Tag Archive for 'review'

The Year In Review

Published on January 1, 2006 in Ego and Writing. 6 Comments Tags: , , , , .

I’m back. The trip up north was pretty interesting, but developments up there are going to take a lot of writing and editing before I’m ready to share them. So instead, perhaps I should take a look over the past twelve months.

This website (in its current form, at least) is one year old today, so let’s see what actually happened.

January

Essentially this was about establishing the site. I wrote a few tech articles, and reposted my travel writings from previous sites – probably my proudest pieces. Thailand 2004 was my first real attempt at writing about travels. I was so inspired by what was my first trip out there that I couldn’t help but try to describe the experience. I followed that up with Rome 2004, my summer break with Lois Ann in Italy.

February

Finally, something substantial about what was actually happening at the time. Thailand 2005 was my second trip to Bangkok, I’d picked up a little of the language and was much more comfortable in my environment. Okay, so I didn’t actually post this until May (which I can’t believe – sorry about that!), but I don’t want to leave February blank, and it’s my website! Also posted more tech articles, mostly whinging about my PC not working, and suffering a rather catastrophic hard drive failure.

March

Finally braved the ski slopes again, which I wrote about briefly. I also published the account of my previous trip to the ski slope, Wipeout. I passed my driving test, and posted more tech and geeky stuff.

April

Posted the first gig review – The Bluetones, at the Supernova club in Derby. I also posted a grumble about London, chiefly because I was unhappy at work (I’d been waiting for fourteen months for a contractual salary review at this point), and was considering moving to the capital. Needless to say, it didn’t happen.

May

Posted a review of the tragic movie adaptation of The Hitchhiker’s Guide To The Galaxy. In other news, Liverpool won the European Champions League.

June

Put some songs on the website. Took them off again. Raved about Doctor Who, and then raved some more about the final radio series of The Hitchhiker’s Guide To The Galaxy. Wrote a few techie bits and pieces, and had an encounter with some wildlife.

July

Suicide bombers hit London on July 7. I posted a reaction, of sorts, later in the month, but really felt unable to add anything to the mountain of more informed and inspired opinion already out there.

I also posted a book meme – embarrassingly, I have to admit that I eventually abandoned both of the books I was reading at the time.

Finally, I posted the video footage of my drunken television appearance, and took some cameraphone pictures of a walk by the riverbank, followed by some photos of my trip to Ireland.

Offline, I had handed in (and served) my notice at work, took a week off to visit my mother in Donegal, before starting my new job on August 1.

August

I wrote a little about my new job, but do try to keep my professional life as far away from the website as I can. I wrote about the rejection letter I received from a company who I’d interviewed with in June – a company I had to resist the urge to name and shame…

September

I crashed my bicycle, ranted against Intelligent Design, went to see Alfie (not much of a review though!), and broke an IBM Model M keyboard.

After suffering more PC frustrations, I decided to buy a Mac, but not before ranting about screen resolution and websites. I finally wrote about the high school reunion I organised in August, and my trip to Donegal back in July.

October

I reviewed the long-awaited new Half Man Half Biscuit album, spewed verbal diarrhea, ordered my Mac, and gained a housemate – Sian moved in on the 23rd, the day my niece was born.

November

A pretty quiet month, in which I finally received my Mac, pontificated about life in general, wrote a book review, and attended the turning-on of the town’s Christmas Lights.

December

I finally reviewed the Babyshambles album, managed to get bitten by a dog for the first time, and then life essentially stopped for the Christmas/New Year break, when I went up to Liverpool. And then came back and wrote furiously, this being just one of several pieces I’ve been pounding out on my keyboard today.

It’s been a good year, all in all. There’ve been some sad times, and there’ve been some happy times. But then aren’t there always? I have a better job, I have more money, I have a full driving license (although I don’t yet have a car), and I have a live-in hippy chick. My football team are champions of Europe, I’m a lot healthier (but could still do with losing a little more weight), and I’m delighted with my new role as a Mac Zealot. In a month’s time, I’m off to Thailand for the third time in as many years.

Things could be better, but things could be a lot worse. Let’s see what 2006 brings. Thanks for reading.

Down in Albion

Published on December 7, 2005 in Music and Writing. 2 Comments Tags: , , .

A belated review of one of the most-looked-forward-to albums of the year (at least for me, and most of the tabloid press…) – “Down In Albion” hit the P2P networks a few weeks before release, which may or may not have influenced the distinct lack of media hype on its actual release. Anyway, here’s my take.

Firstly, this needs a few listens. I was a huge Libertines fan, and standing slack-jawed amongst thousands, covered in beer at the first of their three-night residency at Brixton Academy back in March 2004 remains one of the most intense musical experiences I’ve ever had. I loved Up the Bracket, and even managed to enjoy the eponymous follow-up, The Libertines – probably best described as the sound of a band falling apart.

My only criticism was that the albums were hardly as polished as the Bernard Butler produced singles (What a Waster, Don’t Look Back Into The Sun), and actually just sounded as if everyone (the band, producer Mick Jones, mixers, engineers, tea lady…) had ingested all of the fast drugs in London, turned everything up to 10 that could conceivably be turned up to 10 (and even a few things that couldn’t), and played the album live, never stopping to record a second take.

In retrospect, this is possibly exactly what they did. But it’s a raw, intense sound with more layers than are immediately discernable, and grows on you like something nasty at the back of the fridge.

Down In Albion is much the same, and whilst I was a little underwhelmed after the first few listens, I soon became first whelmed, then encouraged, and finally convinced that this is in fact a fine album indeed. Not that Pete Doherty has made it easy for himself – there are some bad, ocassionally even cringe-inducing moments ahead, but they’re sufficiently few and far-between for this to be, overall, a fine debut…

Met two fellas over gin and mixers
They talked for a while and soon got the picture
One was a souped up Soho mincer,
And the other was a pikey with a knowledge of scripture…

Things get off to a jaunty enough start with La Belle Et La Béte, formerly known to we consumers of fine bootlegs as Conversation Diva. The familiarly slurred vocals, the crisp guitars, the upbeat drums… And then Kate Moss starts singing. About a minute and a half in. Isn’t it embarassing when the singer brings his girlfriend to the band rehearsal? She’s a fine looking woman, but she can’t sing to save her life. What were you thinking, Pete? Are you on crack? Eh? Oh.

Oh, you’re so clever
You’re so clever but not very nice

Recent single Fuck Forever is up next, anthemic panacea to anything uplifting or vaguely optimistic. Great.

Oh poor me, my liberty…

Then straight into A’rebours, which for the trainspotters is an amalgamation of the old bootleg tracks Curtain Call and If You Fall, and is one of the best tracks on the album – obviously the beauty of combining these distinctly separate demos isn’t really going to impress the average listener, who will have heard neither (and wouldn’t want to), but seeing and hearing where this song came from makes it all the more spectacular that it’s come out as well as it has…

Does anybody want tea?
Did anybody thank you, ah fuck me…

I think Morrissey is probably the only other person in the world who could sing about tea and still rock. The 32nd Of December sounds like a future single, albeit one in need of heavy editing for radio play…

Oh, The Sun, They make you out to be a tearaway…

Pipe Down, instant punk anthem, Sticks and Stones, a surprisingly good-if-reggae-tinted reworking of an old Libertines demo, and then the biggest WTF moment of the album so far.

Killamangiro was the ‘Shambles’ first top ten single, and a mighty fine song it was. So quite why it’s been re-recorded for the album I have no idea.

The highlight of the single for me was the poignant “And on the off-chance that you’re listening to the radio, I thought you might like to know you broke my heart” – a plaintive message to one Carl Barat, one-time co-Libertine and eventually the man who broke up the most promising band of the past decade.

On the album version he sings “On the off-chance that you’re listening, I thought you might like to know, la la la la”. Pronouncing the words, Peter, is not optional. Not on the final take. What did the other takes sound like?

Eight Dead Boys has some of the best guitar work on the album, and In Love With A Feeling is the only song I’ve ever heard that dares to reference the popular biscuits Hob Nobs. Not only that, but it’s a decent song too.

Then the one everyone’s been talking about, Pentonville. Rapped, ragga-stylee by Pete’s former cellmate in the eponymous London jail. Okay, it sounds about as out-of-place as a funny joke in a politician’s speech, but it’s not actually that bad. Oh all right, it is.

What Katy Did Next is decent – a simple, catchy love song, but loses several hundred points for ripping the first verse straight out of The Stone Roses album track Good Times, one of the best tracks on Second Coming…

Gin in teacups, and leaves on the lawn
Violence in dole queues and the pale thin girl behind the checkout…

Current single, Albion, is quite simply the best song I’ve heard in years. In a fair and just world, it would be Christmas Number One. In this slightly less fair and just world, that honour will presumably go to the winner of X-Factor. Or Westlife. Sigh.

I heard it said
You had come back from the dead
Playing so fine
Even if you don’t show up on time

Back From The Dead is a reworking of the B-side from Pete & Wolfman’s For Lovers, the best pop single of last year. Good, but not great.

And if I confide in you today, I know you don’t believe a single word I say
I found solace in the flood, and everybody knew that I would
Cause I’m alright, and there’s a slight crack in my chimney…

Loyalty Song is surely another potential single, boasting not just a singalongatastic melody but also the best usage of a glockenspiel in a contemporary song since Radiohead’s Karma Police.

Up The Morning starts slowly, then flowers into the purest uplifting imperfect beauty, and then all too soon we’re at the fourteenth and final track – winding down slowly with Merry Go Round.

Said what I like most about you Pete, is your girlfriend and your shoes
And it’s nearly half past five
Can we swap again?
Half past five, can we swap again?

And the last cymbal fades, and we strain to hear the mutterings in the background, it’s all over.

Not to everyone’s tastes. You won’t like it at all at first – I didn’t. But if it grows on you at all, it’ll grow a lot. Recommended.

Without Feathers

Published on November 15, 2005 in Writing. 3 Comments Tags: , , .

Six years older than me, this compendium of Woody Allen’s thoughts, short stories and plays is a volume that I’ve been dipping into for years now. Whilst the highlights (which are certainly worth buying the book for) are unquestionably the two stage plays “God” and “Death”, some of the scattered thoughts that punctuate the longer pieces are at least equally priceless. To wit:

Today I saw a red-and-yellow sunset and thought, How insignificant I am! Of course, I thought that yesterday, too, and it rained.

I recently got round to watching Sleeper, released the year after the first publication of this book, and whilst in both cases some of the topical humour has obviously gone a little stale, there is an air of silliness to both which remains nicely timeless, as “If the Impressionists Had Been Dentists” demonstrates splendidly:

Dear Theo,

I took some dental X-rays this week that I thought were good. Degas saw them and was critical. He said the composition was bad. All the cavities were bunched in the lower left corner. I explained to him that that’s how Mrs. Slotkin’s mouth looks, but he wouldn’t listen! He said he hated the frames and mahogany was too heavy. When he left, I tore them to shreds! As if that was not enough, I attempted some root-canal work on Mrs. Wilma Zardis, but halfway through I became despondent. I realized suddenly that root-canal work is not what I want to do! I grew flushed and dizzy. I ran from the office into the air where I could breathe! I blacked out for several days and woke up at the seashore. When I returned, she was still in the chair. I completed her mouth out of obligation but I couldn’t bring myself to sign it.

Vincent

A mixed bag, but as this is a compendium that can hardly be a criticism, and whilst there will be passages that will induce cringes from some, as in his films the highlights make the endurance of the rougher parts all the more worthwhile. In these politically unsavoury times, this last excerpt may come in useful – from “A Brief, Yet Helpful, Guide to Civil Disobedience”:

In perpetrating a revolution, there are two requirements: someone or something to revolt against and someone to actually show up and do the revolting. Dress is usually casual and both parties may be flexible about time and place but if either faction fails to attend, the whole enterprise is likely to come off badly. In the Chinese Revolution of 1650 neither party showed up and the deposit on the hall was forfeited.

The people or parties revolted against are called the “opressors” and are easily recognized as they seem to be the ones having all the fun. The “oppressors” generally get to wear suits, own land, and play their radios late at night without being yelled at. Their job is to maintain the “status quo,” and condition where everything remains the same although they may be willing to paint every two years.

When the “opressors become too strict, we have what is known as a police state, wherein all dissent is forbidden, as is chuckling, showing up in a bow tie, or referring to the mayor as “Fats.” Civil liberties are greatly curtailed in a police state, and freedom of speech is unheard of, although one is allowed to mime to a record. Opinions critical of the government are not tolerated, particularly about their dancing. Freedom of the press is also curtailed and the ruling party “manages” the news, permitting the citizens to hear only acceptable political ideas and ball scores that will not cause unrest.

The groups who revolt are called the “oppressed” and can generally be seen milling about and grumbling or claiming to have headaches. (It should be noted that the oppressors never revolt and attempt to become the oppressed as that would entail a change of underwear.)

Achtung Bono

Published on October 1, 2005 in Music and Writing. 26 Comments Tags: , , , , .

Half Man Half Biscuit. Where to start? Formed in the early 1980s in Birkenhead, HMHB are perhaps the best band you’ve never heard of. Nigel Blackwell’s sublime lyrics mix social commentary with sardonic surrealism, and a healthy portion of god-awful puns.

I just got hold of Achtung Bono – their recent tenth studio album. Whilst track one, “Restless Legs” is perhaps oddly underwhelming, it’s followed by “CORGI Registered Friends”, an acerbic attack on vacuous middle class bores. The opening trilogy is completed with the actually quite touching “For What Is Chatteris…”, essentially a love song about the pointlessness of the quaint country village once your love has left it behind, in which Blackwell introduces the irrisistable phrase “drive-by shouting”.

Shit arm, bad tattoo” is a thinly-veiled attack on The Libertines, the title and refrain refer to the cover of their eponymous second album.

Witness:

When she wakes up in the morning, she writes down all her dreams. Reads like the Book of Relevations, or The Beano or The Unabridged Ulysses… –The Libertines, “What a Waster”

versus

If you’re going to quote from the Book of Revelation, don’t keep calling it the Book of Revelations. There’s no “s”, it’s the Book of Revelation. As revealed to St. John the Divine. –HMHB, “Shit Arm, Bad Tattoo”

“Surging Out Of Convalescence” is another rant about the things in life with which we’re all familiar, but only Blackwell has the nerve to actually mention: “Is your child hyperactive, or is he perhaps a twat?” rails against the trend of applying labels rather than correction to wayward youth, whilst “I wrote to the Horse and Hounds, to gloat over what I’d done. I’d stored their magazine, in a data retrieval system” highlights the stupidity of the copyright blurb in the first pages of every bloody magazine you buy, of which nobody is ever going to take the slightest bit of notice.

“Upon Westminster Bridge” begins with a bass guitar picking out the melody of “Twinkle Twinkle Little Star”, and just when you think it’s going to turn into another of their “list songs” (ITMA, Referee’s Alphabet, Breaking News), Nigel comes out with “If Jesus came to Earth today, they’d crucify him straight away, upon a cross of MDF, and they’d use ‘no need for nails’”. Then a time signature change and we’re finished off rather nicely with a somewhat unorthodox version of “The Twelve Days of Christmas”:

Spoiling good Friday, my true love sent to me:

12 drummers singing
11 chairmen dancing
10 mascots whinging
9 stewards flapping
8 christening invites
7 cows a-barking
6 vicars strumming
Nick fucking Knowles
4 boring words
Carphone Warehouse and Matalan
And a pulled-up at Bangor-On-Dee

“Joy Division Oven Gloves”, quite aside from being the best song title I’ve seen in several years, not only manages to be both the catchiest and most surreal song on the album, but also makes some kind of point about the incessant commercialisation and capitalist culture marauding its way into the last holy ground – music itself. It then segues into traditional song to end with “My Grandfather’s clock was too tall for the shelf, so I sold it and opened up a stall… selling Joy Division Oven Gloves”.

“Mate of the Bloke” I already knew from a performance on Andy Kershaw’s show a few years back, and is a rousing endorsement of the side-benefits of being a “mate of the bloke who sets up the PA”, whilst “Asparagus Next Left” warns of the unseen gruesome dangers lurking behind the roadside signs imploring drivers to stop for assorted fruit and vegetable produce: “‘Ooh, ooh, rhubarb – let’s go!’ She’s still not been accounted for…”

“Depressed Beyond Tablets”, quite aside from garnering praise simply for lifting the title from Chris Morris‘ gloriously biting Brass Eye series of yesteryear, not only perhaps deservingly chastises the recent music scene’s love of songs of depression and angst (Emo, argh), but manages to sum itself up wonderfully for the sake of this paragraph with the one-upmanship of “Belle Epoque sang ‘Black Is Black’? Yeah, well I sing ‘Black is Black is Black is Blacker’”.

“Bogus Official (public information tune)” is exactly what is says on the tracklist, and swiftly brings us to “Letters Sent”, which although on ocassion is lyrically perhaps a little impenetrable, still contains the joyously downbeat “Leisure centre cashpoint. Always out of order. And there’s too much chlorine in the pool”.

“Twydale’s Lament” is probably the most musically complex piece, managing to effortlessly flirt between a range of time signature and keys, wonderfully conveying the rage of the opening line “Indicate then, you stupid bastard – how was I supposed to know that you intended to go left, I’m not a mind reader… You should be cast away into the fiery pit – and in the fiery pit there are eternal sleeping policemen. ” The mid-section riffs along to Nigel’s spoken monologue about taking elastic bands discarded by his postman and taking them to the pub in order to flick cigarettes out of his mouth. Then we mellow out for the closing refrain of “Gouranga gouranga. Yes, I’ll be happy – when you’ve been arrested for defacing the bridge”. If you’ve ever driven under a certain motorway bridge in the north-west, you can’t help but punch the air in elated agreement with this particular line.

Finally and all too soon, we close with “We Built This Village On A Trad. Arr. Tune”, not only a terrific riposte to Starship’s worst song ever, but a jolly upbeat finale containg gems such as “It fills me with joy to see moshers out jogging”, and “graduated to solids disturbingly early”, themselves shoved unceremoniously aside by the awe-inspiring “It’s a cricketing farce with a thickening plot- Act 1, Scene 1: Brenda Blethyn gets shot”.

Twelve tracks. Forty minutes. Anyone who didn’t grow up in the UK in the 80s or 90s won’t understand most of the references, and it won’t make any impression whatsoever on the charts – but it’s my record of the year so far.