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Showing posts from February, 2012

"if you need crack, just go wait by a bus stop"

Foo Fighters interview, 1996, in Seattle with Steve Gullick, good trip, nice guys, could be wrong but I fink it was m'first front cover and it looked like this. Wish Pat Smear did interviews. He was too busy eating an entire gigantic bowl he'd filled with squirty cream dusted with m&ms. 

Foo Fighters are back with a new single, 'Big Me', and a fresh determination to not let adulation force them into a Nirvana-type corner. Melody Maker goes to Seattle to meet the most approachable guys in rock.

Thirty Thousand feet in the air on beer number six and this is hard work. Trawling through the Foo Fighters' press thus far breaks the mind with the depressing realization of just how many short-sighted whisky-pickled sentimental old farts there are in this job. It ain't the embarrassing cliches about Kurt Cobain ("The golden-haired blue-eyed boy with a guitar and a gun in his mouth," as one mag tastefully puts it), it's that the tone is so retrospective…

"the bliss of being buried"

XIUXIUXIUXIUXIUXIUXIUXIUXIUXIU Cos they're back with a new album. Here's what I thought of an old album. 

XIU XIU  Fabulous Muscles  (5 Rue Christine Records, 2004)

The inlay’s a great flickbook. Put your dirty thumb on the edge and watch the images scatter by cover to cover. Woman with bullwhip up her fanny. A machine gun pointing into a bold Iraqi dawn. Tumescent stiffy disinterestedly pulled by some beefcake. Uniformed bestetsonned grunt pushing up for a squat thrust. Blindfolded child in vest perhaps sat on the knee of the great dictator, maybe just dimly aware of the pederast behind the viewfinder. All flesh of equal beauty, equal reality, equal plasticity, the same cheap thrill and priceless solitude – the underlying theme here being both pain (the infliction and acceptance of) and pleasure (the sheer banal tedium of it’s consumption) – so that the pink bar that dashes each shot suggests Xiu Xiu are floating amidst every frame, watching, learning, realising another cause f…

"nightmare kids who know life’s a nightmare"

OK, here's the new Odd Future video. Once the giggling gormless cunts over at hipinion or  ILXOR have wiped their wads off their jaws I think we can all agree it's . . . .mediocre.

So, what the hell, let's send this one out there again, 'Rella' illustrates precisely why I've kinda got bored of OFGWKTA (although that said the new mix from Hodgy Beats is a doozie -s'the thing, I'm always gonna keep an eye & ear cocked their way cos you'd be mad not to the amount of talent they have) but back when I still found all their shit fresh I wrote this piece for DJ Mag way back in 2010, never ran, those wonderful people over at collapseboard picked it up.CB've also ran the thoughts of this cretin recently but don't let that put you off - one of about 5 music-websites that will actually make you laugh on the planet right now) ODD FUTURE WOLFGANG KILL THEM ALL (2010, Neil Kulkarni)

“Welcome to my home
the place that I hate
the place that I lov…

"I’m not from New York. I’m not from LA. I’m from Pennsylvania so I know these people"

NINE INCH NAILS : A CERTAIN FIRE"it’s not ‘let’s all commit suicide/drink the Kool-Aid’. There’s PARTS that are like that . . ."
Soft. Interior. On the conveyor. Plush environs. Hotel interviews. They’re ace – they remind you of what a piddling peon in the chain you are. Every twenty minutes of today, Trent Reznor is asked to talk about himself but by the time I get to him he’s still chipper, giving you a firm handshake backed by biceps you’d scarcely credit him with, clearly keen to talk about new opus ‘Year Zero’ with the assiduousness and seriousness of an ingénue auteur dropping his dew-fresh debut. That he’s no spring chicken , that for the past fifteen years the calmly outspoken, disarmingly well-met & clearly bright individual talking to you has been variously an avatar of his own self-destruction and a fantasist of vengeance worthy of Marvel, an equally important figurehead in the careers of Marilyn Manson & Johnny Cash, and further, an icon of morbidity f…

Morrissey - Greatest Hits album review, Plan B Magazine 2010

Morrissey – Greatest Hits (Polydor)
He always sounds like a man who since childhood has only wanted to quote himself.  Allow me the same indulgence -  in 1999 I wrote this: "There’s something about the Smiths that still has an unhealthy hold over people you’d love to love. Get the facts straight though: the Smiths were about nostalgia, they were about destroying any black trace in pop, when they emerged they were pretty much a rights-for-whites insistence that nothing since punk had mattered. “Panic” is a letter to Melody Maker spun into a song and Morrisey is a Ted-fixated pre-immigration-fantasizing Granny of a man. This laid the groundwork of morose retrospect that Lad-rock would later find it’s spiritual motivation. Blame and shame them every chance you get".

   I have no desire to take that opportunity now, especially now the pack are involved. For Moz to get dissed for nostalgia and fear by the fucking NME would be funny if it weren’t so grisly to watch – that definiti…

without prejudice or technique


(from Plan B Magazine 2009) 
Eyup folks, it's 2009 and I'm just wundrin - do we have forward motion? Hasn't anyone been watching this dial, checking the rear-view? Ain't anyone concerned to see the future came and went a while back and all we're doing is revving pop down a circular grave, misdirected by an industry and media blinkeredly convinced it's on the right road just cos everyone who counts agrees so? Even 2009's most resolute poptimists have to be brutally honest with what carrion & cobblers the charts are strewn with in these weird perma-1985 days we're in. Butchered remains, corpses fucked so hard they crumble, all in the name of 'another great year for music'. For 'great' read busy, read luc…