Monthly Archives: April 2009

beauty (or why can’t we all just not get along)

so i attended a lecture this week by shakti maira about beauty, aesthetics, art and happiness.  putting aside all the new age nonsense and ‘isn’t western culture bankrupt’ talk that came with some of the already convinced new-age bores, the argument was an interesting one.  not one that swayed me in anyway but a talking [...]

the radiation line: ep3

is it doom?  is it folk?  is it noise?  is it drone? some questions my mad old mother would never ask upon hearing the radiation line. me?  i hate pigeonholes and genres and labels and typecasting. so the radiation line are doom noise band specialising in sweeping drone and celestial folk… …fuck. can we start [...]

nothing people: late night (ss)

  this has got nocturnal written all over it, in grubby neon murk.  the vibe here’s one of late night migraines and the relentless fug of cigarette smoke. the light at the end of the tunnel is the brief flare of a struck match.  it’s 2.30am and the world is drunk and weary and hoarse.  [...]

duracell: or the joy of random shuffle

for no other reason than the fact i hadn’t heard this in ages then these tracks came on unexpectedly tonight and made me want to button mash arcade games till my hands became bloodied claw-stumps. ninja spirit space harrier anyone know if he’s still doing his science-rhythm aktions…

goblin: supersonic preview part one

good news, everyone.  as professor hubert j. farnsworth might say.  goblin confirmed for supersonic.  so what better way to kick off my supersonic preview series than blathering on for a bit about those mad italian prog bastards. one of my first movie loves (lusts?) was romero’s dawn of the dead.  not only did it introduce [...]

lamps: songs of sexual frustration

two tracks on one seven inch, not so much played as disgorged, not so much recorded as acid scorched, not so much listened to as shouted at wildly with spittle, foamflecked glee.  right noisy buggers playing wild fucking music. essentially. the cover, a crying cartoon badger with gun in mouth says somethingorother. side a: a [...]

dan melchior und das menace: thankyou very much

sweet jeebus this has taken a fucking age to write.  usually i crank out these things in ten minute bursts of booze fuelled stream of conscience keyboard abuse – you can tell can’t you - hoping desperately to finish before falling asleep or finding myself searching for new additions to my celebrity upskirt pictures collection.  are [...]

grey daturas: tacoma narrows bridge: calacas: 13th note: glasgow

ah the psyche(ic) squall of fucked guitar mangling and the relentless binary fug and thud of drums, in step with heart thumps, in beat with beta-theta-waves, coarsing synchronistically with my thick bloody blood through veins and arteries right to my pleasure points.  the pedals, dear god (oh so many pedals), laid out like a battalion of tiny [...]

supersuckers: abc: glasgow

ah the redemptive power of rock and roll and good ol’ boy country drinking music…. after a weekend light on entertainment but heavy on cheap vin rouge, champagne and a horrific concotion snappily titled ‘assisted suicide’ (one part rum, one part jagermeister, cheeky dash of coke, speedy loss of faculties) and sweatbox four hour car [...]

wand: born bad

jesus fucking christ. is it too early to be talking record of the goddam year already?  is it too early (in the day) for this kind of bullshit hyperbole?  probably.  for the latter anyway. james jackson toth.  wooden wand.  wand.  by all accounts the recorded venting, outpouring, of a years worth of 3am breakdowns and [...]

aaron dilloway: nate young: heather leigh murray & richard youngs: nackt insecten: stereo: glasgow

nackt insecten: dude’s on a rug with boxes full of e-lec-tri-city, birthing the sound of a million needles being dragged across a million santana records.  everything’s wired, everything’s at the wrong speed.  lethargic cathedrals collapse.  the sound of one giant fucked reverberating forever across the horizon.  shiva’s third eye stares me down.  a tongue snakes deliciously into my [...]

supersonic 2009: preview: part two

on the seventh day god (small g) did not rest.  instead (s)he got up, had a mug of strongblack and a delicious bowl of cocopops (maybe with maltesers added), cleared up the mucky debris of the previous six days creationist madness, then thought to him(her)self whilst sitting on the john, casually flicking through some foosty [...]

quis custodiet ipsos custodes?

so you make some presciently flip comment on a wednesday afternoon: what i’ll take away from all this is the fella stoving in the rbs window, hood up, surrounded by a phallanx of amateur urban safarists and journos snapping gleefully away hoping beyond hopes for a full blown riot and maybe a death, a single tragic [...]

supersonic 2009: preview: part one

on the seventh day god (small g) did not rest.  instead (s)he got up, had a mug of strongblack and a delicious bowl of cocopops (maybe with maltesers added), cleared up the mucky debris of the previous six days creationist madness, then thought to him(her)self whilst sitting on the john, casually flicking through some foosty [...]

jonah matranga: nice n sleazy: glasgow

it’s good to be reminded sometimes of the joys of simplicity, of music: when it’s reduced to its essence. when it’s direct and open and engaged. when it’s a shared experience. when it’s not just an intellectual exercise (which is cool, sometimes) but instead is fun, is emotive, happy, sad, angry. when it makes you [...]

daniel higgs vs oxbow

    there’s only one way to find out…. fight! not really. aside from the mummies lp these are the only things vying for my ritalin-ed attention this week. in the blue corner… i was never a huge fan of lungfish on record.  live they were incredible.  but i feel this way about much of [...]

anarchy, sub club, april fools and 7things

an inbox full of joy today. an email from my man ‘steve’ (not his/her real name) working his/her way through central london via g20 police lines and pens trying desperately to find the head of a pig or banker scum to smash the fuck in (with an amusing picture he/she won’t let me post in case [...]

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