Another week, another gig, in another distant part of town. I now know how John Otway must feel. This time it was a double bill in celebration of John Peel Day, in a small venue (who's name escapes me) in Kilburn. I had to get there first. Driving in London is a peculiarly unpleasant experience, even on sundays, and this was no different. I trusted to the online AA routefinder to get me safely and swiftly to my destination, and as on countless previous occasions the yellow-clad twats let me down. We actually managed to get lost less than one mile from my house, a new low.
Anyway, having battled through all that Central London could throw at us we finally arrived at the bash late, hot, tired and flustered - but luckily just in time to see the first act, acoustic master Yakbone. Mellow guitar vibes were soon soothing our cares away while we were dazzled by a psychedelic backdrop; I sat back, relaxed and drifted into a multicoloured world of sonic mindscapes while watching the fastest fingers in the west at work. You can take a suck on Yakbone's sauce-bottle of song here.
After a few drinks, the next turn took to the stage - Mara Carlyle. Playing what can only be described as a midget's guitar. This takes considerable gumption. It turns out this is what's known as a ukelele. I had no idea. Something that the Minipops version of John Denver would have wielded, should such a monstrous creation have ever seen the light of day.
I will hold my hands up and admit that folksy ballads are not my cup of tea, but I have to say that Mara has a great voice and I did enjoy her dreamy songs. But not content with the micro-guitar, Carlyle then introduced her tour de force - she also plays the saw. The mechanics of this are mind-bending. Straddling the chair at an oblique angle, the saw is gripped firmly between the thighs and rubbed with a violin bow, with the metal twisted and bent to alter pitch.
Having done some research, its not surprising that saw-playing is a largely female pursuit.
You know how in 50s B-movies, when martians land in Kansas, the flying saucers make a sort of 'woooo-OOOO-oooo' sound? Well that's what Mara's saw sounds like. She must be handy to have around if you're putting up shelves, or laying parquet flooring. Anyway, having entertained us and presumably avoided serious genital mutilation, she wrapped things up with some more ukelele fun before sweeping away to acclaim. Have a listen to Mara's saw song here.
Celebrity spots
Just one to report. And frankly, its weak. Nigel Farrell from TV reality show A Place in France in the pub next door. A quiet week.
Recommendations:
Ignominious defeat for England and a spectacular own goal, sponsored by Borat. It can't get any worse. But England are still, miraculously, 6-1 second favourites to win Euro 2008. Don't ask me ... you've more chance of a return backing Cyprus, to be honest (5,000-1, PremierBet). Portugal at 20-1 (Ladbrokes) seems to be the wisest investment.
Every Tom, Dick and Harry seems to have a blog these days. Tiresome most undoubtedly are (see above) - now read the words of the master. Morrissey enters the fray here.
Stalingrad by Anthony Beevor - one of the top scraps in history.
Sunday, October 22, 2006
Tuesday, October 17, 2006
The photographer's art
Today, some pics for everyone to enjoy. Partly because the world needs to see them, partly because I've just worked out how to do it and want to flex my fairly weedy HTML muscles. A small selection of stupid stuff I've been sent over the years. You no doubt have a similar collection yourself. They're not big, they're not clever, but they made me and my mates laugh at the time.
First its a party, Irish style. You need to click on the image for the full effect:
Darwin award winners don't usually survive ... sadly this one did
Administering extreme unction:
Trophy time:
And finally, perhaps my favourite photo of all time, continuing our cock and balls theme. Taken from the roof of Bristol University by my friend 'Dirty' Ray:
It doesn't get much better than that.
Recommendations:
OK. So we lost in Croatia - another fiver down the drain. Never mind. This week I am backing Sri Lanka to win the ICC Champions trophy at 5-1 (Stan James). Don't back England (a stunning 33-1 for the tournament). Our star is definitely not in the ascendant.
This week I have been listening to the splendid White Rose Movement
Birding mayhem. Red-flanked Bluetail in Suffolk, Greenish Warbler in Yorkshire, Roller in Northumberland ... when will the madness end?
Right. Better go do some work now ...
First its a party, Irish style. You need to click on the image for the full effect:
Darwin award winners don't usually survive ... sadly this one did
Administering extreme unction:
Trophy time:
And finally, perhaps my favourite photo of all time, continuing our cock and balls theme. Taken from the roof of Bristol University by my friend 'Dirty' Ray:
It doesn't get much better than that.
Recommendations:
OK. So we lost in Croatia - another fiver down the drain. Never mind. This week I am backing Sri Lanka to win the ICC Champions trophy at 5-1 (Stan James). Don't back England (a stunning 33-1 for the tournament). Our star is definitely not in the ascendant.
This week I have been listening to the splendid White Rose Movement
Birding mayhem. Red-flanked Bluetail in Suffolk, Greenish Warbler in Yorkshire, Roller in Northumberland ... when will the madness end?
Right. Better go do some work now ...
Monday, October 16, 2006
Macedonia and the Lucky Rabbit
More football talk. Sorry Americans.
England. God almighty. I'm sorry but I have to get it off my chest.
I watched the game on saturday at my friend Yakbone's house. If you missed it England were held 0-0 at home by Macedonia - the only team in football history to have lost a game to that mighty footballing powerhouse, Andorra. I think its fair to say that the McLaren honeymoon is over. We were truly diabolical. Even the presence of Yakbone's lucky rabbit (which won Liverpool the FA Cup) failed to lift us. After the cup final I threatened to skin and eat that fucking rabbit, though having seen him in action my feelings have softened a little; miraculously, in the five seconds when he stopped nibbling house plants and actually faced the telly, Gerrard hit the bar. In a performance otherwise utterly devoid of spirit, skill, flair, or shots on goal, I think the two incidents might well be related.
But in the cold light of day, is anyone actually that surprised we're suddenly shit? Middlesborough were hardly world-beaters last season. We remarked before the game that this was genuinely England's best side out there; barring the return of Rio Ferdinand, we simply can't put out a better XI. Yet up front we have Crouch. OK he scores goals against the likes of Liechtenstein, Trinidad & Tobago and Iceland, but haven't we learned that lumping the ball long to the big donkey up front just doesn't work at the highest level? Did Emile Heskey slip, slide and fall over a lot around opposition penalty boxes in vain?
Terry - OK. Robinson - not bad. Stuart Downing, though? Please - he's not even the best left-footer in Middlesborough. I'd sooner have Stuart Hall play there.
Carrick? Hardly Claude Makalele, is he. Then there's Gerrard. Our one remaining world-class star, for some reason, is played out of position on the right. Who's bright idea was that?
And last, but by no means least in this tide of turds, there's Lampard. Clueless and out of his depth. He's supposed to be the new David Platt, ghosting in to the box late, but he's more like the old and very dull Ray 'The Crab' Wilkins - exhibiting a breathtaking array of short, usually sideways passes while moving no more than 20 yards either side of the centre circle.
Which gives me a good excuse to tell my favourite Lampard story. Its West Ham v Chelsea last season, and ex-Hammer Frank is getting the bird from the Upton Park crowd. Collecting the ball in midfield, Lampard is sent into orbit by a crunching tackle from West Ham's midfield hardman, the journeyman Carl Fletcher. Standing over his prostrate victim, Fletcher is then seen to mouth the words
"Welcome back, you fat cunt"
Fantastic. Who says Premiership stars don't care?
Anyway, England. Will we qualify? Yes. Will it lead to yet another feeble finals exit with tears and a sending-off? Yes. I know virtually nothing about Macedonia, save for the fact that its near Greece and spawned Alexander the Great. But sod it, I think I'll support them for a while - they seem to have more fun. And at the moment they have better players too.
This week's celebrity spots: a couple of corkers for you this week. First, the girl who played Beppe's sister in Eastenders striding up Oxford Street. Too much fake tan. Second, former Visage frontman Steve Strange. I was fairly sure he was dead but no, there he was, large as fucking life, outside Tescos.
Recommendations:
Last week I typed this out:
"If Peter Crouch is the answer, what was the question? Macedonia to hold out for a 0-0 draw with England at 12-1 (Stan James)"
Unfortunately I was sidetracked and never finished posting the blog. Bet you don't believe me. But never mind. This week I am backing England to silence the doubters (see above) and bounce back to win in Zagreb, at a best-priced 11/8 (BetSquare)
I am liking the Klaxons' work
Canada Warbler in Cork - a stunning first for the Western Palearctic
England. God almighty. I'm sorry but I have to get it off my chest.
I watched the game on saturday at my friend Yakbone's house. If you missed it England were held 0-0 at home by Macedonia - the only team in football history to have lost a game to that mighty footballing powerhouse, Andorra. I think its fair to say that the McLaren honeymoon is over. We were truly diabolical. Even the presence of Yakbone's lucky rabbit (which won Liverpool the FA Cup) failed to lift us. After the cup final I threatened to skin and eat that fucking rabbit, though having seen him in action my feelings have softened a little; miraculously, in the five seconds when he stopped nibbling house plants and actually faced the telly, Gerrard hit the bar. In a performance otherwise utterly devoid of spirit, skill, flair, or shots on goal, I think the two incidents might well be related.
But in the cold light of day, is anyone actually that surprised we're suddenly shit? Middlesborough were hardly world-beaters last season. We remarked before the game that this was genuinely England's best side out there; barring the return of Rio Ferdinand, we simply can't put out a better XI. Yet up front we have Crouch. OK he scores goals against the likes of Liechtenstein, Trinidad & Tobago and Iceland, but haven't we learned that lumping the ball long to the big donkey up front just doesn't work at the highest level? Did Emile Heskey slip, slide and fall over a lot around opposition penalty boxes in vain?
Terry - OK. Robinson - not bad. Stuart Downing, though? Please - he's not even the best left-footer in Middlesborough. I'd sooner have Stuart Hall play there.
Carrick? Hardly Claude Makalele, is he. Then there's Gerrard. Our one remaining world-class star, for some reason, is played out of position on the right. Who's bright idea was that?
And last, but by no means least in this tide of turds, there's Lampard. Clueless and out of his depth. He's supposed to be the new David Platt, ghosting in to the box late, but he's more like the old and very dull Ray 'The Crab' Wilkins - exhibiting a breathtaking array of short, usually sideways passes while moving no more than 20 yards either side of the centre circle.
Which gives me a good excuse to tell my favourite Lampard story. Its West Ham v Chelsea last season, and ex-Hammer Frank is getting the bird from the Upton Park crowd. Collecting the ball in midfield, Lampard is sent into orbit by a crunching tackle from West Ham's midfield hardman, the journeyman Carl Fletcher. Standing over his prostrate victim, Fletcher is then seen to mouth the words
"Welcome back, you fat cunt"
Fantastic. Who says Premiership stars don't care?
Anyway, England. Will we qualify? Yes. Will it lead to yet another feeble finals exit with tears and a sending-off? Yes. I know virtually nothing about Macedonia, save for the fact that its near Greece and spawned Alexander the Great. But sod it, I think I'll support them for a while - they seem to have more fun. And at the moment they have better players too.
This week's celebrity spots: a couple of corkers for you this week. First, the girl who played Beppe's sister in Eastenders striding up Oxford Street. Too much fake tan. Second, former Visage frontman Steve Strange. I was fairly sure he was dead but no, there he was, large as fucking life, outside Tescos.
Recommendations:
Last week I typed this out:
"If Peter Crouch is the answer, what was the question? Macedonia to hold out for a 0-0 draw with England at 12-1 (Stan James)"
Unfortunately I was sidetracked and never finished posting the blog. Bet you don't believe me. But never mind. This week I am backing England to silence the doubters (see above) and bounce back to win in Zagreb, at a best-priced 11/8 (BetSquare)
I am liking the Klaxons' work
Canada Warbler in Cork - a stunning first for the Western Palearctic
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