Tag Archives: Music

We all need some tunes in our lives

Thoughts formed

Hey, you — here’s your new favourite band! Always assuming, of course — you being after all, gentle reader, merely by dint of your very readership, an unimpeachable model of discernment in such matters of taste! — that your new favourite band has two guitarists, no bass player, and sounds something like Earth and My Bloody Valentine arguing over the last line of ketamine. Thought Forms, ladies and gentlemen:

Spotted as support band to the reliably brilliant 65daysofstatic at their homecoming show this Monday. Did you know 65dos wrote and recorded an alternative soundtrack for Silent Running? Well, they did.

Yes, I do have an essay due in at midday tomorrow! Why do you ask?

Didn’t even have to use my AK

I suspect I’ll remember the 29th of November 2012 for some time to come, as that’s the day when I found out my Masters dissertation scored a First/Distinction. Not sure exactly how the module scores for the rest of the course are combined, but I suspect that means I will have a Distinction grade overall.

I can live with that. 🙂

Plus: a guy got in touch in response to an ad I put on a Sheffield community forum in search of people to make music with; I’m going to meet him and his two bandmates at their practice space on Sunday, see how we get on.

And Palestinian statehood was a nice touch, too. (And no, I have no idea whether it’ll turn out for the better or for the worse. Unless you’re a fucking wizard or time-traveller, nor do you. I tend to judge news items like this by who’s angriest about them — and this seems to have pissed off an awful lot of warmonger hawks in the States, as well as the Israeli hardliners. I’m chalking it up as a win.)

On a similar note, right-wing thinktanks here in the UK are furious about the government’s new Energy Bill. Which means that, while it’s a long long way from being a blueprint for a viridian utopia, it’s evidently splashed some droplets of piss onto the shoes of Big Fossil and the windmill NIMBYs. Yeah, I know everyone’s bills are going to increase, and yeah, it’ll probably hit the poor hardest, as changes of this sort always do. But that’s the thing with kicking a long-held addiction, see; it’s painful as all hell, and your former dealers will make you a lot of offers that look deceptively generous over the short term in order to win back your custom. But we all of us need to face up to the hidden costs of our energy use, and start paying the real price… and while we could have done with starting back in the Seventies, it’s better we start now than leave it any longer. It’s a hobbled step, but it’s in the right direction.

So, yeah – I’d say yesterday was a good day. I’m hoping there might be more of ’em in the pipeline.

Oscar Night

Big fuck-off Hollywood /
and the paradox of tolerance /
the engineering of consent /
an America for Americans /
preserved in amber /
like genes for dinosaurs /
and dreams of the powerless.

[Death to Hollywood… ]

#

There’s a big fuck-off Hollywood /
in a church built by slaves /
where all glitters and twinkles /
and hungry are all the poor that you made.
Where the weather’s fine /
dark clouds all gather /
trusting and faceless…

[Death to Hollywood… /

… let’s put an end to Hollywood.]

–> “Oscar Night” lyrics copyright Amplifier, from the album The Octopus; please contact for immediate takedown if required. You can listen to the song here.

Posted here and now because, well, just look at the bloody news: plastic-faced glitterati patting themselves hard on the back while the world falls apart around them.

The great tragedy of the internet isn’t that it’ll destroy Hollywood’s business model; it’s that it hasn’t achieved it yet.

Hey, DJ – where’s the space?

Just a quick one – the inestimable Philip Palmer (who’s a much less scary man in person than his author photo might have you believe*) has very kindly played host to my marginal music taste in his regular Wednesday “SSF song-of-the-week” slot over on his own website. So go listen, why don’t you?

[ * He said that if I didn’t say that he’d cut off all my toes. One at a time. With a garlic crusher. SRSLY. ]