Now is that love...

Paying £22 for a miserable 5-2 defeat in the freezing cold...especially when its on the telly.

It's all I've got though.

R x
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I've got nothing to report - is this a reason not to write? Perhaps it is.

....

It definitely is.

Hey check out this band, called Tommy Tokyo & Starving For My Gravy. (seriously).

http://viewmorepics.myspace.com/index.cfm?fuseaction=user.viewPicture&friendID=189549892

They're fucking nuts.

Jx

Oh Mother, I can feel, the soil falling over my head.

It has finally come my attention I am utterly incapable of being creative. Now this would not have to be a problem, if I did not long to successfully express myself. Somehow, in some form.

I quickly learnt during my GCSE's I was fucking rubbish at art. Possibly due to my oafish tendencies and bear paws. Dexterity does not have my back. Sure, I could teach myself photoshop out of a book and become a graphic designer on myspace. But I am not a twat. I also lack ingenuity and ideas.

I have had a guitar for coming on to four years now, and I am utterly useless. I have very little theoretical knowledge other than a few chords. I can't even jam a few ideas in the hardcore punk stylee. I just cannot create when I have her in my hands. Maybe I should have lessons, but you cannot teach creativity. This puts me off.

So what about trying my hand at writing. I've tried that with this here blog. Dipping my toe in that magical sea of language. Only to start flapping like a cat in a bathtub. What a horrible similie. Its painful to write even the most simple entries. Serious.

I even stole the title of this post from our good friend Stephen Patrick.

The essence of this schtick is thus: I am totally mediocre and I will never leave my mark on this world. Most people at least reproduce another generation. I have however written this off as improbable.

I will however cut a deal with you. If you can stomach this illegible, unremarkable, piss poor version of story telling, I will keep it up. And God (Google) willing, this can be my meagre offerings of a legacy.

R x




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Saviour.

Bayo

One Love.

This Week's Top 5 Cuts

In no particular order...

Elliott Smith - 'New Disaster'.
This is my favourite song from the compilation album 'New Moon'. This album tracks his unreleased work between Heatmiser and the man's 3rd solo album 'Either/Or'. Frankly, how it didn't make it on to a proper release is beyond me. The meandering guitar line/melody which haunts the song is rather good and for a low-fi recording has a full bodied sound. I also managed to figure out how to play said guitar line.

Beck - 'Where it's at'.
The eagle eyed (no cherry) among you may have noticed that I purchased a deluxe copy of Beck's 'Odelay' last week. This is jam from the aforementioned record just has so much groove. I can't really describe it without saying it sounds like Beck (that Lofiamericanahiphoppsychy thing). Definitely a party tune. Well a cool kids party. "I got two turntables and a microphone".

Deal With It - 'Terrorstorm'
Deal With It are hard as hell. This number from the full length, is a stand out for me. The new record has more of a Leeway, Icemen, later Cro Mags, early 'tallica vibe to it, tastefully done I might add. Lyrically depicting the demise of the world outside backed with fat riffs this track really is a gem.

Morrissey - 'Speedway'
I love Morrissey. Possibly because I don't get laid enough. Probably because I have no time for the majority of lowest common demoninators I come into contact with. Either this song is one of Mozza's finest. I like it that much I have been listening to two versions. The one that closes the Vauxhaul and I album and the live B side to 'I just want to see...' Just listen to it. I particularly like the closing lines of 'in my own strange way, I have always been true to you'. I'm not wholly sure about the subject matter (it may be about the court case over Smiths royalties) but Moz can sculpt language like a master craftsman.

Squeeze - Pulling Mussels (from a shell)

This is a quintessentially English pop song, regaling all the fun of the seaside holiday. Best served with a 'kiss me quick, squeeze me slow' hat.
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A classic Saturday night in

This evening, I am alone - and it really feels alright. I've had quite a week.

I started work experience with a wonderful little PR company called Quite Great on Monday, and it's been highly enjoyable from the start. Thursday was quite a day for good news. I was (informally) offered a job, which, circumstances permitting, will be brilliant.

I also heard from my MA advisor that my dissertation is going to be published! The people who helped me out financially (those at the Harry Watson bursary)enjoyed reading it, and are going to publish it under the auspices of Norwich HEART. It will go online and in pamphlets. Once all is confirmed, I'll post a link on here for your delectation - it's really quite an undertaking though, I must warn you in advance.

So, in a nut shell, I'm one step closer to gainful employment and my academic pretensions are finally be recognised. A good week on Planet Joe.*

My soundtrack?
Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds - Murder Ballads
Neil Young - After the Gold Rush
Sufjan Stevens - Come on! Feel the Illinoise!
Fleet Foxes - s/t

I haven't listened to Neutral Milk Hotel all week.

Bring on Match of the Day!

Jx

*Planet Joe is a wonderful book that I highly recommend.

Confessional

Yesterday, whilst I was making the five o'clock escape from the office, I passed our building's cleaner. She is a middle aged, ginger haired women and on this day she looked particularly down. After I saw her, I felt sorry for her. I bitch and moan about having overtly dull job with an ongoing onslaught of tedious exams, yet she has to clean and tidy after us 'professional types'.

After this, thought I felt disgusted with myself. What right do I have for feeling sorry for her? She may enjoy her job or earn a decent crust. Or maybe she does it to support her family. Or maybe to feed her cats. Who knows?

I assumed that she was looking sad because she had to clean up after me. To me, this felt like I was looking down upon her career. What right, do I or anybody for that matter, to feel sorry for somebody because of there job, when I know nothing about them. She should pity me. Someone who hasn't got a clue.

The truth is, I think what I felt was respect for this woman. Cleaning is something that I hate, if this women enjoys it then right on! If she doesn't enjoy it and has to clean up after some of the chodes in my building - right, right on. At least she isn't dealing crack for a living. (Again another assumption)

I am fortunate enough that I shine a chair with my arse for my currency. But I do not feel that walking in her shoes is below me, far from it.

Besides, she could have had piles. That would make me look sad.
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Building blocks

HERO.

No more posts today, sorry.

J x

Ode

Can I borrow a feeling?

Could you lend me a jar of love?

Hurtin' hearts need some healin',

Take my hand with your glove of love

J x

Our Wax

Full commentary to come our or respected booty. Yarr Matey!

R x
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Chapters

'What is that feeling when you're driving away from people and they recede on the plain till you see their specks dispersing? - it's the too-huge world vaulting us, and it's good-by. But we lean forward to the next crazy venture beneath the skies.'

From Jack Kerouac, On the Road (1957)


Currently listening to: Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds, Murder Ballads (1996)

J x

Sing to the tune of the sexual divide

Hiya love,

My mother was listening to something on the radio this morning - the channel, show and people involved is unimportant. The content, however, was fascinating, and I'd like to discuss it with you. Forgive my style for being overly formal, I've been writing applications and covering letters all week.

Anyway. Said program discussed the intrinsic sex divide in music fandom. It said that men, as a result of their very nature, are disposed to forcing their music taste on their spouses. This is particularly the case in younger men. The gentleman in question told of a situation in which he forced a pair of headphones on his now wife in order to educate her musically. He soon realised that this was perhaps not the basis for a healthy relationship, but the desire remained. Older men, heads of families, are disposed to playing their music loud while others are around - in the car for example - in order to better promote their music taste. The program even went as far as to suggest that, for many people, musical taste can be a vital factor when choosing a partner.

In my experience, all of this is true. I met my girlfriend at a show, and it began a long and happy relationship. Our initials bonds were formed over a love of music. I can't imagine ever being with anyone who doesn't have at least a passing interest in music. I don't so much care what they're in to - I'm just turned on, mentally of course, by that passion for the art.

Likewise, my father is incapable of listening to music quietly, or with doors closed.

This information made me smile. I agree with it completely.

There is a divide between the way men and women listen to and perceive music, and it should be celebrated.

J x

Currently listening (in a manly way) to: The Most Serene Republic - Population

Plus Benefits

I am ungrateful. I have it easy; career opportunities, a reliable car, a loving family, yet I am perpetually unhappy. Unfortunate. Unforgiving.

I am having trouble giving in to this mediocrity. The realisation that I will be doing something I don't give a hoot about with majority of my waking hours.

Education, the inquisitive mind will set you free, yet it is hindering me. Cementing the shackles. University showed me how life could be. My studies taught me to look beyond the surface.

I feel I need a lobotomy to fit in. To give in to being a drone. Never question why I am a dogsbody.

Like the Talking Heads, I find myself asking 'Well, how did I get here?'

"Shine on me baby, 'Cause its raining in my heart".

Why don't you quit then?
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rut

Good evening dearest,

How are things? You know, I'd really like to hear about what's going on with you. I've got nothing to offer right now - I'm trying to think, but there's really nothing.

Today, I listened to the Good Life's Album of the Year. In a nutshell - Tim Kasher from Cursive goes a bit country and tells the story of a single relationship, from inception to breakup, in one LP. It's a super listen, if a little heavy-going in parts. I like the production (Mike Mogis of Bright Eyes fame) and the songs. The lyrics are very much the record's centre piece, which doesn't usually float my boat, but Kasher is just so astute and self deprecating - like Bukowski poems put to music - that it's very difficult not to retreat with him, into his seemingly miserable little world.

Just check it out yourself.

Bye.

J x

On a new phase in life

Once again, I am back on planet earth. Last night, I got a little cryptic - I just felt like I had a few things to tell my darling blog - and I'm sorry. I see daylight, so I think that means I might have crawled out of my own arse.

So, I finished my Ma. I am a master, the master, of the history of medicine. My thesis seems to have been received well thus far, but we will see how it fairs. The only important opinion really is that of the examiner.

I've learnt a lot this year, about myself - I'm scared of a lot of things but, when I put my mind to it, life can really be quite easy. There is so much in the psychological battle that we wage with our own minds on a daily basis. We slash and we stab and we cut at our own psyche. We put up walls that need not be there. We tell ourselves to fear things that are nothing more than particles, ether, circumstance. But how do we harness the power of our own minds?

How do we save that little part of us that says 'hey, junior, this is all bullshit'? Because, there really is no need to worry, is there? We can overcome any obstacle, can't we? Fears, and challenges - all they require is work, commitment, strength and positivity. How can I preserve this mindset?

In the coming weeks, I will return to this post. When my confidence is knocked, as inevitably it will be in my search for gainful employment, I will try to restore this frame of mind.

I can do it. I can, and I will.

Shit, it's getting dark! I think I've retreated back! Back! Back! Back up my own arse!

Just listen to the Boss and be done with it.

Joseph x

A letter

Oh humble blogosphere, have I offended thee?

You don't call any more, and it's been months since your last letter.

I'd all but forgotten about you, even found a new mistress.

But it was never like it was with you - I wrapped things up after 21,000 little words, and then I left without so much as a note.

I need you back.

What if we just went back to the way things were? I'd cut my hair like I used to, and wear that old t shirt you bought for me. You know the one.

We just need to spend more time together.

For a while, after we split, I didn't have much time for anything. But then I put on a Neutral Milk Hotel record - In the Aeroplane Over the Sea - and it made me remember how much I loved having you around. Just to talk to. You always were a great listener.

I felt deeply in touch with something inside me. I think it was my soul. The music and words sounded so awkward, but in some beautiful and undeniably potent way, it all just fit. As Aeroplane played, I was the only person in the world, but I wasn't afraid. I was just relieved and elated.

I thought you might like to hear about it, that's all.

I understand if you don't want to talk anymore, but please give us - me - another chance. We had something pretty special didn't we? I promise I'll check in everyday.

I love you.

J x

Crackberry.

Robbie Snugglebugs has got a new phone. It's a BlackBerry Curve 8320. I can blog from it apparently. So this is the first post from my new 'lifestyle accessory'.

P.S

Listen to Nimrod by Green Day.

Why?

Because its an underated gem.

And because they will always be better than Blink 182...

R x
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How I Spent My Summer Vacation...

I left the country for a few days... here is a platter of fun photos for your amusement

I would like to give big love to LC, Bas, Bibi, The District, Foods that were round, Boat Hookers, the sweet record shop that had 'Lucky to be Alive' by Braid on vinyl for 5 euros and British Airways.

No weed was smoked and no Hookers were fucked during the making of this film.

Clean

R x

The Dears, and some thoughts on what makes a great record.

Just before I went on holiday, I bought a copy of the latest (although admittedly still quite old) record by Candian indie-miserablists The Dears. They called it Gang of Losers. I listened to it a few times. It just didn't sit right with me. More on that later.

Flashback!

I fell in love with The Dears during my first year at university, shortly after Fresh had hooked me up with their critically lauded LP, No Cities Left. It was the same story though: at first, I just didn't get it. No amount of slow-burning, self-deprecating musical wonderment was gonna satisfy me until I got my fill of MELODY, god dammit. What is this shit?!

Turns out, No Cities Left was fucking packed with the stuff.

The Dears are the musical equivalent of Chrisiano Ronaldo. Really. The following six lines chart the journey of my brainbox in the first month or so of it's relationship with The Dears. Stay with me here people:

- Who are these fucking morons and why are they showing off so much?
- Hold on a minute - did that really just happen?
- No, no, I'm still not convinced. It's ever so fucking dreary/he can't pass the ball.
- CLICK.
- No wait - this is the best thing that's ever happened.
- I fucking love The Dears/Christiano Ronaldo. Everyone else thinks they're a bit shit.

From here on in, I will never attempt to write in overblown simile, metaphor or analogy again. It was foolish. There was no need.

But anyway - I was talking about Gang of Losers. Yea. It turns out, I think it's one of the most charming and emotive records I've got hold of on in a long time. It took nine, maybe ten, listens for me to realise this. I love the songwriting, the arrangements, the vocal performance and the hooks - oh my, the hooks are mind blowing!

I think this is a good example of a point that's worth making about one's 'favourite records', and an interesting contrast with what my man Rob has had to say below. I think it's also an insight into why music can be so awe-inspiring. For Rob, Xo was an instant hit. For me, No Cities Left and Gang of Losers took time and effort. As a result, when I finally realised how great they were, they felt so much more like my records. I'd put in the time, I'd noted every subtle nuance in the songwriting. I'd become an obsessive. Records that sit with you instantly can have the same effect, of course, but I find it fascinating that something that's been committed to wax, that doesn't change, that reflects a single point in time, can appear to morph into something new and exciting with every spin.

Of my top 20 records, this has to be the case with all of them.

I think I made a point. I'm not sure. The Dears are good though.

I have to go now. I'm going to watch the new Batman film.

J x

P.s. I've been reading Bukowski recently and it's terribly potent. I don't want to become a pretentious, literary cunt, but I do like Bukowski...

Untitled.

So it’s been a while, as Staind once sang, and I don’t wanna be another one of those people who gets a blog and leaves it to rot. I want to atleast revive the corpse once in a while.

As I have already mentioned my life is unbearable dull and I have to deal with it- Life’s a bitch, suck it up.

So today, I want to talk about the one thing in my life that brings me joy, comforts my soul and often makes me talk shit and rant. Music. When I thing about it a vast amount of my life revolves around music it scares me. I’ve been thinking about how much of my life is wrapped up in music quite a lot recently. I think it’s the only reason I got to work- so that I can get money to buy records and go to shows (not mentioning the rate at which I lurk music blogs and other websites whilst actually at work). I have no real desire to own HD TV or to have a fast car (even though I do have an interest in them), but records, compact discs, cassettes, even mp3’s they’re my lifeblood. Whether it is getting a sweet bargain in a second hand shop or picking up a sketchy demo for a quid.

I don’t desire to get a Saxo and stick a fuck off spoiler on the back, but I do desire a copy of Elliott Smith’s Xo on Bongload Records wax (I just don’t have the cash just yet). Both are arguably useless, I have Xo on CD it’ll be the same songs etc, I just want the vinyl as well. The same goes with actually going to watch live bands. I know of people that would rather sit in the same pub they go to days on end than check out a band they like. That makes my blood boil. I mean you’d probably expect this of me, I’ve driven hours to shitholes to watch Hardcore bands 99% of people have never heard of then jump around like a mentalist (I feel like Hong Kong Fooey of the Mosh at work…). And don’t even get me started on Morrissey.

I think the main point I’m trying to get at is because so much of my life is tied up in living and breathing music, I tend to judge people by this and in many ways I think this alienates me from people (definitely doesn’t help me with the ladies.). The idea of going to a club that plays 'funky house' or ‘Cheeese’ does no excite me. The idea that some people’s only value in music is a soundtrack to drink and try and fingerbang a intoxicated bird twists my fucking melon man. Call the Cops. This puts me at odds with this lifestyle and removes me from being a ‘normal person’ and despite how much I try, I just can’t go for it.

It also puts me at loggerheads with my friends sometimes as they listen to some fucking shite music and I can’t keep my mouth shut I have to tell them why it fucking sucks and my they are showing moronic tendencies by buying into such crap.

I argue with my mum over the X Factor bullshit as she will not accept that it’s just a fat cash cow for the high waistbanded one.

It also finds me getting bummed out because people don’t feel the same way. Let’s take the example of the aforementioned Xo. I was at low ebb in my existence (yes lower than usual) and I brought that album on props from H Boy. From the first listen something just touched me (not in the pants) and I completely immersed myself in that record. I can still remember coming home from work and just lying on my bed listening to it and empathising with every lyric and getting lost in the layers of sound. Needless to say this is one of my favourite albums of all time (The Queen Is Dead being number one).

I brought a copy of this for a friend of mine and it turned out she wasn’t as inlove with it as I was. I don’t know why that bummed me out but it did. I know everyone’s entitled to there opinion but I thought they would have the same reaction to this record as me.

However, for all these drawbacks my staunch views on music, the up side is amazing. Going to see bands play, hoping my records are in the post after work, reading books about roadies and shitty stapled zines, making horrible sounds come out of a guitar I cannot play ,or even just talking about music with my friends. It such a big part of me and I hope it never dies. My dad recently said he stopped buying records when he had kids and has only just started again. I doubt I’ll have kids anyway but at least I’ll know have a damn fine collection.

I’m also pretty sure I’ve met my best friends through music and for that the normal people can keep their Chris Moyles and Time and Envy.


R

Post Script - I’ve just reread this and I sound like a twat mostly but it’s staying up here. As if anyone lurks this anyway.

Finding my feet, finding a formula.

Okay, so here's the score: I don't know what to write on this thing! Could it be that I've lost confidence in my self? Why the fuck would you want to listen to anything I've got to say? It's all hyperbole - completely irrelevant. You could do so much better!!!

That said, I think I'm going to turn this into a 'what I'm listening to/watching/enjoying right now' kind of bloggy wog. It shall know no bounds in terms of how 'current' the content may be, there will be no word limits, no format in any way. Sometimes I may rant and rant and write and write for time immemorial. Sometimes, simply make note of an artist who is getting me all hot under the collar and tell you to get involved. Maybe you already know all about them and will think me irrelevant, brash and uncool. But it's important we talk about these things.

Yes, that suits me just fine. I'm constantly listening to stuff and thinking "this is shit/mind blowing because...!" but having nobody to talk to about it. It's really fucking annoying. I think the people I do talk to about it really don't want to listen either. Case in point: the entire deconstruction of Revolver whilst my family try to eat, relax and generally enjoy themselves. I'm crying out for someone who will listen! It's you! It's you!!!!

The internet can't tell me to button it, can it?

Shall we begin?

Whilst I was away last week (a family holiday in Majorca), I listened to a great deal of Adem. It's not hot weather music at all but, for some reason or another, it just felt right. I could tell you why, but I don't think you'd understand. I'll try. Maybe. I'm trying right now.

Adem is a man. A man with a band. Is he a singer song-writer? Urgh! Is he Nu-folk? I think he might be both, but I don't really know what either term, the second in particular, means. It's just not important. His songs are simple. And always, always honest. Sometimes his wistful vulnerability can be ever-so trying but, most of the time, you know, when it call comes together, it possesses unquestionable power. It possesses the power to make me, a tiny boy wound up so tight, just sit back for a minute and take stock.

The other side of Adem is a bit more spiney-tingley. It's most evident in his live show, in which he's joined on stage by a stupidly large band - about 24 limbs are flailing, tapping this and that; a 'doo daaa' here and a 'baa baa' there. It's quite, quite beautiful, and it makes your insides go all jiggly. If you get under covers and shut your eyes, you can get the same effect listening to his records - I really really advise you do this. He has three records out now, in this order:

Homesongs (2004)
Love and Other Planets (2006)
Takes (2008) - this is a covers record which, I must admit, I don't own a copy of.

Start at the beginning.

It's just music that makes you think that everything is going to be alright, okay?

J x

If you could hear the dreams I've had my dear...

I hate working in this hot weather, I just wanna chill and listen to Jawbreaker, The Descendants, Lifetime and Shook Ones. I just wanna blast these sounds with car full of bro's (and some ladies) and do roadtrips and shit.

But I'm not. I am stuck behind a desk playing with spreadsheets and online applications. Everything Sucks.



http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VMtEDzOfwOQ



DGC can suck it for not letting me embed that joint.



Full update soon yo!

On mediocrity as a crippling vice.

My contribution to this blog has been wayward. Nay, it's been fucking dire, let us not beat around the e-bush here, for even a second. However, reading the words of a brother can be rousing and truely inspirational. Young Robert - you have a masterful command of HM's English. And it's within this framework that I will attempt to document a few of the goings on in my sexy little world.

And so quickly am I confronted with blankness and blind spots. Have I too not been living a life? Certainly not one of an active, virile 21 year old, my dearest bloggy-wog. This is a feeling that has haunted my every waking moment in these, my preceding months on God's green. Did you ever get the fear? The fear that life is tick-tocking away, passing you by so fast it makes your balding little head spin. It's fleeting, like those sought-after waking moments, you know the ones; before you wake up and remember who you are and how little you have to offer. Unlike Less Than Jake, all my best friends have jobs. Pesky fecking metal heads they ain't! Did no one leave a fat chunk of the pie for this cat?

Back on the surface though, I'm really alright. Sometimes, I think over-analysis and inward-centricity (such are the perils of the e-blogger, however made up the language may be) are my only real enemies. Hand to hand, I'm perfectly equipped to battle them. I have wonderful friends and family, a startlingly fantastic girlfriend, a promising local band (chortle) and a degree that I slightly care about. I think the real problem is hidden, and not so subtly, in this little list. The item that comes in last (in only a very vague order of preference) just so happens to take up all of my time. This is where one finds oneself wanting in the tasty tasty pie stakes. When this is over, will I get to enjoy what I've been blessed with? Or do I, like my esteemed colleague, find myself facing yet another dead end?

Call us whiny, but I think we've got a fucking point. Obviously, it could be so much worse. I don't ever, for even a moment, not realise this. Such is the guilt, in fact, that confronts me for even thinking about feeling this way. But maybe, just maybe, there's something worth worrying about? But hey fuck it! Everything will be okay right? I guess I just wasn't made for these times? Oh woe is me, put a fucking sock in it Brian.

Perhaps it's all just a bit of a mixed bag, just like my buddy Rivers, who I knew was right all a-fucking-long, puts it:

We are the angels, and we are the ones that are praying.

Forgive me my vices.

J x

p.s. I promise to experience something worth writing about soon. I promise to you but, foremost, I promise to myself.

Narrative.

One problem that I pondered whilst starting this blog was the fact that my life really isn’t that interesting per se. I am dull. I did not feel this was a major dilemma as I felt I could use this space to leave a record of someone remarkably mediocre; the trials and tribulations of being just another NI number.

However, over the last week some semi interesting shit has occurred in my life.

Last Wednesday I went to see a Rival Schools reunion show at KCLSU. It was a solid good time they played all the ‘hits’ off the album including ‘Undercovers On’, my personal favourite. The new jams sounded pretty good too. Plus a ‘How Soon Is Now?’ cover. Walter sings Morrissey. They didn’t totally blow me away as such, but it was incredible to feel sixteen again for 80 minutes. I also feel like the spooky kids at Download got a little something they didn’t deserve, know what I mean?

Anyway the morning after, before I left for work, I noticed my car had been broken into. I say broken into, but I must have left it open as the door was a jar with no signs of forced entry. They also didn’t actually take anything either - the only way I realized this had happened is that all the cubbyholes, the glovebox and the sun visors were open. They left all my CD’s and G’s Wu Tang and Ice Cube joints too (surely these thugged out cuts would appeal to hoodlums). Plus my FM transmitter was on the floor, again not taken. This seriously wigged me out. The idea of someone going through my property outside my manor and then deciding it wasn’t worth the bother. They also never touched Poppa D’s fat rat wheels or Lil Bro’s car which had his system still inside. Lucked Out. Still some crack head would have got a shock if he’d nicked Climate of Fear. The E.D is a mosh free zone. Still, I got off lucky I guess. Moral of the story: make sure your car is locked up tight.

Friday was also a semi interesting day as I took the day off from the grind and went to the smoke to hunt out some records. It was not as successful as previous hordes but got some cool pieces nonetheless. Highlights being Elliott Smith – New Moon double CD for real cheap – BNWT- and PGMG’s All Medicated Geniuses 7” single for a couple of nuggets. I also picked up a copy of On the Road to read.

You're not punk, and I'm telling everyone.

Save your breath, I never was one.

You don't know what I'm all about.

Like killing cops and reading Kerouac.

The evening saw me take in my first ever game of county Twenty20 cricket action at the County Ground. I haven’t been inside the CG since the last Town match some 15 years ago. I used to get my knee stuck in a floodlight pillar in the Hotel End pretty much every week. Good Times. The Steelbacks won, fairly convincingly in the end. They bowled Worcs all out too. Monty was fucking dire though. Dude was shocking out in the field. The crowd was odd. It was either middle aged business types,a few holloaks types plus those super sporty kids you get at school. You know the ones that are Stato on every sport. I also missed 5 overs getting my old man a birthday beer… and they didn’t even have any cokes for me. I was not amused.

The rest of my weekend was entirely uneventful.

I’ll drop some more pearls re: the exciting events of last few days if can be bothered soon.

R

P.S- Being a good citizen I waited for the UK release of The Red Album so that HMRC could take their slice of VAT. I also got the deluxe edition with 6 extra cuts and sweet sleeve notes. Sike! H Boy. Sike! Full opinions to come… needless to say it sounds pretty big first couple of spins. =W=

I AM THE GREATEST MAN THAT EVER LIVED

Baiting the Public

I was going to write post a blog discussing Britain’s Got Talent**… then this came up.

http://news.bbc.co.uk/1/hi/world/asia-pacific/7442327.stm

This news item has reverberated around my grey matter since I heard it on Sunday. While I in no way condone or celebrate the murder of the seven innocent civilians in a most horrific manner, a part of me cannot help be intrigued.

Now, before I get lambasted for being a sick fuck, I just think that its amazing that this man was that ‘tired of life’ the rage he felt overcame his rationality. It makes me look like a fucking poser.

Its no great secret that I have lost most of my faith in humanity and that part of me would like to distribute some kind of vengeful terror against all the people who have wronged me (or just scumbags in general), but the voice of reason in my head has always stopped me… not even stopped me as such… it has never been a consideration.

So it fascinates me that this dude was either that fucked that he has no voice of reason, or that the weight of the world has eroded that voice and made him indiscriminately kill. I mean, I thought I was having a shit few weeks - shit talking paranoia, a job I don’t really like consuming my life, feelings of emptiness and the future looking bleak yadda yadda sub-par Dawson's Creek - but still just going ape was never considered. I’ve got too much to lose (my health, family, bros, the C.R.E.A.M.).

Apparently, the pressure and intolerance of difference in Japanese culture can leave many people severely ostracised. I assume this affected Tomohiro.

All of this makes me feel a little more normal and grateful that I still have the voice of reason in my head. It also makes me thankful that however out of step I feel, My anger has never pushed me this far.

Positive Outlook? Nah.

Still, if I went on the rampage in the Weston Favell Shopping Centre I’d probably take down a few drug dealers, child abusers and scumbags that made me feel like shit in school (they're most probably drug dealers or child abusers too).

R x

**If you really need it explaining to you why that programme is bullshit then you’re just as bad as that arseclown fucking around in the water.

Just another manic Monday

At risk of sounding like a broken record (oh the great British cliche, how I love thee), I am going to talk briefly about the new Weezer album, which I've listened to now about 4 times since receiving a copy on Saturday. Some brief bullet points will suffice for now:

• Some of the songs are the best things Rivers has written since 1997. Cases in point: The Greatest Man That Ever Lived, Pork and Beans, The Angel and The One
• The bracketed title of The Greatest Man That Ever Lived is (Variations on a Shaker Hymn). The Red Album should have the bracketed title (Variations on a Weezer Record). By this I mean, it is incredibly inconsistent. Songs by Brian and Pat sound great, but in context, particularly with the majestic turn Rivers' songwriting takes on the record, don't seem to fit.
• A lot of the songs seem to be about how awesome Rivers is. This is brilliant and valid subject matter.
• Some of the songs are wonderfully ridiculous. Case in point: Everbody Get Dangerous
• However, this is at the expense of that window into Rivers' soul that we all miss so much. Red is an album with a front - shrouded in ironic bravado and intended idiocy it does not relive the highs of Weezer of old.
• Regardless, it's Weezer you fool. A super fun listen that doesn't even warrant all this stupid over-analyis rubbish what i've just done. Sorry.

In other news, the European Championships are off to a lukewarm start with the noticeable absence of the home nations. I'd enjoy seeing the Dutch or the Spanish to do well but, as usual, I think they'll probably fall short. Portugal play too much like Arsenal. The only competition winners in it seem to be France and Italy, and maybe Germany. I guess we'll see how it goes.

I have to drive back to Norwich this afternoon, in the space of which my opinion on the aforementioned Weezer rekkid will probably change. Boo fucking hoo.

J x

On Weezer's power to bring life...

Face up!

So here I sit, on return from a week away in the South West with the in-laws, trying desperately not to retreat into the depression brought about by the pile of wank that is my dissertation. Oh my, what a mouth-full.

This is my first blog on here. I'm not really sure of its purpose or quality, but it feels cathartic already. Sometimes it's nice just to sit down and have a think kids - turn off the TV and put a record on. It might just save your sexy little minds.

So my life-partner, Nicola, bought me a special gift! It's a pre-order of the new Weezer record, their sixth full length to date, that came with a super-rad clear red vinyl. I've got it on for the first time right now and I'm trying my best to reserve judgement, but something about it is terribly soothing. I've observed mixed opinion over the last month, but doesn't everything just feel right when Weezer plug in? I'd like to write a full review of it but I'm not sure I'm qualified - as you can tell, Rob and I are Weezer-nuts. But hey, write about what you know right? Give me a few more spins and I'll record my thoughts.

Dear diary, dear readers, dear Rob? I'm Joe and I'm 21.

Everybody get dangerous.

J x

The ego trip begins...

Kick It!

The way it is: This is a blog done by me and my main man Joe. Pretty simple.

I’m not quite sure what my contribution to this will be other than rants and giving people a slice of my real world view. I guess H Boy will be putting up some music reviews and other pieces demonstrating his exceptional command of the English language…this will be in contrast to my poorly written hateful diatribes and “Yeeaaahh Booyyyyyyys”.

I’m really not sure who, if anybody, will read this because we don’t really have a butt load of friends (well I don’t) and I know most of mine are sick of my opinions and perceived negativity (reality). Ohwell, maybe I’ll use this as a confessional to purge my soul. Read at your own discretion.

A couple of other points…

"The Greatest Man That Ever Lived” is a magnificent jam by the band Weezer… If you don’t like Weezer you’re not my friend.

“I Just Wasn’t Made for These Times” is off Pet Sounds by The Beach Boys. Joe digs them a shit tonne, as do I, and I think the title of this cut aptly describes the way I see things. Double Bubble.


R