Kicking against the pricks.

SHITTY LIVING VOL 2: REMEMBER ME? MMM?

2009-09-27T08:41:00.000-07:00

That last entry ranks as a runner up as one of the most horrifying things to happen to me in a single week. This is so high up at number one, it'd qualify as a legitimate Kanye West lyric.

So town is full of tossers, but that's a veritable given these days. Though Nottingham does seem to have more than a plentiful supply of first-class shite peddling miscreants (bested only by Mansfield), some of which are more interesting than others.

Today as I mooched around, having visited all two shops worth going in, I'm confronted with one of the most incredible displays of disregard for one's ability to choose whether or not to laugh uncontrollably, that I have ever witnessed. I almost stopped completely mid-mooch, time slowed to a near enough standstill and everything around the object blurred into anonymity, a bit like in films where bullets and bits of exploding brick are flying around in the background. I became panicked, much in the way you would if you saw an old lady being attacked, or if a bear tore your face off (Something that'd turn Werner Herzog on). What was this strange creature? Why was it allowed to walk down the street attached to some poor girls head? Worry is quickly replaced by confusion and anger as it dawns on me what I'm looking at. Fake Dreadlocks.

Now we're not talking a small amount of fake dreadlocks here folks, we're talking an amount quantifiable only in Biffa binfuls of the shit. Precariously attached to some otherwise normal looking girl's no doubt stinking head. Her boyfriend walking alongside her has a strange look in his eye. The look explained his predicament in an instant as he glared back at me, silently stating "I know, man. I know". She pranced nearer and nearer with that teenage defiance looking all "so what? you can all judge me, at least I'm DIFFERENT", in reaction to the fact that not a single person at her school had ever expressed any interest in having sex with her (probably). So she totally got back at the world by piling a fuck-load of SYNTHETIC dreads on her head.

I chuckle to myself and continue walking. "CHRIS?....CHRIS?". Hmm is someone shouting me? Can't see anybody I know around he....Oh my fucking god it was her. I was being beckoned by the dreadlocked shame factory, and not on some cruel-fated whim, it would appear she knows me. Again time slows and I swivel on my feet to greet the

"How are you chris? Its been ages"

"Heh, yeah, ages I'm okay. How are you?" (and how the fuck do I know you please?)

"Yeah good thanks. What have you been up to?"

You get the picture. The whole time her (still don't know who she is) boyfriend stood looking awkward and avoiding eye contact. Bless the poor sod, I bet he feels like he's trapped in a perpetual nightmare. A powerful inner battle of helpless justification for the mess on his girlfriends head. I feel for the guy.

I made my excuses and scuttled off. Just with my last offering, there's no real moral to this story, except probably just don't associate yourself with people that might turn out to be really embarrassing, if they aren't already...

PIMPING AIN'T EASY WHEN YR A PIECE OF SHIT

2009-09-10T16:27:00.000-07:00

For fucks sake. Here it comes, a shining tube of white shit representing almost everything wrong with the world today. Toward me it slithers, a potent metaphor of unsubtle Americanisation in its shoddy craftsmanship and sickening exuberance. A fucking limousine.
I’ve arrived at the junction without enough time to cross, its too late, I’ll have to stand here and look at it a bit longer. Shit. The window’s down and I’m exposed to the tacky LED lit strip-joint décor. Even worse, its full of screaming 15 year old girls.

“WOOOOOOOOOOO” exclaims a wailing gobshite from within, a girl that The Sun would refer to unashamedly as a ‘reveller’. I’m cringing; I don’t need this, not least because I’ve spent the last 2 hours receiving a multi-sense shellacking courtesy of Neill Blomkamp’s alien-apartheid epic: District 9, something I’ll go into elsewhere.

“CHEER UP YA TWAT TEEHEHEEHEHHEHE”. Who’s idea was it to let an already clearly retarded 14 year old, get pissed on Appletini, and send her out into the city’s centre in an extended American joke-mobile resembling a long stiff stick of semen? Mmm?

My massive eyebrows are working overtime in expressing as much silent disgust as possible as the ‘limo’ begins to pull away. Freedom. Or it would be if I weren’t walking down one of Nottingham’s shittiest central streets. I reach the other side, greeted by a pair of aging alcoholics no doubt fresh from blazing through their dole money on pints of wank guest ale, one of which remarks, “mis’rible git, she were only sayin’ ello!”. Brilliant, not only am I being singled out by a traveller in Nottingham’s premier pimped up special needs wagon, but I’m being lambasted for not dignifying the little gimps with a warm response.

I hate city living sometimes.

THE RESURGENCE, THE RETURN, THE RETIREMENT

2009-06-20T06:18:00.000-07:00

I'd love to say that this is a momentous broadcast of words is on a par with that of MLK's addressing of an entire nation of oppressed black folk, but my no doubt long-awaited return to the self indulgence that is blogwriting is not yet an event proper.

I'm sitting like a wafty freelance writer in a cafe writing on a macbook (my lovely girlfriend's), and my my fleeting time here is perpetually emblazoned in the corner of the screen in the form of a battery percentage. Or maybe, given that this computer is an Apple creation, it could be telling me that my percentage of 'iSelf-worth' which its managed to work out by taking a picture of my face with its built in 'iFaceCamToolz'. I'm not going to sit and slag Apple's off though, because given that I've had time to play with one, I actually quite like it. Thats beside the point, and there are several high-profile advertising campaigns detailing the smarmy differences between Mac's and PC's. Not something I can be arsed to go into.

Either way. I'm moving flats once again in over a week, as a result I hope to have an internet connection or something to that effect set up. By something to that effect, I might mean some sort of wank home-made antenna which i'll trail from my flat to the nearest coffee shop with highly stealable internet.

I've got a job now. I help people not get dry-bummed by fraud. Its not as interesting as it sounds but it beats sitting around a flat with nothing to do, in my underpants. Another empty promised I've made myself, now that I'm fullfilling ones like 'sure I'll get a job', all over the place, is to write a book. Watch out for some highly convoluted narrative and underdeveloped character development in what would surely otherwise be a decent debut outing of someone with about the same artistic outing as U2's efforts for the last 73 years.

One more thing, is SUMMER even happening this year? Or is it having a year off like Glastonbury? Speaking of that, does anybody even go to Glastonbury any more? Discuss.

DOWNTIMES.

2009-05-20T07:54:00.000-07:00

That time has come. Zero hour. The time when you all take stock of just what it is that you have in this little ol' piece of scarcely updated literary drivel. Where you sit back in yr chair at the realisation that I've not updated in a while and ponder. Where for art thou Chris' blog?

I'm moving into town next weekend, and depending on whether or not the gods of employment shine their favour upon me or not, I'll probably not have the internet for a while? Shhh. Shhh. Calm down my children, this by no means is the end of my reign. I call upon the stoic resolve of the six(at the time of writing) valiant followers of my blog, I need you to be strong for me.

Alternatively I'll get the internet effective immediately and have a damn site more to write about seeming as I'm not living in a highly secluded Royston Vasey sort of environ any more. Ya gets me?

HI, I'M HERE TO TAKE YR WOMEN.

2009-05-20T07:44:00.000-07:00

Hmm, how does the higher power represented in many different forms throughout the questionable history of religion, plan to explain away how somebody managed to make a dude this hot, that can sing this well? In the words of Danny Huston's amazing Irish convict murderer , this chap could 'shame a nightingale'.

I'd doubted hearing another male voice that could rival that of Bon Iver's Justin Vernon. But here we are, I'd probably have a go on this chap given the opportunity. Just kidding, he does make me feel ugly and depressed though.

Speaking of Bon Iver, they're back in town with new single 'Bloodbank' and its a bit of a gem so check it out on the link above. If you don't mind weeping like a small child denied candy-floss, you could also go check these heroes out at one of the 8 million tour dates they've got listed.

U GOTZ TWATTER? ZO COOL.

2009-05-14T10:49:00.000-07:00

Upon hearing the term 'Twitter' I was immediately convinced that it was some strange sexual activity which originated when two burly, leather-clad dudes from Detroit got sexually aggressive with each other in a dark room and one of em lowered himself onto... Well y'know.

Actually that didn't happen at all, but it would of been highly amusing and I wouldn't have had to think that up or anything. Instead I heard it from the sort of over-excitable fucktard who would get excited about the sort of social networking phenomenon in which their simple, yet highly pointless M.O is to answer "one simple question", wait for it "what are you doing?". Incredible. PHENOMENON. Funnily enough, the person who told me about it was possibly penultimate on my list of 'cunts whom I wouldn't want to tell me what they're doing', (Chris Moyles a firm leader on said list for quite some time).

I can't wait for the next social networking phenomenon to sweep the globe. I've got it on good authority that its just a chat room into which everyone on earth is connected and E-wanking each other off about how highly amusing The Inbetweeners is (that's not an invitation to watch it by the way). While I'm at it, I'd like to know which cunt started a group on Facebook (an activity which I'm also desperately trying to come to terms with) dedicated to a scene in which one of the characters shouts, wait for it, BUS WANKERS (fnar fnar) at some people stood at a bus stop. I just. Don't. Get. It. What's most annoying is, I bet everyone still at secondary school and college had a mega-huge LOL about it the next day.

A tangible tangent. I suppose what I'm getting at is; why would you have something like fucking Twitter unless you're an even slightly interesting person? I'm at twitter.com/sensom. What do you mean I'm a hypocrite? Its called irony, ask somebody who lives in Leeds.

MOUNDS?

2009-05-12T09:48:00.000-07:00

This has been banded around a bit, but it amused me so shut your massive face. Following FFFFound.com's massive success in the field of photobloggery, some funny little sausage has decided to spend quite a lot of their time in creating MMMMound.com - something which when I first read it, had me quietly chuckling to myself and thinking "Heh. It'd be hilarious if it was just loads of pictures of mounds". Jokes on me though, because it is...An unmatched and unquestionably brilliant array of pictures of mounds. I think people involved in blogging get a slight bit too much of a free reign to to do as they please.

DESTITUTE. THE MAN IS FUCKING ME.

2009-05-12T05:42:00.000-07:00

No job means no financial security, few fun times, an overwhelming sense of a karmic system with malicious intent, and the chance for ones bank of choice to fuck you on all fronts.

Halifax have done just that to me, I've just pulled my metaphoric trousers back up and packed away the metaphoric barrel that they've had me over and I'm here to vent my frustration on the internet where nobody will read it. It'll make me feel a bit better though.

Basically, they've taken 28 pounds sterling from me for going 12 pence over my limit, a penny in the ocean analogy would be more appropriate here than ever in the history of literature in its reflection of financial hardship inflicted upon them though. Do they expect me to be completely ambivalent on the grounds that the 12p incursion into the red has meant that a whole section of Halifax has completely collapsed, millions of their staff dead or seriously injured and a subsequently massive loss of computer records? I'm not buying that for one fucking second. I close my eyes and all I can see is that fucking toss-pot Harold or whatever he's called, and do you know what he's doing? He's sat in a diamond encrusted, golden chastity belt at the top of a pile of Aztec gold and other unimaginable treasures. He's Laughing heartily wearing his little fuckhole glasses (now coated in brilliant white gold), and taking massive herculean bites from a roasted Bengal tiger leg that he's holding, spittle and grease dribbling from his grimacing chin. You know what I mean, right? Either way £65 is the penalty they've made up for me this time and its not exactly a sum I'm impressed with.

Its pretty simple, if these lot were actually nice to people then hippies wouldn't have much cause to go around breaking all of their upmarket windows in central London (see picture below), thus not having to take money from poor fucks like me to repair said damage. I can honestly say that I've never seen any of their staff create a human tower like they are in their recent advert, handing out fiver's like benevolent yet retarded millionaires. Perhaps I can claim my money back by pursuing a false advertising case? I'd give all of my remaining money (not a lot) to see them all try and make a human bridge in their stupid fucking uniforms which collapsed under its own weight crushing the soulless bastards to death, and inexplicably exposing those spared on the top layer to an aggressive form of swine flu.

Anyway must dash, I've just spotted an American quarter between my floor-boards and I'm going to try to fish it out and exchange it for £3 (roughly). Mind you, HBOS have probably got some dodgy cunt waiting outside my porch with a metal bar and a list full of confusing reasons why I owe that to them too.

Great, thanks activists, now I can't afford those new sunglasses I was after.

KEEP ON PAPILLON

2009-05-10T04:58:00.001-07:00

Its a Sunday afternoon and I've got intense cravings to watch an old, washed out looking film classic. Short of trying to describe this beauty, I've been thinking of what it is that fills me with this particular urge. Is it that such films harken back to the glory days of Sunday afternoons, not a worry in the world but ones infant school homework? Does the desire to watch Zulu on the day of rest represent a curious urge to live in yr past? Or does slouching in front of the telly smelling of the night before's chip-sandwich and watching Bridge on the River Kwai, motionless allude to a finer pedigree in past-film making (at least to this end).

Probably, though I would say that a lot of these films exhibit a certain effortlessness in aiding escapism, one that most modern movies can only aspire to. Now if you'll excuse me, I'm going to close the curtains and remain in my jimmy-jams for the remainder of the day.

VAN DAMNNNNN!

2009-05-10T04:45:00.000-07:00

I'm sure anyone who is lucky enough to have seen JCVD was left both highly impressed by Jean Claude's leap back into the limelight, yet perplexed as to what his next move may be. But it seems in keeping with the very ridiculous nature of his career which he candidly mocked in his last outing, JC has decided to direct his own film under his own banner.

Check out this for some inspired art-house brilliance...

OH HAAAI-ATUS

2009-05-01T06:15:00.001-07:00

Yeah, I've been gone for something like a week. Mainly dealing with psychopaths and scam artists from a purely victimised perspective. Either way I'm back now, sweaty from running around in the sunshine and bearing gifts. Or rather a single gift.

That fat beardy dude that directed Lord of t' Rings presents what looks like a completely bats-arse alien film set in SIDIFRICA. It'd seem at least from the trailer that they've gone to great lengths to make it seem like one of my recently bemoaned 'Awareness Documentaries', then BANG - A FLYING CITY WITH ALIENS IN IT. Have a look at it woncha?

MUXTAPE R.I.P.

2009-04-23T16:06:00.000-07:00

I banged on about Muxtape a while back because it used to be brilliant, but the site was promptly shut given that it infringed upon pretty much every copyrighting law ever written ever in the world. Ever. Its creator marched on, however, insisting that the site would return.

I assumed therefore it would be back with its frankly innovative 12-track mp3 mix-tape format, but they seem to have been restricted to the point where the only music they can have on there has to be put forward by the recording artist of said music. Though sadly they might find themselves a bit behind in conforming to such concepts.

Oh, if anybody does have Last.FM or however these hackers are naming it these days, you can find my embarrassing profile hither.

J'ADORE LA BLOGOTHEQUE, THANKS

2009-04-23T12:37:00.000-07:00

If I feel down, I can put an episode of Stewart Lee's new 'Comedy Vehicle' on the BBC IPlayer, or I can see what sparkling musical gems La Blogotheque has to offer. The answer is, many things.

Its a French site which renders the (probably great) music news pretty hard to read (unless you're well versed in the language of love). But if you can navigate well enough to get to the Concert à Emporter section, you'll be treated to a stunning collection of expertly recorded mini-concerts. Each one takes a talented artist out (or in, depending on how philosophical) of their average recording element, gives them some pots and pans or a child's keyboard, and makes them play their best songs as you've never heard before.

To this day I can't work out how they manage to record these artists so well, especially in outdoor environments. Add to this mix, some stunning cinematography and the omnipresent beauty of Paris and you have yourself an epic archive of audiovisual immensity. Enjoy dears.

#93.3 - BON IVER - For Emma, Forever Ago
by lablogotheque

AWARENESS FILM CONVENTIONS

2009-04-20T13:52:00.001-07:00

I've decided start calling this sort of post 'Media Conventions Bemoaned' from now on, (and yes I realise its not snappy or funny but I'm not getting paid so get over it). Basically I'll try as best I can to document the highly formulaic rules and conventions adhered to by those pushing music, film, books etc. which have proven successful.

What's got Chris' goat this time? Awareness Films. This ones getting particularly rife and for some reason they all look to have been made by the same people. Below are a few of those principles that come to mind for Awareness Docs:

- They've all won an award or two (and they'll tell you about it in the trailer or on its website, usually in brackets made of Julius Caesar's crown)

- They're 'Important' films (usually touted as such by some relatively unknown scientist/expert of said field)

- Epic music permeates as the aforementioned scientists reel off scores of complicated sounding problems with the earth. This is then replaced by a jaunty track to signify the 'what we can do to help' section which is self-explanatory

- People have gotten at least slightly excited by them at Sundance

- A lot of pictures of industry (some crude oil, a cow being injected with buffalo spunk, a tyre on fire)

- There will be a very definite allusion towards the idea that 'the man is keeping all this a secret', maaaan

- There will be a catchy title and intriguing graphic design for the film

To the part-time cynic such as myself, these films seem to appeal to a rather slim demographic. Well, pretty much just Americans. They cleverly play on gullible, shit-scared American folk's sensibilities and innately nervous dispositions. It'd even seem that they believe beyond all reasonable doubt that climate change and all the other crimes against mother earth mean that we're sure to be dead shortly, a fate depicted here in an artists representation. Oh and don't think for one second that they won't enlist runner-up president Val Gore to make it seem more believable, (it turned out he only wanted to do it because he liked talking). I'm just kidding, we probably will all just die of a lack of water or oil or wheat or something.

Until then I'm going to drive around in my tank that fires water out of it and emits shit loads of nasty toxic waste, eating a GM Food sandwich and cackling.

(Edit: Does the fact that the smoke in this picture looks like a breast mean that Al Gore has fallen foul of the oedipus complex or just that he likes razz mags?)

KATHRYN BIGELOW MILF GIGALO

2009-04-19T07:31:00.001-07:00

Call me a belligerent prick but Kathryn Bigelow has only made two films in my opinion. One of them is Point Break which is rubbish so thats worth skirting over too. She did however make Near Dark which was an excellent take on the already pretty flogged Vampire genre.

Now she's back after a forgettable string of directorial outings, pitting herself against the adversity of another done to death genre in the form of Iraq War Drama, avec massive explosions. Cynicism aside, it actually looks pretty good. Check it out below.

The Brakes - Touchdown (20th April, Fatcat Records)

2009-04-19T02:46:00.002-07:00

Pray tell, why are Brakes still not widely accepted as one of the best bands around today? I mean nobody can dispute the wealth of groundwork these guys have put in since their debut in 2004 in Brakes alone. But include their previous musical excursions such as lead singer/guitarist Eamon Hamilton's contributions to British Sea Power and brother-team Alex and Thomas White's Electric Soft Parade, you realise they have long been posted at the metaphorical front lines of British music. Brandishing instruments in the dirty trenches and foxholes that are the mid-sized venues and festivals of the country, they fire salvos of pop-rock nirvana at the (widely) unsuspecting masses, in both recorded and live form. resupplied by a hardcore of fans evidenced at their live shows and a seemingly underwhelming level of backing from the media, Brakes have gladly soldiered on - thank god.

I touted Brakes' first outing 'Give Blood' as 2005's best album like an excitable loud mouthed child fresh off a dream holiday from Disney Land Florida. Needless to say, to that opine I stuck my proverbial guns. Though I didn't view their 2006 effort 'Beatific Visions' as bettering their nigh-on perfect debut, it certainly demonstrated a plateau of brilliance in songwriting. But in truth I'll be worried about the world (that or everyones ability to hear) if 'Touchdown' doesn't besiege a the hearts and minds of at least a reasonable number of people who proclaim themselves lovers of music.

A gleeful simplicity emanates in true Brakes form with charmers like 'Eternal Return' bouncing along with a country bass line and walking drums. Briefly touching upon their space theme, our man pleads "don't take me to space (man), I've had a taste of true love...I don't care if this worlds corrupted, I don't want to be abducted..." on 'Don't Take Me To Space (Man)', at just two tracks in has you wondering why guitars can't always sound so grizzled and meaty.

Though far from the ballsy briefness of 'Cheney' and 'Pick up the Phone' (10 and 30 seconds long respectively) from Give Blood, the truly maniacal still erupts to the forefront propelled by Eamon's controlled yelping in gems like 'Red Rag'. Don't think for one second he doesn't exploit his ability to write a palpably emotional love song and push his voice to match, though.

Once again and with an effortlessness they could copyright Brakes have struck back at boredom with another short (35 minute) but perfectly formed album. The soundtrack to a summer, precursor to a night of merriment, or meaty guitar-sound fix like methadone to a smackhead, Touchdown will satisfy the aurally fixated. Procure this belter and come watch them April 29th at Bodega Social in Nottingham.

5/5

The Bookhouse Boys - April 14th, Bodega Social

2009-04-15T03:21:00.000-07:00

Short of hanging members from the rafters (some sort of harness maybe), it was somewhat intriguing to see how the full nine-member outfit of the Bookhouse Boys would fit on stage at the Bodega. But fit onstage they did - brandishing guitars, trumpets, drumsticks and a sultry distant stare courtesy of the only female in the ensemble.

I try to look past the shallow dismay briefly swamping me, induced by a lack of the snappy attire I expected from these Londoners. But this is a task made easy as the springy reverb of lead singer and guitarist Paul Van Oestren's synonymously Surf six string filled my ears.

Its two songs in and I'm compelled by some divine force to throw my head around a little, aided by 'Dead', which answers any queries one might have about Oestren's live singing voice captured live. Every bit as haunting and exciting. Trumpets flair and a sea of voices fill the air spearheaded by Catherine Turner, "HE WAS DEAD IN YOUR EYES..", howls our leading man as the shit well and truly hits the fan.

Then 'G-Surf' hits; more than a mere tip of the hat to an influential genre. Power surges. Closing my eyes I swear I saw a suited Robert Rodriguez inspired character perched tentatively at the nose end of a long-board, gun in hand, dealing with a giant foaming sea swell...Its shambolic but controlled madness, grounded by a sense of duty to the cause, and every minute of it a pleasure to watch.

Problem being, one wishes they'd of played for another ten minutes. A short tour, and seemingly little awareness about The Bookhouse Boys meant a meagre turnout but I'll wager these cats will be back in the north in front of larger crowds in future.

4/5

I'M IN LOVE.

2009-04-13T06:48:00.000-07:00

New video from St. Vincent, whom until now I thought to be a bit bland. The song is great and the video too, if a little derivative of Nick Cave's 'Into My Arms' which I've also posted below - given that its incredible (though Cave admitted that he didn't think it fitted the song).

But either way, HOW ATTRACTIVE IS THIS WOMAN?

LOLLED TILL I ROFL'D

2009-04-12T08:21:00.000-07:00

HAH! I just stumbled across an amusing little video on FilmDrunk. Its basically a fake advert for Resident Evil 5 starring Jim Henson puppets, and its right below all this typing nonsense because I know you all like moving pictures and such.

PICTURES, EVERYWHERE PICTURES.

2009-04-11T10:09:00.000-07:00

Jobless, destitute and lonely, I spend most of my time trawling blogs and webpages looking for pretty pictures. The most recent bounty of such otherwise inconsequential days came with the discovery of Wax & Milk. Now these might sound like two completely ordinary words to you (namely because they are) but don't be fooled, this site kicks ass. Its basically a 'visual mixtape' constituted by a stunning array of film/music posters and flyers, rare photographs of actors and influential musicians.

Whoever mediates it also seems to have a more than satisfactory liking for Winona Ryder which I'd ordinarily deem competition in my 'wooing Winona Ryder' campaign but I'll let said person go because he has a pretty site. Oh and there's tonnes of vintage Beastie Boys snaps to feast your looking tackle on. BOOMY.

Let The Right One In - Revisited?

2009-04-09T09:06:00.000-07:00

A while ago I got a bit excited about the prospective belter that was Let The Right One In ('Låt den rätte komma in' in its native Swedish tongue) directed by Tomas Alfredson. The film has done the rounds in the art-house film industry and has been met with a high degree of admiration and a smattering of praise from the vamp genre's staunch critics.

Personally I felt that my excitement for it was highly justified for many reasons; the cinematography was truly breathtaking at times, in its visual exploitation of the small Swedish town in which it was based. Secondly, the performances from the two leading young actors were fiercely impressive. Thirdly, the film operates on several levels (no doubt a principal point of its success) in that the story delivers with a coming-of-age narrative, as well as a well executed vampire one. Lastly, I found Let The Right One In to flow exceedingly with moodiness and impending doom omnipresent. Pretty much ticked most of the boxes for me anyway.

So its a fantastic film - as a result you might be as surprised as me to learn that they will be remaking it. In England. At Hammer studios. This is puzzling to me given that Hammer's recent history since its 'rise from the grave' (you see what they did there sort of?) has been remarkably shit. The betting man would probably wager that Hammer have decided to remake it to cash in on some top wonga, a concept not exactly alien to the film industry. But the worrying thing is, its potentially going to be absolutely shit. I mean the problem being; it would be nigh on impossible for the great God Almighty himself to encapsulate the beautiful transience of Alfredson's original, not least because they want to set it in England.

I know virtually nothing of Hammer, I leave that to moggles. But from what I've seen of their recent forays into the bloodthirsting genre, a remake of a very recent and important Swedish film would be nothing short of sacrilage. But then I don't pay their bills.

In A Dream

2009-04-09T07:09:00.000-07:00

Wowser, this film looks like its gonna be a belter/soul crusher. It follows a now aged Philadelphia-based artist responsible for a wealth of mosaic murals, amassing 50,000 square feet of the city in a variety of places. As well as chronicling his works it will follow his tempestuous marriage and its imminent collapse, despite his wife being seemingly his perpetual muse.

If it doesn't already sound intriguing to you, then you might be excited to find that post-rock royalty Explosions in the Sky and glitchy-electronic Danish nutjobs Efterklang. Both of which will no doubt add a multitude of depth to what already promises to be a brilliant piece of documentary film-making.

ITS FUNNY RIGHT?

2009-04-09T02:13:00.000-07:00

I was just mooching around the internet like an inexplicably fat vegan (possibly Rick Rubin) at a health foods store, when I stumbled upon this . It actually turned out to be quite amusing and not at all as infuriating as I'd originally thought, I tried it by uploading Hounds of Love by Kate Bush because it was the first thing on hand. Came out quite well. Give it a go you schmuck!

BRING THEM TOGETHER. LET THE LOW NOTES HURT US ALL

2009-04-06T09:33:00.000-07:00

Later on this year I'm going to put together a reasonably comprehensive list of tunes with some downright dirty drop-D guitar tones, and general metal bands that make me erect. For now though, I've stumbled across two new treats:

Maggot Brain Are a Stoner metal outfit hailing from Spain who I found on last.fm (well worth getting involved with if you haven't already). These guys have an awesome sound, with a feel hailing back to the forefathers of stoner rock, Kyuss. The guitars are as thick and meaty as any 80's porn film innuendo, drums full and wide (possibly a more obscure 80's porn film innuendo) and they've got a great energy. Problem is the whole thing's spoilt a bit by an over zealous Spanish dude who's slightly cheesey broken English cheapens the whole deal. Plus he's far too loud in my opinion. Still, have a look you idiot.

Secondly, I was at a barbecue last night and found a C.D by Slaughter which I naturally picked up and stared at for a good ten minutes. Anyways, they're A Canadian thrash outfit that've been releasing since 1984 and they're awes and cart - If you're going to check them out, then don't confuse them with the immensely wank American band of the same name.

Thirdly, Immortal Lee County Killers explode with some aggressive blues inspired writhing, punctuated by what appears to be a crazy homeless chap with half a broken bottle wedged in his dirty clavicle. Mucky sounds for Mucky folk. It'd make a good soundtrack to a particularly brutal bar fight. Check out 'Robert Johnson' and 'Let's get killed'.

Best till last and all that, Todd have re-shuffled their line up and returned to the heavy fold with a trademark and purposefully badly recorded bang.

(Perhaps the most lackluster thrash band logo, but I love it like a retarded brother)

IS THAT AN AXE?

2009-04-03T07:43:00.001-07:00

Brett Easton Ellis likes making good films (in my opinion anyways). His new one doesn't look bad either - but then I would say that, its got New Order and A Flock of Seaguls in the soundtrack and some hottie in the buff (and the implication of a bit of illicit drug use). So back to the 1980's he ventures, as with his most notable success which also saw one of Christian "GET THE FUCK OFF MY SET" Bale's best performances to date. Rich folk, double-crossing and loads of close ups of Mickey Rourke's foldy, papier mache face. This one should be pretty good.

OH YEAH?

2009-04-03T07:35:00.000-07:00

WHO GIVES A FUCK?

I mean COME ON. Plus yes it has been done before - the Jonas Brothers have a veritable stranglehold on that market now you set of tits.

The Prodigy - Invaders Must Die (Take Me To The Hospital)

2009-04-03T06:42:00.000-07:00

So this review's a few years late. The reason why being; it took me a while to get round to buying it, i've been on a month long drug binge in its honour, and my brain hurts from trying to figure out which of his own albums Liam Howlett has borrowed from to make each song. So don't judge me.

The drug binge bit is a slight falsification, but if I did want to go on one, the refreshing intensity of The Prodigy's fifth (less than I'd of imagined) studio album would serve as an apt sountrack to do so. 'hey guys, knock me up another speedball and we'll go across town!'. Influences from the modern influx of electronic music are inevitable, even for a collective as seasoned and autonomous as these boys. But what isn't to be forgotten is that these borrowings can be traced convincingly back to the inception of the genre, a period which Prodigy were instrumental in defining anyway.

"I 'ear thunda, but theres no rain, this kind of thunder breaks walls and windowpanes" is the sound of the heady infusion of their old skool raggae influences clashing full force with genuinely inventive modern breaks, and the sound of a band growing their balls back after a lackluster 2004 outing.

I'm not going to lie, I personally don't feel that Keith Flint provides much more than an injection of nostalgia, bringing very little to the table than aside from a familiar voice and some pretty aseptic lyrics. Other visitations to their bygone sound are much more effective though, with pretty much every synth bleep and distorted child/alien voice gibbering nonsensically filling the listener with glee.

This is a genuinely well rounded record, from the crystal methly catchy self-titled track to racey little treats like 'Thunder' and the instrument heavy 'Stand Up'. Now, wheres that mescaline gone...

4/5

Bat For Lashes - Two Suns (April 6th 2009)

2009-04-03T03:35:00.000-07:00

Its been a while since Natasha Khan put out her first record as Bat For Lashes - long enough that you'd imagine a comeback album would be nothing short of a master stroke given the deserved success of her seminal outing. It has to be said that I was initially swayed by the obvious Björk comparisons, but I enjoyed Fur and Gold (2006) to the point where it was very apparent Khan is a talent in her own right. Its also worth noting that I'm quite partial to some pretty twee and twinkly musical stylings so I was able to get into Fur and Gold and look past some of the wafty pixy crap and enjoy it for what it was, an original album from a recognition hungry debutante.

With a bar well and truly raised its somewhat of a shame to see Khan go running face first into it with 'Two Suns', scattering dream catchers and fairy dust all over the floor in the process. The album relies heavily on previously successful conventions; a plethora of instruments (for the most part played by Khan herself), dream-world musings, spoken-word waftyness, and a distinct different in styles song to song. All well and good but I can't help feeling that there's little new in many ways, thus the whole thing can get a little suffocating. The best evidence of this comes with 'Two Planets' which features music seemingly from Beyond Thunderdome and her babbling about interplanetary gravitational crap throughout.

Don't you dare get me wrong, there's still flashes of brilliance here in tracks like 'Peace of Mind' - Beautiful in its simplicity, letting Khan's haunting voice do the work. The way it should be really. The production of Two Suns retains the high level of her first album, with intricately woven layers of sound ebbing and flowing effortlessly as evidenced in 'Siren Call' and 80's synths on 'Pearl's Dream'.

Not her best yet but still worth checking out.

3/5

TASTEE TONII - SUGAR TITS (JOHNNY FUNKPANTZ REMIX)(SALTEE GAMMUN EDIT-A03 FEAT. GAMBLINN GARRY JR. )

2009-04-01T02:05:00.000-07:00

Don't get me wrong you idiots, I've enjoyed a few of these new fangled "remixes" in my time, and that's fine. Its just getting a bit out of hand now i feel. It could be argued that these increasingly complex song variants serve merely as a lexicon of bullshit to mystify those seen to be less knowledgeable by the these fame-hungry stay-at-home music producers.

It could also be argued that these variations upon often vastly popular songs are a chance for another artist to push said hit into the hyperspace of pop prevalence, using the bare-bones of its beats or lyrical content (or both yeah?) in new and exciting ways.

But you'd be wrong either way, because most of the time they're just a massive load of shite that offer nothing supplementary to the original appeal (if there was one)and highlight one as merely devoid of innovation. Case in point comes where I type Mogwai Fear Satan into ITunes and spend about 45 minutes being subjected to possibly intentionally shit variants of one of the most spotless songs ever put together.

Oh, its alright if you call them things like this though

Just as a side note - I don't like to advertise but if you need somebody to come and shout at you about something, then I'm available for weddings and funerals. But not Barmitzvah's because i dropped a kid face first off that 'coming of age stool' thing at the last one.

RESIDENT EVIL 5 : A SOCIAL COMMENTARY

2009-03-30T12:38:00.000-07:00

"I'M CHRIS REDFIELD, I'M HERE TO KILL YOU WHETHER YOU'RE BLACK OR NOT"...Would be a great way for Capcom to have kicked off the storyline in their fifth installment of their ever popular zombie genre. This subject has been covered somewhat tirelessly across the interweb in recent months but I wanted to stick my oar in, because I'm a tosser like that. Oh and I've had a go on the game.

That's more than can be said for Kym Platt, reactionary writer for a black-rights blog called Black Looks. Reactionary certainly is the word I'd use in this case, as the game hadn't even been released at the point of this post hitting the electrowaves.

"The new Resident Evil video game depicts a white man in what appears to be Africa killing Black people. The Black people are supposed to be zombies and the white man’s job is to destroy them and save humanity…

This is problematic on so many levels, including the depiction of Black people as inhuman savages, the killing of Black people by a white man in military clothing, and the fact that this video game is marketed to children and young adults. Start them young… fearing, hating, and destroying Black people."

Hmmm. I fear that if the writer of such overtly ridiculous remarks was faced with a horde of zombified white middle-class folks in a quaint Wiltshire hamlet and armed with a fully loaded Hekler and Koch, then her reaction might be akin to that of Resident Evil's main protagonist. Simply put, Capcom based their (coincidentally shit) zombie survival game in AFRICA, which (again, coincidentally) is full of Africans. Yes black people are killed, not only by the white character that you control, but your African counterpart Sheva also.

Oh and furthermore, there's a crapload of other monsters and WHITE OPPRESSORS similarly affected by the same gastric-flu pandemic or whatever it apparently is they're all going crazy over.

Its worth pointing out that a strikingly similar yet infinitely more realistic game came out with not even a whiff of anyone crying racism. Either way, the only thing in this video-game that upset my stoic sensibilities was its main character's inability to stop being the most buff person (computer generated or not) I've ever seen.

Alas, it wouldn't matter if the main character was Oswald Mosley and that every single person in the game that you killed looked like Barack Obama, because the games shit anyway.

IN FOR THE ONE-TRACK LOVER.

2009-03-30T02:53:00.000-07:00

Has anyone else noticed striking similarities between La Roux's (Larooxs, Larouks?) new video for In For The Kill and Sanchez from Garth Marenghi's impeccable 80's synth-love tune? I have, and I'm here to tell you all about it. There, done it.

CRYSTAL FLAME WOLVES ON FIRE

2009-03-30T02:47:00.000-07:00

Finding an edgy name for your wafty nu-electro-rave band can be difficult in this day and age, not least because most of them have been taken. Its gotten to the point now where its acceptable to utilise a flavour-of-the-moment word, pre/suffixed by a similarly cool variant word which augments its hipness. I've knocked together some much used ones to exemplify my point...

- Wolf/Wolves; We Are Wolves, Wolf Parade, Bummed by Wolves(made that one up)

- Knife/Knives; Penknifelovelife, Young Knives, The Knife, No Knife

- Fire/Flames/On Fire/Burning; Amusement Parks on Fire, Arcade Fire, Set Fire to Flames, Comets on Fire (one of the few here worth checking out), Friendly Fires, Burning Airlines, I Would Set Myself On Fire For You (hrhr), Fireman Sam (snigger)

That's to name but a few. Now here comes Chris Sansom's HOT TIP CORNER. There's currently only about 4/5 bands at the moment using Crystal in their names (Crystal Stilts, Crystal Castles, Mums Expensive Crystalware, Crystal Antlers). So if I was you and as unoriginal as you probably are, I'd get on the Crystal related name bandwagon before its as fully exhausted as the aforementioned Fire/Flames variant. Or if you want, give me twenty quid and you can use "Crystal Flame Wolves On Fire, Burning Knife Blood" I reckon that'd fit on a sticker to put on your Korg?

Anyway, special mention to the frankly Herculean efforts of multi-purpose band name prefix "The" - its been used loads and to be honest its still as fresh as they come yall!.

(Popular t-shirt design for hit electro outfit "Mums Expensive Crystalware", stolen by Crystal Castles I hear)

Where The Wild Things Are (usually nestled between my pubic hair)

2009-03-25T15:27:00.001-07:00

Not content with blasting the shit out of the skate movie genre which he was instrumental in defining, Spike Jonze seems he's added another dimension to his already bulging (fnar) curriculum vitae. Where The Wild Things Are looks like its going to be a veritable cockle-boiling cutesy classic, well at least thats what I'd imagine looking at the trailer below.

Lets be fair, a movie adaptation of this immensely acclaimed book written by Maurice Sendak and directed by Jonze will struggle to suck. The story follows a young boy named Max, when punished by his parents envisages a dream world to pass the time, a world seemingly inhabited by Chewbacca's overweight half-cousins. These monsters crown young Max as their willing leader (as its in his imagination) and all hell breaks loose, including some bat-shit crazy fur suit wirework. I'm excited.

CLICK...CLICK.

2009-03-23T12:24:00.000-07:00

So this was originally supposed to be a review of Mono's show which I attended at Nottingham's Rescue Rooms last night. Unfortunately a 'review' in the traditional sense of the incredible Japan-based post-rock/noise outfit was rendered impossible by the vast number of bellends in attendance. In particular, I'm referring to the two 'photographers' which persistently infuriated throughout to a degree that could be matched only by being poked in the back of the head by Joe Pasquale every second of every day for 2 weeks, all the time singing. It went like this:

The lights dimmed (not as much as I'd of preferred, but they dimmed) and Mono take to the stage along with their tactful air of humility, probably innate for most Japanese people. They spoke not a word (they wouldn't of been heard if they had as there was no mic) and assumed their positions behind their instruments. The dishevelled guitars of Takaakira "Taka" Goto and imaginatively named Yoda began to feed waves of electricity through their Fender amps, and the familiar tone of this formiddable ensemble filled my ears, promising another aural journey enraptured by, and at the mercy of their music. The guitars swell and echo through a not yet convinced group of rowdy youngsters, who are audible just above its haunting mood. But not for long. The crowd is thrust backwards by a wall of sound akin only to the sound of a collapsing mega structure, and the rumble that accompanies it makes for a fitting emulation. Raging drums thunder through the cavalcade of calculated noise, from Yasunori Takada's robotic percussionism. All the time, the wraith like figure of Tamaki Kunishi loomed, dwarfed by the weighty four string which she wielded but not the sound it produced.

Around this time I closed my eyes with a grimace on my face as my eardrums began to clatter around in their moorings, immediately engrossed. My sight was then drawn to a camera which had been switched on and pointed at Taka, who was thrashing away at the strings of his Jaguar and generally being a prince amongst men/badass. My vision then returned to him, only to be drawn away by digicam's flash. Now, it doesn't take a lot to get me aggravated so you can imagine my dismay when this event occurred well over 150 times (I'm not even exaggerating) throughout the show. Furthermore, every single picture taken was of the same band member.

Now I don't know whether you would agree, but there certainly can't be that much to be gained from taking a shitload of grainy (which they will be) pictures of a band which have an already stunning array of promotional and live-action shots of themselves accessible by any half-educated idiot with a computer. Especially of the same fucking person in said band. I mean what could an individual possibly do with all of those photographs of the same thing? As I was embroiled in this bitter mental battle of meta-physics and my attention taken almost completely away from Mono, my gaze was once again averted. This time a balding yet spiky haired nu-metal bellend positioned literally at my side had produced from what could only of been a camera bag with the physical qualities of a fucking Tardis, the biggest digital SLR surely known to humanity.

Click. He'd gotten a brilliant shot of the back of somebodies head and possibly a bit of the bassist's shin. I know this because the SLR's giant aircraft read-out screen showed me so. Click. Oh man, that photo is definitely going to make this cunt famous, I think you can just see the a guitar as its held aloft as the dying embers of an effect peddle rings out.

I could go on but I think you get the point. I suppose what I'm saying is - is there any actual fucking point in taking pictures at shows? I mean sure they serve a purpose to an extent, but if a band was photographed at just one show per year for instance then wouldn't that be enough? Save up all that money you spent on a ridiculously overcomplicated SLR and use it to buy tickets to shows you can enjoy without one. Or better still get yourself a small handgun and shoot your useless fucking brains out.

Anyways Mono were, as ever, absolutely incredible. Their set offered up many of their more accessible tracks which work great in a live environment. Most of which were in the vein of the formidable COM(?), with relatively short build-ups before thundering walls of bass-energised air crashes into your lungs with guitars whining and screeching audibly in the midst. They neglected to play 15-minute epic, Yearning though which left me a little sour, and their score a little lower than perhaps necessary.

4/5

PHOBLOGRAHPER

ITS BACK - AND YOU'RE STILL NOT READING IT. GOOD

2009-03-22T04:47:00.000-07:00

Yes, yes I've succumbed to mild late-of-the-peer-pressure and returned to the blogwriting fold after a long and unexplained hiatus, because I had no real reason to stop in the first place. Well thats a lie, I've been busy of sorts. I've visited several countries, decided to have a girlfriend, got angry at banks, put all my dogs squeeky toys on him while he's asleep, and have vouched to get rid of the large fleshy donut that is my stomach.

Heres how it is. You follow Willis's blog as well as this one if you ever somehow got to be here, alright? Find it here - and read him getting angry about all sorts of different stuff and review obscure 1960's Italian films that even the people who filmed it in the first place haven't even heard off.

But if you don't come here as a one-stop shop for sporadic/sketchy music reviews (both live and otherwise) along with some real edgy 21st century banter, then I'll find you personally and make you look through a sketchbook full of pictures of Bono's horrible little miniscule joke eyes throughout the last 30 years.

BLOG TO THE FUTURE

FIRST TO WIN A PLACE ON THIS BAD EARTH

2008-10-28T12:49:00.001-07:00

Wigga pleeeease. So Eighties Matchbox B-Line Disaster are going to be recording a new album in November, BOOYA. I have to admit, since their founding member guitarist bogged off to create Vile Imbeciles I lost slight interest. Its not that the songs post Andy Huxley are particularly, bad. Its just that the first two albums (especially the former) are of such knob-rottingly brilliant makings that they really are facing an up hill struggle. The guitars now seem less savage and lyrically McKnight seems somewhat less maniacal.

Having said this I'm gonna put money on this new record being a belter, given that the impeccable frontman has been subject to the steep learning curve of solo songwriting already. After all, if ten percent of his naturally occuring ability to front the best psychobilly band in existence was to manifest itself in his writing then they're gonna be recognised once again, with a bit of luck.

Fingers crossed.

Blog Flume

Frames Janco

2008-10-21T11:54:00.000-07:00

I was just watching the trailer for Sean Penn's new film called Milk (which looks relatively bearable) and saw James Franco, weeping. Which reminded me of this rather amusing little thing that Willdogg showed me a while ago. He's even managed to sneak a little weep into this trailer like the genious he is!

I really do like this dude. Not in a gay way (only a little bit). He's proving to be pretty funny, as well as crying convincingly in everything he's ever acted in.

Blogfeld.

Låt Den Rätte Komma In (Let the right one in)

2008-10-15T11:39:00.000-07:00

I've become increasingly disillusioned with the horror genre of recent years. That is to say, I've not been even slightly worried by one since I was really young - but to be honest I don't think that's because I've grown up, its just that for the most part horror films are completely shit now. I mean when was the last time you were honestly scared by one of these films? For that matter whens the last time you saw one that didn't have at least one of these elements:

- obscenely hot college girls/dudes (dudes hot enough to make you worry about becoming gay).
- some sort of road trip/journey to an unknown place, and a breakdown in said environment causing these hot guys and girls to talk to the locals.
- retarded/inbred/generally Kerry Catona-esque locals.
- the killing off of black people early (mad racism for sure)
- overly gratuitous violence and gore in the hope that people won't realise how shit the dialogue/storyline is.
- TERRIBLE DIALOGUE (see "Shrooms"(2006))

I could go on listing these banal conventions but I'm too busy trying to work out which one was Wrong Turn and which was Dead End (I do remember that they're both shit though). So yeah I don't think theres much hope left for this genre, or at least I didn't until i saw the trailer for "Låt den rätte komma in" and now it would seem things could be looking up.

From what I can gather, the story centres around school-boy loner (and sporter of one of the best child-haircuts I've ever seen) Oscar. This young chap is summarily battered and bullied by schoolmates until one day, a young girl enters his life. Fortunately this young lady named Eli is a vampire whom spares Oscar the chop and helps him wreak revenge against his tormenters. The cinematography looks crisp and moody, and its Swedish so theres bound to be some naturally hot broads in it - and its shaping up to be one of the most kickass vampire movies you've seen.

I really doubt its going to be a bad film, so much so that I promise you I'll eat one of my own ears if it is. That's a promise people.

I'm going to beg borrow or steal to get hold of this so I'll keep you posted. I'm off to the hairdressers to try and get an awesome Swedish haircut.

Bloggin' All over my own stomach.

WOLF-HEADED CONJUROR

2008-10-09T12:02:00.000-07:00

I was just oggling Jason Molina's (disgustingly good alt-folk Americana front man of some of my favourite musical outfits of all time), and it would seem he's gearing up for a new album with Magnolia Electric Co. - Even if you're not aware of Molina's mind-bogglingly adept body of work, you'll be excited to know that the new record, apparently entitled 'a map of the falling stars' will be produced by Steve Albini.

I can honestly say that I've not heard a Molina song that I have not loved, whether it be with Songs: Ohia, Magnolia Electric Co. or under his own name alone. I could rattle on all day about his haunting lyrical genius, or its deeply southern musical accompaniments. But I really would be here all day.

Rest assured, I'll be among first in line for this no-doubt amazingly packaged 12" upon release - trying to put out of my mind the fact that I've still not been able to catch him live, especially seeming as he's gone a bit mental and started dressing like a cowboy.

Blogjammin'

UPDATE CORNER.

2008-10-08T07:36:00.000-07:00

So it would appear that Muxtape is set to make a badass comeback in the not too distant future (can i get a WOOP?). It now The site now displays a lengthy explanation as to the reasons why it was closed down in the first place along with an interesting history of the whole idea, headed prophetically with the line, "relaunching soon, in the service of bands".

Basically, the goal of Muxtape is to "challenge the way we experience music online", suggests its creator Justin Ouelette. He goes on to assert that "I still want to work to enable what I think is the most interesting aspect of interconnected music: discovering new stuff." something which I'm inclined to agree with so much that I'm nodding my head and holding up two thumbs with an inane grin on my face (wearing just a towel). Either way, it'll be good to have this back as its a gem amongst online music sites, and if nothing changes it'll still be the best way to stumble across bands that would otherwise forever lurk in the darkest recesses of the ether.

Chris "wanted to, but she was on the" Blog

Mogwai - The Hawk is Howling / Wall of Sound Records

2008-10-02T11:42:00.000-07:00

Scottish Friction.

Ooohhh shit! A new Mogwai album already? This one crept up on me like Jack the Ripper in ballet shoes. I could not be happier, for Stuart Braithwaite and the boys are still refusing to stop making some of the most immersing and beautiful music around. On the face of it, it could be whimsically suggested that Mogwai aren't doing anything particularly new here. There's still a seemingly infinite and breathtaking array of layers introduced subtly throughout these songs, culminating in vast soundscapes so mentally consuming, they'll have your spinal fluid flowing backwards. The Tracks still have amusing names at times, (see: "I'm Jim Morrison, I'm dead"). They're still never shorter than 4 minutes. And they're still the most evocative and psyche-fuckingly brilliant examples of post-rock you're likely to hear in the year (or decade)that this record is released.

Don't get me wrong, I've always agreed that post-rock isn't for everyone. Admittedly it sounds as if it may be crap, given a smattering of nu-this and post-that dysentery riddled sub-genres fabricated by any and all idiots who want to make up their own, popping up everywhere you look these days. But if this record doesn't bring in at least a small amount more fans into this genre, I'll start to worry about the human race a whole lot more.

Tracks like "I Love You, I'm Going To Burn Down Your School" bring you racing back to the masterful explosions of the Glaswegian's yesteryear monsters like "Ratts Of The Capital" or "Mogwai Fear Satan" - Thus cold sweats abound, and that spine-chilling feeling you've just seen the ghost of Hitler (am I alone on that one?). Yet spritely sounding numbers like "The Sun Smells Too Loud", warm your mis-beating heart and have me imagining that this band would even be capable of pop music, dare i say it. Hawks retains all of the moody and atmospheric characteristics of Mogwai's best outings and ties them together in what could be the most wonderfully complete and consistent album to date.

The troughs are lower and darker than ever, yet the peaks more destructive and thunderously fierce. Find the loudest stereo you can, sit down in front of it and blast this record into the furthest reaches of your brain lest you never have the unrivalled fortune of hearing it again.

(And its got a really badass picture of an eagle staring into space on the front)

FOUR-AND-A-HALF-STARS

Heavy Trash - Nottingham Bodega 31/09/08

2008-10-01T11:55:00.000-07:00

I'd just about re-attached my face after Power-Solo had completed their all-too-fleeting support set, when John Spencer and his wing man walked onstage to complete the lineup of Heavy Trash. These guys have got balls, I'll give them that. I mean, its two-thousand-and-eight and these kids are messing shit up like everybody still hangs out around the ice-cream parlour and dudes still get their kicks driving hot-rods at each other. Its one thing to say your gonna be a rockabilly band, and another to do it without looking like you're desperately trying to milk the next bygone decade by for all its musical nuances. But Spencer's new outfit, as I was soon to find out, fit the bill in both steez and substance.

"Out demon's, OUT", he shouts like an insane Texan evangelist to this rockabilly sermon. and with the demonic spirits of mediocre music exorcised, this shits on. Racing double bass and a rock steady drum beat hold the back line while Matt Verta-Ray lets loose erratic, screeching garage sounds from a battered looking Gretsch. You're on the balls of your feet even before Spencer dives quiff-long into the raucous mix, and you're sure as shit pawing sticky floor beer off you're arse when he does. And all the time he clutches at his own string-strapped guitar, a subtle homage in this true emulation of 50's style and sound.

This is a beautifully messy approximation of a savagely grimy sound all but killed off in this digital age, permeated with comic relief so well placed it'll have you chortling as well as grieving the conclusion of their set. I'm not sure that I've ever been so certain of an entire room's sense of enjoyment. Each time rejuvenated as Spencer calls for a break down and addresses his eager congregation, and not a moment of boredom evident.

If rising household bills are really such a problem in this crunchy-credit world then Powergen needs to start looking into harnessing the energy of these boys, there's plenty to go round, y'all. A thirteen quid ticket could power your home for 2 years.

4/5

myspace.com/heavytrash

R.I.P Muxtape.

2008-09-25T07:11:00.000-07:00

A dear friend of ours passed a few months ago and its got me crying so hard my face hurts. An increasingly popular character who's passing will cut deep into the lives of those who were seemingly able to able to hang up their tape-decks and come on to chicks via the interweb with an e-mixtape. Thats right sucka's, for a while it seemed like D.I.Y kids could put all their pop punk and Husker Du on the internet and not faff about with dragging themselves to prehistoric audio shops and begging the owner to sell them discontinued tapes.

All mockery aside, I thought this was a great idea. A simple interface that gave folks the chance to upload 12 (mp3 only) tracks of their choice and share them pretty much anonymously with all the other cats using it. Yeah it sounds mad dodgy and that would seem to be because it is - the RIAA's imposed rent has forced the site to suspend its service in the same way it did with the popular Pandora project, which died on its arse faster than a population of dinosaurs on a planet hit by a massive fucking meteorite.

Anyways, if it ever comes back then music fans may well have something to rejoice about, but chances are slim. Boo-shitting-hoo.

sensom.muxtape.com (thinking wishfully)

Blogatron 3000

Welcome children, one and all.

2008-09-25T06:58:00.001-07:00

If you've actually been arsed to come here under your own steam then I'm glad. This is something I probably should of carried on when I did it in the first place, but I'm going to start fresh - enrapturing your beautiful minds with the shiny new things I love, but probably more of the stuff I don't (cus' I'm well emo, durr). Like people using their shit camera phones at shows, 65 feet from the stage amidst an incredible light show which funnily enough tends to complicate the whole picture taking effort and produce an entirely shit result/angry me.

Anyways, lets see how it goes. Keep it coming kids.

Blogjammer.