Tuesday, March 31, 2009

Tomorrow, a road trip...







"Did you feel anything?"

"Yes. Only for a couple of seconds but that was enough. Thank you."

Saw the 'Where The Wild Things Are' trailer for the first time today. I thought I might cry.
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Thursday, March 26, 2009

A London Poem

Saw this man perform not too long ago. Very good. This made me laugh.


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Wednesday, March 25, 2009

radiohead

old video

Just in case there was any doubt about how truly magnificent Radiohead are then watch this video.

It's old.

A fan passes out.

The re-start is amazing.
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Tuesday, March 24, 2009

Sigur Ros

new video

There is beauty in this world if you know where to look... and listen.

This is a new one from La Blogotheque and their Take-Away Shows series. Honestly, I spend way too much of my time re-watching some of the performances that they've captured.

Sigur Ros are nothing if not amazing and, despite the clientele of this old Parisian cafe being seemingly unimpressed, this is brilliant. Enjoy.
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Wednesday, March 18, 2009

random prose

an excerpt from 'Keep Calm and Carry On'The music washed over her as she stepped into the place. Outside was cold and filled with car horns, screeching breaks and steam rising from the roadside: but inside was a cocoon; an enclosure filled (too full?) with people chattering, drinking, laughing and dancing. She could hear that the music was coming from the far end of the long bar, in the back room, but had no idea how she was going to get there through the throngs of people. She also needed a drink.

She could feel the smile widening as she politely, but firmly, maneuvered herself to the bar. She was standing in a place that she always wished had existed but never experienced. Her small fantasy had come true and that had never happened before. A place so fully realized from the one she saw in her head that it was scary; as if someone had taken the blueprints from her dreaming sleep and built it. And now, somehow, her winding path had led her to it.

She felt intoxicated before her drink had even arrived. The rows of liquor behind the bar, the overworked but effortlessly cool and grizzled bar tender who didn’t seem to be in a rush but seemed to be doing everything anyway, the dark orange walls, low lighting and candles flickering everywhere made the bar seem new, familiar, foreign and welcoming all at once. She caught her reflection in the large mirror that she was facing, as she handed over her money for what seemed like the strongest Vodka Collins she’d ever tasted, and she was grinning like an idiot. Everyone’s going to think I’ve taken something she thought. Drink in hand she began to move through the packed bar toward the back room, with her arms raised to make the squeezing by strangers easier, and to provide much needed protection from potentially unruly hands, she caught a glimpse of her watch: her newly found friends would be here shortly she thought - leaving her enough time to continue to be wide-eyed and grinningly uncool by herself. Riding on a wave of smiles and "excuse me's" she made it to the end of the bar and to the small glass door surrounded by red drapes. A list of bands that she'd never heard of and their stage times was stuck dead centre. She tried to work out which band she could hear but the door swung open and a man clad head-to-toe in tight denim with a little sweat on his brow burst through holding a half empty bottle of beer and an unlit cigarette. He laughed as he briefly held the door open long enough for her to scuttle through and into the dark and loud of the back room.

She didn't know how, but she just knew that the room would be small and unlike the cavernous performance spaces that are usually attached to such small bars. It was tiny. And drenched in the unfamiliar and joyous sounds of whatever band were playing. Whoever they were, the small and tightly packed audience were rapt. She shuffled closer and watched the faces in the crowd smiling and singing softly along with music and felt herself begin to sway. She closed her eyes and listened. The harmonies coming at her from the stage were beautiful and sent her head spinning. Smiling, she thought of how she'd got here. Of how strange she now felt. Of this new world. Of the possibilities. Of the unknown.


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Monday, March 16, 2009

england team talk

There are few people more annoying than fat James Cordon. Yeah, I used fat. If that offends you then call me a "fatist", fatty. However, I'm loathe to totally categorize anyone in such 2D terms as an egotistical hype machine so, at times, I'll give him the benefit of the doubt. After all, Gavin & Stacy can be funny (Ruth Jones?). It is with this in mind that I post this video - from Comic Relief - as it's pretty funny: Cordon giving a team talk to the England football team.

It's funny 'cos it's (mostly very) true. Especially the Lampard bit.
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Sunday, March 15, 2009

A Passage From The Garaghon Memoirs



Bigger Not Better

Occasionally I would take stock of my life, closer inspection brought no real insights, there were good days and there were bad days, the sun would rise and the sun would set but in between I strove to see the beauty of the world around me..  Spring was my favourite time of the year because I didn't have to look too hard.  Life took matters into it's own hands and forced itself into the world; buds and blossom, slowly lengthening evenings, the strengthening sun, happiness spilling out onto the pavements like melted butter.  Try as some might, there was no escaping it and I embraced it like a much missed friend.
It was whilst I was gorging on this springtime feast that I began to realize that something was amiss.  The tight vibrant green and white twirls of the lily I was admiring were the first thing I noticed - they were just so big.  And the more I looked the bigger they became.  As I looked around I saw that it wasn't only the lily leaves, it was everything and the harder I looked, the larger it all appeared.  Bees the size of my fist knee high shrubs appeared to me as The Foinavon, delicate blooms magnified to triffid proportions.
A kernel of fear unfurled slowly in the pit of my stomach.  What was happening to me?  I looked down at my hands and they were no longer mine, they were the hands of a giantess, too big to belong in my world.  I recognized them though.  The folds and creases, the long deep head line, the forked heart line dotted with islands, the scar on my right forefinger - a lesson in patience that I'd failed to learn.  These were my hands, seen through my eyes.  I slammed them shut.
And I kept hem that way for a long time - two days - so afraid was I of what I might see when I opened them.  Floating in the darkness I felt serene.  In my mind's eye I could feel the world deflate, as if emitting as enormous sigh, and even though I couldn't see it, I knew that everything had returned to its original size.
I opened my eyes and everything was as it was.  My heart sang with relief.  It had seemed so real, bigger than reality but maybe it had just been my fertile imagination  I held tightly on to this hope.
It soon became clear that it was not my imagination, at the oddest of times and without warning the world would suddenly loom large.  And as time passed large became larger, like the language books my sister and I had loved so much as children, large ballooned to larger but where largest lay I could not conceive.
I began to rest my vision for weeks at a time but still the world continued to grow, the speed and frequency with which these episodes occurred was such that I finally resolved to take action.  Inaction, perhaps, is a more accurate description.  I closed my eyes ans this time they stayed closed.  Even as i felt the world shrink, and although I knew that everything had reverted to its actual size, I clamped my lids closer together.  I knew that I only had a limited number of sights left to see and I didn't want to waste them.
In the interim i replayed all that I had ever seen, concentrating as never before, noticing things that at some point passed me by.  Looking, watching, seeing...
Meanwhile, I pondered over what my final optical delights might be with almost religious fervour.  Waves of darkness lapped against my shores as I agonized over what was worthy enough to devote my fading powers of sight upon.  But my musings were as worthless as the ideas they produced, animals facing extinction, great works of art, what remained of the seven wonders...  These things meant nothing to me.
And though some might say that my actions were rash, impetuous, even foolish, I saw what I cherished the most.  The smile of a friend as we laughed together, her eyes closed in mirth, unaware that I was watching her lose herself in the joy of our shared moment.  Our hands clasped together as we shook with delight, the joke was shared but the moment was all mine.  I saw so much.  The sun setting, gently drifting snow, the iridescent rainbow of petrol in bubbles, the raging ocean, my Mother's tears, a leafy glade bathed in shafts of sunlight, a door slammed in my face, blood pumping on to the tarmac, snatches - like snapshots framed in my heart - of my brother's wedding day, the sunrise, spilt milk, the face of the man I mistook for the love of my life, a storm of cherry blossom raining down on me.  All these things i allowed myself and for each one of them I was eternally grateful.
I could sense that the world was continuing to expand, even behind my tightly locked lids, and I knew that the time had come to close my eyes for good.  But there was one more sight that I wished to see, someone that I had not seen for the longest time.
I dressed with care; my friends described my clothes to me in minute detail, my favourites dictated not by colour or comfort but by how well I thought that they suited me.  And there I was, just the same as i remembered.  And it was so good to see me again, to see that I was still me, that my memories hadn't lied.
So I stood before my reflection, drinking me in until I was in danger of drowning, until I became too big for my eyes to see, the world expanding beyond my comprehension.  And, without regret, I brought my lashes together for the final time.  I needed to see no more.  I held more than enough in my head, and in my mind's eye, it was beautiful to behold.


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Saturday, March 14, 2009

A £2000 unfinished deal...


It's not great play Roland, get off the sofa.  I like your new picture.




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mantra


completion not competition.

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Thursday, March 12, 2009

the daily show

new video

The Daily Show is flat-out brilliant for many reasons; the number one reason being Jon Stewart. This is five minutes of funny, clever, incisive and dumb satirical comedy.

The squares who said The Daily Show wouldn't be funny with a Democratic President are very very wrong.
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Tuesday, March 10, 2009

lazy sunday

old video


With last years resurgence of Saturday Night Live and the release of The Lonely Island's comedy album "Incredibad" I was reminded of where it all began. Tracks like the Justin Timberlake featuring "Dick In A Box", "On A Boat" (with T-Pain), and "Jizz In My Pants" all accurately lampoon the genres that they are based on and have unusually high prodoction values for such throwaway gags. However, my favourite, and the one that kicked it all off is "Lazy Sunday". It's a little more subtle than the songs mentioned and the juxtaposition of middle-class movie going and slamming Beastie Boys-style hip-hop will get me every time!

And just for kicks here's the TV version of "Natalie's Rap" (believe it or not I think it's funnier than unedited one).





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Monday, March 9, 2009

little boots

new video


I've already posted Kid Cudi's video for Day 'N' Night on this very blog and offered the opinion that he's going to be huge this year. I'm really not sure that I could dig Cudi any more than I do right now!

Now, in case you didn't or don't believe me or value Victoria Hesketh's (Little Boots) opinion over mine then here's her quiet take on his lyrically sombre tune. Incidentally, Little Boots is tipped to be big this year too and though I don't really care too much about that I am enjoying this.
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Friday, March 6, 2009

30 rock

new video


I have recently become reacquainted and thus addicted to 30 Rock. Yes it's quite gentle but it has subtlety that you don't find in most network sitcoms. It's also plainly obvious that Tina Fey is influenced by some good British comedy (notably The Office).

You can guarantee that there's at least one line in every episode that is so brilliantly conceived and delivered that it's worth watching just for that. This is that line from this weeks episode. Simple, yes, but "like a bastard" is rarely, if ever, used this well on US TV.
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Thursday, March 5, 2009

grizzly bear

almost new video


If Radiohead didn't exist then you'd be watching the greatest band in the world right now... the mighty Grizzly Bear. Thankfully, art isn't a competition so we can just sit back and enjoy the myriad talents of some great musicians.

If you don't own "Yellow House" then you should probably stop reading this and head to your local music emporium and purchase it (or get it from iTunes if you're lazy like me). Alternatively you could search for their new album "Veckatimest" as it recently leaked (I condone no such behaviour!) as this is where these songs come from. It is, all bias aside, magnificent.

You're watching the band of 2009.


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Wednesday, March 4, 2009

jon brion - here we go

old mp3
"If God exists then the pop music he makes sounds like Jon Brion"

To the best of my knowledge nobody has actually ever said that but believe me when I say that I have thought it on many an occasion!

You may not know the name Jon Brion but I guarantee that you have heard Jon Brion. If you've seen "Magnolia", "Punch-Drunk Love" or "I ♥ Huckabees" or listened to Kanye West's "Late Registration", Rufus Wainwright, Fiona Apple, Rhett Miller or Spoon then you're more than familiar with what he sounds like and how he does things.

His style is all very (early period) Beatles-y and melodic and poptastic but that doesn't stop him from writing some insightful and truly beautiful songs. This one is from a similarly insightful and beautiful (and quirky) movie, the aforementioned "Punch-Drunk Love".


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random prose

an excerpt from 'Twickenham Twickenham'

Gabe dropped to the floor, hard, clutching his head as the attack took hold. What felt like a slice of his brain was burning and scorching and searing with a pain that seemed impossible for him to bear. Sweating and writhing on the kitchen floor of his apartment he kicked out; looking for anything to alleviate this terror or deflect his attention away from the fact that he thought the inner workings of his skull were about to combust. He struck the leg of his cheap wooden kitchen table; it immediately buckled and fell, seemingly in slow motion, bringing with it the cup, plate and New York Times that he'd been using only moments before. Although his vision was dimming he managed to dodge the debris by thrashing and rolling to the corner of the room where he curled up against the old brown refrigerator that guarded the door to the living room. He was weakening now and felt like he was going to pass out from the pain. This would be welcome and he inwardly begged for it. His legs were still moving as his vision finally gave out. There was only darkness and white-hot pain now. Sleep would surely come now he thought. Then it happened. Images invaded his head, piling themselves on one another.

A car. More cars. A line of them. All black. And strange looking people. Flags. People taking photos. People laughing. Smoke. There's a man waving. People cheering. A loud noise. And light. Confusion. Screaming. Crying. Law enforcement are everywhere. More screaming. And running. Panic. Panic. Panic. Blood and sadness. And pain. Much pain.

It was dark when Gabe woke. His t-shirt was soaked in sweat and his kitchen looked as though a small war had occurred during his lapse of consciousness. He propped himself up against his refrigerator and sat, almost afraid to move, and tried to take stock of what had just happened.

What was happening? He was obviously ill or crazy or dying or...

Did he have an aneurysm?

Is this how they worked? Google would have the answer.

What were the images about? They had the familiarity of memories but they were too broken and strange and he was sure he hadn't even been born when that last one took place.

Why did he feel completely normal now? He'd just had some kind of trauma-filled attack yet his body felt fine. He felt good. His only problem was the worry of not knowing what was happening to him or when it would happen again. I would happen again.

After all, this wasn't the first time that it had happened.

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