth, educate, or warm people's hearts will remain. Twitter is never going to take over from journalists, thank god.

50 posts, 70 followers, which is some sort of an achievement. Don't know why y'all keep coming back, but you do so...

[What I'm currently listening to > \Talking Heads - Fear of Music/]

...thanks for reading!

Someone's pinched me winkles

2011-10-20T03:34:00.001+01:00

When I went to Belgium a few years back, my family and I went to a brewery, and had a tour around the place. I remember the guide describing 3 ways of storing alcohol. The glass bottle. The keg/barrel. And the can, where he winced a little and described it as a "sorry excuse for storing beer". He probably would have fainted if he'd seen the dirt cheap 2 litre plastic bottles I usually purchase when guzzling cider. It's not the most attractive thing to drink, and some would say that isn't exactly milk from an angel's tit, but it goes down easy and fucking hell it's cheap. So naturally, cider has become a good friend in my student years. But sometimes I like to treat myself. The treat is still cider, but the taste is a little more refined. The other day I noticed that my local supermarket was selling some toffee apple cider, my favourite alcoholic beverage. When I went today however, it was out of stock. So instead I came home with three different quirky ciders, all brewed by Magners.

They look lovely, but quite frankly, they
don't kill enough brain cells

Right here I have a 'Spiced Apple and Rhubarb' one, a 'Pear and Ginger' one, and a 'Spiced Apple and Honey' one. And tonight, I'm going finish them off and give each a review whilst playing some outdated but nevertheless fun PS2 games. If you are expecting a proper review, turn away now. I won't be 'detecting any hints of blueberry and pinewood', and nor will I be swilling the stuff around in my mouth pulling quizzical faces. I have no idea how to properly review booze, so we'll just see how this goes.

First up; Spiced Apple and Rhubarb accompanied by some 'smart price' chocolate digestives and Max Payne. I can't find my proper PS2 controller, so I have to use the tiny substitute that the last person in the room gets if I'm playing multiplayer. Bit of an awkward start trying to get the cap off, but what a lovely smell. A bit like a combination of mulled wine and rhubarb & custard sweets. The taste isn't very strong at all. Like a weak mulled wine. But it's nice to not be overpowered. It ain't too sickly. I could probably drink this all night. Max Payne's voice actor is as monotonous and shitty as always. And seriously, how did anyone ever think these graphics were cutting edge? His face looks like it was drawn while riding a bicycle, with the resulting artwork being stapled onto a head by a one eyed gorilla. Cider verdict - pleasant, but not outstanding. 7.5/10

Looks like he's holding in a particularly awful shit.
Which is probably why they got Mark Wahlberg
to play him in the film.

Pear and ginger now. I hate pears generally. They're pretty much like skanky, shitty apples. The cider they produce is generally alright, but not quite in the same league as apples. Let's see what going posh does for it. Ohhhh, what a lovely ginger fragrance. Nice one, the ginger overtakes the pear, rendering it pointless. I'm not complaining. Max is running through some medical lab that's about to blow up. Save a scientist, shoot a roomful of people in the face, rinse and repeat. I'm having fun for now, but I may put on a new game soon. Alright, what the fuck you piece of shit. I think the game has glitched. I'm stuck on top of a poorly rendered lift with a metal grate floating above my head, with no means of escape. Right. Timesplitters 2. Again this cider is nice, but inoffensive, so I suppose it's the Michael McIntyre of drink. It's pretty great, but there's that little voice in the back of your head that wants a little kick, maybe the occasional dead baby joke. Another 7.5. Surprise me, Spiced Apple and Honey.

First impressions of the last bottle aren't great, because I spilled some of it and cut my hand trying to open the fucker. I taste a little bit of the spices, but where the fuck is the honey? Ahhh, there's a tiny, tiny little aftertaste of it. Same as the others in terms of inoffensiveness. It's still nice, and because it isn't sickly I can down it at a fair rate. Moved onto Timesplitters: Future Perfect now because TS2 is insane. Really. I've never tried cocaine before, but I imagine that it gets you a little bit close to the pace of that game. Future Perfect is essentially a slightly dumbed down version (but still just as fun) so it's the better option in my current state. So yeah, the cider. Nice, but lacking in punch. Same as the others. Won't be wasting £7 on that garbage again.

What I'm currently playing > \Timesplitters: Future Perfect - Gladiator mode/

Thanks for reading!

Self Prrrrrromotion

2011-10-15T16:34:00.001+01:00

If you've ever been to university, then you'll know how quickly deadlines come up. You tend to ignore the lecturers warnings about the importance of completing assignments in good time. Hell, it's a month away, that's forever! And then abrafuckingkadabra you have to pull an all-nighter to start and finish that 3,000 word essay, fuelled by little more than reheated pasta, an icy grip of pure panic, and the nastiest coffee your local 24 hour supermarket provides. I'm not quite at that stage yet, but I do have the feeling that the previous sentence will give me a fair amount of deja vu in the coming months. Me and a partner have to find a local story in a designated area of the city, and prepare TV and radio news based on it. I always feel guilty waving about a massive camera, but at the end of the day it's completely legal to film and photograph in a public place unless children are involved. Some act as if the camera is loaded with 50 caliber rounds, others can't stop trying to get their toothless grins in plain view. It's pretty fun though. I'm also being kept on my toes with an essay, some advanced law media law research, my CV for my 6 week placement next year, and my voluntary work at the hospital radio. With the occasional break to drunkenly swear at the TV as Rayman drowns in swamp water.

This what I imagined a 'trip' to be like when I was
first given the drug talk in school

If you approach different people that are acquainted with me and ask them what I am like, you'll get a fairly wide spectrum of answers. Some will say I'm a 'nice, funny guy'. Others will remember me as an anti-social creep that draws willies and violent cartoons over his work. But like it or not, it's the opinion of your educators and potential employers that really count. Right now I'm looking at my first ever school report. I was 4 years old.
Duncan tends to have a very short concentration span during listening activities
This is still a problem for me today
Duncan shows good understanding of numbers 1 to 10
That's about as good as it got in terms of my mathematical ability
Duncan has poor body control
Anyone that has seen me dance will know this is also still relevant. Lets move forward a couple of years.
Duncan's imaginative stories are super with a lovely turn of phrase. He engages the reader and makes them eager to read on.
I've always loved writing. But it's always lovely to see that your enthusiasm for something goes waaaaaaay back. I feel warm inside now.

I wouldn't complain about self promotion
if all bands had posters as cool as this

I've actually wasted a substantial amount of time looking at my school reports. People do change and mature as they grow up. But it's pretty surprising how relevant the recoccuring points are. Throughout the years all my reports rarely seem to stray from
'Good attendance, well behaved generally but with a short concentration span. An imaginative writer, not bad in art, okay at everything else.'
I really didn't know my concentration span was so awful, I seriously think I had some form of ADHD while I was growing up. Anyway. I'm currently working on my CV, and I'm trying to compress my achievements and skills into a form that's easily digestible and attractive to a potential employer for a job or a placement. I'm not very good at self promotion at all. If someone asks for my strengths, it feels like I'm bragging or lying, even when I'm plainly stating facts. People often frown upon promotion of any kind. If someone spams their blog link on a forum or if someone puts a ton of posters up for their band's show and harasses everyone and their dog to attend, then regardless of how annoying they are being, people will come. Word of mouth doesn't always cut it. Sometimes you have to be a knob end and tell the world about how great you are.

This was a little shorter compared to my other entries, I know, but I have work and you have that art project/inflatable bed/mathematics work/beer in the shower/daily sentence/tv show review/phat beat/cello to work on. So hop to it. And yes, Duncan is my name, just in case you know nothing about me other than what I write on here.

What I'm currently listening to > \Tears for Fears - Songs from the big chair/

Thanks for reading!

Yet another unexpected turn of events

2011-10-08T15:12:00.006+01:00

Like a lot of you, I spent a reasonable amount of time in front of the TV when I was young. I didn't exactly plaster myself in front of the glowing box 24 hours a day, but nevertheless I seem to remember a huge number of shows. Power Rangers for example. I loved that as a child. But looking back, it's plain awful. The action is pathetic, the costumes are silly and garish, and the dialogue would make a wheel of Gouda blush. Not to mention the questionable costume colour choices (the Asian ranger gets the yellow suit, and the African-American ranger gets the black suit. Come on now, really?) And there are countless others. X-men, Dragonball Z, Pokemon - some stand up well to the test of time, others fall like Gordon Brown's political career. And even with the shit ones, it's hard for me to criticize when the familiar theme tune plays and nostalgia runs up my legs like a bad case of rickets.

So what I've decided to do is look at a show I'd never so much as heard of in my childhood. An opportunity like this came up recently in the form of 'Road Rovers'. Airing for one season in 1996-1997, it would have caught me in my cartoon watching prime, had I heard of it. The way I found out about it is decidedly dodgy, so we won't go into that, but the important thing is that the hesitant calamari is geared up for a no holes barred, non biased review.

Had to always turn the volume down really low when
watching this while my parents were asleep, Goku and co
always spent half the episode screaming

So we'll start with a brief overview of what the show is actually about. Road Rovers follows the adventures of six crime fighting anthropomorphic dogs (one is technically feral but let's not get fussy) that go out and save the world, following orders from a scientist know as 'Master' a la Charlie from Charlie's Angels.

The introductory theme song is made up of maniacal xylophone and a chorus of voices giving sung descriptions of the characters. Very similar to other Warner Brothers cartoons of the time, but nowhere near as good. Taz-Mania had a wonderfully upbeat and entertaining theme song, as did the likes of Animaniacs and Freakazoid. But the Road Rover's one is just instantly forgettable. It may seem harsh to judge the theme song so critically, but where would the likes of Inspector Gadget be without it's fantastic theme? Regardless. In the first episode we are introduced to dastardly villain General Parvo, who tricks a scientist into handing over a formula or something that transforms traditional dogs into 'cano-sapiens' (essentially an anthropormorphic dog with superpowers). The scientist expects his dog back in return for the formula. But instead he gets a bomb, lol. The show fast forwards 1 year (or 7 in dog years, har har) where we find that the scientist is still alive. He uses the formula to create the Road Rovers, while the mean old General uses the formula for more evil purposes.

His balls finally dropped/looks like he loves his balls
pick one

The concept doesn't seem too awful until the dogs transform and open their mouths. Some characters, particularly Blitz, the Doberman, have both irritating voice-actors and a weak script. Many of the reasonable jokes are lazily turned into running gags throughout the series. A good example is Hunter, the leader of the Rovers who often proclaims "I could not have predicted this!" whenever there is a plot twist of sorts. Rather than using it as a clever, self aware one-off joke, it is milked constantly, usually multiple times in one episode. That said, Hunter is one of the more likeable characters in the show. His witty lines often break the fourth wall and are usually pretty amusing. He also has a decent voice actor behind him him, and his friendly personality makes the show a little more watchable. The only other saving grace for the show is Colleen, who is voiced by the talented Tress MacNeille (Mom in Futurama being one of the hundreds of characters she has given her voice to), and Muzzle. Muzzle doesn't have any dialogue, which is probably partly why he is one of the better characters. The only feral dog out of the six, muzzle is muzzled, wrapped up in a strait jacket and attached to a trolley, much like Hannibal Lecter. It's always amusing to see him bounce from place to place in his little trolley like a demented kangaroo trapped inside a tent. But even 'unleashing muzzle' eventually turns into a running gag, which is sad, but not unexpected.

Road Rovers had an 'adult' moment similar to the Animaniac's
fingerprints/finger-Prince joke, where a song featuring
'sonofabitch' was cut from the show. Nowhere near as
good as Animaniacs though.

The show has to get by on the few decent moments it has. Joke after joke is unleashed, and only about 20% of them are original or humorous in any way. There are many plot holes, continuity errors, and any kind of emotional moments in the episodes are quickly killed off with cheesy music and a running gag. There's no point in dwelling on things like why the dogs risk their lives for practically nothing, how 'Master' has the means to supply these dogs with multi-billion dollar aircraft, or why dogs were even chosen to sort out the world's problems, because it's a kids show at the end of the day.

Still, that's no reason to give it too much slack. Watership Down, Batman: The Animated Series and Who Framed Roger Rabbit? are all classed by most as 'kids' stuff, but none of them get worse as you grow up. I didn't expect too much from Road Rovers though, and I have seen worse. Hell, I'd rather watch it than Family Guy. Fart jokes, half arsed political rants, and 'remember that time when I...' jokes that go on for 10 minutes annoy me more than a Siberian husky impatiently saying "Quit Russian me".

I'm so inconsistent with this blog now, but I'm blaming it on my 'muse'. I write when I feel like it. And can someone let me know what they prefer me writing about? A couple of people have complained that the review parts of my blog are boring, which is worrying because it takes up about 80% of the blog. So yeah, let me know.

What I'm currently watching > \Watership Down, forgot how good it was/

Thanks for reading.

Let me put ya in the pitcha'

2011-10-06T12:25:00.002+01:00

Aftershave is really fantastic, isn't it? In the past I've never really take shaving seriously, since my facial hair doesn't really grow terribly fast. Whenever my hair has become noticeable, I've really just hacked at my face with cheap and nasty disposable razors seconds before rushing out the door. I still use the cheap and nasty razors, but I am now equipped with some lovely aftershave balm which now ensures that blood doesn't dribble from my chin and also that my face doesn't reek of dry pus and stale sweat*. I've also finally got 90% of my stuff now thanks to a generous friend who held onto my things for a couple of months and delivered them right to my door. Making do without all my shit has made me a little more less materialistic, and it's odd having everything back again. Nevertheless it's nice to have important documents at arms length. I've also got a whole load of essays and research to do, and I'm happy to get into the swing of doing things again. I'm riding on the wave of my newly found organisation skills so I'm actually getting some of this stuff done in advance. I'm really hoping things stay that way.

Ah, what rutgered, sorry, rugged good looks

Music to me, is what films are to my boyfriend. He has a few CDs. I have a few DVDs. I have a shit ton of CDs, he has a shit ton of DVDs. Recently he leant me a few films, and I've watched all of them except one. So on my blog tonight, I've decided to step outside my comfort zone (music) and attempt to review the 1986 version of 'The Hitcher'. Reviewing this film isn't *that* relevant to anything going on at the moment. But the antagonist is played by none other than Rutger Hauer, who starred as the Hobo in Hobo with a Shotgun (released earlier this year). So if nothing else, it'll be interesting to see the man clean shaven and in his prime. Here we go.

An awkwardly worded description on the back doesn't leave a good first impression-
'However, his nightmare has only just begun as a terrifying and psychotic game of cat and mouse ensues with all who pass on the road becoming unwitting victims of The Hitcher'

Throughout the film I kept getting reminded of this
Hitcher. Fortunately Rutger Hauer wasn't green, so
there was minimum confusion.

although the DVD cover itself looks pretty swish. Borrowing from classic horrors such as The Texas Chainsaw Massacre and The Hills of Eyes, the film's protagonist, Jim Halsey, finds himself travelling through rural Texas. He picks up the Hitcher (I doubt the film would be as exciting if the camera simply followed the teenager through Texas for 1 and a half hours as he wordlessly listened to the radio, occasionally picking his nose or overtaking other cars) and finds that he isn't the nicest of individuals pretty quickly.

Hauer is fantastic as the Hitcher. His calm yet intense stare is a more than a little unnerving at the best of times, and gets the very best out of a slightly clichéd script. C.Thomas Howell fits well into the role of the eighties adolescent protagonist. At times he's irritating in his flaws, at times his actions seem far too heroic for such a normal teenager, but it works. We share his fear, we share his anxiety, we share his relief. I'm surprised that director, Robert Harmon, hasn't worked on anything really noteworthy aside from the Hitcher. He's no Stanley Kubrick, but he did a great job creating a tense atmosphere in many of the scenes.

The plot was inspired by Doors classic 'Riders on the Storm'

I'm a little annoyed, because I wanted to do a negative review for something for a change. But the Hitcher, unfortunately, is excellent. It's more of a thriller/action sort of film in the end, but it borrows enough from from horror to appeal to fans of the genre. Hauer is by far the real star, and if you were impressed by him in the likes of Blade Runner (or even Hobo with a Shotgun) it's definitely worth checking out his performance in this.

It's been a while since I've updated this, again. I was going to post this a week ago but I got heavily distracted with a few things. I won't bore you with all the university work I have. Oh. And a quick clap for Steve Jobs, my walks home would be a little less eventful without my malfunctioning ipod. We could bring up the suicidal Chinese workers that manufacture Mr Job's products, but we'll keep quiet about that. Respect for the dead and all that. Dead Steve Jobs I mean. Not the workers, obviously.

What I'm currently listening to > \The Modern Dance - Pere Ubu/

*I am a very hygienic person, but you all come onto my blog for the vile imagery, don't ya

Hey Kids, Rock and Roll

2011-09-24T18:08:00.003+01:00

Ever heard of Banksy, the graffiti artist? Don't worry, I'm not going to blow some generic diarrhoea over your eyelids about the morality of graffiti writers (if it's art or a crime or whatever), but I was reminded of something he said in his book 'Wall and Piece' where he talks about something known as 'Broken Window Theory'. The term was created by a couple of American social scientists. The theory blames small problems in society for the bigger ones - if say, a window was broken in a small community, people would care less and be encouraged to vandalise the area, and the result would be that people would be encouraged to commit more dastardly (isn't that a fantastic word?) crimes. In short, the theory says people would develop a "hey, this area is really shitty, so a few cases or arson or rape won't make a difference" kind of attitude. I've grown to appreciate and agree with this theory over the past few weeks, and not just because I live in a wretched hive of scum and villainy. I've finally locked myself into the habit of vacuuming every week, cleaning my room daily, washing my dishes as soon as I have eaten, and actually hanging out my washing instead throwing it in a damp pile to fester. And as a result, I'm much more productive generally, which is good timing because my course has just started. I don't really have a point to make here, I'm just a bit more optimistic for the future.

Banksy is fine for his humour and political statements, but
if you actually fancy checking out a decent grafiti artist
look up ROA

I promised that I'd review a more contemporary album, and I was going to until about 30 seconds ago when I changed my mind. But I just remembered that R.E.M broke up a couple of days ago. This isn't really news, but I'm still a little bit disappointed because they were still producing good music, and I really wanted to see them on tour one day. I can't really say they were my absolute favourite band, and they probably aren't even in my top 10, but they are one of the few major mainstream bands around toda- oh yeah, that's right, shit. Regardless. I like them a lot, and at first I wasn't sure what album of theirs I wanted to spunk over with kind words. Out of their 15 albums, there are many significant releases - 'Accelerate', their 2008 'return to form', their fantastic debut (and possibly my favourite album by them) 'Murmur' or 'Out of Time', when the band hit huge commercial success for the first time. I have decided, however, to ultimately go with my first proper introduction to them - Automatic for the People. Long before I had discovered the likes of Amazon or even record shops, it was the first album I really, really wanted and it took a great deal of effort to find. I paid a ridiculous amount too - £14 (It wasn't even special edition, just HMV being cunts), but it was worth it.

Monty Clift himself. Looks a bit like the action man
I had, minus the army jacket and the pen and
crayon marks across his face

Automatic for the People is a very approachable album, and could not be considered obscure in any way due to the fact that it featured 'Everybody Hurts' (along with 4 other hit singles) and went to no.1 in the UK album chart. For such a commercially successful album, It's extremely dark, musically and lyrically. 'Everybody Hurts' is of course, about suicide. But other tracks like 'Sweetness Follows' seem to come across even stronger. It's taken from the point of view of someone burying their dead parents, struggling to find an emotion as they remember how distant and hollow the relationship was with their mother and father. The song could easily have broken free from the strumming of the acoustic guitar and the organ chords into some power ballad, but the musical arrangement clearly strays away from this - the track has no drums whatsoever and the electric guitar feedback that is occasionally heard doesn't spazz out into some solo that pisses all over the emotion of the track. 'My favourite song about the actor Montgomery Clift' may not seem like an award where a hard decision is needed, but I have to admit that The Clash's 'The Right Profile' and a track from AFTP, 'Monty Got a Raw Deal' are both fantastic songs that deal with the actor's troubled life. On R.E.M's take, the song is like many on Automatic, dark, but not dull or cheesy in its sympathy. But some rockier songs on the album buck the trend a little, especially 'The Sidewinder Sleeps Tonite', an extremely, bouncy and uplifting track. Peter Buck, the band's former guitarist noted -

"Given that the record dealt with mortality, the passage of time, suicide and family, we felt a light spot was needed"

The cover photo was apparently part of a motel sign near
where the band were recording, but this is uncited information
from wikipedia, so it could be a fucking spaceship

Nightswimming, for me, is the best song on the album. As that piano line plays now, I can feel my hands sweating and the electricity running up and down my arms (and no, that isn't my laptop fucking up, I checked). A fantastic string arrangement by ex Lep Zep bassist John Paul Jones and lyrics looking back to carefree times create a wonderful track. It doesn't quite finish the album chronologically, but it's the true emotional closer, with Find the River moving the tone down a notch and meandering it down to an end.

All I can say is wow - I remembered liking the album, but giving it the first proper listen in years has made me appreciate album twice as much. Experimenting with this multiple images thing now, jazzes things up a bit eh? Well, this tea is stone cold so I better empty it out.

What I'm currently listening to > \R.E.M. - Fables of the Reconstruction/

Thanks for reading you sly old dog

Forest Gump

2011-09-16T16:54:00.001+01:00

Today's current post is done from the university library once again. The wonder of free, unlimited internet, has once again become a glamorous dream because something fucked up. The majority of us have been in a position where we've been on the phone to a call centre with someone barely able to speak English on the other end. For those of you unfamiliar with the scenario, there is nothing satisfying about trying to unscrew a phone socket that has been stuck to the wall with an unholy force, while a voice tuts and clucks impatiently into your ear as you struggle to understand their most basic commands. Predictably, none of their advice helped. So I decided to wait until the end of the call where an automated voice asked how I had found the service, and if the problem had been resolved. I answered with "shite" and "useless" respectively.

Something we can all learn from. Apparently.

In times like those, I loose my respect for humanity a little. So to discover a little about the world away from humans, and to pass the time without internet, I invested in the complete series of Planet Earth for a measly £11. Which I think is pretty impressive for 15 hours of David Attenborough narrated goodness. I've only dipped my toe into the collection so far, so I don't really have material for a full blown review. But nevertheless I'm going to dither on about how breathtaking it can be. Planet Earth took over 5 years to film, with a £16 million budget. On that information alone, it's nice to know that not everything on television is a rushed pile of shit. And in the 2 hours that I watched it, I started to care more about the environment than I ever have done in my 19 years on this planet. The series never directly grabs you with U C THat PoloaR br? itz dieYing from gloBal warminG!!!11 but watching a Snow Leopard desperately trying to make a kill actually makes it seem more real than it ever was in a leaflet posted through my door or a speech make by Al gore (Poet and I didn't know it etc). Overall I'm very glad I'm a human. If you look around, you can see we have achieved stupid amounts. And it's thanks to humans that I've been able to watch Planet Earth. But when things aren't in our own interests, we get absurdly lazy. And we are still a crazily prejudiced (myself included at times) race. In the first episode of Planet Earth, an exotic bird in a rainforest does a display for a female. The female turns away in disappointment.
"It's hard not to be deflated when your best isn't good enough" observes Sir Attenborough. But, unfortunately, in the case of the human race, the same thing cannot be said - we don't exactly try our best all the time.

On a lighter note, I've volunteered for Hospital Radio, and I should be starting that in a couple of weeks. As well as getting me some experience working with radio equipment, it should be fun being able to create my own playlists. If I was a more twisted individual, I'd have the perfect music collection to potentially inflict more misery into patient's lives -
"For the man in ward 16 recovering from that brutal mallet attack here's Peter Gabriel's mega hit, Sledgehammer!"

What I'm currently listening to > \The Who - Quadrophenia/

Thanks for reading.

A Walking Disaster

2011-09-08T00:04:00.001+01:00

When I was younger, I was quite the fan of charades. I didn't know, however, that this hilarious game would be an essential tool for a certain period in my life. The period I am referring to is this past week, and most likely more weeks to come. On the 3rd of this month, I moved into my new flat. The landlord of course, had forgotten I was moving in that day. After a number of phone calls (made while dragging a heavy bag and my bass across town for hours on end) I was reassured that it was okay and that the flat door could have been left open. It turned out it was - how reassuring. I mean who locks the doors in a neighbourhood where the shops have thick bars on the windows? Later on I met my 2 flatmates. Elated with relief about actually moving in, I greeted one with a long, babbling introduction. He responded with a blank face and
"Speak English not good".
Since then arm waving, miming, and pointing have been my main forms of communication. And I've just had to show more people around the flat who also don't know much in the way of English. I was advised by the landlord to 'show them the single room'. Upon arrival they told me in broken English that they were told the single room was unavailable and that they needed a double room anyway. All the rooms were locked. And did I mention that 90% of my possessions are locked up in a flat owned by a friend who is away for 3 weeks? And that I still don't have a job? Yeah? Just checking. Anyone fancy a game of charades?

I could have done with the Demolition
Man himself to help me move.
Unfortunately I don't yet have Sly's
number. One day.

The Police were a band that I hated for the longest time. Or at least, that's what I told everyone. Coming out and admitting I loved them was harder than admitting to myself that I was gay. All I'd really heard of the Police for a while was Roxanne and Every Breath You Take. From this information I came to the conclusion that they were a generic soft rock band that lay slotted in between U2 and Whitney Houston in mothers' CD collections everywhere. But one day I heard the opening jangly guitar riff to Message in a Bottle, and my curiosity was stoked. The discovery that the drummer composed the soundtrack to Spyro 2, one of my favourite childhood games, tipped the scales and I checked their Regatta de Blanc album. I have been hooked on the band's infectious energy ever since. My favourite album by the group has to be Ghost in the Machine. Guitarist Andy Summers once said that "With the horns and synth coming in, the fantastic raw-trio feel—all the really creative and dynamic stuff—was being lost" and I have to say he is talking out of his arse. I have always preferred bands that change their sound. The Ramones have never stuck with me partly because they played the same shit over and over, album after album, which gets boring quickly. But maybe I'm just a slut for synthesisers.

I always love a good, ballsy, drum injected introduction to a song (see Janie Jones, Born in '69), and Spirits in the Material World has an extremely brief but nevertheless perfect little burst to kickstart Ghost in the Machine. The biting little bass line that follows is ridiculously infectious, and the chorus hook and bouncy synths create one catchy opener. This is followed by the biggest hit off the album (it topped the UK charts and went to no.3 in the US), Every Little Thing She Does is Magic. I won't lie - it's a soppy little love song. But it's one of the few soppy love songs I actually like and the humming double bass combined with the playful piano weaves it into a lovely little number. Up until Ghost in the Machine, Police songs never strayed away from darker lyrical themes (Can't Stand Losing You certainly didn't beat around the bush with "I guess this is our last goodbye/and you don't care so I won't cry/but you'll be sorry when I'm dead/and all this guilt will be on your head"), but the bouncy melodies always sharply contrasted with these themes. Because of this, Invisible Sun was somewhat of a departure. The sinister synth bassline and Sting's mournful vocal melody fits the lyrical theme of war torn countries like a glove.

Further on is Rehumanize Yourself, 4 minutes and 50 seconds of Copeland composed joy. Demolition Man (which was later bastardized by Sting for the film of the same name) has one of the most fun bass lines in popular music. Hungry for You is an extremely passionate song about sex, made all the more passionate by the fact that the majority of the lyrics are in French. But the real star of the album (and the Police in my opinion) is drummer Stewart Copeland. Copeland is one of the few drummers whose sound is instantly recognisable. His reggae influenced style is surprisingly fast and punchy, and works very hard to bring the songs to life. He also happens to be an excellent composer and has done many excellent projects outside of the Police. The album itself is a fairly easy listen. The songs have enough pop sensibility and hit singles to grab your attention on the first listen, and the interesting lyrics and fantastic drum parts give the album enough weight to keep you coming back for more. But next time I write about an album I like, I promise I'll do something a bit more contemporary. And should I start reviewing albums generally, instead of just picking my favourites? I'm not really sure if I should. Please let me know.

What I'm Currently Listening To > \The Cure - Disintegration (GITM has had enough spins for today)/

Thanks for reading.

Advertising and Cocaine

2011-09-01T16:15:00.004+01:00

Come Saturday, I shall no longer have to bend to the will of a little blinking light wedged into my laptop. No, I don't have robotic genitalia that I enjoy inserting into my usb ports. I am currently using mobile broadband and it is the source of much stress in my life. Not content with charging me ridiculous amounts far too often, on days like today it will connect me to the wonderful world wide web for an unknown period of time. Perhaps it will be 5 minutes, perhaps it will be 30 seconds. U R conekted!! thnx 4 using our serviC3s! But then little dongle grows weary. Lol joaKing!!1 there i5 no netWurk! lol! I am usually then disconnected, and have to spend 10 minutes moving around the room, removing and reinserting the dongle, where maybe, just maybe, my almighty master shall grant a mere mortal the possibility of 30 seconds more internet time. Who else loves technology? But yes, I move in on Saturday, woo. The flat comes with internet which is paid for by my future landlord, a decision he will probably regret upon seeing the Terabytes of ~~porn~~ ~~illegal music~~ lecture slides I download.

Advertising at it's most evil
and dishonest.

In the the immortal words of Minutemen's D.Boon, "let the products sell themselves, fuck advertising, psychological methods to sell should be destroyed". As you probably already know, I hate people that try to sell you things. Sometimes the subject of adverts comes up in conversation when I'm around others. They might discuss their favourite advert. I have no favourite advert, because quite simply, I hate all of them. Okay. I confess that occasionally an advert will make me laugh, or maybe I'll be impressed by how clever it is. Although it may entertain me, it's not going to decide if I buy a product or not. Even if I am won over by a particular advert's wit, I'll get sick of it when I inevitably see it another 50 times before it runs it's course. And it will be wedged in between the other 99% of adverts that annoyed me from the very beginning. And those of you reading this may be nodding your heads. Which apparently means fuck all, because we're being showing time and time again that some of you idiots are going out and proving that advertising gimmicks work. And in turn, this makes me look a bit silly. Increased sales means more jobs for everyone and a better economy. Which is good. Very good. And without revenue from advertising, many newspapers and magazines would be left floundering financially. It would be nice if adverts were a bit more honest, though, wouldn't it? Yes, your cereal may be wholegrain and it may have no artificial colours, but it's 35% sugar and it's turning your children into a gaggle of Jabba the Hutt lookalikes. I suppose honesty doesn't sell though. And I suppose moaning, 19 year old Scottish bloggers don't run the world.

I can't use my fingers to count the amount of places I've slept in the past few weeks. I'm a lot less fussy when it comes to finding a place to rest my head now, but all the same I'm looking forward to a bed that I own. So a big thank you to anyone reading this who has let me crash at theirs from the last month. I'll pay everyone back in some way, I promise.

What I'm Currently Listening to > \Minutemen - Double Nickels on the Dime/

Thanks for reading!

P.S - Let me know what you think of my new banner and my new layout in general.

Another Record

2011-08-24T23:41:00.002+01:00

I keep getting annoyed at myself for not updating this often enough. The days have really been going by pretty quickly. And it makes me think about what I have achieved in the summer. In terms of enjoying myself, it's been fantastic. T in the Park was excellent. I've secured myself a great boyfriend. I've been putting my past self to shame in terms of alcohol consumption. I've watched acclaimed motion pictures such as Zombie Flesh-eaters, Sharktopus, and Hobo with a Shotgun (courtesy of said boyfriend). And I've found a flat to move into soon. Fantastic. Hours of looking up shady adverts just so I can plunge myself into debt more. And at the start of the summer I told myself I'd start learning French again. Past me is an idiot and he needs a punch.

I don't even know what they are talking about,
but it's probably something you've never heard of

You know what was a huge disappointment for me? The book/motion picture High Fidelity. The story has its moments, but it failed to live up to my odd little expectations. Having heard a little about it, I assumed it was going to be about 3 guys in a record shop that made top 5 lists all day and got up to a whole load of hi-jinks. And to an extent it was. But then it decided to slide down the piss covered little chute of a romantic comedy. And the protagonist's constant moaning got on my tits (fair enough I moan on this, but by christ I don't go out and make a whole book of my my smug little views on whether eggy bread should be called french toast or whatever the fuck). But despite my disappointment it made me want to work in a record shop. I've given up on this pursuit due to the fact that whenever I ask such places if they have positions available they snort derisively and look up from a stack of limited edition Sonic Youth records just so they can say 'no'. Nevertheless I love the whole atmosphere of these places. Sometimes I'll hear something that's playing on the shop's sound system, I'll ask about it, and I'll be opened up to a whole new world of bands/musicians. No matter how much music you listen to, there's always going to be doors you haven't checked out. That band you don't like that much? You might just start to love them. Or you could just hate them even more. But it's good to be informed about bands you don't even like (this comes from someone who has been late more than once because he was looking up the discography of a band he'd never even listened to before). Another thing about record shops I love is the fact that the experience isn't just an audio one. Walking through the second hand section can be like walking through an art gallery. The more inspired album artwork is something to really admire. And it's probably something I do as a complete creep, but I just love the smell of that cardboard and vinyl. The scent of a record shop isn't one of 'buy this' it's one of warmth and history. Or maybe febreeze.

My last blog makes out that I think news stories are pretty close to fantasy, which isn't really what I aimed for. I just think that it's hard to grasp the concept of goings on in space when you are sitting in your living room, and that despite the fact that news outlets usually make every efforts to stick to the facts there's always the possibility that they fucked up or exaggerated, so sorry if I didn't make that clear. It's incredibly hot in here, so I might just watch some b-movie horror from my boyfriend's massive pile to entertain myself for the time being. I also have the horrible feeling that I've done a blog exactly like this before, but if that's the case then maybe I just really like record shops so fuck the police.

What I'm currently listening to > \The Clash - London Calling/

As always, thanks for reading!