Of course, Chris is neglecting to tell you that he missed Uzeda too. So that’s only the two best bands of the weekend then.

(Sorry Chris)

Evening,

I was going to post about how I went to see Hella play their first ever gig in the UK tonight. And indeed I went. Unfortunately, see them I did not, for there were approximately 139 other people in the way crowding around them. I was lucky enough to catch a couple of glimpses of Zach the guitarist’s beard and also the odd flash of the bicep of a pummeling arm that belonged to the GREEK GOD manifesting itself as Spencer the drummer. That was it. Oddly disconcerting. Oh well, they’ll be back with a “proper” tour in August/September, and hopefully then they’ll BLOODY WELL PLAY ON A STAGE SO MORE THAN A DOZEN PEOPLE CAN SEE THEM.

If this happens when I see Lightning Bolt next week, I shall be upset. Though their propensity for volume may be a compensating factor.

Oh, and listen-to is great, unless you use a record player. So I’m currently listening to Charalambides – IN CR EA SE, and wondering why they can’t play any other UK dates apart from ATP weekend 2.

‘fternoon,

May I present a brief tonic for the Sunday “morning” blues associated with going out last night: the Buddyhead Best & Worst list of 2003. Before I was blessed by the Broadband Fairy, I used to avoid Buddyhead and the 15,000 years it took the homepage to load up like the plague. Now I’ve been elevated to the status of bandwidth snob, I’ve only just got around to discovering that it now only takes the amount of time it takes you to boil a kettle to load up. But just click on the link and you can bypass that to some pure, unaldulterated Buddyhead humour.

As ever, I agree with about 20% of their positive comments, but it’s the slatings that always hit the nail home. Choiciest quote:

“The legion of mall-emo grows every day, and this crap is the soundtrack for it’s [sic] followers who cry when they see dolphins and rainbows, and have an “online journal”, and a Friendster profile. More or less a mutation of the common hippy, but instead of beards, dreads, jungle muff, and armpit stink, it’s bad star tattoos, pierced lips, and studded belts.”

That’s almost as beautiful as having to point out to my housemate on Friday night that a picture in a “punk rock” bar (a whole other kettle of fish not worth getting into here) was of Joe Strummer, not Lars Ulrich. But then he’s a Thursday fan.

You know, I’ve been trying to think for almost 10 days now about actors I like, and I can’t find reason to fault Ollie’s list. I’ve only actually seen Vincent Cassel in one film (La Haine), so I can’t comment on that one, but the other four actors are all very close to my heart. In fact, me and my flatmate spent one evening debating over who we loved more: Phillip Seymour Hoffman or Steve Buscemi. We came to the conclusion that whilst Buscemi has been in loads more excellent films, he’s also been in loads more shit too – I mean, he once shared screentime with Sandra Bullock. Whereas the only blemish against Mr Hoffman to date would be having anything to do with Scent of a Woman. I don’t care if it was his breakthrough into Hollywood… It’s. The. Worst. Fucking. Film. Ever.*

However, I do have two words that could bring Ollie’s list shaking to its knees: Judge Reinhold.

REINHOLD IS GOD.

Ahem.

Man, it’s goddamned cold.

[*Apart from Dude, Where’s My Car? I couldn’t even muster ten minutes of that beauty.]

We’ve got the Great Diskant Round-Up of 2003 finally on its way to your desktop in the near future, and I figured it might be a nice warm-up to proceedings to have a whinge about why not enough of our staff voted for Punch Drunk Love to get it into the top ten films of last year. (Possibly because it came out at the tale end of ’02 in the USA, but oh well.)

So what was wrong with it? Here you had a film that looked absolutely sumptuous, engorged with colour thanks to some extremely canny over-exposures. It was made by the man who made waves with the edited-to-shit-by-the-studios-but-still-excellent Hard Eight, appeared to be God after Boogie Nights, and who managed to divide audiences all over the world with the ridiculously ambitious Magnolia (me, I think it works, but I do have a propensity for three hour films not made by Peter Jackson). It had Adam Sandler in it, and he even acted well and wasn’t annoying for a second of the film. PT Anderson won best director for it at Cannes 2002. It was about love. And it had a harmonium.

So how come it got ignored? It seems that everyone’s into huge stories that arc over many films these days, and that it’s all about EPIC VISTAS and ACKSHUN, or awful “teenage comedies”. Critics said that this film was somewhat idiosyncratic, but it only seems that way because of what Anderson’s done before. Sure, it’s not entirely predictable and doesn’t feature ‘average’ people acting ‘normally’ for authenticity; instead it revels in the slightly anachronistic world that Anderson presents us with.

I feel like a right sap writing this gooey stuff, but I really value the kind of film that Punch Drunk Love represents in these days of increasing tendencies towards Blockbusters and Vomit-Worthy “Sure Fire Oscar Winner” films (check the horrifically bad adaptation of Philip Roth’s ‘The Human Stain’ that is obviously being held back for release on our shores until just before the ceremony in the spring). The idea of a personal touch on a film that does any kind of business at all is so rare these days that you have to keep your eyes open. My favourite film of 2003, which will be fairly obvious when you read our Round-Up, got a whole bunch of decent reviews in all the broadsheets, but I never heard of a cinema outside of Soho that screened it before it promptly disappeared without a trace. The only way I got to see it was by taking a plunge and importing the Region 1 DVD. Thankfully, it was worth it. But Punch Drunk Love was probably the best film I saw in a cinema last year (apart from a random one-off screening of Godard’s A Bout De Souffle).

Bring on the Round-Up…

That’s really bizarre, I’ve been meaning to write about THE BLOODING #2 for the last month after picking up a copy at Black Eyes in Leeds… it’s dead good though, and I thoroughly recommend it. Ahem, back to talk about books. Join our club!

Today ends eight successive days of seeing live music (I’m practising tonight instead). Saw some great stuff, and some not so great stuff. Here’s a definitive breakdown for you:

Saturday 8th: Enon were really good fun, with lots of danceable bits and nice hooks and riffs, and none of their songs sounded like another. Grade B+ good fun (I still can’t be bothered to buy one of their records).

Sunday 9th: Melt Banana were astoundingly good. I would have like them more if I wasn’t so completely shattered. They played Spathic, We Love Choco-Pa and covered the Damned. Words cannot convey how much better this band is at playing than ANYONE ELSE YOU’VE EVER SEEN. At times I forgot that I was watching a band playing twice as fast and as well as anyone else would dare, because they were pulling it off so well. Just fucking insanely good ridiculous spastic noise blasts, with incredibly hooks and jabs. Local support Designer Babies did an excellent job of blowing unsuspecting heads off too with their extremely unique brand of strange/spastic/twisted/twisted some more. Look out for a 7″ on Gringo Records at some point in the near future. No nice words for The Vexers though, who were the worst elements of this current post-punk revival summed up in one band that didn’t deserve to play a sixth-form college. Just sub-sub-sub-sub-The Rapture and not a lot else. Yuck.

Monday 10th: Grandaddy at Leeds Met Uni were a good band in a sucky venue, playing what was obviously the umpteenth date on their upteenth tour. They’ve got amazing songs, but the sound wasn’t that great, and there were some idiots singing along tunelessly with Jason’s amazing voice in my ear. Plus, how the hell can you mosh to songs as slow as these? When you’re very very drunk and keep falling onto me. I think the Melt Banana hangover didn’t help things much. Shame, because they played well.

Tuesday 11th: Killa Kela, or some such rubbish. A human beatbox for an hour, bookended by lots of old tired-sounding drum ‘n’ bass, incredibly samey hip-hop and even the odd hint of garage by DJs who obviousluy didn’t bring enough records, because there was an annoying amount of repetition of tunes. Lots of people who desperately wanted to be black who drank stupidly expensive vodka purely because it was vanilla flavour or something. Not a lot of fun, but I was at work and therefore paid to be there. The last DJ did end the night with Dead Prez’s ‘Hip-Hop’ though, so I can’t grumble too much.

Wednesday 12th: M83 and their incredible gurning faces played some really nice instrumental stuff. Their album sounds like (the good couple of songs by) Air playing My Bloody Valentine through an ’80s computer, but the live show was much more direct and straight-forward. They pushed a lot of obvious post-rock buttons, but the electronic elements kept things more interesting. It aslo helped that the band were really into the emotional velocity of their music and sweated a lot. I think I prefer them on record.

Thursday 13th: I went to the same The Murder Of, Cat on Form, Army of Flying Robots and Little Girl With Cherries gig as Chris. LGWC, as ever, were amazing in their rhythms and progressions, and continue to to get better every time I see them… at this rate they’ll be the best band in Britain this time next year. I’ve seen Katy sing back in 2001 or so, but apparently they’ve ditched vocals forever, so I guess that deal with Virgin/Warners isn’t going to be forthcoming just yet. I don’t have much to add about AOFR or COF (Chris did a pretty excellent job of summing up both), but it’s worth mentioning that The Murder Of Rosa Luxembourg played last, and were very impressive indeed. Again, I was really tired, so couldn’t get as into it as the madly dancing/shoving crowd.

Friday 14th: Took a trip up to Leeds again to see Soeza, Polaris and Little Girl With Cherries (again), for the princely sum of £3.50. [Almost all the amazing DIY stuff in Leeds is associated with the amazing Cops And Robbers collective, who are broke and desperately need your support, so go over their webpage and, er, read about some amazing shows you can go to.] Unfortunately thanks to Friday night traffic we missed LGWC this time, but I was assured that once again they conquered all who stood before them; which was just as well because the gig was upstairs in Joseph’s Well and there were far more than the legal capacity of 60 people in there at any given time. Polaris seemed to play a completely different set than from when I last saw them a couple of years ago, and did an occasionally uncanny impression of June of ’44. Their chords were absolutely lovely sounding though, and Neil their drummer (also of Bilge Pump and thousands of others) is absolutely amazing, so they were really nice to watch. By the time Soeza played, I couldn’t get into the room after having gone out for a breath of fresh air, so I got to listen from the fire escape. They played some really sublime stuff too, and everyone left with a smile on their face.

Saturday 15th: Liars finally came back to the UK, aided by KaitO and Punish The Atom. PTA were “okay” (snore). KaitO were really quite good, and much better and more visceral than I remember their old records being. Plus, they had a guitarist who gave everyone earache with his effects pedals. Liars were something else. I think they alienated a good two-thirds of the crowd, judging from talking to folks afterwards. They played no recognisable old songs, and quite possibly no tunes. Instead, they played what must be virtually the entirity of their forthcoming album, which was a lot of experimenting with noises, samples, signals and loops, both pre-recorded and manipulated live – definitely a real departure from their old sound. Coming out next February, it’s going to be a tremendously interesting trip. It would appear that the Liars have been listening to a lot of Throbbing Gristle of late, because now they sound like they would be far better suited to sharing a stage with the likes of the Boredoms, The Dead C, or Black Dice than all this post-punk bollocks (here I go again) that they’ve been lumped in with to date. Maybe someone has at last taken the *good* stuff from the No-Wave experiments of the early ’80s and decided to take it further, rather than just using dancey beats and tinny guitars. So yeah, I loved it. A fair few other people were pretty angry at paying a tenner for what was “supposedly all artsy and experimental but actually just bollocks really” (one disgruntled punter at the cloakroom afterwards).

Oh, and expect Talent Spotter to open up with at least one very special label interview around December time. It’s getting all very exciting…

To continue Ollie’s admirable ascent unto the upper reaches of American Noise (TM), I thought I’d share about Sightings‘ European debut last night. On record, Sightings are something I find very difficult to adequately describe or evaluate. Their records are very much more an experience rather than some kind of tangible “enjoyment”, so I jumped at the chance of deconstructing the mystique of exactly how they make noises so harsh and tinny by seeing them perform in the flesh.

Now I’ve seen them (and got some pretty nasty tinnitus, which I expect to last a good couple of days yet), I’m happy to report that Sightings are very much more a conventional live “power trio” than I’d been led to believe – albeit one where the drums are played through contact microphones and the guitarist who has his “instrument” set to EvilNoiseBastard permanently. My general impression was that Sightings are doing their utmost to violate and disseminate the corpse of early ’80s NoWave armed solely with shards of glass and a knowledge of what is damaging to the human ear (that’s the guitarist placing metal rods under his strings and failing to play anything remotely resembling a tune or even recognisable notes rather than frequencies*). They have a habit of taking one very basic primal riff, and then playing through some evil squealy effects pedals. Unfortunately, this often meant that the bassist & drummer were doing very little but hit the same basic rhythm whilst the guitarist flailed around for five minutes at a time, but when they bothered to develop ideas into some kind of full flow, Sightings really started to take over all your senses and drag you down a path towards utter sensory destruction.

When I saw the infamous Black Dice earlier in the year, what I enjoyed so much about them was the sheer experience of the effect that the sound had on my body; this is what Sightings appeared to be aiming for – if from a different angle – and fitfully, they pulled it off. On the first night of a tour and with unfamiliar rented gear, it took them a while to get going. I’d anticipate that if you see them on upcoming date, they may well have got their confidence together enough to give your head a suitably punishing trouncing. They’re currently on a very brief European tour, so go check ’em out – if your ears are prepared to take the abuse.

*This is not a criticism.

Wesley Willis RIP.

For I have the misfortune of currently residing within the confines of a particularly wonderful New Town called Stevenage. At the best of times, this is enough to make me all but inconsolable; but things are due to get a whole lot worse with the anticipated influx of 325,000 mindless idiots flooding the town to watch Robbie Fucking Williams mince about onstage at “Knebworth Castle” (it’s a house with a faux facade, and a damn ugly one at that). Not only that, but I have the fortune to work in Knebworth, and within earshot of the whole shebang. Today I got to hear what sounded like Kelly Osbourne being worried by a particularly rabid mongrel for a good two hours. This evening at band practice we went outside for a spot of fresh air, only to be confonted with a never-ending loop of Mr William’s (or should I say the Stones’) “Let Me Entertain You”. I’m really not sure exactly how I am going to get through tomorrow.

Unless…

Luckily, I received through the post today courtesy of Tee Pee Records a copy of ‘Dopesmoker’ by the inimitable Sleep. The ‘original demo’ of the infamous song/album ‘Jerusalem’, it’s a full 64 minutes long, and will fulfil anyone’s rock needs for (probably) ever.

Maybe I can find a way to get through tomorrow after all… then I can find a rock to spend Saturday & Sunday under.