“The idea that if once we got rid of religion, all problems of this kind would vanish, seems wild. Whatever may have been its plausability in the eighteenth century, when it first took the centre of the stage, it is surely just a distraction today. It is, however, one often used by those who do not want to think seriously on this subject”
Hey, everyone, why don’t we all just lay off religion for a bit, yeah?
I was never even aware of the existence of the ‘Vaporwave’ genre maybe as recently as six months ago. Vaporwave is electronic music that utilises 1980s mood music and smooth jazz via tropes and distorted samples, mainly to provide a satiric commentary of some of capitalism’s and consumer culture’s worst excesses. It’s different, it’s making a statement, it’s at once disgusting and thrilling, it sounds quite unlike anything else, and it jumped immediately to being one of My Favourite Things. It’s experimental, it’s abrasive, it’s self-aware, it’s challenging, it’s exciting. I love it. I’d be proud, honoured and- dare I say it- woke if I were to be considered one of the notable early adopters of the movement.
Unfortunately, that’s unlikely to be happen, as vaporwave has existed since the early 2010s after emerging as a more ironic take on ‘Chillwave’ (another genre I was not aware of). Me being considered an early adopter of vaporwave because of the handful of shouts on this list (and there will be more) is like me naming Brian Eno on my 2014 list marking me out as an integral part of the early success of Roxy Music. Yes, I know Mojo Magazine made that claim in a 2017 cover story, but I’ve actually attempted to distance myself from that article many time in the past. Anyway, in August the guy who used to be in The Monkees claimed himself a fan of the genre, so now it’s officially over.
“You got me doin’ all this stupid shit/You fuck me up like this/Secretly I’m into it though”
OK…
OK…
OK.
So it’s 2018, and I still think that in many ways we really need to demystify sex. I know, I know, my views on sex are probably about as valid as a chinchilla’s take on the fallout from the Arab Spring. Sure, you’ll be slightly impressed that the chinchilla (me) has at least heard of it, but you’re unlikely to think that his views on the matter carry much weight and are worth much consideration, and all things considered you’d really prefer it if the chinchilla (me) instead concentrated on learning not to shit on the carpet. Regardless, I honestly don’t think I’m going to be hurting anyone by expressing these views, and my opinions are backed with absolutely no conviction of bravery at all, so I’ll just delete this post if it ever looks like I’m likely to be included in Jon Ronson’s next book. And anyway, in terms of people thinking less of me, I don’t think there’s a lower level for me to collapse into.
Pffff, yeah, here it is. It’s Aphex Twin. Even if you’ve never heard it you know what it sounds like, and you know it’s good.
It’s a little too late for me to try and explain or describe Aphex Twin to you, isn’t it? Move along
“My pussy teaching 9th grade English/My pussy wrote a thesis on colonialism/In conversation with a marginal system/In love with Jesus”
When Noname released her second album back in some time in the past (there really is no way of knowing), Amazon offered the opening (and possibly best) track, Self, to listen to as a sample. Early in the song she states “Y’all really thought a bitch couldn’t rap huh?/Maybe this your answer for that, a crack era/The Reagan administration that niggas are still scared of?”, and being the sucker I am for commentaries on the (still) worst US President of the modern era. Soon afterwards, she utters the aforementioned bang up the elephant line that you really should be well aware of by now, and I was sold. I immediately chucked £7.99 at Noname and her scholarly vagina. I later found out that she was also on Bandcamp, so purchased it again in the assumption that she was likely to see a lot more of the money, judging by the amount of cash Amazon siphoned off when I published a couple of books a couple of years ago. For that reason, ‘Room 25’ is the only 2018 album that could be considered so good that I bought it twice.
The thing is though, what does that line actually mean?
“Threeway, I couldn’t wait to have with you/’Cause I know it turn you on, so let’s do it, babe/’Cause two heads are better than one“
Fuck me, FFM threesomes are so boring these days, aren’t they? I mean, I accept they might have been exciting in the past, but people were generally more easily entertained back then. Like, in 1850, when Isambard Kingdom Brunel did Isabella Beeton from behind while Mary Ann Evans* licked his sagging testicles, I imagine it would have caused a light to moderate stir at dinner parties across the country. These days though? Pffffffff! We are done with FFM threesomes! They are so over!
(*and even that famous tryst contains the caveat that Isambard Kingdom Brunel actually signed up for a threesome with Isabella Beeton and George Orwell, so he likely would have made the common mistake and assumed he was getting an FMM)
“And when she clings to you/She channels the girl/The one from the Ringu”
Christ, that line could actually about the Phew album couldn’t it?? Hang on, is that racist? I feel like perhaps that’s racist. Scrap that last bit…
Aaaaaaaaaaah! My God, Andy Burns, I love you so much! After struggling with the jagged angles of the- at times- freaking horrendous Phew album, I can’t tell you how relieving it was to come to an album as congenial and easy to listen as ‘Excited’
The 1976 movie ‘Snuff’ is a pretty by the numbers meat and potatoes early slasher flick, revolving around the exploits of some n’er do well bikers in South America. The leader of the bikers is called ‘Satan’, which you have to imagine they planned to change at one point. The movie becomes rather notable at its end though.
The film ends with a pregnant actress being stabbed (it was very much that kind of movie), but then we hear the director shout ‘cut’ and the camera pulls away from the action and back to reveal the full movie set. Cameras, crew and director. As the crew pack up their shit, happy with the results of the obvious $72 that went into making the film, a script girl approaches the director and confesses what an admirer she is of his work. She also, predictably, tells him how the violent scene turned her on, because bitches be craaaaaaazeeeeeee!
‘This is the non-stop train to Hull’
Yaaaaaaaaars!! Luke! Luke! Luke! Luke! Haines-o! Haines-o! Haines-o! L-M-H! (clap, clap, clap) L-M-H! (clap, clap, clap) L-M-H! (clap, clap, clap). And so it continues, mainly in that fashion.
I freaking love Luke Haines, and pretty much any old shite he releases is going to end up on the best of the year list.
Continue reading “73 Luke Haines: I Sometimes Dream of Glue”
We hear a lot about how we’re losing a lot of our privacy in the modern world, how Cambridge Analytica and Facebook are combining (with possible help from Vladamir Putin) to erase all semblances of the private life that human’s have cherished so for thousands of years.
Necessary Evil 