I went to see mùm the other night and they were mmmmm lovely. All soft and pretty with sinister quirks and clouded with atmosphere. We all just stood silently and blissful. Sigh. They had the epicness of Godspeed, the swirlingness of Slowdive, the modernity of electronica, the simplicity of Mogwai, the wide-eyed wonder of child angels. They were beautiful.

For some reason this reminded me of Bill Drummond‘s latest episode [Bill Drummond’s life always seems to me to be a series of episodes] – selling 20,000 pieces of his Richard Long photograph. Alistair Fitchett describes it all so well [as always] on Tangents.

I have been here for less than 8 hours and I love it. I’ll get to sleep on the roof of my hotel which overlooks the square where there’s folk playing mental Gnoua trance and dancing at half10 in the morning.

So why am I in the dark typing? It’s hot, I’m teaching a kid to count in french (but only up to 15) and I’m lost and don’t want to have to walk back through the market yet…..

Got the first useful piece of MovieMaster JunkMail, too! Or it would be if I actually made films.

Well, I’ll be a monkey’s uncle.

I’d say nice things about stuff except I’ve just watched Big Brother and I’m mad. 12 egomaniac pretty people spouting worthless guff whilst doing nothing. The televisual phenomenon of the decade? It’s just weird. I mean, one of the contestants got on through sending in a videotape of himself simultaneously bodybuilding and pulling down his pants in a muddy field.

(say the producers) “Giles. We’ve got our man”.

The only thing I can think of to out-weird that is this.

i so missed you, marcy.

A free lollipop for anyone who noticed I was gone. I’ve been moving house and getting broadband internet yay. I’ve also been listening to Autechre and Le Tigre and Papa M [thanks Simon and Adam] and reading loads of stuff which included having a pretension check after reading every word in both Wired and The Wire. My new need to take public transport to work has vastly reduced the amount of music I listen to and almost convinced me that Metro is an interesting and worthwhile newspaper. Helllp meeee etc.

Must also mention wee Stuart Braithwaite‘s column in The List this fortnight. It’s a classic. The columns aren’t online sadly and I don’t have it with me but basically it says this [yes, I’m paraphrasing]:

‘We’re on tour in South America! It’s amazing and the shows have been tremendous. Only a complete fool would find anything to complain about…..but..but all my pals back home are getting to watch the new Star Wars movie and I can’t!! waaaaaahhhhh!’

The man’s a comedy genius.

David Fincher will produce the movie. He said: “This is a movie about iconoclasts. It’s about youth and energy and anger and fulfilment. How could one not think of Fred Durst?”‘

Jesus. And I’ve told people that I have respect for Fincher. How will i ever leave the house again?

Fred says he’s been skating since 1978… hmmm…. maybe, just maybe we’ll get to see Fred rack himself rilly fuckin hard. that’d be worth buying the dvd for. i could watch that on repeat for days and it wouldn’t get old. and if it ever did get old, i’d come back about a week later and watch it, and it’d be like brand new again.

Christ knows what I’m gunna do now but I am finding that I have an inordinate amount of time to potter about achieving very little. Anyhow good stuff I’ve been listening to recently includes albums from The Van Pelt; Eastern Youth; Biblical Proof of UFOs; The Art of Fighting; Appleseed Cast and Mineral. I still have piles of stuff to get through but it’s not a bad life, I suppose. Aside from that I’m off to see the new Star Wars film tonight with a bunch of geeks. Woo!!

Currently on repeat: Shellac‘s Saturday set from All Tomorrow’s Parties on CD courtesy of Rob Strong. And how good is this? It’s rare to be able to hang on to special events in your life, too often you don’t even have a photograph or a scrap of paper to remember things by. But here I am, Saturday afternoon at ATP, squashed into the photo pit for Shellac’s set, the act of photography taking second place to the chance of watching the performance from such a privileged viewpoint. After a bit of photographer musical chairs I ended up with prime position, right at Steve Albini’s feet. I could see everything and completely connect the movements to the noise: the way Albini steps back and forwards, back and across and forwards, the way he would just brush the strings of his guitar. The utter metallicness of all their equipment. Basically I was in awe. The most affecting part was Mama Gina without a doubt. I was affected to the very depths of my heart by this song live. It’s such open honest emotion. And I’m taken back there instantly hearing it play back on the CD. And being able to hear them jumping on the stage in The Watch Song. The sort of thing that would be lost in the fug of a homemade bootleg. I shall treasure this CD as I treasure that experience.

And just to top things off the CD also has the Trail of Dead session on John Peel where he reads out an email from the TODlist and says I have a nice name. Awwww.

last night i caught a bit of this hilarious footage of drunk bees on some show on TV. hmmm, there’s no way i can really try to explain how intensely amusing pissed bees are… almost as good as drunk monkeys! ah gee…. it was great. honest.

well, i had a dream that dave grohl signed my shoe, and didn’t even have to ask my name.

greg kitten: friend of the stars (in his crappy fantasy world).