In the dim and distance past Marceline once bemoaned about the lack of reviews of musical acts with a name beginning with the letter “X”.  Finally I have found an act with such a moniker and although the single was released early this year it has managed to become one of my favourite singles of the year.

With a name and song title that are truly worthy of underground credentials the tedious pounding of a drum accompanies a lengthy and sarcastic guide to exactly how to reduce the chances of being a terror victim.

For the longest time now I have been purchasing seven inch singles and as tangible music makes a last push for survival in the eleventh hour of physical formats being the main vehicle for recorded music, unfortunately the majority of the new bands posing as “indie” have been resoundingly substandard.  Here most definitely is an exception.

This XX Teens single however has proved to be the exception displaying a nonchalant attitude of mock seriousness and a dark sense of humour that is really missing for underground music at these times.

A record that would not be unwelcome in The Fall’s back catalogue, the advice dispensed on offer ranges from the sensible to the absurd echoing those terrifying public service videos from the eighties that seemed to promise nuclear warfare next week and shot fear into the hearts and minds of so many impressionable children such as myself.

The world requires more records like this.

Thesaurus moment: evangelic.

XX Teens

Big Billy Records

Mute Records

Recorded at the famous chem19 studio, there is a distinct Mogwai-esqe post-rock feel to this release that would have earnestly felt at home on the roster of Chemikal Underground when the label was at its height.

Perhaps more Explosions In The Sky than Mogwai, with the recent wet panting reception that Sigor Ros have rightly or wrongly received there is still more than enough desire and attention around for an act such as this, especially when those in the know will have written off and dismissed the genre a long time ago.

There is only so much that can be added to the atmospherics and ambience of post-rock but there is something truly Scottish sounding about this release curiously tickling memories of soundtracks from movies set in Scotland such as Restless Natives and Local Hero.  Even more confusing when considering such soundtracks came from Big Country and Dire Straits.  In other words, at times these guitars sound like pipes of bags.

There is still a real mystery surrounding Scotland to your average, considered Englishman.  Against all the temper it is still, resentfully, a place of true beauty where the air, even if chilly, feels fresher and the people tougher.  And on a good day, this is its score.

Thesaurus moment: tranquil.

The French Quarter

Trying to make good, Make Model appear to be grafters on this appearance and very little else.  Using the effect that makes a band sound as if they are playing through/down a telephone line, this band almost sounds like Bis being played at the wrong speed.  If this is what the kids want then perhaps instead of serving this up, a branch should be extended to recommending those that came before in order to clear stock first.

I have to admit this is a confusing construction but one that is not entirely disagreeable, just one that struggles to appear purposeful.  The belief (for me) was that Make Model were going to sound like The Delgados (before they came with strings attached) but instead it is a minor stomp with the female vocals that I would have expected to be in the forefront being most deftly switched to the background for groceries.

The b-side is entitled “Czech Neck”, an obvious reference to the students favourite.  The mere reference alone hints at a superior sense of humour but the resulting track is sedate and without a tinge of jolly.

A few years ago I could see and imagine this band hanging around and comfortably slotting into the lo-fi DIY scene but as a scene barely exists anymore it is tough to imagine Make Model possessing any such desire to be so low on the indie rock food chain.

Right now as I write this there is a fox harbouring outside my window in the spacious building that is to become a supermarket.  I would imagine Make Model are looking for similar growth and extermination.

Blame the accountants I say.

Thesaurus moment: delay.

Make Model

V2 Records

One of the strongest electronic beep records you will ever hear, the new record from Elite Barbarian achieves a certain kind of ambience ordinarily/usually harboured by the most strung out and sensitive of electronic acts without using such barbed sonics. 

Tickling like the insides of a ZX Spectrum and playing out like the soundtrack of several Atari 2600 games; over the course of 58 minutes the album takes the listener on a journey of unexplored confines electronic beats/beeps often coupled with crazed sick piano licks. 

The author of the album is Ben Page who as a member of both Rothko and Rocket No.9 is a seasoned and accomplished composer of modern ambient extracts often emerging from improvisation and instinctive desires and trajectories.

The real strength of this record is the manner in which it achieves being both relentless and relaxed at the same time, tempered and tenacious in its brute meditation.  As the atmospherics grow so does the intensity as sonic layers reminiscent of raindrops, pulses and bubbling machinery scour your consciousness almost feeling transient as it interrupts the flow of your immediate activities.

Listened to as a whole the album merges into one great body of work not strictly to be swallowed whole but to accompany any mindset or duty that requires a holding hand to assist concentration and clarity.

By the time it reaches the 16 minute climax “Let’s Go Back To Morse Code” you sense you are coming to the end of being subjected to some kind of subliminal intake and that it is actually quite possible that the beeps could well be pieced together Joe Bonham style to forge together some kind of alien message.  You’re unlikely to hear this record at parties, only funerals.

Thesaurus moment: static.

Elite Barbarian

Front And Follow

What was it that prompted me to fork out £3.49 for a seven inch single in this day and age?  One thing may have been the classily twisted cover art straight from the school of Raymond Pettibon displaying the vivid attitude that accompanied Big Black’s Songs About Fucking LP sleeve.  Perhaps it was the label it is released on, the wonderful Jonson Family Records who I had vague dealings with straight back to the first Stanton single released by them up to the Ten Minutemen vinyls and the Peel session(s).  Maybe it is the autographs and signatures on the back of the sleeve making it prime for Ebay!  Perhaps it is the jukebox hole in the centre.  Regardless they got my money.

Eclipsing all these elements however are the dirty sounding guitars and bouncing stride of confidence that accompanies all of the above.  With a set of influences that read straight out of my shelves/collection, here is truly one of the last remaining independent releases you will see in stores

In a time when guitars no longer whistle or scream, as inept guitar players take over the shop and make it boring, here is a house for the estranged and desperate, a tune so lumbering it actually helps to be obese to enjoy it.

The influences of this band are said to be Sub Pop grunge and I can hear that in a dirge that reminds me of the Thrown Ups and their ilk, the less conventional bands on the label during that prized era, the fallen heroes.  What the record reminds me of most are the early lo-fi punk songs of the Beastie Boys from the Some Old Bullshit compilation, an association in sound that is most welcomed.

And as a bonus you get a band member that looks like a younger version of the dad from Malcolm In The Middle.  Lovvers have everything and more!

Thesaurus moment: BBW.

Lovvers

Jonson Family Records

Straight away I have to come clean and admit that this mini album is a few years old now but only a recent discovery for me after experiencing several exhilarating live performance.  Not owning this release until now ultimately is several years my loss as I genuinely love this release.

Spread over seven tracks Scorpio Scorpio is a mean motherfucker from Australia, very much in the Mark “Chopper” Read mold with no mould, a one man assault system with a twisted sense of humour and a vocabulary turns the air blue. 

The life of a one band as described/explained by Leo Sayer many years ago is a tough and lonely road of existence.  It is made even lonelier when you are selling drugs and performing bank jobs.  To combine drum n bass with guitars in this manner truly is something of a criminal act, like an Australian Devo on crystal meth, packing to settle nerves.

Scorpio Scorpio is the king of the infectious blast of aggression, slamming/smashing electro music fires through in a lo-fi industrial style as jagged guitars like parchments of AC/DC feedback with hooks aplenty. 

The real strength of the release is in the lyrical content that is spat out like bullets – this is pure poetry in its execution.  Opening track “Utility (You And Me)” verges on pure pop perfection, following the announcement “fuckin’ turn it up”, Scorpio Scorpio calls out the listener “have a go” before using the basic genius principle of having a chorus including “na na na na na.”  It just works!

With song titles as “Ayatollah Rock’N’Roller” and “Cobra (Knobya)” it would take a very stone faced person not to find humour in this record, the type of person that may have experienced a fatality at the hands of Mr Scorpio Scorpio himself.  There are no innocent bystanders connected with this music, especially when “Cobra (Knobya)” is concerned. 

The one sad flaw of this record are the high fidelity qualities, they are sadly lower than such a collection deserves.  For some this could prove a spoiling point but for others this may even make the music.

Thesaurus moment: schismatic. 

Scorpio Scorpio

I cannot get a grip, this time last week it was snowing and the snow was settling, it was the most terrifying Easter I had ever seen. Thank Christ BBC took it upon themselves to show High School Musical 2 and pacify me with dreams of a golden future for my impending offspring (impending as in within the next ten years)

And now the clocks the have changed and this is officially British summertime? If its not raining now, it certainly has been and yet I still need to have my window open because it is still too fucking warm for me. Is this the way it is supposed to be?

I’ve finished with the music industry. I left just before Easter just on the verge of being the tour accountant this summer for one of my heroes and also for a Glastonbury/T In The Park/V headliner. I had had enough. Music has sickened me in the past but this was a new low, the escape had to be done. Unwisely to escape having to work out my notice I accused them (the industry) of constructive dismissal, a claim that could carry no weight considering my previous adventures with employers (that bloody book, I have done bugger all to push it this year).

I haven’t been pissed for months, this weather does not want it. The last time I “went for it” I wound up being sick in the pub and ended up at a loved one’s flat hurling bullshit and abuse at her in a comedic fashion before passing out on her sofa only to awaken in the morning with my trousers off having ruined ANY final opportunity to rekindle anything. Its all about the manager of S******lor for her now, how could I compete with that talented bunch of original artists

Which all in all moves me to my current listening tastes. I was excited this year about new records from Nick Cave and The Breeders but neither have really cut it. Nick Cave was great for a few weeks but my enjoyment has been somewhat tarnished by everyone and their arsehole saying what a great return to form it is. Dude, never lost it.

And The Breeders record just is not grunge. I sense it is a real slow burner, after this initial downer, the songs are growing subtly in my mind now and will probably remain there all summer, when it finally arrives. I have been listening to old Breeders bootlegs from the Last Splash era and they’re some of the most exciting live sets I have ever heard. I have even been revisiting their lyrics and fallen in love with simple first lines such as “I like all the different people, I like sticky everywhere” along with the beautiful way “oh c’mon, nobody wants that!” on Iris.

As I yearn my first big weekend the record that has really grabbed me is Aidan John Moffat’s this may be the soundtrack to my summer. I really regret how undervalued Arab Strap were to me after their first two records because their words are pure poetry. It is ridiculous how I found myself still surprised and shocked by “I Can Hear Your Heart”, its a no-brainer. I cannot remember which was the last record to make me laugh out loud but the current one is this. When I played a track around my parents’ yesterday and the stringed intro to track three came in to the response of my Father that’s nice, I just knew I had to skip a track entitled “Cunts”. This is not subtle but its painfully close to the bone. The dissection of Grease and the aftermath is pure grit realism and for some reason right now I need this attitude justified and confirmed to me. It may be the most negative take on existence but it doesn’t mean that it is necessarily wrong or unacceptable. Love will ruin a person, damn near kill them when it falters and goes wrong. I have also seen positive love/relationships stunt and kill the spirit of pure/real men. In other words, these words are essential.

She has cut me dead this year, the lady I fell for last Nov/Dec only to have stomp on my heart and ruin my 2008 but at least this confirms I am not alone and proves that there is a way of finding humour in the most debasing and humiliating of moments. Flirt divert.

As the rain comes humbling down and the words “summer is ready when you are” tickle my mind, I strive further looking for something the least bit summer and this perhaps unwisely finds me digging out my copy of The Punch And Judy Man – that has a happy ending doesn’t it?

2007

Not a vintage year, oh no. And yet on paper I accomplished a fair bit but the amount of effort it all took made me question whether it was worth the hassle.

A few months ago we did a blah blah blah of our current tastes and trends and mine didn’t really change much in the final third/quarter of the year. My year actually started with GRINDERMAN and has now ended with GRINDERMAN – I seem to be able to relate to the lyrics more than ever. Seeing them perform at ATP was a true highlight of my year although the best live show I saw was easily DEVO at the Shepherd’s Bush Empire in April.

Despite her silly performance at said ATP, CAT POWER remains my favourite artist although I fear this is both a) predictable and b) what is making me so morose. I’ve managed to find Jukebox online already and it is fantastic – be no means her best recordings but no means her worst.

Also one last ATP shout out to ALAN VEGA whose set blew me away with its beats, ridiculous dark humour and message. The subsequent album completely matched the performance as did the SUICIDE support slot for GRINDERMAN at Kentish Town Forum.

The first gig of the year I went to was THE HOLD STEADY at the Borderline and that was a very tough benchmark to beat for the rest of the year. Without being spectacular or pretentious here was a most earnest of outfits looking to get drunk and have a good time, such drunken shenanigans I hadn’t seen since GUIDED BY VOICES. By the time we saw them on the main stage at LATITUDE their legacy was solid gold. Attempting to catch up on their popularity (and slowly getting there) LES SAVY FAV came out with a fantastic but for some reason really fell flat live, despite Tim Harrington climbing over all and sundry. QUI were also in a similar boat, alt rock legends (well, Yow) making some kind of a comeback. The record was so so but the live show was terrifying in the best possible way although slightly tarnished by the reality that the audience was full of oldsters – young people just do not seem to be into this kind of message anymore. Their lose.

I still listen to RADIO ONE semi religiously at work and I swear modern pop producers are some of the most savvy people in music. I experienced almost first hand the tidal wave of TIMBALAND and DR LUKE at work, with their demands and entourages. The first being genuinely talented and the latter some kind of chancer riding the coat tales of CATHY DENNIS. Personally my favourites are BOOTY LUV. Its basically the two birds from BIG BRUVAZ doing covers but they fucking rule!!!! Every time DAVE GROHL appeared on the radio however I felt like vomiting and killing his family.

THE GOSSIP fucking ruled my world this year. The record, a 2006 release I will admit, obviously spawned Standing In The Way Of Control and to have it all over RADIO ONE follwoed by Miss Ditto all over the tabloids, it genuinely felt like back in 1991 when Smells Like Teen Spirit broke – here was “one of us” representing in the mainstream. Sadly The Gossip ain’t Nirvana and Beth is playing the game a bit too well and basically acting way too fucking nice (say something nasty, be controversial and piss people off – PLEASE!!!!). However every time those crappy recorded drums (by Guy from Fugazi) came on the radio it felt briefly like revolution. Almost hand in hand (the Mudhoney to their Nirvana) CSS briefly appeared in a number of places on their way to their American Apparel endorsement. The record doesn’t hold up but Lovefoxxx most definitely does. Schwing!!!!

One of the last gigs of the year I saw was GZA/GENIUS doing Liquid Swords at the Koko as part of the Don’t Look Back series of gigs. It felt like karaoke as I was surrounded by the whitest and most obnoxious audience I have ever been around (following the close second that was the SONIC YOUTH Daydream Nation audience at the Roundhouse). I have now reached the cranky age (I hit 31 this year) where I have become Larry David and hate having anyone around me encroaching my personal space. How fucking dare they!!! Despite this I did really enjoy GZA/GENIUS though – he has flava!

Records I really enjoyed this year: PISSED JEANS, Visqueen by UNSANE (that band NEVER fails to excite/entertain), COMMON’s album, Weatherman by EVIDENCE (DILATED PEOPLE’s dude’s solo album), Rup On Zebra by RUP, the new ROTHKO album, the THESE NEW PURITANS singles (although the album isn’t so hot), KATE NASH turned out to be totally OK (if ultimately annoying) and Police On My Back by LETHAL BIZZLE was single of the year by a grimey mile. The live versions on the DAYDREAM NATION delux version were astoundingly good. The SHELLAC record was fucking rubbish and the sooner THE ENEMY die in a car crash the better. Also quick, before it gets pulled, buy Transmission by NIRVANA from Play.com – how the hell do they get away with selling such a good bootleg?

Friends bands I love: LIMN, BILLY RUFFIAN, ROCKET NO 9, LONG DIVISION WITH REMAINDERS, SHARE THE SHAME, CATS AGAINST THE BOMB, BIG IN ALBANIA, MASSIVE HOSPITALIZATION, RIGHTEOUS BASTARDS and “Keith” by YONOQUIERO.

The movies on the whole sucked this year. I cannot recall on thing I saw in the cinema I loved. Well, I loved MANHATTAN but that is about 30 years old. I did really “enjoy” OLD JOY but it did leave me feeling depressed but I did feel it captured these times that are a changing. And it came on a day where I chose to go see that movie instead of appearing on Stephen Merchant’s Radio Six show chosing Good Weekend by ART BRUT as my song for the lovers. Another movie I really enjoyed was VENUS. I will watch almost any British to mixed results (such as GIGOLOS and LONDON TO BRIGHTON) but VENUS really paid off. Horny old people, love ’em. I love FAY GRIM even if it did stain the legacy of HENRY FOOL is a tough two hours. HALF NELSON also intrigued in a very sombre and sobering manner.

Movie let downs: SIMPSONS, HAIRSPRAY, CONTROL, INLAND EMPIRE, WAITRESS and YEAR OF THE DOG.

THE FOG OF WAR remains on repeated play on my DVD – what a movie!

HBO made better television than Hollywood made movies again this year. This was the year I discovered THE WIRE and a smarter and more intricate, social and topical series there will never be. It is obvious why CHARLIE BROOKER raves about it. At times in episodes nothing appeared to happen but later on in the plot you learned everything had happened. I cannot forget how gripped I found myself one Sunday morning when I had to watch five episodes back-to-back. Being the year I only discovered the show, this meant there were four seasons already in place to devour. For me head and shoulders the best season is the second one with its dock storyline but in the form of Stringer Bell it has quite possibly the coolest television character in history. And just like THE SOPRANOS it has a soundtrack/score to die for, not least the closing montage of season two with I Feel Alright by STEVE EARLE. And of course the various versions of TOM WAITS’ WAY DOWN IN THE HOLE is a theme song to die for.

And mentioning THE SOPRANOS it solidified it’s place as the great television show in history with the closing episodes. With the darkest of humour its strong point, after the flat closure of the first half of season six, the final episodes were a genuine emotional rollercoaster that saw me more than once have to cover my eyes winching in the face of pain and humiliation. With his depth of character TONY SOPRANO is one of the few remaining masculine “role models” and his trials and tribulations and continued soul searching made for compulsive viewing until the very end. People tell me they have never sat down and watched THE SOPRANOS and sadly I feel it is too late, you had to be there and learn how to care for characters who were basically fucking bullies and murderers. As numbers fell right up to the end of the series it felt like I was losing loved ones to my enemies – this show has really suckered me in for the last six years and genuinely changed my outlook on life and attitude, perhaps not for the better. And the soundtrack remained awesome to the end, being the place where I discovered It’s Alright Ma (I’m Only Bleeding) by BOB DYLAN and providing me with a massive highlight at LATITUDE when I was telling JOHN COOPER CLARKE how amazing the use of Evidently Chickentown was. It was all about CLEAVER. And for the record I fucking hated the ending, David Chase pulled off a trick of Andy Kaufman proportions which he should be equally admired as shot for.

Other telly: I loved SARAH SILVERMAN PROGRAMME for finding new and inventive ways of being offensive and LOVE SOUP which I’ll admit an old show but discovered on DVD this year. And I’ll concede FLIGHT OF THE CONCHORDS is genuinely funny.

Comedy was fucking stunning, not least for the two week DAVID CROSS AND FRIENDS residence at 100 Club. Not only did CROSS slay both times I saw him but EUGENE MIRMAN proved funnier than ever with KRISTEN SCHAAL and TODD BARRY glowing on a truly amazing bill. RICKY GERVAIS’ FAME show was hit and miss and but exciting all the same. After seeing him several times, I finally met ROBIN INCE and he was a true gent and super witty with it (his MYSPACE blog is the best on the net). The final BOOK CLUB featuring ROB NEWMAN was a truly sad occasion, not least after a second year of being the undisputed highlight of LATITUDE (helping me sneak backstage in the process). JOSIE LONG kicked my ass with her positivity and intelligence another year running (2008 will DEFINITELY by her year) and PAPPY’S FUN CLUB’s Edinburgh (which I saw thrice) was killer and rightfully saw them reaching the newcomers final selection.

Personally my year was ruined by employment agencies, not least the “big two” Hays and Reed. Fools like Simon S****** and Ben W******* condescended me and treated me like scum. I didn’t want to change jobs, I genuinely loved my time at Trevor Horn’s Band Aid recording gaff and working on ZTT and STIFF RECORDS amongst others, but I qualified as an ACCA certified accountant in February (finally!) and deserved real payola. Thirteen interviews later I find myself at a music industry accounts practice on Baker Street. My portfolio has household names as clients (one even mentioned here) but the music industry remains a depressed cesspit of extravagance and wasted money. My commute to London remains a daily four hour roundtrip but honestly, London is worth it.

The closure and subsequent re-opening of FOPP was a lowlight and highlight all in one and now I am back to my old ways of jizzing away my hard earned money on cheap DVDs and back catalogue CDs I am unlikely to never play/watch.

My big accomplishment of the year was my self publishing of JGRAM WORLD, my old blog that got me into all that trouble back in the day. It is a 390 page tome of tangible book! DIY is back in my life!!! And it works as a book, it has an arc and people are genuinely enthusiastic for it. If I am honest it needed more proofing and wasn’t ready to go to print and could easily be edited into something half the size but it is what it is and I am still proud of it even if I do mis-spell Al Qaeda at one point.

The NEW DEN remains my theatre of dreams as MILLWALL plug away at my patience.

PING PONG and Dim Sum was the food to eat.

I only visited ladies of the night twice this year, so that was good and almost fell in love in the final months of the year (fingers crossed for 2008). Christmas was a blow out – I neither got a new dog nor a Nintendo Wii and wound up spending both Christmas Eve and New Year’s Eve in, on my own. That said my cleaning job of my flat Bohemian Grove on 1 January was the daddy!

I am sure I have forgotten a ton of other stuff I did and enjoyed but enough already!!!!

Things to look forward to in 2008:
NICK CAVE AND THE BAD SEEDS!
THE BREEDERS!
THE WIRE SEASON FIVE!
MY RESOLUTION TO ACT MY AGE!

Peace.

I’m kinda sad to report that most of my 2007 has been consumed with work woes and issues. At the beginning of the year I finally qualified as a fully blown certified accountant after too many years of study taking up too much of my “leisure” time. Anyhow, it proved quite the poison challis and re-iterated just how over qualified I was for my role at Buggles’s gaff despite it being something of my dream job. After much searching and truly painful dealings with swine and shysters posing as employment agencies who in reality barely has a brain cell between them (and evidently NOT the first idea about the industry I work in) I have landed another very good job in the music industry following failed applications (and interviews) at places such as the BBC, Wall Of Sound Records etc etc. It is proving a really tough job though and one that I have sadly had to sign a confidentiality form/contract/disclosure/document. On the flipside I never had to sign any such document when I worked for Buggles at the studio and there is some true scandal waiting to be uncovered by someone at that place. I truly miss working with many of the people there though, such as the former Big Brother South Africa contestant, the ex-Irish girl band member, the old Quentin Tarantino PA etc etc

So……my experiences of the music industry are never ceasing to surprise or illuminate, continuing to do so on an almost daily basis. I often feel disgust and disillusion at just how odious the whole process and profession is – firstly you ain’t accomplish shit without management to brown nose on your behalf. I have seen silly amounts of money thrown at some really third and fourth rate bands which is verging on soul destroying. Comparing what I see now to my previous life with Gringo, how on earth was a professional label able to come in and sign Hirameka without doing nish on the publishing side? Publishing by the way is money for old rope! The majority of acts seldom recoup advances so I have seen the future and it is – no advances! Message me offline and I will tell you a horrible tale of one of the biggest cowboys in the industry doing just that. And the dude looks like Danny Devito. Odious!

As a result of moving in these circles this week has seen me shaking my head to gigs by Incubus, the Dandy Warhols and the Happy Mondays pushing me back towards Shellac, Fugazi, Nirvana etc records more than ever.

Good gigs though! I am VERY excited about the Les Savy Fav in a couple of weeks, their new record does not fail to disappoint. Part of my thinks their return has been spurned on by the justified success of their friends The Hold Steady being flavour of the month, an OK band made amazing through thick layers of personality and a sense of genuine gratitude.

Devo take the honour of gig of the year at the Shepherd’s Bush Empire and are probably in the running for my all time favourite show. My God, for podgy old men in radiation suits there sure was a lot of energy, enthusiasm and excellence on show that night with every song a hit/classic. Which I have to say cannot be said for Sonic Youth doing Daydream Nation at the Roundhouse which left me with a resounding feeling of “meh”, which is something I would never have dreamt. And in recent weeks LITE from Japan really showed me a good time. I have also rediscovered hardcore after being enthused by the documentary movie American Hardcore and I currently love the band Coke Bust.

Movie wise I have enjoyed very few lately and avoided many films that I would have previously run to enthusiastically. The Simpsons Movie was only OK (it spread itself too thinly) but I am very excited about going to see Fay Grim (the sequel to Henry Fool) at the London Film Festival at the end of the month.

TV has been astonishingly good this year. Without doubt The Sopranos has solidified its place as the greatest TV drama of all time with some of the strongest episodes in the entire show’s existence, proving truly affecting especially in the genuinely jawdropping final four which performed the unthinkable and broached some real taboo subjects. Running in parallel I finally discovered The Wire as an equally well written and performed series, now four seasons old with an ensemble cast to die for and perhaps the smoothest villan in history in Stringer Bell. The show feels like an education in the most entertaining way, one from you come away feeling more intelligent. And finally the Sarah Silverman Program has made me laugh more than anything in recent memory. I question how she is able to put her “sick” humour on screen in such stifling times but I am thankful she has in these times of a real lack of humour in the world it seems.

The new Trapped In The Closet chapters (complete with Will Oldham cameo) despite now proving somewhat knowing totally delivered with the introduction of a ridiculous amount of ridiculous characters.

I have been to the theatre! I went to see the Bill Hicks Slight Return for the third time in as many years last Friday and it still rocks my world. A few weeks prior to that I caught Warren Mitchell (Alf Garnett) in Colchester performing the play Visiting Mr Green and it felt a true privilige to see an 81 year old legend in performance. And on my birthday I finally got to see Avenue Q which was as glorious as I was imagining it would be.

Comedy rocks! Seeing the David Cross residence at the 100 Club was a genuine treat, Eugene Mirman is a big Russian bear of comedy and is currently appearing in Flight Of The Conchords – something I can’t make my mind up on. And Josie Long just continues to get funnier and funnier while my friends Pappy’s Fun Club have returned from the Edinburgh Festival with resounding success and Robin Ince’s Myspace blog remains one of the funniest reads online.

The closure of Fopp (especially the Tottenham Court Road store) has hit me hard.

I continue to try and get my book done. The first edit was put into a printable template of 387 pages back around June but I decided to make a few additional edits and the manuscript has remained in limbo since but I have to draw a line under it soon and get the thing put out otherwise it will never get done. In the meantime I am tentatively working on four other writing ideas to varying degrees of success, a number of which I am sure will fall to the wayside. Hopefully the Douglas Coupland reading at the Bloomsbury Theatre this week will prove inspiring.

I want a new dog but I have no room in my flat.

The Danny Baker podcasts have proved a real surprise highlight of my summer, getting my through many commutes to London and the recent football shows are some of the best podcasts on the internet.

Somehow I remain really enjoying listening to daytime Radio One at work despite walls of shitty “indie” guitar bands easily being eclipsed by pop and mainstream electronic music sounding REALLY savvy and even experimental in comparison. Nowhere will you hear a better song this year than “Police On My Back” by Lethal Bizzle

My apparent fetish for High School Musical apparently has no ends (according to my ex-work colleagues).

American Apparel clothing has really gone downhill.

Eating out is all about dim sum.

I love London more than ever.

I need a holiday.

Here are two guys very close to my heart, when they describe themselves as “righteous” the emphasis is very much on the “right” of their moniker. Packaged as if written and recorded by a couple of hicks, you gotta wonder what lies in the deep and dense plots of most rural Cambridgeshire from where this record originates.

Early confusion rains on the compact disc (technology has sure arrived with a vengeance in their town) as the booklet states four compositions but the CD reads as only containing two. Already I am in a kafuffle.

The muddy sludge that arrives with this record sonically reminds me of Earth and other such hateful doom mongers from that scene of distortion frenzied slo-mo metallers in addition to messy sounds that have been known to emit from types such as Mudhoney and Bardo Pond. If you have ever seen the movie Broken Flowers and the malice filled final visit Bill Murray makes to an old flame, that whole episode/scene is sound tracked by Sleep however this could just as happily take its place in sitting next to such frustration.

Clocking in at 25 minutes this is an exceedingly dirty sounding recording reminiscent of a recent golden age where guitars were turned to eleven and played with contempt as the instigators relished offending the audience in a devil may care manner akin to most aloof of heroin addicts. If I could place this record at the heart of a scene it would be in the midst of fully blown shit storm sound tracking a day of drinking beer, eating meat and firing guns. As one of their song titles acknowledges, they don’t believe in punishment, they believe in “Gunishment” (a level of humour you will either tap into or you won’t).

As to where exactly this music and attitude slots in with regards to the grand scheme of things is another question but for now I am happily impressed by the pleasant surprise of receiving the dirtiest piece of dirge driven doom perfect to get high and wasted to. The musical equivalent of Ritalin and just like the pill, I want more.

Thesaurus moment: upright.

Righteous Bastards