Wednesday, December 20, 2006

Xmas CD 2006: The Wait is Over


Well, in the words of Slade, Mama, weer all Crazee now. Or did I mean, Eeeeeeet's Chreeeeeeeesmessssssss? Actually, that's probably what I meant. However, I think using the backspace key shows a lack of spine, so I'll just have to leave it up there. Below is My Opinion on the tracks that I put on your Christmas CD. (The reviews start off a bit weakly, I think, but they get better as it goes on. I'll give myself 7/10. Mainly on the strength of this brilliant introduction though, which were it not dragged down by this sentence, would get 9/10 alone.)

The Knife - Like a Pen
Er, they're Swedish. That's all I know. Nice bassline. Er, I think they lyrics might be rude. Damn, I should have started with a track that I can write about, shouldn't I. Oh sod.

Beck - Cellphone's Dead
Beckity Beck-Beck makes it to his second Xmas compilation in a row, an honour unique in history, which surely will please the little lad. Here, he merrily rips off Herbie Hancock's Chameleon (off the 'Head Hunters' album). Cheeky. I think he started shaving this year. Huzzah.

Devendra Banhart - I Feel Just Like a Child
Singer/Songwriter and leader of the hairiest backing band around, Banhart wears his weirdness like a big hat. This is the obvious cross-over hit to get the radio dancing, but the album it's off, Cripple Crow, is well worth a delve.

The Long Blondes - Once and Never Again
Winners of the Most Anticipated Album That Disappointed Slightly On First Hearing But Subsequent Listens Proved It To Be Quite The Grower award this year, it was difficult to decide which track would end up on here. In the end I've plumped for this, mainly because it's got a catchy chorus that, try as you might, is impossible to sing without getting it wrong (unless you can sing better than I can, which [contemptuous snort] I hardly think is likely]. The Female Franz Ferdinand comparisons are a little unfair, considering the wealth of people FF are borrowing from. I unfortunately missed seeing them live in the summer, so will have to make amends.

The Pippettes - Your Kisses Are Wasted On Me
Beloved of the media for the good photograph opportunities they present, The Pippettes have had a good year. It was between this and 'Pull Shapes' for inclusion on your CD. Was I right? From what I've seen, they're good live, and I think they are the sort of band who would do a service to the world by recording a Christmas single. Do it!

Charlotte Gainsbourg - The Operation
The daughter of loyal John Major Cabinet minister David Hunt (Secretary of State for Wales 1990–1993, Secretary of State for Employment 1993–1994, Chancellor of the Duchy of Lancaster 1994–1995, and then finally back to the job he did so well the first time that he did it again for two more weeks in 1995 as Secretary of State for Wales) and his lovely wife, Mrs David Hunt, it's obvious where Charlotte Gainsbourg got her talent from. Oh, hold on, I've just looked at the wrong page; that was the John Major Christmas Annual 1996 rather than my Compendium of Facts About Things. Now, let me see... Ah yes, Charlotte Gainsbourg does have a father, you'll be pleased to know, and I'm sure you'll be able to work out who that is without me patronising you. She also has a mother what's famous - I again refer you to the internet for information. She's an actress too, and was bloody fantastic in Lemming, a taught psychological thriller featuring as a central motif a half-dead lemming stuck in the plumbing. The film is mainly brilliant for the way that French people (and yes, I'm not giving too much away to say that she's French) say 'Leh-MEEENG'. In my opinion she could do with eating some more sticky buns, as she's very theeeeen. Anyway, back to music: she manages to sound aloof, much in the style of Sarah Nixey from Black Box Recorder, which to those of you who knows your stuff about cold, distant and dismissive pop music is very definitely a compliment. I wanted to put 'Jamais' on this CD from the same album, because it's funky, but I was outvoted. I never should have given the cat casting vote in domestic disputes.

Fujiya & Miyagi – Cassettesingle
I think this one goes quite well with the previous track, doesn't it? It's like I've gone through and tried to create a seamless whole out of the disparate shattered music of 2006, JUST FOR YOU. And what thanks do I get? Some, that's what. Fujiya and Miyagi are practitioners of the Tepid Funk music school, which is no bad thing. People get hurt dancing, and that opens you up to all sorts of class action suits in the States. Best turn it down to 6, I think, just in case.

Thom Yorke - Harrowdown Hill
In which Thom accuses Tony Blair of actually and not metaphorically murdering David Kelly with his cold bony fingers. This song moves the Xmas 2006 CD into Jitter-funk, which shouldn't be listened to if you have consumed caffeine recently. It won't be good for you. I'd like to think this song is one that could get people swaying in time at his gigs, lighters out, as they croon along: 'Don't ask me/ask the Ministreeeeeeeeeeeeee'. I imagine Thom would scowl at that, and that would put a stop to it.

Hot Chip - Boys From School
OK, so they dress a bit archly/smackably, esp. the singer in his Buggles spectacles, but this song nudges the funk up to 8 on the dial, so hold on to your hats. Don't say I didn't warn you: hats could come off unexpectedly during this song unless you take adequate precautions. The harmony is nice on this song, don't you think? This helps the genre of indie-dance recover from the yoke of the Soup Dragons that it's been carrying all these years. The whole album's good, and they're good live. I just hope they get some nice smart clothes for Christmas.

King Creosote - Jump At The Cats
To save my poor, poor fingers, a biog can be found within clicking distance. They're good live, too, but sadly come second to Devendra Banhart's lot in the beard stakes. This song can be filed under the Jaunty/Twee section of your thematic filing system.

Guillemots - Made Up Lovesong #43
Stupid Guillemots. You'd've thought they would have been a definite article band, wouldn't you? But, according to the exhaustive research I've done, they don't. Well, here's on of their songs. We're moving away from funky and into noodly here, aren't we?

Jarvis Cocker - From A To I
He's great isn't he? I was going to have Running the World on this compilation, but I didn't want to cause trouble for you at home with your Great Aunt at the family Christmas Meal. On this track, he hectors you to take moral responsibility, which were it anyone other than Jarvis, would merit a smack. Ipswich reference not included for topicality's sake, please note. Oh, and the CD buggers about a bit here, doesn't it? Don't blame me, blame Nero.

Silver Jews - Sometimes A Pony Gets Depressed
You know, I think this song is just about what it says it is. I hope there's no arch references that you'll point out to me so as to show me up as the uncultured thicko that I am. Keep your metatextual analyses to yourselves.

Bob Dylan - Thunder On The Mountain
I'm not going to make any pretence that the new album of BER-LUES is up there with Blood on the Tracks, but this chugs along pretty nicely, and his rasp suits it well. It's the one that references Alicia Keys. I'm hungry. Maybe I should have a biscuit?

Cat Power - The Greatest
Ah yes, a biscuit would be nice. My definition of biscuit greatness is the dark Choco Leibniz, which is the perfect amalgam of firm dark chocolate and buttery crunchy rich-tea-esque biscuit. Can't seem to get one for love nor money round here. Oh well, here's Cat Power. She's probably featured on a past Xmas compilation, hasn't she? You know here by now. If I've got a complaint, the album's a little bit samey, but that's a minor complaint. Sometimes they have those biscuits on two-for-the-price-of-one deals in Tescos. Those are my best days, those days. I wish today was one of those days. I don't think it is though. Fuck you Tescos. Fuck you.

The Last Town Chorus - Modern Love
Which leads me seamlessly into my you-probably-saw-it-coming 2006 cover of an old pop track done in a downbeat slow country style. I'm a sucker for these. Just highlights how great David Bowie was. I'm a bit disappointed that Bowie did that great turn on the second series of Extras, as it was the one high point, and people will now look back on the series with fond affection just because of that brief beacon of greatness, rather than thinking, oh Christ, what did we do to deserve this aimless shambling point-free collection of knowing cameos and feeling-awkward-in-the-presence-of-the-disabled jokes. Actually, there were a few good segments, but it was still shit.

Sufjan Stevens - Star Of Wonder
Ah, and following on from the traditional cover, we have a Christmas Song. This actually gives me a shiver down my spine when I listen to the intro. I haven't actually given his Illinoise album a proper chance yet, as I was wrapped up in the Decemberists when it came out, and there's only so much understated acoustic American whimsy a boy needs, but I'm going to go away and give it both ears at once.

Tuesday, December 05, 2006

Wii (No Puns Please)


I'm getting me a Wii. You know, the world's most embarassingly named console. Ah Nintendo. The Gamecube was a cube that played games. Logical. Simple. Accurate. Although to the best of my recollection, this logic did not apply to the Gameboy. The N64 was a shorthand for its real name, the 'Nnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnn', named after the emotion you feel when wandering around the boring landscapes of Mario 64. And the NES did provide systematic entertainment (superbly, in the case of the SNES).

Nomenclature aside, its control system - a wireless motion-sensitive controller that is wafted about to control the games - will probably look acceptable in multiplayer, but I've a feeling I'm going to be self-conscious waving the wii-mote around the flat on my own. There have been cartoons about it. As ever, Wondermark (you know, the one about the smoothies, yeah?) does it best.

I'm excited in a way that can only lead to bitter disappointment. (Update: a woman from Game, the single-worded shop that sells, er, yes, I'll remember it in a minute, have just called me up to tell me that I am guaran-buggering-teed to get the console that I've pre-ordered, and then was slightly mocking when I said that I didn't want to order any games with it. Hmpff. I think a pre-requisite of working in a video games shop is a sneering disregard for your customers, most of whom are grubby-palmed twelve-year-olds. I guess I got off lightly. They're opening at 7am. 7am! I think you're duty bound to go dressed up as Mario if you turn up at 7. I'm going later than that, probably about 10. And dressed as Princess Daisy.)

I'll see you all next Spring, I reckon.

Wednesday, November 29, 2006

Brian Eno and Damien Rice - Together At Last

Yes, it's been a long time. What can I say? I've been up late watching the cricket, which doesn't leave time for the important things in life like posting to blogs and sleeping. Stupid cricket.


This morning, I've become mildly obsessed by the fact that Brian Eno wrote the startup jingle to Windows 95. That's Brian Eno as in ex-Roxy Music, creator of strange pop music and a man utterly unafraid of pretentious twittering. Anyway, he wrote the start-up sound to Windows 95, which is fair enough. However, I think we've all overlooked the fact that it's possibly the worst piece of music ever written, with the exception of the Intel dur-der-duh-dah! sound that produces a Pavlovian desire in me to go out and strangle people whenver I hear it. You can reminisce about the fun of the Windows 95 start-up sound by clicking here, and remember that this noise indicated that you had a twenty-minute window in which to work before your computer would crash horifically. Ah, them was the days.
Attribution alert: I'm grateful to my better half for drawing attention to the truly nosebleedingly bad lyrics of Damien Rice. It's possible to get away with bad lyrics if you bury them down in the mix with a good dose of rock and/or roll, but if you're a heart on the sleeve singer-songwriter, then frankly, you're setting yourself up for a whole heap of mockery. Take, for instance, "The Animals Were Gone":

Woke up and for the first time the animals were gone
It's left this house empty now, not sure if I belong
Yesterday you asked me to write you a pleasant song
I'll do my best now, but you've been gone for so long

The window's open now and the winter settles in
We'll call it Christmas when the adverts begin
I love your depression and I love your double chin
I love 'most everything that you bring to this offering


and it continues, much in the same vein (that is, badly).

It remains to be seen, however, if the promising inverse talent that he is can ever top "Older Chests" from the first album:

Older gents sit on the fence
With their cap in hand
Looking grand
They watch their city change
Children scream, or so it seems,
Louder than before
Out of doors, and into stores with bigger names
Mama tried to wash their faces
But these kids they lost their graces
And daddy lost at the races too many times


He is aware that you're allowed to rewrite and edit lyrics before recording them, isn't he?

Anyway, that's it from me, because I'm covered in paint. Sorry!

Wednesday, October 18, 2006

Shoesy-Shoesy

After buying some new shoes, my anticipation heightens until I can get them home, open up the box, take the shoes out, put them to one side, root around in the box until finally I come across the small packet labelled 'Silica Gel'. Every time, though, I am thwarted and disappointingly have to put it to one side and start lacing up the shoes, because, every time I get the silica gel packet, I'm confronted with the spoilsport words, 'Do Not Eat', ruining my fun. Bah.

Even worse is the only instruction: 'Throw Away'. So blunt that you daren't disobey it. It's the only thing standing between me and a cupboard full of hoarded silica gels that I'm not allowed to eat.

Each time I get new shoes, I also get to remember with fondness how lacing up your shoes in a non-approved fashion-failing way would be merely the prelude to ridicule and abuse as a child. If you were looking for a positive thing to say about bullying, you can definitely say that it instills a sense of correctness and attention to detail in the victim.

Ah, shoes. They sure are evocative things. Just be glad I haven't gone on about shoe boxes yet.

Wednesday, October 11, 2006

Box Stupid 2


While casually destroying the planet by using paper tissues, I noticed that Kleenex have chosen to mark their fiftieth anniversary of destroying the planet by having a big swirly badge that says "50 Years of MANSIZE STRENGTH".This is the sort of thing that my email spam filter would make short work of. It'll only be a matter of time before we're fitted with eye-spam filters that just leave a fuzzy indistinct patch where otherwise would be "50 Years of MANSIZE STRENGTH".

Project: Do you know someone who is or is about to become a 50 year-old? Why not print out the second photo, and cut it into a badge for them. (Note: Please ensure that the recipent has achieved fifty years of MANSIZE STRENGTH before giving this gift, as the incongruity of a badge saying "50 Years of MANSIZE STRENGTH" on a woman or weedy man will cause laughter and may spoil their otherwise special day).


Yep, I've not been up to much recently. Except for dressing up as a pirate, but that's nothing unusual when you frequent Dressing-Up-As-A-Pirate parties, is it? (Photos in comments to previous post. I'm feeling too too exhausted to cut and paste the addresses again).

Wednesday, October 04, 2006

Bouba Diop and Knots

Can't really explain adequately, but I've developed a mild obsession with Bouba Diop from Fulham, the Premiership also-rans. Why Papa Bouba Diop? Is it his giant loping gait as he surges forward from defence? Or is it the fact that his name sounds like the noise you get in arcade machines when you get an extra life? (Clue: it's the second one.) Apparantly his nickname, according to the official website is the frankly unlikely 'Wardrobe'. I fear the explanation of this, frankly, and will not be delving any deeper.


Also on a football bent, mainly just to piss off those of you who dislike football (most people I know), Roy Keane, currently Sunderland manager, is busy practising tieing the world's largest tie knot. For Roy to stand out amonsgt the already noted for their large-knottedness breed of footballers, it's clear testimony to his fearless professionalism that he has to be the best at what he does, even if this is just tieing his tie. What a pro.
Sorry, that's a lot of football, really. Pretend they're pirates if that helps.

Wednesday, September 13, 2006

Conversations I Didn't Have With Shop Assistants vol n+1

Scene: At the desk at an electronics shop, waiting for the Chip and PIN machine to confirm my credit-worthiness.

Electronics Shop Assistant One: Well, I ain't being discriminatory or anything, but you won't know what it is...
Electronics Shop Assistant Two: I might.
ESA1: Alright then. It's like a cross between a lychee...
ESA2: Right...
ESA1: ...and an apple.
ESA2: An apple?
ESA1: An apple.
ESA2: Oh.
ESA1: See what I mean? Knew you wouldn't've heard of it.
ESA2: What does it taste like?
ESA1: Oh man...
ESA2: Hmm?
ESA1: It tastes like a cross between...
ESA2: Yes?
ESA1: ...a cross between an apple and a lychee.
ESA2: Oh.

There's probably a word out there for the feeling that you get when you wish you had asked someone what the name of the fruit they were describing was but didn't. However, I don't care what that word was. I just want to know what the name of the fruit was. What was it? WHAT?

Tuesday, September 05, 2006

Tony Blair and the Flight of Fancy

You know when you half pick up on something, and then don't want to know any more because it will inevitably spoil the magic as you learn more and find out that it's not actually as interesting as you first thought? Well, probably not, because that's quite a badly written sentence, but I am currently amusing myself with the news that there's a memo been leaked that supposedly planned for Tony Blair to make appearances on Blue Peter and Songs of Praise. Unfortunately, I already sort of know that this is to 'secure his legacy' and ease transition for the next leader of the party, but I'd love it if this were the contingency plan for all national emergencies. Say there were a chemical leak in the North Sea that threatened coastal communities and devastated fishing stocks? Get Tony on telly quick! He can be squeezed into the Blue Peter, between a segment on the Romans and the putting of the tortoise into the cardboard box of hibernation. Perhaps he could get into a centurion costume? Great. Were there to be mass rioting gutting Birmingham and spreading to other cities, perhaps he could pop into Songs of Praise, and, on acoustic guitar, belt out some rousing hymns to steel the reserve of the terrified populace?

Stupid truth. Always getting in the way of my whimsical fun.