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.