Just been to see the Delgados and I realised halfway through their set that, in a sneaky quiet way, they’ve become my favourite band ever. From jangly indie pop when i was a teenager with energy and enthusiasm to their more mature epic stuff they do now, I can’t imagine me in the last [let’s not count] years without having heard their songs.

And yet it’s not like other bands, where I’ve heard a song, been grabbed by it and played through all their albums in the month after. Since Peloton, the albums (even the singles) haven’t had immediate physical/ emotional appeal to me; they get played once then left aside for weeks at first. I’m still fuzzy on the titles of the songs. But the occasional play of each was enough to put little hooks into my head and make it imperceptibly essential, part of the repertoire of noises that my mind sings to itself when there’s not anything else on. Then I realise how good the lyrics are. No flashy wordplay but so many resonant phrases that I can’t shake off. “No-one can depress me more than I can,” “for the eyes to see through all that I do,” “there is no dignity in losing a friend.” etc. A lot of it maybe is the context I first heard the songs in but there has to be power in the songs to make them still carry the emotional weight / force that memory alone doesn’t.

What I’m trying to pay tribute to is the way that the Delgados have written albums full of songs that haven’t just stuck with me, they’ve got better as the years have passed. Looking at the whole of my record collection, they are the one band I’m confident that I’ll still be listening to (with a nostalgic tear in my eye) when I’m 70. There’s lots of things I could live without: the delgados are not one of them. They are very special to me and the gig tonight was special too.

And I promise I will go out and get Hate at the weekend.

Man, are we cool or what? Totally solves all those ticket buying problems though. You’re there early enough that no-one else has bought tickets yet but not so early that you might change your mind and go do something else instead. Then you go drink alcohol and wonder what bubble-coated prawns are until showtime. The non-revolutionary part of me that likes supermarkets and tall buildings thinks it would be cool to hang out in the UGC bar even when not planning to see films. I know this to be wrong though. The ticket lady gave us a free UGC magazine to read and it was great. Reviews of upcoming movies with a handy ‘You’ll like this movie if you liked…” thing, like Amazon recommendations in reverse. Totally perceptive stuff like If you liked Muppet Treasure Island you’ll like this new Disney movie also based on Treasure Island! If you liked Memento you’ll like Irreversible ‘cos, er, it’s filmed backwards… If you like Eminem you’ll like 8 Mile! Actually the 8 Mile review just had some presuasive quotes like ‘Eminem Rocks!”. So I’m deffo going to that now.

Did we see a film? Oh, right, yeah. We went to see The Two Towers. I’d already seen it but it was all part of my convoluted Lord of the Rings viewing strategy. I watch the film for the more vivid experience of watching the story develop, then I read the book to fill in the gaps and explain anything I didn’t get and then I see the film again with my new-found understanding. I’m really enjoying this way of doing things, apart from having to stop myself from reading the last book before December. I got much more out of this second viewing although some of the more ridiculous bits seemed ridiculous beyond belief [that bit where Sam and Frodo hide under a cloak outside Mordor made me want to scream with annoyance] and some bits in the middle were really dragging but overall it rocks and even more so than the first film. I imagine most of that’s down to Gollum though who manages to be both hilarious and pitiable and steals the entire film, with Frodo’s scary eyes coming a close second. If you’ve not seen it yet then get on it before you miss your chance. I can’t wait for the next one.

I don’t know what the weather is like near you, but hopefully you’re reading this a long way from the south-east of England. Yesterday, a journey that normally takes me barely the length of Lightning Bolt‘s Fleeing the Valley of Whirling Knives (about ten minutes for those of you not fortunate enough to have heard such a marvel) instead took me approximately 2.5 hours by car, and another 60 minutes on foot – once said vehicle had been abandoned in a nearby Bat-cave.

But no matter! For such times are to be treasured. Cooped up behind a windscreen bearing the brunt of 8 inches of snow that was being hand delivered by gales, I was able to curl up (as much as you can whilst behind the wheel of an automobile) with a remarkable book translated into English from Japanese a couple of years ago. It was called Asleep by one Banana Yoshimoto. Three short stories with thematic links of epiphanies that sleep can deliver and take away, it was a book I had picked up in my local library because it had a nice cover. It also reminded me of an old friend from Singapore who would insist on calling herself ‘Banana,’ because her first language was English. Though we always did our best to placate and cajole her at these times, all our efforts to assuage her ego would always be in vain – her confusion about her cultural identity had long ago created a vicious circle of self-loathing which we could never break. The sadder, more tender moments of this book frequently reminded me of her, and brought out some dusty nostalgia within me.

During this time, I was able to enjoy uninterrupted two Leonard Cohen albums, and a preview of Reynolds’ Love Songs, whilst yearning for a camera to record the finer moments of a day that surely won’t be repeated any day soon.

Eventually, cabin fever broke my spirit, and I soon found myself wandering home through the gridlock, listening to Spiderland, and helping out the odd driver suffering from that lethal combination of icy slopes and useless clutch control. Finally, about five minutes away from home, I threw myself into a ditch of deep unspoilt snow. Though my journey had left me largely dry and warm, it had to be done.This truly is the stuff Douglas Coupland short stories used to be made of. (Whilst in the library, I also picked up a copy of possibly his finest hour Girlfriend In A Coma, for the grand total of 20 pence. The first person to email me can have it, if they feel they’re suitably deserving.)

Good technology: Bikes! On the way home last night the air was crisp, the road was dry, the chain was freshly oiled and I could zip around as I pleased. Don’t like that street, stop turn and go this way instead. MInd full of nothing but wheels and legs.

Bad technology: Passwords and Email! Anyone who’s sent anything to “moviemaster at diskant dot net” recently, or even just replied to a message from me that seems to have been ignored: I didn’t get it. I’ve only now realised there’s a problem and until I can remember the password that wasn’t being used I can’t get those emails. So anything important: please resend it, to “chrish at diskant dot net”. That address was delayed but is now working ok.

Damnit! I was really looking forward to those stolen Nigerian IMF loans too. How’m I going to pay for the condo this month?

diskant finally notices that Pitchfork have a new design and a new weblog thing called Repeat. Don’t think much of the redesign [the vertical menu is just…wrong!] but the weblog, where they’re writing short bits about single songs, is looking pretty cool. I’ll go add it to our links then.

I don’t like anything at the moment but I can tell you I hate sitting doing nothing, sitting reading books, trying to remember to take bright orange pills three times a day and dealing with the damned housing benefit fools. I don’t even know what day it is.

two great, two not quite as great. first on were akira who suffered from the age old snare drum rattle problem, which seemed to last throughout their whole set. i know they’ve been around for some time, and that being the first time i’d ever heard them, i don’t want to cast (too much) judgement, but they didn’t seem to really do a great deal. the first song sounded like blew by nirvana, which is probably as good an indicator as any.

next, charlottefield who were really very good indeed. i hadn’t heard of them until the day before the gig, and had no idea what to expect, but ten seconds in they were rocking out and i was loving it. they had shouts and stoppy-starty-swingy-roundy riffs and, probably most importantly, they seemed like a competent band, which the previous band sadly didn’t. i’m on the look out for their new 7″ on jonson family.

minutes to live feature three members of crs* along with one sexy bitch on bass. this was their first gig, and they played three songs. it was hard to know what to make of it, as nothing seemed that clearly defined (not that that’s a problem in itself, but there were a few times when the songs went nowhere, and left me feeling unsatisfied). still, it’s very early days…

finally, after months of anticipation, cat on form took to the stage. once i had overcome the shame of being made to feel like the tubby bastard that i am by steve and dan’s skinny shirtless antics, they proved to be my favourite band of the evening. the one thing that struck me overall is that the conviction and yes, the anger of these guys just doesn’t let up for a second. recently i mentioned how bands rarely play with that unabashed fury that first made rock music so exciting to me, and i was very pleased to see that cat on form apparently share my views. there was lots of leaping around and falling over and shouting and more shouting and sweating. i also decided when left-hand-side guitarist/shouter dan was lying at my feet scratching at the floor that he is possibly the tiniest human being i have ever seen. they played ‘back off man i’m a scientist’, my favourite song from their recent vacuous pop 7″ and it was mighty good. i hope they come back, this city needs bands like them to play here.

in other news, i just got a shitload of blood drained from my arm, and i have to go back tomorrow so they can drain some more cos they couldn’t get enough today. i’m covered in puncture wounds and i hate illness. me and marceline should start some kind of sick kids club, where you have to be pastey white and be calcium deficient to join.

Not as a soldier, as a volunteer human shield. His name’s Stephen, he’s 31 and in certifed good mental and physical health. He says he’s going because he’s not prepared to live in a world where people stand by and let evil things happen. I said I thought he was crazy but it came out sounding more harsh than I intended. Benevolently Crazy beats Malevolently Sane in my book and it’s not him I’d rather see on a bridge under bombardment.

15th February is a Global Day of Action (and not just Europe and North America, either) against the coming war and, obligingly, Tony Blair will be here at the SECC in Glasgow. Do come along and say hello to him.

I have been disqualified for six months and told that if I am caught driving a vehicle within those six months, I’ll be liable for up to a £5,000 fine and a possible six months’ imprisonment. SO, I don’t think I’ll be risking it. But anyway, here are my top three tips for appearing in court:

(1) Smarten yourself up. Wear a tie, get a haircut.
(2) Don’t be cocky. If you know you did a bad thing, don’t try and get out of it.
(3) Be prepared to kiss ass. Nobody except the people in the court can hear you.

Follow these rules and you should be okay. It worked for me, in a way – I was actually told that because of my frank and honest attitude that instead of getting a fine (of up to £1,000) as well as a ban, that the ban itself was punishment enough.

But this whole deal has made me realise that, when it comes down to it, I just want an easy, stress-free life.

– a very good sum up of Ride‘s career reviewing OX4 and joining the general consensus that Nowhere actually contains almost all of Ride’s ‘greatest hits’.

– excellent handwritten personal account of Pavement‘s “cocky, atrocious and clever” Slanted and Enchanted.

Nice work.

well today, after months of hefty decision making, i changed my email address. it was formerly racing_the_tide@hotmail.com which was named after an old mercury rev song that i always had a certain fondness for. however, after witnessing the grotesque cabaret that was mercury rev at the junction last year, i decided a change was due.

cue 6 months of toiling over what to change it to. i wanted to steer away from obvious musical references (song titles, lyrics) but found that i really couldn’t think of anything else. yesterday, i gave in, and created miss_american_hair_pie@hotmail.com, named after a song by arab on radar. this seemed funny and cool and weird and most importantly a far cry from a mercury rev reference. everything was great. that was until last night when i was recounting the tale to kim, who kindly told me what a hair pie actually was. time for a rethink.

luckily today was a fucking slack day at work, and i had lots of time to think about this. i was reminded of a nickname i somehow picked up whilst dealing with carnyhand?! a while ago….

dibbuk

n : (jewish folklore) a demon that enters the body of a living person and controls that body’s behavior [syn: dybbuk]

…and lo, this afternoon ollie_dibbuk@hotmail.com was born. the children sang and danced in the streets while the mothers wept. “can it be true?” they cried! yes, yes it can. racing_the_tide is dead. long live ollie_dibbuk!

(all this seem a bit much to you? yes, me too, but i have to liven up my working day somehow.)