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shaggy blog stories · shared items · twitter · village blog · you're not the only one Friday, November 23, 2001
Swiss Tony
A co-worker e-mailed the office this morning with a collection of Swiss Tony quotes (you know, "activity xxxx is like making love to a beautiful woman", etc.)
To which he'd added: Computer programming is very much like making love to a beautiful woman. You have to work out her logic, push all the right buttons then pray she's been thoroughly user tested. And to which I added:No, computer programming for a client is more like shagging a gay man.
I must be in an exceptionally jaded mood this morning.
To get any sort of result at all, you have to spend hours of preparation, agonising over every last detail. They act like they're perfect and they're doing you a favour by even talking to you. They never tell you what they want - or if they do, it's something weird which you've never done before. If they receive anything less than total satisfaction, it's always your fault. Once you've delivered to their satisfaction, you'll never hear from them again.
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New Prince album.
Hmm, someone doesn't like the new Prince album. Although there seem to be plenty who disagree. Didn't realise that he'd become a fully fledged Jehovah's witness. As a former huge Prince fan who thought he started losing it with Graffiti Bridge (with some occasional flashes of brilliance since(*)), this has all given me a morbid curiosity to actually hear the thing.
(*) Since you ask: the Mavis Staples "Time Waits For No One" album, Cream, Money Doesn't Matter Tonight, Sexy MF, Pink Cashmere, The Most Beautiful Girl In The World, The Holy River, My Computer, the Angie Stone duet "U Make My Sun Shine".
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Wednesday, November 21, 2001
Terror of the vintners.
Normally, I am a thrusting, confident, informed shopper. Upmarket fashion boutiques – cutting edge interior design emporia – I can stalk such places quite undaunted. But there is one shop and one shop alone which gives me The Fear. It is Gauntleys Wine Merchants in Exchange Arcade, Nottingham.
I can never descend that narrow staircase without a feeling deep in my guts that I am entering a place to which I Do Not Belong. For in order to buy a bottle of wine or champagne (invariably excellent – Gauntleys are one of the country’s top importers), I feel I am first expected to Have An Intelligent And Informed Conversation On The Subject with a member of staff (all highly knowledgeable and fully trained, with framed certificates to prove it). It’s not a place where you can easily get away with just pointing at a bottle and saying “two of those please.” That would be not just vulgar; it would actually be an insult, reducing the “consultant” to the status of a mere shop assistant. But, much as I love and appreciate good wine, I just know sod all about it. That’s always been K’s department. Don’t know me Grenache from me Pinot Noir, don’t know which grape is “raspberry” and which grape is “oak”. And really, I don’t want to know, thank you all the same. So there is no way that I can bluff my way through a Gauntleys transaction. I end up staring at my shoes and mumbling, avoiding eye contact and really looking rather shifty, as if I were buying porn or something. I can never get back up those stairs fast enough. And I always sense that the people at Gauntleys instantly know that I am a fraud, who doesn’t know what he’s buying and is only going on price and whether or not he can pronounce the label. It’s probably part of their training or something. Sending me to Gauntleys to pick up “a couple of bottles of something nice” is the exact equivalent of my sending K to Selectadisc (a superbly stocked local independent record store of quite staggering haughtiness) to pick up “a couple of good new CDs”. It’s just a meaningless sea of labels to both of us. Anyway, don’t let me stop you going to Gauntleys. Quite the reverse, in fact. Until you’ve tasted from their range of Vilmart champagnes, you haven’t lived. Trust me – I’m an expert.
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Lit Cred Thwarted.
Poor old K. He came back from the States last Friday eagerly brandishing a copy of Jonathan Franzen’s The Corrections. “It’s the biggest literary sensation of the year!”, he cried. “And it’s not out in the UK till next year! So I’ll be able to read it first!”
Last Saturday, he opened the Guardian and found a big advert for the same book. Due to the unprecedented interest, the book was due to be rush-released in the UK this Monday. Curses – another attempt to be culturally ahead of the pack is foiled again. Still, at least our copy has the dubious distinction of the “Oprah’s Book Club” logo embossed on the front cover. OK, we’re clutching at straws now. (Nov 23rd - Eyup, someone else has beaten us to it anyway. Curses again!)
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Tuesday, November 20, 2001
Chucking out the trash.
Before Sunday, I had never thrown a CD away in my life. For me, it would have been an act of cultural sacrilege, no matter how mediocre the music.
But that was before I heard the execrable Ministry Of Sound "chillout" CD given away by The Observer. Granted, it started off reasonably enough with Jakatta and Bent, but I've got both those tracks already. After that, the quality dipped dramatically, and kept on dipping, down into the murky depths of "ambient trance" - i.e. crappy trance records with all the exciting bits taken out, so all you're left with are basic drum patterns, idiotically simple melody lines, and the occasional whooshy noise. This was severely interfering with my Sunday morning. When we reached the final track, an utter abomination called "Clouds" by Breezin which sounded like it was chucked together in about 5 minutes by someone who couldn't have cared less, something snapped. I stopped the CD, took it out and chucked it in the bin. What a sense of liberation!
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Monday, November 19, 2001
Bucking Hell.
The opening statement of the Peter Buck air rage trial has found its way onto the web. All the juicy details you've been longing for!
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Pulp at Rock City last night.
Much better than I'd been led to expect. More old songs than they were doing at the start of the tour, and a great show from Jarvis, who actually seems to be enjoying performing again. Their "moment" may have passed, but they can still entertain with the best of them. Loved Sunrise, and Sorted was an unexpected treat.
And as for the Britpop disco downstairs afterwards - wahey! So we got to hear Common People, Disco 2000 & Do You Remember The First Time after all. Plus the additional bonus of Interob's extraordinary "interpretive dance" performance piece to the strains of Bittersweet Symphony - done in the manner of an elephant, with much emphasis on flapping trunk motions. Interob claimed that his elephant movements provided the key to the whole song. I decided that yet another musical genre was born: Elephant Oriented Rock, or EOR. Pronounced "Eeyore". Which is, of course, a donkey and not an elephant. This is the kind of shit you come out with when you're veh, veh drunk. The Guardian's review of the same show can be found here. Other comments from those who were there: Stereoboard (my partner in prog): Started off efficient like Hawkwind, I was pleased to see Jarvis making an effort. Like Air they got into their stride & I thought This is Hardcore (which isn't a song I know) & Sunrise were excellent. Babies was good as well.
Callfox: didn't recognise much stuff which reminds me why I don't often go to gigs when I don't know the tunes, though I'd agree Jarvis had that presence.
Mir (commenting on the Sheffield gig): very good show, 1 hr 45mins, very loud, good ats. they did an ancient song as one of the encores, Anorexic Beauty, which I didn't know but quinny did. thought doing Wickerman during the encores was a bit of a mistake as it slowed things down...Hardcore/Sunrise/Babies, all fab.
Dymbel: Must say that I would hope they'd play Wickerman in Sheff (we didn't get it) tho maybe saving it for the encore was OTT. We didn't get the anorexic one, but we did get a nice B side in the main set ("Laughing Boy"). I enjoyed the main set but felt it lacked take off until the closing "Sunrise". That said, the six encores were ace - superb Hardcore and Sorted, Trees, Babies, Underwear and (not one of my faves but worked well) Party Hard as the closer. Evidently they played "Common People" at Brum but it was unrecognisable. Would have liked "Something Changed" tho'.
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Postcard from Islamabad.
My sister writes from Pakistan:
Assalaam Aleikum
For those of you who don’t know, I’m in Pakistan with Oxfam for a month to look at the nutritional situation of Afghan refugees and my first impression is that Islamabad is not so bad after all! However saying that, one week in, and I’m still yet to experienced the place, what with just travelling from hotel to office and back. Ho hum. Also it’s a new planned city, a kind of vastly superior, bigger and Pakistani version of Stevenage I suppose – big wide roads and no crowds. Hardly threatening at all (Stevenage much more so). The closest I get to experience what’s going on as such is through World Service TV, which is kind of surreal. The weather is totally perfect – blue skies, warm sunshine and cool nights. Quite pleasant all in all. The Oxfam team and Pakistanis are really cool too, and aside from being in my fifth room, and third hotel in only 7 nights here, so far so good! The Taliban lost control of Kabul on my second day (coincidence?!!!) and now Osama where the hell have you Bin Laden is now reported to be here in Pakistan. How the world’s most wanted man who is not able to disguise himself either by putting on a false beard or indeed shaving his current one off can cross the heavily guarded border into Pakistan – I do not know. Incidentally, did you know that under the Taliban, it was an offence for women to wear white socks, or those with animal designs (particularly pigs of course), and that men were not allowed to pee in the direction of Mecca or wear a tie (no legislation on cravats though). I flew into Pakistan on Pakistan Airlines (worst toilets, best stewards) via Karachi (huge McDonald’s directly outside the entrance) and Quetta. The internal part of the flight was bizarre. I sat next to two women in purdah who had remarkably similar feet and wondered whether they were sisters. Whilst landing in mountainous barren Quetta, which involved a spiral descent to reduce the risk of being shot down, there was an announcement that we would be landing in 5 minutes – inshallah! (*) And I used to be scared of flying (and still am to an extent) – LOOK AT ME NOW!! Anyway I was so tired by this point that I really didn’t care! Hoping to see the real Pakistan in the next few weeks. I’m off to Quetta today for a week and then to Peshawar (determined to find out whether Peshawar naans actually exist). Should be interesting. I’m really looking forward to it Have got some shalwar kamis made up for the visits which I must confess to really enjoying wearing. Haven’t quite mastered the Jemima Khan look though! (*) Inshallah = "God willing"
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White Stripes.
I've been wanting to post something about the White Stripes for some time now, 'cos they excite me and intrigue me, but I've not been able to find the words. This is because I can't quite work out just what it is that makes them so great. There's something mysterious about their appeal which doesn't easily translate into words.
Anyway, I'm not going to bother trying now, 'cos Barbara Ellen has said it all, and more, in yesterday's Observer. Read it here. This is music journalism at its best: it helps you in your appreciation of the artist. Illuminating and informative.
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What a wonderfully vicious site this is. If you're the sort of person who fires off indignant letters to music magazines when your favourite act gets a poor review, then I Hate Music might upset you. Nothing, but nothing is sacred. I'd love to know what the writer actually does like, but that's probably a closely guarded secret.
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big blogger 2005: festival of blog "last to be picked" champions league fancy dress (and ill-advised drag) my greatest pride... ... and my greatest shame a tale for the little ones * irrational fears & how to overcome them the seven ages of mike seven deadly sins of blogging where are they now? * seven stonkers & seven honkers seven reasons why i don't want a dog (* warning: contains in-jokes) feeling listless: review 2005: if it moves, rank it guild of ghostwriters (hand-drawn): When I Was A Little Boy... The Professionals Introvert (all three in one place) leftlion magazine: gay up me duck my boyfriend is a twat: troubled twat, or my boyfriend is a diva popping out for meat neil's wild years: 1993: doya do do do doya 1994: away with the fairies 1995: things they'll never see sashinka: introduction finger food hosting company from hell enforced jollity capsule review: blondie fun facts about toilet paper dry your eyes, mate ah, barcelona swisstoni's place: earworms of the week the art of noise: in the dock: the eurovision song contest 5x5 the naked novel (a collaborative work of modern fiction): chapter 3 tranniefesto ("collaborative dialogue"): conversations of an email variety uborka: channel 4 script editors eat your neighbour recipes of yesteryear YAHNET acronyms online enagement party: (1) (2) a song from under the floorboards chapter 8: pandora's inbox (start here) wherever you are ("consequences"): sorry, did that spoil it for everybody? return to sidebar menu we hosted...
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It's all © Mike, thank you very much. I don't mind if you nick the odd paragraph; credit me and link back, and we can still be friends. But no funny business, OK? I know lots of people, and we'll all laugh and point at you, and then you'll feel, ooh, that high. Snarl. Please note that all spam comments will be deleted, even the ones that pretend to be nice. |