‘I, Gemini’ is a perfect encapsulation of why it is I love music
Let’s Eat Grandma (great name +1) are two Norwich girls who…
I think I’m allowed to refer to them as such, they were only 16 and 17 years old when they released this album
No, honestly, and if they were in their 40s, or 30s, or even 20s they simply wouldn’t have been able to make an album as supernaturally beautiful as this
+100
‘Goodness’ starts with a fucking poem
Picture the scene: you’ve returned home after a hard day investment banking and immediately retired to the smoking library. You’ve taken off your driving gloves, unclipped the ‘Shaguar’ cufflinks that were already painfully dated when your laundry maid got you them for Christmas years ago, thrown on your smoking jacket, lit up a Silver Vogue Lucky Strike and reclined in the leather push back ready to hear the new collection by young upstarts The Hotelier
(erm, that’s honestly the record cover, I’m not just being weird…)
You are greeted by a nerdy and presumably privileged white guy explaining to you how he deserves your pity and attention because he once fell in a pond when he was younger. In a fucking poem
You are enveloped by dismay, the world is terrible, people are shit and make shit music, despair is the only feeling that washes over you
Then the first song starts…
Last/this year, the DWP decided that I was no longer a disabled person, and I was moved off the ESA benefit and instead afforded the honour of beta testing Universal Credit and informed there were no barriers to me gaining employment
I volunteer at a lot of immigration and refugee charities- because, ladies, I’m everything you’ve ever fucking dreamed of- and was sure to inform the Job Centre of my shifts, as I believed they were important in me gaining experience in both employment and immigration law, which I have decided is where my future lies
I was told to stop volunteering though, as it would interfere with me getting a proper job, as the welfare system in this country is solely based on stopping you being a parasite of state funds. So, I just stopped telling the Job Centre of my four days a week volunteering (God, I am such a fucking awesome person) and while I slowly (and thus far successfully) made my way toward earning the relevent qualifications I made sure to keep the JC happy by applying for one job a day that I has little intention or likelihood of getting
Continue reading “5 Kid Cudi: Passion, Pain and Dragon Slayin’”
Sigh… Not many jokes I can make here…
‘Skeleton Tree’ was probably the best reviewed album of 2016, and richly deserves all of the plaudits
Continue reading “=6 Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds: Skeleton Tree”
Even if you ignore the brilliance of their name- which you absolutely should never do- the Swet Shop Boys are absolutely one of the greatest things on Earth
A rap duo- of which there aren’t nearly enough of in the first place- consisting of Indian-American Heems and the British-Pakistani Riz MC that chiefly spin takes on the scandalously under-represented subject of Muslim and second generation Asian immigrant experiences in the West, the police’s harassment of their ethnicity, and the hellish seduction of fundamentalism
Next time you’re at an Aerosmith concert- which is the type of humanatarian atrocity you often commit because you have the same laughable sense of taste in music as Homer Simpson and literally every artist you like is music that you’ve forgotten that you initially got into ironically- look out at the back of the crowd for a paunchy man in leather trousers and a faded ‘Toys in the Attic’ tour t-shirt and the kind of haircut that men only grow when they’re either unwilling or unable to accept that they’re bald. He’ll be disgusted that the band aren’t playing cheap Rolling Stones pastiches- a band that, lest we forget, are fucking shit in the first place- about a teenage girl having electric vaginal spasms, or whatever
they’ll be muttering to themselves
In 1974 Al Pacino gave one of the all time best cinema performances in ‘Godfather Part II’, exhibiting a subtly and nuance that would later desert him, and managing to captivate the audience to such an extent few even noticed the film lasted 200 freaking minutes. the Oscar for best actor was never in doubt
Unfortunately, The Academy- a retirement home for aged white former cinematic plantation owners who compensate for their loss of bowel control by annually celebrating their favourite shit- was having one of those years where they decide to become completely (instead of generally) impervious to actual quality in the face of unbearable tweeness and overwhelming schmaltz, and awarded the best actor Oscar to Art Carney for ‘Harry and Tonto’, a film about an old man and a fucking cat
The Academy soon realised they’d made a mistake though, it soon became apparent that they’d ignored an historic and legendary performance in favour of a disposable piece of nonsense that everybody had already forgotten about. They owed Al Pacino an Oscar
Yes, although your natural instinct is to pronounce the band’s name ‘divsner’, it’s actually meant to be read as ‘division’, much like those spent hacks MGMT insisting that their name is actually pronounced ‘management’
Oh!
Should have said that in the Iggy Pop piece…
OK, it’s been a stressful day at ‘work’, I’ve still got a lot of boring charity work to do this evening, I’ve got a merciless headache, and I think I’m still mentally scarred from my stick being nicked yesterday, so I’m going to blast through the next few entries as quickly as I can, OK?
The wild tackle in the 1991 FA Cup Final- that Paul Gascoigne injured himself so comprehensively attempting that he was never the same player again- was a painful example of the kind of aggressive and impulsive thought process that actually played its part in making Gazza the amazing player he was. If you took such spontaneous and emotionally intuitiveness our of Gascoigne’s game, he wouldn’t be the same player. The tackle itself though, was an act of stupidity and should not really be celebrated
Charles Darwin was a hideous misogynist, who viewed women as simply womb vessels who were little more than irritating intellectual inferiors who interfered with serious scientific research by talking about ponies and periods and shit. He ended up marrying his cousin, probably because he felt marriage was sufficiently socially expected and didn’t want to leave the house to find a wife. However, if you took this sociopathic view of life only through its logical and consequential results, then he may have never invented dinosaurs and proved God wasn’t real, or whatever. However, his sexism should still not be celebrated in and of itself
Necessary Evil 