Junior Wells championed the Bee Gees’ “In the event of something happening to me …” as one of the best opening lines to anything, and he’s right. What others occur to you, readers? Books, movies, songs …
Y’know, readers, we’ve had a fair number of Best/Worst Album threads over the years. And why not? Nothing like getting into a robust manly froth over Your Favourite Band’s Best Album (Which Sucks, Incidentally). But we’ve been ignoring a vast untapped source of musical debate – albums that fall between the twin poles of Godlike Shining Genius and Irredeemable Shite. So lets hear it for those “grey area” albums, neither over- nor under-rated, which sit comfortably at the centre of the Venn Diagram of Nothing To Get Excited About! I’ll start the ball rolling by casting a vote for, oh, I don’t know … can’t think of one right now … I may fatdad a few if they occur to me … anyway. That’s it! Roll up your sleeves and get stuck into this bold new thread initiative!
(NB MODS – PSE PUT THIS THREAD OUT OF ITS MISERY IF IT STARTS TO STAGGER – DON’T WANT IT TO AFFECT THE CORE VALUES OF THE SAUCECRAFT©® BRAND) (PS BETTER DELETE THIS NB TOO – TX!)
Trump makes me very nearly physically sick. Separating those families, locking their kids in cages. The stupid, obnoxious way he looks and talks. His incoherence, his vile opinions, his brutal dismantling of everything that doesn’t have his name in gold on the front. And the following he encourages. When the Mueller team first got their feet under their desks I was following their every move. The sleazy characters they dragged in front of the camera with their cheap spiel seemed almost entertaining. People I never wanted to see or hear again were occupying the highest positions in American government, spouting lies, evading questions, stirring up the morons who’d follow Trump even if a tape of him screwing his daughter surfaced. Morons who think that Russia is on their side, more than the FBI. Insane times.
I don’t know exactly where the tipping point occurred for me. Certainly the ICE border lock-ups provided the first literally unwatchable footage from the Trump administration. And I got sick of Michael Avenatti, whose screen-hogging cliché-ridden rants quickly became as tiresome as his opponents’. Shep Smith at Fox News – of all places – provides an oasis of sharp and reasoned commentary. Rachel Maddow, Steven » Continue Reading.
Back In The Saddle is a lovely little documentary about the making of Blazing Saddles that’s worth a half hour of your time. Everyone involved obviously has genuine affection for the movie and each other (and the money it made them). There’s some fascinating outtakes, great interviews, comfy pullovers, and insights into the anti-racist message that was at the heart of the movie. I’m probably not allowed to use the N word here (if it gets edited out, I’ll find out) but the number of times it’s used in the film, and its power to drive the comedy, is perhaps more shocking today than it was back then. Oh – and you get to see the edited TV version of the fart scene. See it, but not hear it.
Bond, James Bond
This may be Old Stuff to you, of course, but it’s new to me. There’s even (*ulp*) music recorded post-’75, if you’re determined to make yourself miserable. From Bacharach to Beethoven, from Mozart to The Marmalades, there’s something for every taste here, so sit back, shoot up some scag, and relax!
From my Aged Pa (98). Thought I’d share it with the vibrant online community that is the Afterword:
Just heard from Trumpole. He wished to know what to say to Ras Putin. I said best thing, say if he’s going to blow up the world, he’d better get on with it before the global warmth does it. Trumpole said ‘That’s bullshit Ern (he allus calls me Ern in emails when he wants privacy) it just ain’ gonna happen. All those trillion ton icebergs falling in the seas are gonna cool everything down and we’ll prolly have another Ice Age. Think of big gin and tonics.”
I am having a bit of bother with him
Bayko, a building kit toy so irredeemably awful that even my dad didn’t join in (ie reduce me to spectator status). It was made of Bakelite – the material of the future. Sharp, brittle and annoyingly unconvincing, the tiny “brick” pattern panels slid onto bendy (and sharp) steel rods that you set into the holes in the base in a rigidly predetermined pattern. There were also exciting window features – the bay was the most glamorous – and non-opening doors. Roofs were panels to which the ground plan had to conform, and rested in place or, as was more likely, didn’t. The end result of an hour or so of frustrating labour was a static model of a despairingly grim nineteen-forties suburban home which you displayed with pride until you thought of using it for airgun practice. Unlike other construction toys, you couldn’t make anything other than the house on the box lid. You could try sticking Airfix wings on it, or wheels from write-off Dinky cars, but the thing remained what it was – a model of a house you hoped to God you’d never have to live in. The larger the Bayko kit, the more aspirational the suburban » Continue Reading.
The first time was at the security check at Bangkok’s busy Don Mueang aerodrome yesterday. But we have to back up a little to the earlier baggage check-in facility, a new security initiative whereby checked-in luggage gets a thorough electronic probing before being shunted onto a random flight. You have to wait “about a couple of minutes” to see if your name is called. It wasn’t, so I had a peek in the window of the security nerve centre and saw the operative fast asleep in front of the screen as the luggage (bulky thermonuclear devices and cartoon-style big round black bombs with fizzing fuses) trundled past the checkpoint. Duly reassured, I proceeded to the electronic doorway thingie, where a very nice and happy young lady complimented me on my shirt (actually pretty cool – S. Korean, dark green check with a button-in grey hood – you’d love it), pointing it out to her appreciative co-workers, before giving me a very attentive … really very attentive … pat-down and a big Thai smile. I’ve had one or two of these pat-down things before, usually a quick pass with the Derek Smalls beeper (always good for a private joke), but this » Continue Reading.
What does it sound like?:
Two good songs: Almost Always, and Forever.
What does it all *mean*?
Goes well with…
The ten or so good songs he’s recorded in the last ten years.
Might suit people who like…
Albums with two good songs, Neil Young.
RPI CHARLES “MARYLIN” MANSUN U WAS THE KING OF SHOCK ROCK AND INVENTED THE GROPIE BUT THEY WAS NONE TOO CLEVER IF U ASK ME AN PROLLY HAD CRABS HA HA LOL STILL FARE PLAY 2 U MATE U WAS THE FIRST TO HAVE A GILLOUTENE ON STAGE 4 BEHEADIN BABIES B4 IT WAS FASHOINABLE AN U PLAYED GOLF WITH BOB CROSBY THERLE B SOME SLAYIN IN HAEVEN 2NITE RPI MATE LOL MAND SEZ SHE STILL PLAYS UR ATTAK OF THE GREEN LANTERN ALBUM LUV FROM JASE LIDL AILSE MNGR
From what I read (right here on the internet) it’s not just Brexit that’s going to sideline the UK into global insignificance. The “special relationship” with the US has long been an advantage, the UK being seen in some senses as a bridge nation between Europe and the US, bringing the world together.
It’s been a geological era since Empire (although I can remember when schoolroom maps were mostly Commonwealth pink, jumpers for goalposts) and the UK has been on a steady slide in terms of world influence for some time. But the recent turkey-voting-for-Christmas Brexit vote (let’s talk about chickens coming home to roost after the stable door’s been bolted, too) might, just, have avoided catastrophe had the “special relationship” remained in place. But the US iteration of Brexit, a seemingly more alarming display of national stupidity than the Brexit vote but at least salvageable in three years – if we all live that long – has left the UK isolated and irrelevant. There are those who say who cares about global importance? but that status is a reflection of how well the country is doing. The UK used to be a country that “punched above its weight” – » Continue Reading.
Me – seven out of ten. Not bad considering I haven’t heard any of them.
How old are these people? I dunno, but if I was their age I’d be asking my mum if I could go and see them.
Hot stylus-in-groove action for y’all …
I was going through a box of bits and pieces a few weeks back, odds and ends that I’ve somehow managed to drag in my wake over the last few years, with a vague idea of chucking it out, and amongst all the dusty rechargers to devices I no longer have, crumpled boarding passes, business cards from people I can’t remember, wads of useless currency from poorer nations, hardened tubes of glue and so forth, I found an old watch. Just the watch, no strap. The glass was badly scratched and it no longer worked – the winder had seized up. I remembered buying it in the far-off days of my first marriage and suddenly felt sorry for it. A Hamilton automatic, with a glass back so you can see the works spin (or not). Twenty-five jewels, Incabloc, sweep second hand and date window, and beautiful “Westminster” hands, very delicate. But busted and beat-up.
So I took it upriver to Nakhon, where I knew of a watchmender in the market. He has a couple of glass-topped display counters and a rack of cheap straps, and his business is mostly fitting batteries into digital watches. His face lit up at the » Continue Reading.
Tigger: David Jacobs
Dave Amitri: Mike Read
Minibreakfast: Jackie Brambles
Moose The Mooche: Kenny Everett
Colin H: Bob Harris
Gary: Alan Freeman
Doctor Volume: Tony Blackburn
Chiz: Paul Gambaccini
Bricameron: Bruno Brookes
Mikethep: Simon Bates
Mojoworking: Emperor Rosko
I think it’s still too soon (and always will be) to include Sa-vile, nah then, but other suggestions are welcome. Let’s get this Roadshow on the road!
Here’s the test. You can take it right now. No registration is required and the results will remain confidential unless you choose to make them public.
Simply choose which of the two following songs you prefer:
It’s very much better than I expected. Cruise is magnificent.
Older readers may remember a brief period in the history of brief periods during which it became the vogue (darling) to apologise for stuff you didn’t actually do yourself but thought you should apologise for. Politicians outvied – is that a word? outvied? looks funny somehow – each other to see what awful event, such as the sarcastic treatment of marsupials during WWII, they could apologise for. Then Trump came along, a man who has never been remotely apologetic in his life although presented with countless self-made opportunities, and this Happy Notion was forgotten. I’m pretty sure all the major bases have been covered – all the big historical outrages have already been taken – but there are still smaller things we should apologise for (like leaving a preposition dangling at the end of a sentence) and in this thread I offer Afterworders the opportunity to step up to the plate – OMG did I just type that? OMG did I just type OMG? – and take responsibility for some infraction of taste, solecism, or bad judgement. So, you know. Be sorry about something.
Here’s the first – only sixty-three to go! Over to you, Afterworders!
It’s got to be an act (artist/group) with a significant body of work. You can’t binge-listen Clear Light, no matter how much you like their album (and I’ve tried). Binges have to be nearly exclusive, with only occasional breaks for other artists. Generally they’re roughly chronological – I like to follow the narrative of their history. I haven’t had a serious binge listen for some time (my last was Binge Crosby hahalol), but favourite acts have merited repeated binges over the years: the Beach Boys, Zappa, Beefheart, the Byrds, Shawn Phillips, Pink Floyd, Santana and many others from “the narrow field of Classic Rock”(©Dr. Volume 2017) have all been big bingers.
So I think you can see where I’m going with this: assuming the Beetles as a given (although not pour moi, merci very much shudder cringe), which artists do you binge on?
I’m sure we’re all in a state of numb shock after learning that movie mogul Harvey Weinstein demanded sex favours from Hollywood starlets. If we can’t look to Hollywood producers for moral guidance, where can we?