Maybe it’s just the telly I happen to be watching, but it has come to my attention that a lot of the actors are crying out of just one eye. How can this be? I don’t know. Any other ‘Strange’ things you’ve noticed recently?
Yeah, probably of limited interest. And I’m writing this in pieces. But…
That 80 minutes was what sport is meant to be about. One group of players combined better than the other group to produce a result. That’s the stark truth.
But the story..the drama…the emotions… It’s so much more than that.
Scotland rarely win this. We’re underresourced, underfinanced; frankly, second best in most categories. But what Stern Vern and Gregor have give given us back is pride in playing for the team, the jersey, and the fans. The marketing slogan of #asone is resonating. Even JK Rowling has signed up.
This is like Norwich City beating Manchester City; it’s like… Actually, I don’t have a comparator. We didn’t squeak a win here, we got the result on merit. We earned the points, and just gutsed out the last 20 minutes.
I’m so proud of the team right now. Players who were never rated are outshining other flashier names; players who had rocky games last time out came back resoundingly. But more than that; much more than that. When you support Scotland over 40 years, you get used to getting cuffed by all and sundry. So you start to » Continue Reading.
It seems Adam Duritz of popular beat combo The Counting Crows has been collaborating with a journalist, James Campion, for the last year or so on a book. Their long conversations gave them the idea to do a podcast. It’s like a radio show with two fanboys, who play loads of great music. One episode was dedicated to the music of Robyn Hitchcock, the latest focuses on women.
It’s all very good and well worth a listen.
I’m indexing a terrific book by my friend Stuart Bailie at the moment – it’s very Afterword-friendly and I hope to bring an interview with Stuart about it (the book, not the indexing…) to the AW in due course. As I hurtle towards the deadline, though, some interesting juxtapositions of things grouped together in the index catch the eye and raise a smile. Here’s my fave so far:
Hildegard of Bingen Hill, Benny Himmler, Heinrich
Any other fun extracts from music book indexes among the AW?
I feel blessed. I have just returned from a short cruise in The Artic along the North coast of Norway. The weather was perfect, not a wisp of wind and clear skies. The Aurora was spectacular, dancing like a fiery angel on night three, and visible every night. During the day, the sky was equally beautiful with various gradations of blue blanketing a snow covered rocky mountainous terrain. At the North Cape, the temperature dipped as low as -17. It is an amazing part of the world made habitable by the Gulf Stream that prevents the sea from freezing.
I am now a proud member of The Royal and Ancient Polar Bear Society. The annual general meeting is the third Saturday in January and takes place in Hammerfest, the world’s most Northern town. I’m looking forward to it.
On the final morning I was stood on a mountain overlooking Tromso. It was silent. There wasn’t even a whisper of a breeze and the birds had all emigrated. The snow was dry, powdery, compact, perfect for skiing. Norwegians are born with skis but it’s never appealed to me. My ankle no longer has the flexibility it should since I broke » Continue Reading.
One of the founder members of The Real Thing has died suddenly in Australia aged 73.
The Real Thing brightened a very grey, very miserable Liverpool in the seventies & eighties. Their classic album, 4 From 8, refers to Toxteth, whose postcode is Liverpool 8.
Here’s Children Of The Ghetto.
Dull live music, dry respectful old heads and the atmosphere of a morgue
Try this for a better time – contains added Ellen
As it’s half-term this week on Wednesday the Bisto family took the train to Birmingham to buy some new clothes. Not for me of course, my primary role was to dispose of my income on behalf of the progeny but my eldest daughter did manage to convince me to buy a pair of Vans, not Bedford or Ford Transit, but a pair of canvas shoes that apparently are quite popular amongst the young folk. I’m quite pleased with them to be honest, the most comfortable canvas shoe ever to grace the Bisto trotters. While in HMV she bought herself a Rolling Stones T-shirt. Before agreeing to the purchase I insisted she tell me her 3 favourite tracks. Quick as a flash she came back with Paint It Black, Gimme Shelter and – and this one really took me by surprise – Fingerprint File.
“It’s sooo funky and good to dance to” she said.
My eyebrow suitably raised she explained that one of her friends comes in to her after school dance club every week with her portable turntable and a box of records and in between rehearsals she plays old records in the changing rooms by the likes » Continue Reading.
Whilst I’m in the mood.
A much-loved purveyor of greased bird parts puts out a tender for its distribution and chooses – hello! – a lowest-offer boxshifter with no experience of moving soggy poultry. On day one, less than a third of the chain’s high street obesity farms receives its order of reformulated hen lumps.
This goes on for days. The British public panics and swamps the police with calls for justice. The fuzz point out, with some justification, that dealing with salt-fed chicken scarcity or Zinger-related disgruntlement is not high on their list of priorities. Meanwhile breasts and thighs go pale and sweaty in the backs of vans. Charities can’t take them, because hunger doesn’t kill people, chickens do. A lot of chopped chook gets chucked. Farmers and franchisees – small family businesses – bear the brunt.
The media loves it and schedules are cleared for minute-by-minute updates from the KF-cene of the crime. Slack-jawed Boneless Banquet gobblers, their pasty faces already de-scaling as withdrawal takes hold, line up to announce, wattles a-wobble, that this denial of their usual fat-stacked BucketFeast is dangerously prolonging their lives. Social media goes into meltdown with You Had One Job memes exploding servers across the country. KFC joins » Continue Reading.
This is a very interesting article shared by a chum on Facebook the other day. A clever idea, well executed. Slightly put me off wasting my time trying to win money on HQ Trivia, anyway…
Just as a bit of a counterweight to the prevailing themes of ‘how can America be so dumb?’ and ‘if only they were more civilised like us’.
The above-mentioned Joe Rogan is ‘an American stand-up comedian, martial arts color commentator and podcast host’.
‘Color commentator’ means essentially ‘co-commentator’, i.e. Gary Neville.
The depth of knowledge and skill in questioning shown in the below clip alone puts any superiority complex us Brits may harbour to shame.
More widely, it echoes what Raymond posted on here recently about the quality of the long form web-only shows like the Rubin Report with Brett and Eric Weinstein.
I miss our former contributor ‘myamericanmate’ at the moment. I keep wanting to despondently shake my head at, er, I mean, discuss the rampant dysfunctionality of so many citizens of the United States, as they descend inexorably into an even deeper pool of foetid stupidity than the one that the country that I call home seems to have its sat-nav set for. The latest retrograde neanderthal to raise his skinny little fist and bang the table in rage is the moron in charge of the N.R.A. But he’s just the most recent in a long line of rabble-rousing bigots who wilfully exploit a constitutional law that belongs where it came from; the late eighteenth century. Some sort of seismic change might be looking more like a possibility, maybe if young Americans really get the bit between their teeth and start kicking off?
Stepping away from my rant-box, what do the rest of us think? Is the U.S. heading for a violent internal political upheaval? Will it all blow over and we’ll slip back to Illuminati control; anodyne politics that placates the American Gothic mid-west and shakes its head at the commies on the East Coast and those dippy Californians? Can » Continue Reading.
I’ve just finished reading the new issue and almost everything got a score of 7 out of 10 or above. Only about two things got a 6 out of 10 score. It’s possible there was a solitary 5 out of 10 given but I’m not sure. Frankly I doubt it. The previous issue was also similarly generous with its scores. I haven’t read previous issues before that one to comment on how consistently generous they are.
If everything (or almost everything) is given a score of 6 and above then what use is this scoring system? Their recommendations have no weight when they’re so generous. Without the occasional 3 out of 10 then something getting an 8 means little. I recent-ishly read a self-published book of horror movie reviews (taken from various blogs) and it suffered from the same problem. He was so generous and forgiving that his recommendations were dubious to useless.
It was my birthday the other day and Mrs Pajp asked me what I wanted as a present.
Having heard Ezra Furman’s “Love You So Bad” on 6Music over the last few weeks and having subsequently spent far too much time watching him on YouTube, I told Mrs P that I would like an Ezra Furman CD (I had to spell the name out E-z-r-a-F- and so on) and I mentioned Perpetual Motion People, partly because of Body Was Made and Lousy Connection and partly because Transangelic Exodus was not then out.
Anyway, Mrs P bought me Day Of The Dog because – she said – she didn’t like the look of the others.
Now, I don’t want to seem ungrateful, but despite my reasonably explicit request, I am getting a CD (it is on its way from Amazon) on the basis of what Mrs P (not ever likely to be, or want to be, an Afterworder) liked the look of.
Have I been hard done by?
Still, it doesn’t stop me buying the others for myself, does it?
A gentle reminder to those taking part to do the following: If you’ve not sent your ‘it’s cold’ CD – 12 tracks – to the others in your group do so asap. If you’ve received them but not let your swap buddies know it would be nice if you could. If you’ve not yet received a CD that someone has told you they’ve posted and should have arrived, drop them a line.
If you’ve not sent us your track listing please do so.
If you’ve not listened to your received CDs – again, time to do so, so that:
1 March or thereabouts we will start a blog post for you to post your blind reviews of each other’s efforts. Get ready to claim that that obscure prog jazz track is just genius….
Then after a fortnight or so myself and @kid-dynamite will post your track listings so that obscure prog-jazz genius track may turn out to be by Shed Seven…
To recap for those stuck in ’71:HGY (Hepworth’s Golden Year).
Fergie (née Stacy Ann Ferguson) used to be one of the Black Eyed Peas, a musical act that built an unparalleled reputation for wil(-i-am)ful godawfulness. On Sunday night Fergie performed her unique version of America’s National Anthem at an all star NBA match. Operating under the misguided belief that Marilyn Monroe singing I Wanna Be Loved By You represents the high-point of female jazz voice, and with a vocal delivery that mangled so many consonants it caused a mass outbreak of Irritable Vowel Syndrome in millions of viewers, she vainly attempted to project the hitherto comparatively dull image of the American flag blowing in the breeze as the lyrical equivalent of a booty call.
As if her performance wasn’t proof enough of her lack of self-awareness her subsequent apology has raised the vanity bar even further reaching peak hubris with the following comment:
“I’m a risk taker artistically, but clearly this rendition didn’t strike the intended tone.”
Ignoring the fact that the only artistic risk she’s ever taken is choosing her stage name in tribute to the man who engineered the 1999 treble her statement begs the question: » Continue Reading.
My kids cannot believe this was our fun back in the day.
… or how Keith Emerson’s drunk noodling on a keyboard led to a revolution
Madame Vulpes will be accompanying me to see Spiro, Leveret & Three Cane Whale in a folktastic acoustic triple-header at St. Georges in Bristol on Sunday 4th March. This is something to celebrate, as this promises to be a humdinger gig; it’s damn near sold out, so I’m not the only one who thinks so. In fact, I’ve been so excited at the prospect that I’ve accidentally bought twice as many tickets as I need, due to profound inattention to detail and congenital stupidity. So…..
If any pair of Afterworders would like to take the 2 spares, they are yours for the asking. Just give me a shout and we’ll hand ’em over outside the gig on the night, or I’ll post ’em to you ahead of time if you like.
Have no fear, you’ll be sitting a fair way from where we will, so there’s no need to be anxious about musky Vulpine pongs or fleas and that.
It was a period of songwriting hiatus for Bob and the Heartbreakers were a bit bored with each other ,according to this clip and the period has been written off a bit and only documented with the Gillian Armstrong directed film of the Sydney show.
But with TP gone you’d think it would be a period ripe for the deluxe treatment.
Of interest to one or two folks round here I expect…
As a “companion piece” to Bingo Little’s Pick Of The Flicks thread, in much the same way as The God Delusion is a companion piece to The Bible, I’d like to propose a thread dedicated to your worst cinematic experiences of the year. I don’t so much mean “I hated it, can’t see why everyone else liked it” heated debates, but more those films that you would unreservedly tell everyone not to waste their time and money on, in the certain knowledge that anyone would be wasting their time and money. Our very own Golden Raspberries, if you like. So which movies represented -to use a way-too-common IMDB reviewers’ clichè- “two hours of your life that you’ll never get back”?
I noticed in Ian Anderson’s editorial in the current fRoots (formerly ‘Folk Roots – the long-ago disguising of its origins perhaps ironic in the circumstances) that he despairs at the current audience demographic at folk music shows in England, which he notes has been a long-ticking time bomb.
In short, almost all the punters – even at shows by young performers (‘BBC folk-person-under-30-of-the-year’ awardees et al.) – are in their 60s and beyond. He ends by saying that his last mission will be to try and ‘get young folk musicians their own audience’. It’s a telling phrase. 20 / 30 year old artists in the folk idiom in England have essentially been borrowing, and living off, the early 70s Fairport convention audience for the past 50 years.
I don’t live in England and have only occasionally been at folk music gigs there so I can’t really bring much to the discussion, but from my limited experience Ian’s words ring true. What say others here?
The question isn’t about people saying ‘Oh, I saw young Sophie Swithins at the Toad & Sandcastle folk club last week and she was really good – and only 29!’ – it’s a matter » Continue Reading.