And when the sun begins to shine

Some while ago, my mum told me about a game of "spot the St Johnstone mug" on Taggart. The actor Colin McCredie, who plays Stuart Fraser, is a Saints fan in real life, and attempts to get a St Johnstone mug in shot during each episode. Last time I watched it, I forgot to look. But I was watching it with my parents on Tuesday night, and we all spotted it!

Anything that spreads the word.

She's the puzzle piece behind the couch that makes the sky complete

I've just started a new jigsaw. I bought it because I really like the picture. But it's really hard. Jigsaws take me long enough anyway - I have a strange approach. But I have a feeling this going to take me even longer than normal...

Where is all you angels now the figureheads have fell

This article in the NME made me chuckle. Music is full of preposterous lyrics, none of which I can actually bring to mind at the moment (but watch this space). I'm quite a fan of the ungrammatical (see the title of this posting).

Of course one person's stupid lyric is another person's pearl of wisdom. And if you like the artist anyway, you are much more likely to hold the latter view. I remember having heated discussions about lots of Lemonheads lyrics, and whether they were nonsense or not (I think not, but then I probably would. And in any case, I've never been in the "lyrics as poetry camp". It's about whether or not it touches you in some way).

However, there are some rubbish ones. Fist of pure emotion, anyone?

I don't like Mondays

Tell you why?

Well, I preordered the Glasvegas album. Last time I preordered something, it arrived through my letter box on the day of release. This time it dispatched on the day of release. So, I won't get it until tomorrow.

Serves me right for being lazy I suppose. I could have just gone to an actual physical shop and bought it there.

Oh no, not me, we never lost control

This article in the NME got me thinking about cover versions. Some of these truly are terrible, although I haven't been able to face the Take That one. It also reminded me of when I was much younger, I bought Paul Young's album No Parlez and on that was a cover of Love Will Tear Us Apart. I was blissfully unaware of the original at that point, never mind any of the surrounding story, so didn't quite understand when I would read people lambasting it. Of course, once I did hear it, I understood. A song of such bitterness and regret just doesn't sound right being crooned.

So, I started thinking about good covers or ones which might even be better than the original.

My starter for ten? Nirvana's version of Bowie's Man Who Sold The World. Now I like the original well enough, but I prefer the version without the washboard and slightly ghostly vocals (to be honest, I think I even prefer the Lulu version, with Bowie on backing vocals). Nirvana's version is rawer, but infinitely superior. The classic performance is from their MTV Unplugged appearance, where Kurt gets the words wrong, and Krist Novoselic looks superbly goofy.

When they did it live on stage, it was that bit faster, that bit rawer and Kurt yelled the guitar part at the end as well as playing it.



Utterly awesome.

Boys living next door Are never what they seem

This week's film for my dad was What Just Happened. He likes Robert de Niro as an actor, although normally in tougher roles than this one. But it seemed to get the thumbs up, but perhaps not over enthusiastically so. He found it "a mildly amusing look at Hollywood, but there's not much else I can say about it. It was mildly funny. Not worth a guffaw. There were some people who were guffawing away, but I think that's just for patter and to make it seem like they were getting a message that no-one else was. And D is quite perceptive and he couldn't see what those folk were guffawing about either".

Guffaw really is an underrated word, don't you think?

Shake your hair girl with your ponytail

Film reviews from father and daughter this time

Firstly, father. His most recent sojourns to the cinema have been to see Burn After Reading and Body of Lies. Since I've seen Burn After Reading too, we were actually able to have a bit of of a discussion about it (rather than me just saying "Why did you go and see that?"). And he enjoyed it. Thought it was funny, than John Malkovich was particularly good in it, thought begrudgingly that George and Brad were quite good, but that the guys playing the CIA agents (or whoever they were) were the best. I did have to warn him beforehand that the film was improbable, but that that was the point. He got it - he's a smart guy, my dad.

Body of Lies also met with his approval. Well-acted and enjoyable, although he was somewhat bemused the Leonardo di Caprio's character was able to travel in and out of various Middle Eastern countries undetected, when he looked so much like a Westerner.

He's taken to phoning me up to check what films are on at his local cinema, so I can warn him which ones he should avoid. He's still amazed that Mamma Mia is on.

So, my turn. I unexpectedly watched Flashbacks of a Fool, starring Daniel Craig, earlier this evening. The film is about a washed up English actor, living in Hollywood, and we see his the last few weeks of his life in England through a flashback. I'm not going to say any more about the plot, as that's lazy. It was really superb - the cast were great (lots of really good British actors, including an Archers actress), it was beautifully shot, there were some apposite injections of humour, and it used music brilliantly to set the mood. It could so easily have picked the easy road at the end (and perhaps a less well-made film would have), resulting in an unsatisfactory ending. But it didn't and it made for a rather moving film.

It's Christmas time and there's no need to be afraid

While channel flicking, I happened upon the new Glasvegas video. It's for Please Come Home and is from their mini Christmas album. Needless to say, it rocks the big one, and I think that Last Christmas may have some serious competition for "best Christmas song ever".

Bring on the album.

Hey Joe! I got the news tonight

I was in Liverpool recently and took the chance to walk down past the Cavern Club. I didn't go in, but spent some time looking at the outside. It gave me a real tingle, imagining what it must have been like to have been there in the 1960s, being in the midst of all that was happening. Every generation has their version, but this must have been like witnessing something unique. It had never really been done before.

They have a wall of fame outside the Cavern now, with bricks of artists that have played there, past and present (I didn't notice the Beatles one, but I suppose it must be there). Interestingly two of the bricks have been removed, and replaced with one of Liverpool's own, as you can see from the pictures.

Leaving aside whether or not they should have been removed, it seemed to miss the point slightly by putting up a plaque explaining it.

Those rosey days are few

As I walked into the pub tonight, the Jam's Town Called Malice began to play. And of course, I couldn't help but walk in time to the music, as I walked over to my friends.

Everyone should have an entrance song. A few songs later, Girls On Film came on. To be honest, this would have been even cooler.

Another ringer with the slick trigger finger

I've been to see Quantum of Solace at long last. I'm a big Bond fan and had heard mixed things about it, so was keen to see for myself.

And I did enjoy it, for the most part. But the plot did seem a little thin. Or was I just not concentrating? I did find some of the dialogue a little hard to pick up. I'd already been warned that the first 10 minutes of the film might be a little hard to pick up, unless I'd seen Casino Royale recently (I hadn't, but I could just about remember what happened, although I didn't realise until much later on that the action took place quite so soon after the end of Casino Royale. And car chases? Well, I have never found them terribly exciting.

I do, however, think that Daniel Craig is a good Bond. Much had already been written about how he is back to the Bond of the books. This is true, but I think this does Timothy Dalton a huge disservice. The film kept me engaged, but it wasn't vintage. I didn't get lost in it, but wasn't sure why not. When I was talking with a couple of friends about it (both also huge Bond fans), they made a couple of very pertinent points which led me to the conclusion that maybe it just didn't seem like a Bond film. It didn't have lots of the familiar elements. There is no real romance to speak of (well, not in the classic Bond way), no casino scenes, not gadgets (I don't find this especially vexing). One even went so far as to say "What I wouldn't have given for a raised eyebrow". Well, I wouldn't go that far.

Is this what is boils down to? I'm not sure. Bond films have to adapt, so they can compete with the likes of the Bourne franchise. Audiences seem to like bigger and better. And it is in this that it loses a little of the magic; a little of what makes Bond great. It is perhaps telling that my favourite Bond film is From Russia With Love. What will be particularly interesting is the next one. As far as I know they have pretty much exhausted the Ian Fleming back catalogue (save a few of the short stories) and of course, Sebastian Faulks has recently published Devil May Care, which is set in the 1960s.

Would they dare?

I remember this

Today at work they had a short service to dedicate the new war memorial at work, followed by the customary 2 minutes silence to remember people who have given their lives in conflict. It was particularly poignant today as it is 90 years since the end of the First World War. I always find these moments moving - my great grandfather fought in the Somme and came back alive, and although he died before I was born, I always find myself thinking of him on Armistice Day. And hearing the Last Post always brings me out in goosebumps.

My friend remarked to me that there was a good turnout for the 2 minute silence. She was right, but I found that faintly depressing. I think everyone should turn out for such things and not everybody had. It is the least we can do really; give up 2 minutes for people who gave up everything.

I guess it makes me smile

I read something today which really made me laugh. It came from the mouth of Roger Federer of all people. He's playing in the Masters Cup in Shanghai, and Rafael Nadal is not playing there. Apparently a reporter asked him if he was missing Nadal. To which Federer answered "We're not dating, so no!"

I really hope he did say that.

Here in the streets of American nights

This week's film review had an interesting beginning, given that my dad couldn't remember the name of the film he had gone to see (we don't worry too much about the names of the films we see, just whether or not we like them or not is the important thing). Once he told me that Colin Farrell was in it, we managed to work out that he had gone to see Pride and Glory. His verdict this time? "Pretty brutal, but our kind of film. Never seen a film with so much swearing in my life. It was eff this, mother eff that. Bit gratuitous. But I enjoyed the film. The acting was quite good, Jon Voight was good."

Apparently the film "got a turkey in the Daily Mail", but never let it be said that my dad takes notice of everything he reads in the Daily Mail. Unless it is about Russell Brand.

When worlds collide, said George Pal to his bride

I was listening to the Archers last night when one of the characters remarked to another "Forgetting Sarah Marshall!" (one had got a DVD for another).

See, there's always room for Jason. Even in deepest, darkest Ambridge.

Can't believe you're taking my heart to pieces

Number five of an occasional series.

Duran Duran have written some amazing pop songs. But their best ever song I think is Come Undone. Although it got to Number 13 in the UK when it was released, it is arguably not one of their most famous songs (at least amongst the uninitiated).

I has a gorgeous swirly guitar hook and one of best vocals Le Bon has ever done. Any lyrically it is just beautiful (apparently it was written for Yasmin as a birthday gift). It's one of a small group of songs that can bring me out in genuine goosebumps.

I've always thought it suffers as the lesser relation of Ordinary World, as that was their big comeback single. But I think this is even better - it's much more understated and therein lies its strength. Sheer perfection.

And we call this making history

I stayed up until 4am this morning (or last night, whatever you prefer) watching the US election results coming through (helped along with the way with some Jim Beam). I don't live in the States; I don't have a vote there, but I felt like I was part of history, something pretty momentous. It reminded me of the 1997 election in the UK, where there was just this great surge of hope, that things were about to change for the better.

When the states started to be called, it became clear reasonably quickly that something amazing was truly going to happen. Even although the polls had indicated this outcome, it wasn't until I saw it with my own eyes that I could believe it. Polls have been wrong before (2000 anyone?) and it felt like if I went to bed before the end result, then somehow I would wake up and it would all have gone horribly wrong.

Which is why I was determined to stay up to see it with my own eyes. At about 4am (my details may be a bit sketchy here; I'd been up a long time), California came through and then Washington, taking us through the magical 270. History had been made and I could go to bed for a few hours.

My head hit the pillow when McCain gave his speech once the result was clear. Before sleep overtook me, I was struck by how incredibly gracious he was. There is a very interesting article in the times online about him.

http://www.timesonline.co.uk/tol/comment/article5084049.ece

Of course, it meant that I missed Obama's victory speech, but I read the text this morning (it gave me goosebumps) and that's what You Tube is for.

All in all, quite a night. And worth feeling slightly gritty and sleep for the whole of the next day. When people inevitably ask "where were you when Obama won", I can answer.

Because he's too cool for school He comes alive oh, when the sun goes down

NME have just published their Cool List for 2008. It's full of lots of the usual suspects, most of whom wouldn't know cool if it came up, introduced itself and handed over a large slice of cake.

http://www.nme.com/blog/index.php?blog=10&title=nme_cool_list_2010&more=1&c=1&tb=1&pb=1

Still, at least the man who is quite possibly the coolest guy to walk the earth is on there, albeit at a lowly 33. And I love how they have described him. "The desert-rock James Dean possesses a classic charisma that ensures he'll always be a Cool List contender".

Now, that's what cool is all about.

Old as ancient skies, I've had these wandering eyes

I had the inevitable phone call at the weekend from my parents about the whole Russell Brand/Johnathan Ross debacle (I was amazed they had waited as long as they did). Safe to say they aren't fans, but know that I am. So they wanted to know what I thought of it all, and to tell me how disgusting/crude/unfunny they think they both are and what they would have done had it been my grandfather they had called.

Leaving aside any rights and wrongs (and I think far too much has been written about it already, so no need for me to add my thoughts, apart from it did make me wonder if his old mate Jason has got in touch to offer his support), it got me wondering about humour. Clearly it has nothing to do with genetics - neither parents thinks Russell Brand is at all funny, whereas he has me laughing out loud most of the time. My mum was trying to get me to tell her what was funny about him and I couldn't. This doesn't mean that he isn't funny, it just means that comedy is not something that can really be explained. You laugh or you don't.

And that's it.

He has a powerful weapon, he charges a million a shot

My dad went to see Quantum of Solace on Friday. I wasn't expecting him to like it (he went because his mate wanted to); he hasn't liked a Bond film since Sean Connery gave up, and even then we'll be talking about 1960s Bond rather than Never Say Never Again.

My suspicions were correct. He spent the first 10 minutes trying to work out what was going on (apparently seeing Casino Royale recently would help), and the rest of the time he was just a bit bored. "It doesn't have much of a plot, and how come he can take on 4 bodyguards in a lift and win with ease, yet he has trouble just after with one person, who isn't quite as brawny" (I suggested he might be tired after all the business in the lift".

Bottom line is he just doesn't think Daniel Craig is a very good actor. However, he was most impressed with Judi Dench and Tim Piggot Smith, so all was not lost.

I'm hoping he sees something he likes soon.

She'll come back as fire, burn all the liars

I was reading NME this week, and looking at photos from the new book Cobain Unseen. Rolling Stone have apparently described it as "A remarkable revealing visual history of Cobain’s private life". I find this quite depressing, although as a huge Nirvana fan, inevitably appealing.

Depressing because I've got the journals and although I find them endlessly fascinating, I can't help feeling a little like I am intruding when I read extracts (is it really any of my business? I wouldn't read a friend's diary, but I will read the diaries of a man I have never met and who isn't here to give me his permission). This will only be compounded when I can look at his own personal photos (interestingly, the picture on the cover is one of only a very small number that Kurt actually liked of himself)


So, I'll no doubt be buying the book, but will feel just a little disgusted with myself for doing so.

Hey child, stay wilder than the wind.

Simon Le Bon is 50 today.

Where did the time go?

Planets pulsating, constellations creating

Today I watched two films. One on the small screen and one on the big screen.

Deciding that I was in the mood for a Hitchcock this afternoon, and instead of watching one of my favourites for the umpteenth time (and this would be no hardship), I thought I would watch one of ones that I hadn't seen. It was a toss up between Topaz and Family Plot, and I chose Topaz, for no particular reason.

I liked it well enough. I would have expected to have enjoy it more than I did, given the subject matter, but something about it wasn't as engrossing as it could or should have been. Annoyingly, I managed to miss his cameo, so I am going to have to watch it again, or at least until he appears (I now know where it is, so this shouldn't be too difficult). From a completist's point of view, I'm glad I watched it, but not sure it will bear repeated viewing. I just don't think his later films are as good as his others - hardly an original observation, I know. But I would rather watch a less good Hitchcock than a lot of films by other, less skillful film-makers.

And the second film? Burn After Reading. I think my afternoon's viewing had put me in the spy mood. I really enjoyed this. It made me laugh out loud. I like the Coen Brothers films a lot (save Raising Arizona, which was just too screwball for me) and think that George Clooney is always great when in their films. It's maybe not vintage Coen Brothers, but it's crazy and fast-paced (once it gets going) and at the end, you just think, rather like the characters, "how the hell did that happen".

Clooney would have made a great Hitchcock hero too.

Amusing belly dancers distract me from my wine

I went to see Glenn Tilbrook and the Fluffers yesterday evening. This gig had been advertised for months and months and I had been talking about going to it, but none of my friends seemed to be particularly interested in it. So it all turned into a bit of a spur of the moment thing as I was sat in the pub talking about it, and my friend said "well, why don't we just go then".

That is what they call real spontaneity.

So, go we did. I have to confess to knowing very little about Glenn Tilbrook's career outside of Squeeze (save the first Difford and Tilbrook single Love's Crashing Waves, which I loved). But I love his voice and I liked Squeeze, I think he's a great songwriter, so why the hell not?

It did not disappoint. His voice is as great and clear as ever and his songwriting skills have not departed him. I was delighted that he chose to play some Squeeze songs - Up The Junction, Slap and Tickle, Is That Love, Take Me I'm Yours and a tiny bit of Cool For Cats, within a strange little segment that also included snippets of Video Killed The Radio Star and I Believe I Can Fly (yes really).

He looked liked he was having a ball! The audience seemed strangely unresponsive - they clearly were enjoying it, given their appreciation at the end of each song, but during the songs, there was precious little movement. OK, so maybe you weren't exactly going to get much pogoing, but I would have expected a little more, well, movement! But I used be used to Oxford audiences by now. Mind you, there was a fight. I have no idea what it was about and it was quite comical - reminded me of one of those inept fights between two people who have clearly never been involved in fisticuffs ever before (about which, let me just point out, I am rather relieved). And totally out of place. I mean, of all the settings for a fight, a Glenn Tilbrook gig?

And while I was watching him, it meant I was missing another member of Squeeze hosting his TV programme. The irony was not lost on me.

Kiss me with your mouth

It was clearly the weekend for reminiscing. As well as recollecting games from our childhood, we also found possibly my favourite clip of all time from Grange Hill.



I had a monstrous crush on Stewpot as well.

So I wanna know, what's the name of the game

I had the strangest experience today. I was spending the weekend with a friend and we were getting ready to go out for brunch. She asked me to get a box out of her wardrobe for her and being a helpful soul, I did. As I was opening the door, my eyes were drawn to a neat pile of games nestling at the bottom of the wardrobe.

And what do I spy? Only a board game that I had when I was a child, and what I have been struggling for literally years to remember the name of!

I can remember only a few months ago trying to describe the game to another friend. "It was really cool, you had this board with categories and one of them was Biblical Characters and you had to spin this wheel and then if you could name something from the category, you chucked this little wooden ball into this box..." "Sounds great" she said (and you know, I get the feeling she wasn't being entirely truthful with me).

So, imagine my utter delight to see this very game in my friend's cupboard. In fact I was so delighted I may have even screamed a little. The memories came flooding back, as did my fascination with the family pictured on the front of the box (the father's pullover was especially memorable for me); and indeed there was a category called Biblical Characters (I think I remembered this one because we found it particularly hard to name any).

This game was so much fun, and maybe it started with lifelong obsession with quizzes and naming things in categories.

Of course, the irony of the name of the game and the fact that I couldn't remember it, is not lost on me.

Clowns to the left of me, jokers to the right

The latest film review from my dad is for Stone of Destiny, about the theft of the Stone of Scone in the 1950s. His verdict?

"It was OK; quite parochial. I didn't fall asleep mind you. It was a wee bit amateurish, well maybe not amateurish, maybe just not that substantial a plot. It got a bit Keystone Kops in places".

Hmm. One of the users on IMDB said "Don't let the critics put you off a worthwhile film". Not sure my dad agrees.

It's time to play the music

It's no secret that Jason Segel is supposed to be writing the next Muppets film. Clearly this is exciting.

I just hope he finds space for my favourite Muppet.



The talkie bit at the beginning is just adorable.

The fault is I can find no fault in you

Number Four of An Occasional Series

I was making a mix CD for a few friends the other day, and trying to think of a few interesting things to put on it. While rifling through my record collection, I happened upon a CD that I hadn't listened to in ages, and which contains number four in my series of Best Songs Ever Written. The album is Sulk by the Associates and the song Club Country.

The song is an absolute gem, although it probably isn't quite as well known as their biggest hit "Party Fears Two". It has it all - throbbing bass, fabulous 80s production and a soaring vocal from Billy McKenzie. It is utterly mesmerising. In fact, it needs to be heard rather than described as words don't really do it justice.



The general consensus on the Eighties seems to be that it was a musically barren time, remembered for nothing except a whole load of cheesy pop nonsense. I think songs like this one prove that statement is untrue.

Absolute genius.

Why don't you come back, please hurry.

So, my dad went to see Brideshead Revisited last Friday. I am not quite sure why, as he didn't watch the original TV series as far as I know.

His film review? "It was good, aye. Quite well done. I can't remember who the actors were, but it was an enjoyable movie. A good period drama I suppose. It wasn't overdone".

Praise indeed.

Everyone's a winner, baby, that's no lie

For what might be the first time ever in history, Monday morning came around with all three (count 'em) of my football teams having won at the weekend.

Such moments are precious and don't come round very often. So, come on you blues, yellows and reds.

The pointed end flies in the lead

While at a gig, I stumbled into a conversation with a friend about Flying Vs. Now I rate this friend's musical taste pretty highly, so I was aghast to learn that he thinks Flying Vs are cool. In fact, and I quote, his exact words were "the flying V, especially in metallic silver, is the best guitar in the world".

Me? I think they are one of the ugliest and naffest looking things in the world and I was genuinely a bit taken aback to hear him wax lyrical about them. I guess beauty really is in the eye of the beholder, however cliched that may be. I reconsidered for a second, but then decided that he was wrong and I was right.

I am however glad to report that he does not think that fretless basses or double-headed guitars look good. Which given the way our guitar conversation had been going was something of a relief.

You're about as easy as a nuclear war

I found the fact that the National Archives have released that script that would be used in the even of a nuclear attack on Britain during the cold war both fascinating and chilling.

http://news.bbc.co.uk/1/hi/uk/7648042.stm

When you read it, you can almost hear that BBC voice in your ears, like the one at the start of Two Tribes by Frankie Goes to Hollywood.

I spent quite a lot of my childhood in the early 1980s worrying about nuclear war, and having spoken to others of my age, found out they were all going through the same thing. So reading this was really evocative and brought back memories of me standing in my bedroom looking out into the darkness. I grew up in an area which was supposed to be a nuclear black spot, due to the existence of an oil refinery and this made me worry even more.

Now there are just other things to worry about!!

Good guys they make rules for fools

OK, so here are numbers 6-10 of Ten Things That Every Gentleman Should Know

6. After a dinner party, always phone to say thank you, then follow up with a letter. Never, ever text.

Well, this must mean that none of my male friends are gentlemen. Either that or I never throw dinner parties.

7. Your socks should always be darker than your suit.

OK, but what if you aren't wearing a suit?

8. Always compliment a lady on how she looks

Well, duh! Isn't this kind of obvious? Yes, we like to be told we are looking good

9. The correct time to arrive for a 7.30pm invitation is 7.40 pm, unless you are in the military, in that case arrive on time..

Well, my friends either arrive on time, or are fashionably late, which is generally more that 10 minutes late.

10. When staying with friends at their country house, budget a £20 tip for the butler for the weekend.

This is crazy talk. I don't think that any of my male friends have friends who have a country house. Or if they do, they've never told me

So, my conclusion? None of my male friends are gentlemen. Or else, I'm no lady.

Bad boys stick together never sad boys

I had occasion to be looking at a copy of the Independent on Sunday from 2006 (in an article by Johnny Davis) the other day, and I found an article about men and finishing schools. It had a list of ten things that "every gentleman should know", which I found rather intriguing. I wonder how many gentleman I actually know.

Here are the first five of the top ten.

1. Never bring wine to a dinner party; it presumes too much about your hosts tastes. Cheese or a nice mustard are more appropriate.

Hmmm, I have to say that if I were having a dinner party and a guy I had invited brought a jar of mustard, I would be thinking less "what a gentleman" and more "what a weirdo". Needless to say, my male friends should just continue bringing wine.

2. In the street, always walk on the road side of a lady.

Now, my dad always does this, so he will be pleased to know he is a gentleman. But, if I am walking with the road on my right, it just feels strange to have someone between me and the road. In fact, my dad and I quite often have a battle over this.

3. To make a strong impression, when shaking hands, touch the person lightly on the elbow. But never for more than three seconds.

This seems OK, but what's a guy to do? Count? Time it. It could all go horribly wrong all too easily.

4. Always stand when a lady enters a room.

Does any guy under the age of 60 still do this? I think I might find it a bit unnerving.

5. Keep your hair, nails and hands immaculately groomed at all times.

Well, I have to say, nice hair and nails are nice things to see in a guy, gentleman or not (although I am not averse to a spot of nail varnish, but not sure this counts). But immaculate hands? Does this mean bringing out the hand cream?

Next five, next posting.

And everyone's the same We look the same We talk the same

I read the other day that Kate Moss's 5-year old daughter loves the smell of petrol and that apparently it is one of those most preferred scents in the world. Now, I had always thought I was strange, because it is one of my favourite smells and has been since I was about 5 . Now I find out that I am not quite the radical free thinker that I thought I was.

Oh well. It still smells good.

This song's for you

I love spontaneous evenings. There I was, sat at home (after having dragged myself to the gym), watching a DVD, annoyed at having no internet access, when I get a text from friends saying that they were at a nearby pub to see The Dirty Royals, and why didn't I come along.

Why not indeed? Half an hour later, I am there, with a pint of the Czech Republic's finest in my hand. The band came on, and well, they were amazing. The describe themselves on their myspace page (http://www.myspace.com/dirtyroyals) as "a head-on collision between classic British Pop and gritty Punk on the Pacific Coast Highway". That summed the evening up pretty well. They exuded dirty energy and took the crowd along with them. There was even - wait for it - dancing, which is almost unheard of at Oxford gigs. And I got a song dedicated to me. OK, so my friends had the same thing happen to them when they saw them last week (a gig, to my chagrin, I chose not to attend because I was too tired. That'll teach me), but that isn't going to stop me enjoying the moment. They even asked my name, which surprised me so much that I almost forgot it. I nabbed a set list at the end so I could find out the name of my song - Back For More. Which is apt, as I will be, but who knows when. The drummer is from LA and is heading back there. He needs to come back soon.

My friends enjoyed it so much one of them removed his shoe. Rock and Roll.

Listen, do you want to know a secret, do you promise not to tell?

As I was walking home this evening, I overhead a man talking on his mobile and it was one of the best ever snippets of overheard conversations. Ever.

"I'm just going back to watch Newsnight. Cos people forget just how bad the Tories were".

Nuff said.

You count the bands, you cut your hair And someone saying you're a millionaire

Well as he said he would, my dad went to see The Duchess on Friday night. And it would appear to have been a success. In his words "it was good, excellent acting from that Ralph Fiennes. But that whats-her-name, Winslet is it? That's right, Keira Knightley, well even although she denied in the papers that she was, she wasn't half putting on the Lady Di look".

That's my dad's approach to film reviews. Cut straight to the chase, no messing about.

I've warned him not to go and see Pineapple Express.

And then we'll take it higher

I went to see Pineapple Express last night. I'd really been looking forward to it. And it was supremely funny in places. But I came away feeling just a little bit disappointed. This was probably mostly to do with the ending, which just seemed to go on and on (in much the same vein as Hot Fuzz, and I felt the same way about that). Seth Rogen and James Franco are as watchable as ever, but it just fell a little flat for me.

Rather excitingly I got to see the trailer for Quantum of Solace which was pretty exciting. But I have a gripe. It was way longer than it needed to be. They should tantalise and just show you little glimpses, especially with a Bond film where people are pretty much going to see it anyway; I mean, it's not that likely that the trailer will make someone who isn't interested in Bond films think "Oh, that actually looks quite good".

At least it wasn't too long. Some trailers practically show you the whole film. And the rule is the longer the trailer, the worse the film, At least in my experience.

Still, I can't wait to see it!

An elegant sir in a terylene shirt tonight

My dad goes to the cinema every Friday night with his best friend. They've been doing this for about the last 3 years or so, and since they live in a town with just one cinema, their choices are sometimes a bit limited. But this doesn't usually stop them from going to see something and so sometimes he goes to see things which he probably shouldn't have bothered with.

My dad is old school. He likes "a proper film". He doesn't like fantasy or anything far-fetched or something which couldn't really happen. He doesn't really believe in suspension of disbelief. Many a time I have tried to argue with him that once the rules of a particular world are established, so long as the story follows these rules, it is OK that "it couldn't really happen". But he's having none of it, His favourites are good cop movie or a western or maybe a gangster film - something a bit gritty. The worst time for him is the summer when all the blockbusters are on and stay on.

He's taken to phoning me and telling me what films are on, so that I can look them up and tell him whether he'll like them or not. It's not always easy to work out what he will like, but it is easy peasy to work out what he won't. When I call him over the weekend, I get a film review from him. Sometimes these are unintentionally hilarious, depending on what he has gone to see and whether it fits into any of the above categories.

Last week he went to see RocknRolla. His review is short and not so sweet. "It wasn't very good. In fact, I fell asleep again".

They are booking ahead for The Duchess this week. Watch this space.

It's getting kind of hard to believe things are going to get better

The day arrived! Yay! And it arrived 2 days early. Thanks to a preorder, I got my hands on the DVD of FSM a whole two days before it hit the shops. Which meant that every time I saw the ad on TV "Forgetting Sarah Marshall, out Monday", I felt the need to say "I don't think so" to the TV.

I've been fairly restrained. I've watched it once all the way through; the extras twice through and I'm now halfway through the commentary version (which is supremely funny and has reminded me how much I love listening to the commentaries of films that I love).

It hasn't disappointed. It's just a really fun, sweet, adorable film, with lots of laugh out loud moments and lots of slightly uncomfortable moments (uncomfortable in the sense that you've been there, or can imagine the horror of being there). It still amuses me that when I saw it in the cinema, it took me a good 20 minutes or so to recognise Paul Rudd (it seems patently obvious now of course).

And the film has also led me to discover some utter gems that I may not have had I not gone to see it, namely Freaks and Geeks and How I Met Your Mother.

And contrary to what more than one of my friends have been saying, I have not been wearing out the pause function. What do they take me for?

One day like this a year will see me right

I was delighted that Elbow won the Mercury Prize last night. As previously mentioned on here, they were one of my gig revelations of the year and they rocked the house at Latitude. The album is just great and they thoroughly deserve it. And what a cool speech. We all know that awards are subjective and perhaps don't mean much in the grander scheme of things. But they were genuinely chuffed to bits to win.

So it got me thinking about how many of the previous winning albums I actually own. It was more than I thought.

Screamadelica
Suede
Different Class
Franz Ferdinand
Whatever People Say I Am, That's What I'm Not
Myths of the Near Future
The Seldom Seen Kid

Hmmm, pretty indie, no?

Oh oh how you are my hero

9.53pm

So, I have finally been allowed to listen to the album. My "friends" who were previously so obsessed with watching Come Dine With Me graciously allowed me to put on the stereo. I do love my friends. A couple others joined us, and I nervously put the CD in the drawer. I can't remember the last time I was so excited by the prospect of an album.

And Oh! My! God! I was not disappointed. From the moment the swirling guitars began on Flowers and Football Tops, to the last strains of Ice Cream Van, the album is utter genius. I never really thought I would enjoy listening to someone singing in a broad Scots accent (having been utterly embarrassed by the Proclaimers), but James Allan manages to make it sexy and vital. We all sat in my small room with the volume turned up (one friend insisted on listening to the single Daddy's Gone first, out of sequence, "because I haven't heard it and people keep talking about it"), and marvelled at it. It sounds absolutely amazing... I'd heard pretty much most of it live and the sound is every bit as good.

I realise I am saying nothing at all that is insightful about this album, but there is no need to. All you need to know is that this is the best album I have heard for such a long time. You need to buy it.

That's all that needs to be said.

Here we, here we, here we f*****g go!

6pm

The day has finally arrived! I have the Glasvegas album in my hot little hands. And I went for the DVD limited edition as well.

But as my friends are round and are insisting on watching Come Dine With Me ("you can listen to it later"), the review will just have to wait.

Friends, eh?

Yummy yummy yummy I've got love in my tummy

As it is my birthday at the end of this month, and my good friend Phil is going to be out of the country AGAIN, he said he would take me to Jamie's Italian restaurant, which opened up a couple of months ago. It was under a reasonable amount of duress - he was sniffy about it ("he's not going to be there you know; it'll be bog standard Italian food; I'm not queuing up for hours with a load of tourists"), but since I wanted to go, he said he'd treat me as a birthday present.

So, in order to minimise our potential queuing time (you can't book unless you are a table of 10 or more), we went at the ridiculously early time of 6pm and were told we'd have a 15-20 minute wait. Fair enough - we sat at the bar with a beer and were seated at a table within 10 minutes. Phil was busy rating the decor, the staff, the menus, you name it - "so far so good, but let's see what the food's like".

Our starters came came "the best olives in the world, with tapenade and music bread" (how exciting!) and a basket of bread from "my bakery" (ie Jamie's). Good start. And then the mains - prawn linguini for my carnivorous dining companion, and sweetie shaped pasta stuffed with pumpkin in a rosemary sauce for me. Despite being slightly concerned about the size of my portion in comparison to his ("I've got loads, are you sure that's enough for you?"), he grudgingly had to admit that his dish was really rather good. Oh, the pain on his face was plain for all to see!!! Of course, he did want to enjoy it, but part of him wanted it not be that good. But he told the truth and shamed the devil and admitted that it was really rather good.

Me? Well, I thought it was great! Very good food, attentive yet unobsequious staff, relaxed atmosphere, eclectic music, nice view into the kitchen, and very reasonably priced. And a dining companion who ate his words as well as his linguini.

Tune in next time for the next installment of "Fiona and Phil do Oxford restaturants".

These are the things, the things that dreams are made of

The second week of September is going to be a big one, at least according to Amazon. First of all, on the 8th of September, the Glasvegas album is released. This is probably the album release of the year for me - I can't wait.

And then, if that wasn't enough, Forgetting Sarah Marshall is released on DVD on the 15th of September. Lots and lots of Segel.

How am I going to cope? And which one am I looking forward to the most...

Our house, in the middle of our street

I've just heard on the news that the Chancellor is considering suspending stamp duty in order to "get the market moving again".

Really??

Yes, that'll make a difference. How about fixing it so that one bedroomed flats aren't offered at some ludicrous high price, effectively pricing most people out of the market? It really makes me laugh (and for laugh read "spit chips") when I hear how house prices are falling. Well, they are going to have to fall a hell of a lot more before me or most of my friends are able to even think about trying to buy something. Tiny percentages just don't cut it.

I am going to stop now because it just makes me angry.

Everyone just loves you so, well hooray

So, ever since my whole "Knocked Up is the new Point Break" post, I have been thinking about what constitutes a comfort film. Here's a list of some of mine, off the top of my head.

Se7en
The Breakfast Club
Point Break
St Elmo's Fire
Knocked Up
North by Northwest
Streetcar Named Desire
Rope
Grease
Grease 2

I asked one of my friends what hers would be. Among others she said:

Dirty Dancing
A Knight's Tale
Point Break
Robin Hood

For me, they aren't merely films that I have on in the background, because I pay attention when my comfort films are on. And neither are they "feel-good" films. Hardly any of the films on this list would qualify for that description, especially not Se7en. Yet it truly is one of my comfort films. Some of them make me laugh (notice that none of them make me cry - I don't see the point in repeatedly viewing sad films. I've seen Casablanca once - I loved it, but I made me cry and so I never want to see it again. And don't get me started on Il Postino.)

But I digress. You can't even really say that they are all "good" films or particularly well acted. Much as I love it, I would be hard pushed to really make a case for Grease 2 being a good film. And it's not even like I have a crush on someone in all of the films (honestly, this is true). Most of them I can pretty much quote from, or I at least know exactly what is coming next. They are all from different times in my life, at least in terms of when I first saw them.

So what makes these films that I love to watch on a Saturday afternoon, when I can close the door on the world, when the rain is falling, yet I am all cosy and comfortable inside? Is it nothing more than there is something in them which has me hooked and I just really enjoy them?

I'm not entirely sure.

Oh when the Saints go marching in, oh when the Saints go marching in

It's August! And the football season has started. Well for those of us who support the best team in the world anyway. Long gone are the carefree Saturdays when you can while away the hours, thinking happy thoughts and not worrying a bean about anything. Nope, when the football season starts, say hello to gut-wrenching Saturdays*, where everything centres of what happens come 4.45. This is doubly true if you are a Saints fan (witness the trauma of the last game of the season before last where we were quite literally 60 seconds away from promotion and it all went horribly wrong), and we always have a slowish start to the season.

So, just imagine my surprise when, come 5.00, we are Top of the League. If only the season could end now.



*although increasingly this becomes Sunday afternoons, Monday/Tuesday evening

My life sees me wandering, lost in smiles forever

Number Three of An Occasional Series

Long before Julian Cope was perplexing crowds at Latitude, he was in a band called The Teardrop Explodes. And they made exquisite pop music. One of the best songs they ever did, and therefore number three, on my virtual album is Passionate Friend. It's from their second and (I think) superior album Wilder - a copy of which should be in every discerning music fan's collection.

I can remember seeing them performing this on Top of the Pops when I was about 10, and being mesmerized by it. There's no preamble - the vocal is launched into straightaway and then you get approximately 3 and a half minutes of sheer awesomeness. I like the way the tempo changes and how it soars and soars until it get to the climax of "ba ba bas". Julian Cope is the king of a great "ba ba ba" - I am not sure that anyone else does them better and for me, one of the hallmarks of a great pop song is a well-placed "ba ba ba". If this sounds incomprehensible, then listen to the song and you will see exactly what I mean. But there is also great emotion in his voice and it suits the lyrics wonderfully.

In short, it's pop genius.

The times they are a-changing

I think that Knocked Up may be my new Point Break. It has taken over as my comfort movie, the thing I like to put on when I want to hide away from the outside world. I'm never not in the mood to watch it. It's hilarious, has Paul Rudd and Jason Segel in it; Seth Rogen is kind of adorable in it. And the extras on the DVD are really worth watching. It's not just your usual deleted scenes nonsense (although these are really funny). The whole mockumenatary on casting the male lead is genius.

Move over Point Break - you have some competition.

We're on the ball

I went to my first live football game in quite some time at the weekend. A pre-season friendly, Oxford Utd playing a Manchester United XI. There's nothing quite like watching football live. You don't get a replay or commentary (well apart from that of the surrounding fans) and depending on where you are sitting, it's pretty hard to judge distances and which direction the ball is going sometimes.

We were sat behind one of the goals, which is a bit of a novelty for me as when I normally go to the football, it is to see my beloved St Johnstone play and we're about level with the halfway line. It's a totally different atmosphere - lots more singing and banter. The Man Utd goalie, who really only could have been about 11 (perhaps that was what the XI in their team name referred to. The ages of the players), was a redhead. You can imagine the chants...

Anyway, it was good being at a live game again. We got goals (4 of them, although shame that 2 of them were scored by the opposition), and when Oxford scored their second, my feet did actually leave the ground as I jumped up in the air. They may not be my beloved Saintees, but it is good to get behind a team and care about them winning.

I miss live football.

Oh your hair is beautiful

Day Three At Latitude

All too soon it's Sunday, which is the busiest day for me, in terms of bands that I want to see. I even have some proper clashes. Choices will have to be made.

Anyway, first destination is the comedy tent for the first time to see Phil Jupitus and Friends Improv. It's the first outing for me to the comedy tent, as it's always been too packed for me to bother. But this was the first thing on in the tent, so I figured what the hell. It was funny And Marcus Brigstocke's Robert Mugabe impression had me chuckling all day long.

I also checked out some more Word Theatre, the theme of which today was Love and Hate. I had a position in the tent this time which meant I could actually see the actors. David Soul was one of them - cool, yeah, he was Hutch. But lo and behold if one of them wasn't Gary Dourdan from CSI!! No-one I was with actually watches CSI, so my excitement couldn't really be shared. But I enjoyed it.

First up were The Twilight Sad, who I knew absolutely nothing about, but it turns out they are an "indie rock" band from Kilsyth. They were OK - the singer sings in his own accent, which seems to be in vogue right now. I think they could do with finishing their songs quicker. Fade out doesn't really work live, in my opinion.

Next were These New Puritans, plying their "alternative rock, electronica, progressive rock, experimental rock, post-punk revival, new wave" trade. I first saw them supporting British Sea Power earlier on this year and I had been trying to see them on 3 occasions since then, all to no avail. So part of them was sceptical that I was actually going to see them. But see them I did. They were on the main stage, and I am not quite sure that their sound is quite big enough for that size of stage. However, that doesn't detract from their performance. They were edgy and youthful and exuberant. Great stuff.

Time for Nada Surf, the "American rock music group", who I was very keen on seeing. And they didn't disappoint. They rocked the place in an understated way, but rock it they did. They even got the crowd doing a little dance routine.

I had time to see about three songs by "indie rock, dance-punk" band Foals before I had to leave the main stage to get to the Uncut Arena, to make sure I didn't miss Glasvegas. I enjoyed what I saw.

So, Uncut Arena to see Glasvegas (described as a "Scottish band" on Wikipedia! What, is that it???) for the third time this year. I've already waxed lyrical about them, so I think we all know that I was looking forward to this one. And they were awesome!! As usual. Oozing cool and getting on with it. I cannot wait for this album to be released.

While getting something to eat, strains of "Ah oooh ah, ah oooh ah" began to drift over. It was the start of Cannonball by the "American alternative rock band" the Breeders. I wasn't going to be able to see them and Blondie, so I was opting for Blondie. Apparently their set was chaotic in a loveable way according to one of my friends. But I got to hear Cannonball, so I didn't miss out totally.

Last band in the Uncut Arena for me were going to be Blondie, with their "new wave, punk-rock, pop-punk". The tent was absolutely rammed. Hardly surprising, so really they should have been headlining or else on the main stage. They played a greatest hits set (no Denis or Dreaming or Union City Blue tho. but pretty much everything else you could ask for), and it was amazing. Deborah Harry looked hot and sounded even hotter. She can show the young pretenders a thing or two. But it isn't just about her - the band themselves are super tight and the whole place was having a ball. I boogied and shimmied away. Fantastico!

Interpol and their "indie/alternative rock" were the last headliners on the main stage. They were moody and melodic and it was the first time I had ever really properly listened to them. I liked what I heard. The singer has quite a voice on him. It was perhaps a bit of a flat end, but that might have just been down to the people who were around me.

So that was Latitude over (although we did make it over to the Swap tent, where you danced away and when the klaxon sounded, you were supposed to swap an item of clothing that you really loved. Yeah, OK. We did a bit of dancing, but as mentioned before, I don't do my best work in walking boots and a cagoule, with an aching back).

Highlight - Blondie
Lowlight - having clashes between Foals and Glasvegas and the Breeders and Blondie
Surprise Discovery of the Day - Gary Dourdan and realising that I'd heard him the day before too
Non-surprise Discovery of the day - the toilets in the arena were getting worse

I'd go back.

Someday we'll be drinking with the seldom seen kid

Day Two At Latitude

The Saturday was the day when I had the least amount of stuff that I already decided I wanted to do, so a lot of time was spent just wandering about, soaking up the atmosphere, trying to use the toilet as few times as possible (they may have been pretty good as far as festival toilets go, but I still had to psyche myself up before I could use them). Pimms was quaffed; fluorescent sheep were admired, all at a leisurely pace.

First of all we visited Word Theatre, which was pretty cool. In short, a bunch of actors reading short pieces about dreams. It's a really nice simple idea, which worked really well. And it was a good way to start the day's proceedings.

First band of the day was House of Love, "an English rock band" that I found reasonably engaging back in the late 1980s. I was curious to see what they were like, having never seen them live before. It was pretty good. They went down really well, and seemed genuinely pleased by their reception. I'm glad I checked them out.

Saturday was also a day for a little bit of literature. Iain Banks was appearing in the literary tent. I've read most of his books (well, apart from the Sci Fi ones) and I've heard him speak before and found him engaging. Here was no exception; he was garrulous and entertaining and happy to take questions from the floor. I can never think of anything intelligent or witty to ask. And he likes Pixies, so that is cool.

Next band up were Elbow, "an alternative rock band based in England". They were brilliant!! From the first trumpet blast, to the echoing "Throw those curtains wide", sheer class. Guy Garvey manages to make 20,000 people standing in a field seem like an intimate gig. And it takes a very cool man to completely fluff the opening note of a song, only to proceed to get the audience to do it for him

Lastly it was time for Sigur Rós, the Icelandic post-rock band with melodic, classical and minimalist elements. I was curious about them, as so many people whose music taste I rate rave about them. And I wanted to like them. But I don't think that I really get it. Granted they put on a spectacle and seemed like they were having the best time. Maybe I just don't get Icelandic music. I don't really like Bjork (a couple of Sugarcubes songs aside). I enjoyed it more as their set progressed, and I've now come to the conclusion that I liked the set more now than I did at the time. If that makes any sense. The word soundscape springs to mind. Maybe I just don't really get post-rock.


Highlight - Elbow
Lowlight - stupid people who insist on standing beside me and have loud inane conversations while bands are playing, who are all the more stupid when they say "Oh, I really love this song" and then proceed to talk all the way through it.
Surprise Discovery of the Day - I know more House of Love songs than I realise
Non-surprise Discovery of the day - Elbow are great live

So come and dance with me, Michael

Day One At Latitude*

OK, so I survived my first ever night camping and it was time to rock. Or something, first up was Mark Steel. I'd seen him before in the theatre at Headington Girls School of all places, so knew I'd enjoy it. He was doing his lecture on Marx (Karl, not Gary) and it was funny. I have to say, the man is a genius when it comes to accents - his Tony Benn was spot on and his George Galloway... well, suffice to say that lots of people come a cropper when doing a Scots accent, as they somehow try to make it sound too Scottish (and don't get me started on the strange jutting chin motion), but he was pretty damn good.

Before I start with the music, I am notoriously bad at describing what genre bands are. So, I've decided to use the description given by Wikipedia. This could be fun. First band up were Murder By Death - a band from Indiana who play a "range of music including instrumentals, punk rock and alt-country" - on the main Obelisk stage. Have to say they were pretty good and it was nice sitting on the grass in the sunshine listening to them.

They were closely followed by The Aliens, who have a "more upbeat and psychedelic pop sound in contrast to the trip-hop-based Beta Band", from whence they came. Also pretty good.

I caught most of British Sea Power, a band whose "style ranges from the sweeping, often epic, guitar pop sound to the visceral and angular". They worked really well on the big stage. I had seen them earlier this year, at the Zodiac (where strangely the girls I was with all enjoyed it, and the boys thought it was boring), and they didn't lose anything playing a much bigger venue (if what is ostensibly a field can be called a venue).

So far all the bands had been on the main stage. We went for a wander in the woods to try and fine the Sunrise Stage, and when we did, caught the last 2 songs of The Dø, "a French rock duo" who "incorporate a great range of instruments in their songs, as well as being a duet completing each other member, Merilahti bringing the melody, and Levy the symphonic or jazzy structure". At least, I think this was the band that I saw. They were good, anyway.

From there to the Uncut arena (basically a big tent), to see Howling Bells, an "indie rock" band. This served a double purpose. I was interested in seeing them and Julian Cope would be following. Howling Bells were really great, and went down really well. She has an amazing voice, and they rocked the canvas hard.

So, it was time for Julian Cope, the British rock musician, author, antiquary, musicologist and poet. First of all, I love Julian Cope. I've seen him countless times, in various guises, and think the man is awesome. With me on this occasion was a friend who knew virtually nothing about him and so had no idea what to expect. Before he came on, I said "be warned. You never know what you are going to get with Julian". How prophetic. He was about 25 minutes late in coming on, and in spite of this, it started OK. He played 2 new songs (at least, I had never heard them before) and then played Sleeping Gas, one of my favourite Teardrop Explodes song, which I was most excited about, given I was too young really to have ever seen them, and he tends not to dip into that part of his musical life anymore. His guitar seemed to break at the end of it, and he proceeded to smash it up (an act of which I thoroughly disapprove) and then proceeded into full wig out, while the band played on. We got a fragment of Reynard the Fox, and then what seemed to be him saying that they were going to play Pristeen; and then the plug got pulled. I don't know if it was because he had gone on late, or because the powers that be were nervous about his increasingly strange performance. But off he went. I was disappointed, especially when I saw the setlist that could have been. Chaotic, wandering... It was either the greatest spectacle of the weekend, or immensely frustrating because you know how great the man can truly be. I've read both opinions. I'll be interested to read what the man himself as to say about it in his next Address Drudion, if he does mention it.

Last band of the day were the headliners Franz Ferdinand, a "rock" band. They did not disappoint. The rain came on, but no matter. They rocked (as a "rock" band should), I danced (as only I could). We got new songs, we got old favourites, and a very cool backdrop of the band's faces in a kind of 1930s, boys-own style. Alex smoldered (I seem to be the only one of my friends to see him in this way). Gripe? No Darts of Pleasure. I knew it would be a long-shot to get Tell Her Tonight (although we did get Jacqueline, which I would have happily swapped), but I did expect Darts of Pleasure. Oh well. At least they aren't predictable.

I fell asleep in my tent with the strains of various tunes from the Guilty Pleasures disco in my ears.

Highlight - Franz
Lowlight - Julian (although only because, in the words of our headliners, You Could Have It So Much Better)
Surprise Discovery of the Day - The Dø
Non-surprise Discovery of the day - I really have no sense of direction

*OK, technically, it wasn't Day One. On the Thursday night, we had gone a-wandering and heard a bit of Ross Noble in the Literary Tent. Then someone else joined him, and they proceeded to do very funny John Peel impressions. So good, it would have been remiss not to mention them.

Going To The Country Gonna See A Lot of Peaches

So last weekend I went to Latitude. It was my first music festival for a few years, and would be the first time I had ever camped.

Overall general impressions?

1. All the girls look like Peaches Geldof and sound like Jo Whiley (why is this? Get some individuality, ladies).

2. Communal trough toilets are pretty rank, but could have been a whole lot worse.

3. It is not easy to eat fajitas sitting on grass without cutlery.

4. I don't do my best dancing work with an aching back, wearing walking boots and a cagoule.

5. Not showering for 4 days isn't that bad, actually.

6. Even middle class people jump queues.

7. Some people prefer the sound of their own extremely loud voices to the sound of Elbow.

8. I am not sure I get Sigur Ros.

Reunited and it feels so good

Over the past couple of days, I've been reunited with couple of old friends. Firstly, my long-lost diary. Well, when I say long-lost, we're talking about 5 months. Had no idea what happened to it, but I was pretty sure it wasn't in my flat. Then yesterday, I get a note through my door saying that someone had sent me a package with insufficient postage. I trundle down to the depot to pick it up, grumbling about having to pay the excess and wondering who and what the hell it could be. I get the envelope (return address of my bank, but this is no circular) and can feel a spiral binding through the paper. I think "No, it can't be", tear open the envelope and lo and behold, it is my diary. Found in the "banking hall". Now, I am not sure where it was been for the last 5 months, but no matter - I finally got it back! At last I might have a chance at remembering where I am meant to be, having steadfastly refused to buy a new diary (I somehow knew that we were going to find each other again). And it kind of restored my faith in humanity, so I called in at the bank today to say thanks.

The other? Frasier. I've been watching some Frasier episodes and I have forgotten just how funny this programme is. The pomposity and farce just brightens up my day (and the constant Seattle rain complements the weather here to perfection).

Sometimes it's the little things.

In penguins and pearls, we'll drink and we'll dance

It's a bit early to say whether this would make it on to my Best Songs Ever Written list, but it's definitely one of the best songs I have heard this year. It's got clever lyrics, it tells a story and Guy Garvey and Richard Hawley's voices complement each other to perfection. Take note you Moulin Rouge girls who sang on Lady Marmalade - it's not about trying to out sing the next person.

A girl can do what she wants to do and that's what I'm gonna do

I am loving Freaks and Geeks, in spite of having to watch it on a small YouTube screen (I'm about half-way through the series). It is utterly wonderful. Produced by Judd Apatow of Knocked Up and Forty Year Old Virgin fame, it stars many of the actors who subsequently appeared in his films and various affiliations (including the divine Mr Segel).

It's about life in a Michigan high school in the early 1980s and centres around the Freaks - a bunch of cool stoner/slackers - and the Geeks - nerdy yet endearing younger kids. To me, it's like a cross between Degrassi Junior High and the Outsiders (James Franco really reminds me of a young Matt Dillon). It's laugh out loud funny in places and heart-rendingly touching in others, especially with the main female character trying to find her place in the world. I can't wait to see next episode, yet at the same time I don't want them to end (there is only 1 series). Yes, you can watch again, but there is nothing quite like the first time.

Everyone should see this series.

http://youtube.com/watch?v=ai1FHufz_HY

I'll sing in your ear again

Number Two of An Occasional Series

The Drugs Don't Work by the Verve. I don't really like the Verve that much. I don't think Bittersweet Symphony is all that. But this song just blows me away. I remember where I was when I first heard it - asleep on a sofa in south London.

Picture the scene. It's a Saturday night and I'd fallen asleep while waiting to watch the late night/ early morning repeat of Top of the Pops (oh, those were the days, eh?). I remember being in that delicious state of semi-conscious slumber and hearing this song drifting in and out of my head. I sat up, and demanded "what the hell is this", listened to the song in amazement, said "wow" when it was finished and then went back to sleep. I believe I may even have had to ask what the song was again the next day.

But suffice to say it was enough to wake me from my slumber and I've loved the song ever since. It's immensely poignant - yes, it can actually make me cry - but can make your heart soar at the same time with its beauty. And when I hear the song, it literally gives me goosebumps. I bought the album on the strength of it, but nothing on there comes close to the sheer brilliance of this.

As if to underline what a special song it is, it was the soundtrack to one of the defining moments (at least in my eyes) of a particularly enjoyable weekend in Newquay earlier this year when it was played in a pub and me and two friends sang along rather beautifully (OK, it was after a few beers).

That just makes it even better.

It's back to front and I'm all uptight.

Transgressive Hot Summer Tour -Zodiac 4th July 2008

One night, seven pounds, four bands. Or if might have been five. I saw four, but was expecting to see five, so I'm not really all that sure. We saw So So Modern, Absentee, Esser and Jeremy Warmsley, but were also expecting to see Ox.Eagle.Lion.Man (ironically the only ones I had actually heard of before), but they were either on uber early, or not at all. And maybe that is kind of indicative of the night. As my friend put it, it was like an inverse gig. The first 2 on - So So Modern and Absentee - were much better than the last two, so it all seemed a bit back to front.

Not much else to say about it really.