Category: Archive

Since the closure of our village shop at the end of February, weekends in the cottage have taken on a notably different complexion. Gone is the (relatively) early morning yomp through the village to pick up a newspaper, milk, bread, eggs and various other bits and bobs – indeed, gone is the very concept of a weekend newspaper. Gone is the opportunity to bump into friends and acquaintances on the street: exchanging pleasantries, catching up with news and gossip, making plans, extending impromptu invitations. (K’s record for “popping out to get a paper” was a socially impressive 90 minutes.) And gone is our regular glimpse at the noticeboard outside the shop, with its various posters, announcements, adverts and miscellaneous pieces of information.

Although plans are well underway to set up a more modest retail venture inside the village pub, there is a subtle but distinct feeling that something significant has been lost. Suddenly, we feel slightly less like a self-sufficient community, and slightly more like a dependent satellite, a dormitory for commuters.

All of which makes the long-awaited launch of our village community blog all the more timely, and all the more significant. We have been planning it for months. There have been prototypes, presentations, strategy meetings, long discussions, calls for volunteers, feasibility studies, brainstorming sessions… why, I even broke a long-held personal rule, and put together a detailed presentation in (hack, spit) Powerpoint.

And now, finally, we have a site which is up and running, with a firm commitment from our team of three to keep it regularly updated. We may not be the first village community blog in the UK (I’ve found three, only one of which is currently active), but I can safely predict that we’ll be the most successful in achieving our aims.

For any of you who have wondered exactly where K and I spend our weekends, the mystery is about to be lifted. Click on the screenshot to access the site…

Shall we play a little game of spot the difference?

BBC Radio 1 (hip and happening Yoof Music for Ver Kidz), BBC Radio 2 (soothing middle of the road sounds for Ver Mumz ‘N’ Dadz) and BBC 6Music (cutting edge alternative “tracks” for The Burgeoning Middle Youth Demographic) all use last.fm to monitor what tracks they’re playing.

These are the current weekly “most played artist” charts for each station.

Oh, brave new world of Listener Choice!

I shall say no more… (*)

Radio 1:

Radio 2:

6Music:

(*) Update: Actually, there is one more quite important thing to say. Take another look at those three lists. Now tell me how many non-white artists feature on them.

So, that would just be Leona Lewis then? For shame, BBC.

(Thanks to Marcello for the spot. There’s more discussion in the comments.)

Yesterday evening, I gave a lecture to Nottingham Trent University’s Creative Writing M.A. students, on the subject of (what else?) blogging. As promised at the end, here are my lecture notes (in MS Word format) – please right-click and select “Save As” to download them.

Supporting links are as follows, in the order in which I mentioned them during the talk:

Diablo Cody: Oscar-winning blogger.
Technorati: The State of the Live Web, April 2007.
Letters Home: Alison Moyet’s blog.
Interview with Alison Moyet, in which she talks about her blog.
The “Online Disinhibition Effect”.
Being “Dooced”: sacked from one’s job due to blogging.
My autobiographical “40 in 40 Days Project”.
The Bloggies: annual weblog awards.
Freelance work for slate.com: “America, Meet The Eurovision Song Contest”.
Bloglines: RSS feed reader/aggregator.
Statcounter: website stats monitor.
My “statement of jadedness” re. Web 2.0 re-definitions of “friendship”.
Belle De Jour: first UK blog-turned-book.
Girl With A One-Track Mind: anonymous sex blog turned book…
…“outed” by the Sunday Times.
Petite Anglaise: fired for blogging, first book about to be published.
Random Acts Of Reality: ambulance driver’s blog turned book.
The Policeman’s Blog – another “job blog” turned book.
My Boyfriend Is A Twat – Zoe McCarthy (humour)
Out Of The Tunnel – Rachel North (7/7 survivor’s memoir)
Gods Behaving Badly – Marie Phillips (fiction)
The Friday Project (specialist blog to book publishers)
Lulu.com (specialist online self-publishers)
Shaggy Blog Stories (charity blogging compilation, published in a week)
Post Of The Week – promotes good writing on new blogs.
You’re Not The Only One – new charity blogging compilation, still accepting submissions.
Novel Racers – self-help group.
Bookarazzi: excellent, comprehensive, lively resource for bloggers with book deals.
Max Gogarty’s travel blog for The Guardian: a recent example of how NOT to do it!
North vs Lowde: blogger jailed for harrassment of other blogger, following “Wanted” campaign on UK blogosphere.
Guardian Unlimited: Comment Is Free.
Published novelists who subsequently started blogging: Clare Sudbery, Penelope Farmer, Kate Harrison
Plasticbag.org: (Weblogs and) The Mass Amateurisation of (Nearly) Everything… (influential think-piece)

Yup, that little lot should keep you going!

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NOTE: As a result of all this activity, there was no Which Decade post yesterday, for which apologies. The next instalment will be appearing this evening.

There’s no interview today, and there’s nothing scheduled for next Friday either. These things come in fits and starts, and I’m glad to be taking a little rest for a while. The transcriptions alone take bloody hours; it usually takes me ten minutes of typing for every one minute of recording, and most interviews clock in at between 15 and 20 minutes each. And that’s just the raw transcript, before I start the editing process. Not complaining! Just saying!

Anyhow, the next published interview looks like being Gary Numan, in a fortnight’s time. (A surprisingly excellent interviewee, and I have high hopes.) In the meantime, I’ll be starting Year Six (SIX!) of the Which Decade Is Tops For Pops? Project next week, with the first instalment hopefully appearing on Monday evening. In which case, I’ll need all the free time I can get.

Yeesh, when did life get so busy all of a sudden? At work, the new bunch of clients are working me hard, with the additional burden of daily conference calls at 9:30 every morning. Nine chuffing thirty! Crack of bloody dawn! It is Hell.

Yesterday, I mailed my submission to You Are Not Alone (see next post down for details). It’s a re-working of something which appeared on the blog in 2006, and I have to say that the re-editing process was something of an eye-opener, in terms of how my writing style has tightened up in the last couple of years. Having become accustomed to the rigours of word-count-driven economy, I was startled to discover how darned waffly the original was. It’s much better now, I think.

Yes, I know what you’re thinking: you’d rather return to having daily blog posts from the old Waffly Mike, in preference to a couple of freelance copy-and-paste jobs per week from the new Professional Mike. Well, we have discussed this before. And I’d love to oblige you – but this isn’t 2003, and my priorities are re-aligned.

(And my life is, in every respect, much improved. I was talking about this with friends the other day, who reminded me of how unhappy I used to be with certain aspects of my lot. In this respect, we agreed that the China trip in late 2005 marked something of a turning point.)

Onto the meat and potatoes of today’s post, then. Amongst my non-blogging offline friends, who merely use the web for sensible things like shopping, banking and the gathering of practical information, very few have been converted to the Joy Of Blog over the years. Sure, they might follow Troubled Diva (in the vain but touching hope that one of these days, I’ll post another jolly heart-warming ramble about the cottage garden, or another racy confessional tale of nightclub debauchery), but that’s pretty much as far as they’ll venture into the blogosphere.

That said, I’ve had a number of people tell me that while they “don’t read blogs” in general, they have formed an attachment to the odd one or two. So, for instance, my sister doesn’t read blogs, but she does read Petite Anglaise. “Bob” in the village doesn’t read blogs, but he does read Girl With A One-Track Mind. A work colleague doesn’t read blogs, but she does read Non-Workingmonkey. And so on.

(Meanwhile, although K has yet to start following any other blogs at all, he always reads my Twitter home page, to find out what my pals are up to. He’s even got a little crush on one of them. Not saying who! Are you mad?)

This got me to wondering: have any of your offline friends latched onto a lone favourite blog? And if so, which one? Answer me, do.

We’re off to Aunty and Uncle’s in Kent over the weekend, regrettably missing Gordon’s London Blogmeet in the process. Have a lovely weekend yerselves. The next fortnight will be mainly devoted to Which Decade. Such excitement!

Just under a year ago, I launched Shaggy Blog Stories: a blogging anthology which went on to sell over 500 copies, raising over £2000 for Comic Relief.

This year, Peach has picked up the baton, in the form of You’re Not The Only One: a brand new blog-to-book project, with a brand new theme, a brand new editorial team, and a brand new charity.

The theme: You can basically write about anything you like, provided that it describes a personal experience. As Peach says:

We would like you to submit a written piece about something you’ve been through from any aspect of your life that you want to share. It can literally be about anything: your relationships, your past, a road not taken, being a parent, an illness or your regrets etc. We’ve called it “You’re Not The Only One” to reflect the camaraderie of blogging.

The team: Peach has recruited an all-female crew, consisting of herself, Ariel, Ms R, Sarah and Vi. However, just because the team is all-female, this doesn’t mean that the contributors all have to be female. Indeed – and this is another change from Shaggy Blog Stories – you don’t even have to be British.

The charity: Roughly £4.30 from every copy sold will be donated to WARCHILD.

The details: Full info can be found on Peach’s site. If you’re spreading the word, then please be sure to include the same link.

This should be an excellent project. Can’t wait to see the finished article.

A couple of months ago, my fellow Nottingham rock-and-rolling blogger SwissToni hosted something called the Shuffleathon, in which the participants swapped mix CDs with each other on a randomly assigned one-on-one basis, pledging to post reviews of the CDs they received.

To my eternal shame, it has taken me all of these two (or is it nearer to three?) months to get around to posting my review of Katyola’s splendid compilation, The Wild, The Innocent and the E Street Shuffleathon. There are no excuses for such tardiness – especially when said CD has afforded me so much listening pleasure.

Eyes down, and here we go.

1. John Saw That Number – Neko Case

Being a US citizen an’ all, Katyola decided to give her compilation a loosely American theme, with occasional international diversions along the way. We start with an artiste who has barely registered on my radar up until now, for no particular reason that I can think of. Neko starts the track a cappella, before the band kicks in with a kind of twangy gospel-country-rockabilly-blues rumble. Despite a passing – and undoubtedly accidental – melodic similarity to “Happy Hour” by The Housemartins, it’s all very atmospheric and fetching in a down-home rootsy way, but also suffused with certain indie/arthouse overtones that bring to mind a mid-period David Lynch soundtrack.

2. The Sharpest Thorn – Allen Toussaint & Elvis Costello

OK, I’ll fess up: when first perusing the artists listed on this CD, I wasn’t exactly overwhelmed with excitement. Not because there’s anyone on here whom I actively dislike – but more because many of them are people I used to listen to a lot, before reaching either saturation point, or else a stage where they ceased to interest me. Elvis Costello is a prime example of this. Used to adore him; doggedly followed him through several pleasant but hardly thrilling later albums (or should we say “projects”, for the studious dilettantism became increasingly part of the problem); and finally, with the grisly exercise in tune-free MOR balladry that was North, lost patience with him altogether.

But this, I have to say, is a cute song, winningly performed – and made all the more so by the presence of New Orleans stalwart Allen Toussaint, who help to inflect the music with a gospelly, stately vibe. (And ah, I see how this follows on from its biblically-tinged predecessor – from John the Baptist to the Archangels Michael and Gabriel. Nice work there, compiler.)

3. Three Days – k.d. lang

Whereas k.d. lang is an artist whom I tired of in the mid-1990s, before coming back round to her a good few years ago – especially with that rather wonderful covers album from 2004, Hymns of the 49th Parallel, and most especially with her spine-tingling cover of Leonard Cohen’s “Hallelujah”. This gently frisky track is old-school lang, from before her 1992 breakthrough, back when Patsy Cline was still a primary influence. The title of its parent album says it all, really: Absolute Torch and Twang. Yee, and indeed, hah.

4. Black Wave/Bad Vibrations – Arcade Fire

I struggle with the Arcade Fire, you know. Yes, they’re universally critically acclaimed, and Very Important, and Worthy Of Serious Investigation – but there’s something about the reverence which surrounds them, and the way that they play up to it, that turns me right off. Besides – and it’s the same with Springsteen, and the same with U2 – I just don’t do Bombastic. There are several tracks on Neon Bible which I can just about get with – but I’m sorry, this isn’t one of them. “There’s a great black wave in the middle of the sea” is one of the key lines, and as such it’s a perfect example of the sort of Bigness of emotion that washes right over me.

5. David – Nellie McKay

Now, you could have skipped straight from the country-and-western friskiness of “Three Days” to the vaudevillian friskiness of Nellie McKay, and I’d have been a much happier camper. I like the way that McKay deliberately plays up to her inner precocious stage-school brat, knowing perfectly well that many will find it obnoxious, and not giving a f**k – and if you can cross that line, then you’ll soon realise that there’s a lot more to her than that. I have been given to believe that this is a song about wanting to be noticed by music mogul David Geffen, and you can almost see Nellie screwing up her eyes and stamping her little feet in impatient frustration. I happen to find that cute.

6. Mesmerizing – Liz Phair

My overriding stumbling block with this one – the first time I have knowingly heard the big-over-there, don’t-mean-diddly-squat-over-here Ms. Phair – is that it could never have existed without Nirvana, and my personal tolerance for Nirvana derivatives happens to be set to low. That said, I like the controlled understatement, and there are some nice twangy, bluesy guitar licks placed over the top of the track, which come in halfway through and never go away again. As it’s the only song on this CD which I initially found actively unpleasant, I have tried particularly hard to form an accommodation with it – and d’you what, after nearly three months of living with it, I think I’ve just about got there.

7. Dance Me To the End of Love – Madeleine Peyroux

Leonard Cohen’s unimpeachable original is one of my favourite songs of all time, almost (but crucially, not quite) to the extent that I’ve sometimes thought I’d like to have it played at my funeral. (But then again, I’m not much into the idea of trying to dictate a posthumous playlist. How people might wish to remember me is their business, not mine.)

Madeleine Peyroux’s languid supper-club version, with vocal stylings that owe an unambiguous debt to Billie Holiday, takes some getting used to – but it’s an interesting and valid re-interpretation, which gives quite a different weight to Cohen’s lyrics, and that’s the whole point of a good cover version, isn’t it? The line “show me slowly what I only know the limits of” bends itself particularly well to Peyroux’s smouldering style.

8. The Israelites – Desmond Dekker

An undeniable classic, but somewhat out of context in this American-themed compilation, surely? Katyola has her reasons, though: “Island rhythm is so important in today’s music, and this song pre-dates Bob Marley and other reggae influences that appear in American hip-hop and pop.” Well, it’s all a question of perspective, of course. I just wish that it hadn’t been used in that TV advert for Maxell tapes back in the late 1980s, as I still find it impossible to un-hear lines such as “Darling cheese-head, I was yards too greasy”. My problem! Not yours!

9. I Am Trying To Break Your Heart – Wilco

Some of those Arcade Fire issues apply also to Wilco, a band whom I can admire from afar, without actually enjoying – and oh, did I ever struggle to make myself enjoy Yankee Hotel Foxtrot, the album from whence this is be-took!

Five years on, and approached with fresh ears, I finally find myself teetering on the brink of the enjoyment which had eluded me for so long. The mopey vocals do nothing for me, but there are some truly gorgeous textures in the arrangement, in which I can happily languish while stubbornly tuning out the actual song. Perhaps this is the ultimate slow grower… and perhaps I should therefore get around to revisiting its parent album. Yes, perhaps.

10. If You Could Read My Mind – Johnny Cash

An excellent follow-on from the Wilco track in terms of mood, which scores points before it has even started: love the song, love the singer. This is Cash from right at the end of his life (as taken from the posthumously released American V: A Hundred Highways) and so the vocals are a wheezy, croaky death-rattle – so much so, that I had to pause and question the track’s true artistic worth, as there’s an awful danger in romanticising the “Ah bless, he’s DYING, and it’s all about DEATH, and isn’t that PROFOUND” aspect, to the extent of giving the old boy a free pass.

So I paused, and I questioned – and came to the conclusion that there is still genuine artistry and creative energy on display here. Cash knows what he’s doing, and his interpretation is sublime, and moving for all the right reasons.

11. Deportee – Woody Guthrie

Believe it or not, this is the first time that I’ve sat down and listened to Woody Guthrie in earnest. (And I call myself an expert? Pah!) American folk is a foreign country to me, and so this is the hardest song on the CD to assess. It’s a protest song about illegal immigration and casual labour – and hence completely up-to-the-minute in its themes (on both sides of the Atlantic, of course), and hence a shrewd choice for this CD.

12. Wave of Mutilation – The Pixies

A dramatic shift in mood, as we lurch into the CD’s most raucous track by some distance. I love The Pixies – hell, who doesn’t love The Pixies? – but equally, I have always been unable to explain why I love them. They kick the proverbial “ass”, this much we know – but in such an elusive way, with a mysteriousness at the core which resists all attempts at unravelling. I couldn’t tell you what any of their songs are about, and I’ve never been minded to do much in the way of research, as it all seems a bit beside the point. Shall we leave it there? Yes, I rather think we should.

13. The Sailor In Love With the Sea – The 6ths and Gary Numan

From the sole rock offering to the sole electronic offering, as Gary Numan “icily” (as we critics are contractually obliged to say) intones a song of homoerotic desire (well, Hello Sailor!) over “burbling” synths. (Sorry, but that’s what they do. They burble. No other word for it.) The 6ths are a side project of Stephen Merritt, better known for his work as the Magnetic Fields – another act which I admire, but have tried in vain to love. Unlike Wilco, I’m afraid that this isn’t the song to convert me. It’s sweet, but it’s slight.

14. I’ve Seen It All – Björk and Thom Yorke

Remember what I was saying about artists that I’ve fallen out of love with, about 1500 words ago? Well, here are two cases in point – although in the case of Yorke, the process is on the cusp of reversing itself, Radiohead’s In Rainbows showing distinct signs being an example of our old friend, the Stunning Return To Form. This is from the soundtrack of Dancer In The Dark, a film which I have never dared to see, not being terribly good at dealing with “harrowing”. Stylistically, it’s a good deal more Björk than Yorke, with its dramatic orchestral flourishes and muddy, shuffling beats. The voices work well together, but ultimately this leaves me cold.

15. Daydreamin’ – Lupe Fiasco and Jill Scott

Oh, I know that sample! It has been used a few times before, but the best known version is on I-Monster’s “Daydream In Blue”, whose chorus is lifted here in full. (“Daydream, I fell asleep beneath the flowers, for a couple of hours, on a beautiful day.” Yeah, you know the one.) The dramatic orchestral flourishes follow on well from the Björk/Yorke track, meaning that this lone hip-hop track blends in neatly, rather than sticking out like a sore thumb – plus it’s another boy/girl duet, of course. Lyrically, we’re in “socially conscious” territory, as Lupe ably disses bling-and-crack culture, but it’s the low-key winding-down section at the end which grabs me the most.

And that’s your lot. Massive apologies to Katyola (whose own tasting notes can be found here) for delaying the review for so long, but this has been a toughie to write up, as it has dragged me right outside my comfort zone. Which can only be a good thing, as I’ve derived a lot of pleasure and value from the experience. Hooray for musical diversity!

Well, we both have. These pictures were taken within the grounds of Anglesey Abbey (just outside Cambridge) this morning, mostly within the capacious and amazing “winter walk” section. Since the first time that we took this walk, three years ago almost to the day, I have developed a whole new aesthetic for winter colour, never before being able to see beyond the general “deadness”. (It’s the dogwood that’s key, basically. Everything flows from the dogwood.)

Click here to view the full set, without all that arbitrary cropping.

2007 was probably the year that, following several years of exponential growth, the blogging phenomenon reached some sort of plateau. The word itself has now passed into common parlance, and the existence of blogs is no longer regarded as novel, unusual, mysterious, or otherwise worthy of comment. Finally – and not before time either – we have reached a stage where no-one is predicting that 2008 will be “The Year Of The Blog”. At some point during 2007, the last ever “What IS Blogging?” think-piece must surely have been penned – and for that alone, we must all be truly grateful.

Because, you see, everyone’s got them now. Not just the tech-head pioneers, or the “If it moves, link it!” first wave (*), or the “Today I had a cheese sandwich!” second wave, or the pundits, the politicos, the hobbyists, the special interest brigades, the amateur journalists, the “writerly” types and the “Seize the Marketing Opportunity and make $$$!” hucksters… but also, and in ever greater numbers: newspapers and periodicals, private companies and public organisations, international broadcasting empires, grassroots community projects, established professional writers, politicians, presenters, academics, high-falutin intellectuals and Z-list celebs alike.

Until quite recently, the statement “I am a blogger” implied membership of a particular community: relatively small in size, and largely (and to the outside world, somewhat bafflingly) self-referential in nature. Now, it means little more than “I have a computer, a way with words, and some spare time on my hands.” Blogs have been normalised, integrated… and some disillusiuoned idealists might even say that they have been co-opted. For literally millions of people, they are just another part of everyday life.

For the faddists – the sort of people who hung out on Blogspot or Livejournal for a few months, setting up Tag Boards, joining web rings and endlessly posting the results of “What XXXX Are You?” quizzes before getting bored and moving on – Facebook is the new blogging. (We thought that Myspace was the new blogging, but little did we know what lurked around the corner, and how many more demographic boundaries were to be breached.) I’d wager that the broad majority of people reading this have set up Facebook profiles and are still active participants, and that an unshakeable minority have resolved never to go anywhere near the service. By this time next year, I’ll wager that anyone who was ever likely to dabble with Facebook will have duly dabbled, that the honeymoon period will have ended, that the last “What IS Facebook and what does it SAY about us?” think-piece will have been written, and that a significant proportion of profiles will be lying dormant and abandoned. It will have been an altogether shorter cycle of Big Boom and Slow Fade, tied as it is to a single proprietary site, a more restrictive format, and an emphasis on minimum-effort, short-attention-span novelty – and by the same token, that’s why the blogging plateau is unlikely to start dropping off any time soon.

From my own highly subjective little corner of the blogosphere, 2007 was the year that the Bloggers With Book Deals started yielding tangible end results (otherwise known as, coo er gosh, BOOKS!), with many more to follow in 2008. As The Blogsbury Set came of age, and as “portfolio sites” started to make their presences felt, you could also detect the first rumblings of an increasingly widespread shift in priorities. (“Sorry I haven’t had much time for blogging recently, but I’ve been SO BUSY, agents, deadlines, press & PR, oh it’s all been such a GIDDY WHIRL!”) And what with stunts such as Shaggy Blog Stories, which saw over 200 bloggers left out on the pavement as the Blogsbury glitterati sailed through the velvet ropes, and Post of the Week (over 200 blogs shortlisted to date, so why wasn’t YOUR blog GOOD ENOUGH?), there was a distinct sense of competitiveness in the air, as a new élite basked in self-regard (“SO wonderful to see my DEAR FRIENDS doing SO well!”) while the Not So Beautiful People muttered seditiously behind their backs (“Who the chuff does HE think HE is, and SHE’S nothing special, and who the f**k made HER the Queen of Bloody Sheba?”)

OK, so I’m exaggerating to make a point. But since I have been, let’s face it, one of the prime architects of the New Competitiveness, and even if my motives were always about net-widening inclusion rather than judgemental exclusivity, I am not without a certain amount of blood on my hands in this regard. And for that, and for the times where my well-meaning eagerness to champion and celebrate might have run roughshod over others’ sensitivities, I can only apologise.

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(*) Non-sequiturial addendum, while you all prepare your “Oh Mike, don’t be so hard on yourself” comments, bless your dear dear hearts but really there’s no need, no need at all: With reference to that first wave of link-bloggers, it tickled me something rotten to read these recent words of advice from Jorn Barger, officially the World’s First Ever Blogger, on the occasion of our medium’s tenth anniversary: “If you have more original posts than links, you probably need to learn some humility.” Because while part of me wants to say “Respect to you, Old Timer”, the other part of me wants to say “Get with the program, Grandad”…

After the extreme highs and lows that characterised the year before, 2007 was an altogether smoother affair, but not without significant moments of Personal Growth and Development. I’ll be remembering it as the year when I published a blogging anthology, in a week, for charity (aided and abetted by a fine band of helpers, of course) – and also as the year when I started interviewing singers, musicians and random celebrities of various hues, for the Nottingham Evening Post, whilst continuing to attend as many live shows as humanly possible. (I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again: where else do you get to hear analogue?)

It was also the year that Post of the Week got off the ground – and although I’ll be taking more of a back seat with it in 2008, in order to concentrate on getting a community blog for our village off the ground, its future looks reasonably assured for now.

Other than that, I gave a talk on blog-writing versus book-writing at a literary festival, I had a couple of fun weekends in Amsterdam, and continued to visit London whenever suitable excuses presented themselves; most notably when Danish Eurovision fans, Portuguese illustrators and Belgian blog-celebs came to town. (Oh, and for the occasional film preview as well – for this was the year that the pushy PR peeps came sniffing around some of us bloggery types in earnest, and I’m not above accepting a freebie or two in certain circumstances.)

On the home front, we saw a lot of K’s warm and wonderful family, as the loss of his sister in the spring of 2006 continued to cast a long shadow. A surprise gathering of the clans to celebrate K’s dad’s 70th birthday at a country pile in North Wales was a particular highlight, not least for the chance it gave me to get to know our two bright, charming and delightful young nieces. The cottage garden (aka PDMG#1) had its best year ever, and will be appearing in a magazine in the next couple of months or so (hey, you know what we’re like). Over in Nottingham, the old concrete yards were replaced by a brand new garden (PDMG#2), and a new kitchen was installed, amidst much corporate f**k-wittery and call-waiting stress (and this latter was another of the year’s less welcome themes). In the cottage, with viciously inappropriate timing, a ceiling collapsed on the day that Shaggy Blog Stories was published, and the deafening roar of de-humidifiers duly ruled our lives over the next few months.

At work, I changed both clients and desks, moving into a lively corner of the office and ending six years of aloof semi-isolation. This was definitely a Good Thing.

In August, I compiled a list of “Twenty-Five Things I Want To Do Before I Die“. By the end of the year, I had accomplished two and a half of them (and as far as one of them is concerned, thereby hangs a lengthy and significantly perspective-shifting tale, but that’s for another day, if indeed at all).

And then there was dear old neglected Troubled Diva, which slid ever further away from its 2002-2004 heyday, becoming little more than a repository for freelance music reviews and interviews. In the past few months, the issue of What To Do About Troubled Diva has dominated my thinking in a way that has yet to yield any firm answers. As the rigours and disciplines of print journalism have taken root and soaked up most of my spare energies, so I have moved ever further away from the “Troubled Diva” persona of yore. Although I remember him with affection, I am already looking upon him as another person, from another lifetime.

All of which begs the question: whither blogging, and whither this blog? As ABC’s Martin Fry warbled, a generation ago: I don’t know the answer to that question. If I knew, I would tell you. Ooh, how enigmatic!

To the few long-suffering regular readers who remain, and to anyone else who might happen to be passing: may I wish you the happiest of new years.

And now I am off down the pub. Some things never change.

Click here for the full set.

Mosaic created with fd’s Flickr Toys (via Anna).

K and I really enjoyed the recent Channel 4 documentary “The Sex Blog Girls“, starring our very own Zoe One Track.

Needless to say, this was my favourite part of the documentary. Two whole seconds of immortality (rounded up to the nearest whole number)! Why, I nearly wore out the pause button…

And then, just a few minutes later, this popped up:

“Darling!“, I squealed at my best beloved. “How could they have got you so wrong?“

(This review appears in today’s Nottingham Evening Post.)

Cardiacs have been described as “prog-punk”. It’s an imperfect description, but perhaps as close as you’ll get. Their music is complex and intense, combining the disciplined intricacy of progressive rock with the all-out attack of 1977-era punk – but perhaps their true spiritual forefathers are mavericks such as Captain Beefheart and Frank Zappa. Remarkably, they have been together for thirty years, operating right outside the mainstream, and inhabiting their own singular musical universe.

Brothers Tim and Jim Smith lead the band, resembling Michael Douglas in Falling Down and Uncle Fester from The Addams Family respectively. They were accompanied by guitarist Kavus Torabi (Simon Amstell fed through a distorted lens) and two impassive female singers in matching pinnies. Keyboards were audible throughout, even though none were on stage. This merely added to the mystique. (*)

Faced with such impossible rhythms, the mosh pit responded with precise stop-start timing. Like the band, they too had mastered the art of controlled chaos.

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As I said on Twitter last night: “Best. Band. Ever.” But as I added on Twitter, two wearying hours later: “Toughest. Review. Ever.” It’s always the ones that come out of nowhere and knock you sideways that are the trickiest to nail, as you vainly try to marshall your swirling emotions. (I had the same trouble with Secret Machines last year.) Whereas with the gigs you hate (Manu Chao, The X Factor), the write-up just flies off the page. Evidently, anger must be a great motivator.

As for the mighty Cardiacs: I am more than a little stunned that it has taken a full thirty years to stumble across their extraordinary music. After the show, I asked the nice lady on the merchandising stall to suggest a good place to start. After prolonged rummaging, she selected On Land And In The Sea (1989) for me; an album which contains one of last night’s highlights, the epic “The Everso Closely Guarded Line”, as well as promisingly titled tracks such as “The Stench Of Honey” and “The Duck And Roger The Horse”. I think this could be the start of something.

Cardiacs play the London Astoria tonight, followed by dates next week in Sheffield, Stoke, Manchester and Portsmouth. Really, you should go.

(*) Apparently the keyboards were pre-recorded. Quite how you play music that thrashy and energetic, while still keeping perfect time with a backing tape, completely defeats me.

Postscript: In order to attend last night’s gig, I turned down not one but two invitations to prestigious and glittering social functions: the opening party for Nottingham’s newest casino (in the old Co-op building on Parliament Street), and the opening party for Nottingham’s newest cosmetic surgery (champagne, canapes, complimentary Botox). It’s a glamorous old life, being a stringer for regional print media!

In honour of Zoe‘s marvellous book (available in the shops NOW, and they really do make such marvellous gifts), based on the marvellous blog of the same name, it gives me great pleasure to host a one-off revival of that marvellous 1970s game show (revived somewhat less marvellously in the 1990s)… Mr & Mrs!!!

The aim of the game is simple. How well do Zoe and her twatty boyfriend Quarsan really know each other? In order to find out, I’ll be asking them each ten questions: five about Zoe, and five about Quarsan. They will be answering these question in strict isolation, with no conferring, secret winks, sign language, telepathic mind control etc etc.

For every pair of matching answers, I shall be awarding one point.

If Zoe and Quarsan agree on all ten of their answers, they will have achieved maximum compatibility.

If they disagree on all ten… well, maybe we won’t be surprised.

OK, Let the game commence!

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Zoe, will you please approach the witness stand. My, you do scrub up well. Firstly, I’m going to ask you five questions about yourself. Are you ready? Bonne chance!

1. If your house was on fire, which ONE object would you save? (Please note that the object must be inanimate, and carryable.)

What does inanimate mean? Oh right, I’ve looked it up.
Just the ONE object? Ermmmm – my laptop.

2. If you were obliged to perform karaoke in a public place, which song would you pick?

I would never, ever sing in public – I think people deserve the right never to hear me sing. But IF I really had to, it would be ‘Perfect Day’ had I thought about it, but I just know I’d end up singing ‘Bohemian Raphsody’. Or however you spell it.

3. Which is your favourite post on the acclaimed and award-winning My Boyfriend Is A Twat weblog?

Probably a guest-blogger’s. Or one of the ‘Twat’s Quotes of the Day’.

4. Your household has been described as “a mixture of The Osbournes, Absolutely Fabulous and My Family” – but which character do you resemble the most?

• Sharon Osbourne (played by Sharon Osbourne)
• Edina Monsoon (played by Jennifer Saunders)
• Patsy Stone (played by Joanna Lumley)
• Susan Harper (played by Zoe Wanamaker)

Edina Monsoon, I’m afraid.

5. Which ONE item of Quarsan’s clothing would you most like to destroy?

His poncy-poofy-tracky-trainers, without a doubt.

Thank you for your answers, Zoe. We’ll be talking to you again later. Now please stand down.

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Quarsan, will you please approach the witness stand. Ah, I see that you’re wearing your favourite hooded sweatshirt. The one with gibbons on it. No, you haven’t got time to make a political speech. OK, is Zoe wearing her headphones in the isolation booth? Then we may proceed.

Quarsan, here are five questions about Zoe. Please answer them truthfully – and remember: each matching answer that you give will earn you one point. Once again, bonne chance!

1. If your house was on fire, which ONE object would Zoe save? (Please note that the object must be inanimate, and carryable.)

This is impossible. She’d be running round like a badger with it’s arse on fire. She could pick up anything, anything at all. I’ll go for her laptop or failing that a hairdryer.

As you both said “laptop”, you score ONE POINT!

2. If Zoe was obliged to perform karaoke in a public place, which song would she pick?

She would sing Bohemian Rhapsody. Loudly and badly. She would also fail to get the words right. This has happened frequently. Next time i’m going to put it on You Tube.

Ooh, tricky. You both said “Bohemian Rhapsody”, but Zoe’s first answer was “Perfect Day”. However, as Zoe said that she “just knows” she’d end up singing Bo Rhap, I shall give you the benefit of the doubt, and award you a SECOND POINT!

3. Which is Zoe’s favourite post on the acclaimed and award-winning My Boyfriend Is A Twat weblog?

Dunno. Probably one of the guest posts, probably yours.

Ah, how you flatter me. In which case, as you both said “guest post”, you can have a THIRD POINT! How long can this lucky streak last?

4. Your household has been described as “a mixture of The Osbournes, Absolutely Fabulous and My Family” – but which character does Zoe resemble the most?

• Sharon Osbourne (played by Sharon Osbourne)
• Edina Monsoon (played by Jennifer Saunders)
• Patsy Stone (played by Joanna Lumley)
• Susan Harper (played by Zoe Wanamaker)

Ih give me a chance here. She’s as bossy as Sharon, as batshit as Edina, as pissed as Patsy. But out of the shower she looks just like Susan, so i’ll go for Susan Harper.

QUACK QUACK OOPS! As Zoe went for Edina Monsoon, you earn your first fail. Tant pis! Chin up!

5. Which ONE item of your clothing would Zoe most like to destroy?

My tracksuit bottoms. They’re excellent made by small asian children for Mr Ron Hill. Suitable for all occasions, combning comfort, practicability and style. For some unaccountable reason Zoe takes exception to them and tries to tear them up at every opportunity, even when I am wearing them. In a restaurant.

Well, that one was always going to be an easy lob, wasn’t it? Congratulations, Quarsan and Zoe: after the first round, you have scored an impressive FOUR POINTS OUT OF FIVE.

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Now, let’s see how you fare on Round Two. Quarsan, please enter the isolation booth. Zoe, welcome back. Here are your five questions on Quarsan.

1. What is Quarsan’s most annoying habit? (Please note that you may only pick ONE answer. Nobody said this was going to be easy.)

His farting. Light a match and this house would go up in flames. He is also capable of farting so loudly during the night that he wakes me up.

2. As an ex-pat Brit living in Belgium, which ONE aspect of British life does Quarsan miss the most?

Mountains. Do they count? If not, then bacon butties.

3. And which ONE aspect of Belgian life annoys Quarsan the most?

Shops being shut on Sunday. This isn’t fair – just the ONE?

4. Many otherwise sane and well-balanced couples have instigated an exemption clause known as the “Celebrity Bye” into their relationship. This permits each partner, should the opportunity arise, to enjoy extra-marital physical relations with ONE previously named celebrity, on ONE occasion, with no fear of sanction. If you and Quarsan were ever barmy enough to instigate a “Celebrity Bye”, which lucky celebrity would Quarsan nominate as his Bonk of Choice?

That goes without saying: Kylie bloody Minogue.

5. Finally, and in the interests of balance: which is Quarsan’s ONE most lovable quality?

His ability to make me laugh so much.

Merci bien, Zoe. You did good.

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Quarsan, let’s see whether your answers match Zoe’s. Here we go…

1. What is your most annoying habit?

I have no annoying habits. I have innocent habits that Zoe, in her unreasonable way, interprets as annoying. She’d probably have to decide between bottom burps and my ability to totally ignore her, something many have tried but few achieve. It’s a bit like tuning out the static in your head when listening to Radio Luxembourg. I think the gastrinal aerobics.

Ooh, we were on the edge of our seats with that one, weren’t we, readers? But you got there in the end, Quarsan. Farts it is! ONE POINT!

2. As an ex-pat Brit living in Belgium, which ONE aspect of British life do you miss the most?

Bacon. And mountains. And mountains of bacon.

Well, you both said “bacon”, and you both said “mountains”. That’s almost worth two points! But let’s not get carried away here.

3. And which ONE aspect of Belgian life annoys you the most?

The fact that there are three seperate languages/ governments/ nations in Belgium and this causes confusion and an almost apartheid system. I’ve said that Belgium mostly resembles Rwanda with an economy.

QUACK QUACK OOPS! Ah, y’see? If you go dragging politics into the equation, then you’re bound to come a cropper where Zoe’s concerned. Nul points for this one, I’m afraid.

4. Many otherwise sane and well-balanced couples have instigated an exemption clause known as the “Celebrity Bye” into their relationship. This permits each partner, should the opportunity arise, to enjoy extra-marital physical relations with ONE previously named celebrity, on ONE occasion, with no fear of sanction. If you and Zoe were ever barmy enough to instigate a “Celebrity Bye”, which lucky celebrity would you nominate as your Bonk of Choice?

Apart from Kylie, you mean? Actually, she is beginning to look a bit odd, what’s that thing with the pernamently raised eyebrow? I’m seriously considering turning my attentions to Konnie Huq.

Again, an easy lob where Kylie is concerned. (I know what you’re thinking, but I won’t stoop so low.) Have another point.

5. Finally, and in the interests of balance: which is your ONE most lovable quality? (Please note that you may only pick ONE answer. Nobody said this was going to be easy.)

I can catch spiders.

QUACK QUACK OOPS! Or maybe the way you catch spiders is in itself mirth-inducing? Well, maybe we’ll find out in the next book.

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OK, you two. Shall we look at the final scores?

Well, sacré bleu, zut alors and chouette: you have scored a combined Compatability Quotient of…

… (dramatic pause) ….

70%. How healthy and functional is that? Many congratulations! No, you haven’t won a car! Cue credits!

(Enjoyed the show? Then BUY THE BOOK. I’ve read it! It’s great! And I don’t even read books! What greater endorsement could there be?)

It’s a strange age, 45.

Even up to a couple of years ago, taxi drivers would occasionally call me “young man”. (Usually at journey’s end, as I squiffily fumbled for change. They know what they’re doing, the little tarts.)

Last week, as I was heading into town for my lunchtime cob (local vernacular; means “bap”), some old boy blundered round a corner, rather too quickly. “Sorry, youth”, he muttered myopically, as our guts briefly barged. I can surf off such slip-ups for days.

But there again, see. On my way into the Bodega Social Club the other night, I was kindly spared the effort of walking all the way round the corner to the back of the roped off entrance walkway. As he chivalrously unhooked the front section of rope and beckoned me through, the smirking doorman bestowed this deadly rite of passage upon my stooped shoulders:

“Step this way, Grandad! You come on inside, and take the weight off your feet!”

“Grandad’s on the guest list”, I icily retorted – aiming for Imperious, but landing somewhere around Huffy. Yeah, that told him.

I always knew this would happen. Right from the age of 14, as my occasional dates with Uncle John Peel (“Britain’s Oldest Teenager!” I joked, in the letter I never wrote) became nightly, unbreakable ones, I knew I these were no mere passing generational fancies. No, these passions were for life. (For a fickle little madam, I can be surprisingly steadfast.)

The other night at the Foals gig, with 95% of the audience under the age of 23 and a significant proportion in their teens, I counted just two other middle-aged men, up on the balcony, away from the fray. “Let’s stand at the bar and look like we’re Industry!”, I muttered to Sarah as we wedged ourselves in, dizzy from the fug of Biactol, rotting trainers and two-week-old T-shirts.

I don’t attend such events to be Down Wid Da Yoot, to leech off their energy, or indeed to feel much in the way of collective connection. I go because, on a good night, I get to witness a certain freshness of spirit – an instinct, an attitude, an attack – which has yet to be dimmed by recognition, repetition, routine. By them, or by me.

And besides: I was 19 once, and it hasn’t really changed that much. (Just don’t tell them that. Best if they don’t know.)

That’s why 45 rocks. Halfway between 20 and 70, and close enough to feel you can touch it all.

Caught up in the middle, jumping through the riddle, Grandad’s on the guest list tonight!

DAMN, that was hard work – and a reminder of why I gave up writing feature length album reviews for Stylus a long time ago. So DRAINING, darlings.

But some things simply have to be done, and promoting the new Ayers album to the indie intellectuals of America (even though it can only be ordered on import) was one of them. If it helps nudge the album a fraction closer to getting a proper distribution deal in the US, then the job will have been a good ‘un.

All that aside, the finished piece is as honest an assessment of the album as I was able to give it, grade inflation and all. (Update: link now corrected.)

(If I’d been reviewing The Unfairground in the first week of release, it would have earned a B. If I’d been reviewing it two weeks ago, it would have been a B+. But some things take time, and in any case I’m a firm supporter of the commercially unsustainable concept of only writing album reviews after you’ve lived with them for a couple of months. Which is why I don’t tend to write many album reviews!)