….dashed fine tune by that Belfast fellow, though.
All the blimmin rubbish that gets repackaged and remastered…. THIS is a bit more chuffin like it.
More beautifully produced, overpriced nonsense… but a crackin’ tracklist, and good on TRS for continuing to try and educate their audience.
They would probably make more money for the Willie Dixon Foundation if they just stuck their imprimatur on a CD of this material. But perhaps that’s to come.
Netflix is just about to release The Other Side of the Wind. Of interest to hopelessly unfashionable people like me who lap up anything to do with Probably The Best Director In The World. It’s probably completely incomprehensible…. hurrah!
Taking a break from being present when people die in suspicious circumstances, the Can’t Stand Me Now Hitmaker scoffs an enormous breakfast and gets it for free for so doing.
Dignified, isn’t it? The man who once complained about Englishmen who wear baseball caps is now boasting about how expensive his dog is while eating an alleged breakfast that has a load of CHIPS on it as if that a fucking thing.
Where’s me baseball cap? I might even put it on backwards.
Jessie Ware’s lovely Tough Love album features, buried in a cast o’ thousands, a violinist called Tom Piggot-Smith.
Any more like this?
Do we really want them back?
….I don’t mean the ones on my BMX, I’m quite happy with them.
I mean these weight things that people put on their records to improve the sound. Are they any good? I’m considering buying one but part of me thinks they may be moonshine, like those guys who used to put CDs in the freezer and Bacofoil on their curtains to improve the sound of their copy of Brothers in Arms.
With the sun baking the pavements and England with a semi on (steady!) we’re back in the summer of 1990.
The Berlin Wall has just come down…. Nelson Stanley Mandela is going straight…. Maggie Thatcher is about to be hilariously defenestrated by her own “friends” in grey suits…. I am 16 and have left my shit school and am about to start two years of magnificent hairy DOSS at an FE college. The world – specifically its bars and its thighs – opens before me. Life is very interesting indeed.
Arguably best of all, the “cultural revolution” of the 80s has been relaxed and under this perestroika it is alright to like a lot of pre-punk stuff like the Fabs, the Stones and even the Zeps and the Floyds. And it’s all out there on CD. And there’s some corking new stuff out there too. What a time to be alive!
The great Anthony Aloysius St. John Hancock went to the great 23 Railway Cuttings in the sky 50 years ago this week. Your favourite moments please… and no “misselanious rubbish”.
This story is probably old news to a lot of you folks, but worth reading.
51 years after his death, John Coltrane still ain’t done…
…. that’s what I want to know. I think this wee feller is on the run.
So Fishbone’s Ghetto Soundwave comes up on shuffle and I notice, besides how satisfyingly meaty the drums are, the lyrics: There`s another cry of murder Policeman shoot down baby brother Shot him, shot him down in the street But did they know the mother`s grief Were they sure they got the right one Did they know he was her only son A father tries to feed his family They come here to find their opportunity Living, living, living in the streets With their dreams and with their humility Can`t we see all the pain and hurt They love this land maybe more than us It`s a ghetto soundwave Gets to me everyday …
This song is thirty years old. I think if you’d told me then that these lyrics would be more relevant than ever in 2018, I’d have been pretty depressed*.
The third verse about “bourgeois politicians” could have been written any time and anywhere since the age of Catullus, but you get the picture.
If you watched this legendary clip of 999 on the OGWT with the sound off – which has plenty to recommend it – and not knowing what it was or what time period it came from, I maintain that it would be possible to ascertain what genre of music was being played from the expression on Nick Cash’s face alone…. Yes?
In fact, I suggest that each genre has its own distinctive facial expressions. For example:
Punk: Starey eyes; nose wrinkled as if placed in proximity to fresh dog turd; bared Benson & Hedges teeth Hip-hop: chin tilted forward; eyes half-closed in attitude of near-somnambulism Ska & rocksteady: knowing dimpled grin; eyes obscured by shades and/or brim of pork-pie hat Blues Rock: eyes screwed shut; mouth contorted in a semblance of acute intestinal discomfort; sweating not optional New Romantics: cheeks sucked in as if draining an invisible Kia-Ora; eyes focussed humourlessly on middle distance Country: Statue-like look of noble stoicism and solidity Britpop : pout; one eyebrow raised (if two available) Baggy/Madchester: pupils dilated; gob agape in apparent impersonation of Big Bird Prog: expression indiscernible behind huge Open University lecturer spectacles and a wall of synthesizers and/or facial hair.
Hank Azaria says he is “willing to step aside” from his role voicing Simpsons character Apu Nahasapeemapetilon.
It follows a documentary made by Indian-American comic Hari Kondabolu that argued the Indian character is based on racial stereotypes
If the only thing he’d ever done had been the Goon Show, even just as a performer, I’d be raising a glass to Terence Alan Milligan tonight.
I’d rather have the Goon Show than the rest of British comedy put together. Nothing can touch it. It’s not just funny, it presents you with a new way of conceiving reality, a new way of thinking. It brilliantly reflected Britian’s 50s fool’s-paradise image of itself back in a fairground mirror. And it featured a farting oyster, a six ton Christmas pudding and a Wurlitzer organ being driven at speed across the Atlantic.
But Spike gave us so much more – the war memoirs (“Night soil!”), the poetry (“That’s why rain is thin!”) and his often explosive interventions on chat shows and quizzes.
So many of the clips on YT are of him post-1992 when he really wasn’t with it, but carried on working – churning out those bottomlessly dreadful “According To…” books. We can do better than that, can’t we?
This thread will run and run!*
People who have appeared in almost unreconcilable contexts…
My first nomination is Mark Feltham, who is the only person I know of to have appeared on both The Young Ones and Spirit of Eden.
…. the fact that filth has been flung at our innocent biscuit eaters, or that the BBC now thinks that “snuck” is acceptable English.
The great man is the focus of the next Word In Your Ear event on 1st May.
Definitely somebody who needs to be celebrated while he’s still with us…
(sorry to get Magdalene)
He’s playing a giant bass which is both preposterous and beautiful. Rather makes Johnny Mac’s double-necker look like a beat-up ukelele…
I find this story very amusing.
…actually, it’s Chelsea O’Connor, a nail technician in Bolton.
I like her.
Those Germans clearly believe that revenge is a dish best served cold.
I mean…. what??
He’s even wearing a Kraftwerk t-shirt!
*Climbs inside Victorian diving bell, heads for underground bunker*
Great little piece about the making of the Marmite-mungous 2001: A Space Odyssey.
Keir Dullea: “The first day of shooting ended up being delayed because Kubrick didn’t like my shoes.”
Douglas Trumbull: “The orbiting space station ended up in a dump in Stevenage.”
Hal nearly had a cockney voice, which would have resulted in the eternal silence of interstellar space being shattered by things like “Oi, Bowman, put dose memmary benks beck NAAAOW, you TOILIT!”
It’s enough to make you toss your bone up (hurr)