posted by Alias at 9:47 AM
0 comments
Monday, January 31, 2011
Tuesday, September 16, 2008
The Most Ambient Album In The World...Ever.
The most ambient album in the world has got to be Ambient 1 (Music For Airports) By Brian Eno, for a couple of reasons.
Firstly, here's Brian himself, from the album sleeve,
"Over the past three years, I have become interested in the use of music as ambience...I have begun using the term Ambient Music. An ambience is defined as an atmosphere, or a surrounding influence: a tint. Ambient music is intended to induce calm and a space to think. Ambient music must be able to accommodate many levels of listening attention without enforcing one in particular, it must be as ignorable as it is interesting."
So there you have it- if Eno himself invented and labelled Ambient Music, then it stands to reason that it's probably him that would produce the most ambient album in the world..ever, init?
My other, and much more convincing argument for this particular album, the 1st in the genre, to be dubbed The Most Ambient Album In The World would have to be based on the following true story.
A couple of weeks back I was tuned into that Pandora site, where it generates customised playlists of music for you, based on your preferences for different bands/music. It was playing my Orb playlist, a good mix of ambient type stuff that's nice background for when you're reading or writing or just wanting to subtly drown out the noise of next door's tele. On this occasion a certain song had been playing now for about 10minutes, chilling me out nicely, so I looked up so see what this particularly interesting/ignorable track was and noticed it was from Ambient 1 (Music For Airports) By Brian Eno AVAILABLE TO BUY NOW FROM AMAZON. Aye, that sounds good that, I thought, I wonder how much Amazon is selling it for? Minutes later my basket was empty once again, and Ambient 1 (Music For Airports) By Brian Eno was winging it's way across the sea from the states. I was looking forward to it's arrival until a couple of days later when I was looking through some CD's for something ignorable/interesting to play and I noticed that there, already in my fucken collection, was Ambient fucken 1 (Music For Fucken Airports) By Brian Fucken Eno!
I mean, how much more fucken ambient an album can you get?
An album I've listened to on a good few occasions already, and I end up buying it again cos I didn't even recognise it?
"Intended to induce calm" is it Brian ?
Not that night-I was fucken livid!
Seven fucken quid that cost me, for a fucken doubler.
Bastard.
Firstly, here's Brian himself, from the album sleeve,
"Over the past three years, I have become interested in the use of music as ambience...I have begun using the term Ambient Music. An ambience is defined as an atmosphere, or a surrounding influence: a tint. Ambient music is intended to induce calm and a space to think. Ambient music must be able to accommodate many levels of listening attention without enforcing one in particular, it must be as ignorable as it is interesting."
So there you have it- if Eno himself invented and labelled Ambient Music, then it stands to reason that it's probably him that would produce the most ambient album in the world..ever, init?
My other, and much more convincing argument for this particular album, the 1st in the genre, to be dubbed The Most Ambient Album In The World would have to be based on the following true story.
A couple of weeks back I was tuned into that Pandora site, where it generates customised playlists of music for you, based on your preferences for different bands/music. It was playing my Orb playlist, a good mix of ambient type stuff that's nice background for when you're reading or writing or just wanting to subtly drown out the noise of next door's tele. On this occasion a certain song had been playing now for about 10minutes, chilling me out nicely, so I looked up so see what this particularly interesting/ignorable track was and noticed it was from Ambient 1 (Music For Airports) By Brian Eno AVAILABLE TO BUY NOW FROM AMAZON. Aye, that sounds good that, I thought, I wonder how much Amazon is selling it for? Minutes later my basket was empty once again, and Ambient 1 (Music For Airports) By Brian Eno was winging it's way across the sea from the states. I was looking forward to it's arrival until a couple of days later when I was looking through some CD's for something ignorable/interesting to play and I noticed that there, already in my fucken collection, was Ambient fucken 1 (Music For Fucken Airports) By Brian Fucken Eno!
I mean, how much more fucken ambient an album can you get?
An album I've listened to on a good few occasions already, and I end up buying it again cos I didn't even recognise it?
"Intended to induce calm" is it Brian ?
Not that night-I was fucken livid!
Seven fucken quid that cost me, for a fucken doubler.
Bastard.
posted by Alias at 4:35 PM
0 comments
Avril Feckin' Lavigne
I'm a bit loath to even post this, but it fucken bugged me and I thought I'd share.... Got home the other night to be met by my 11yr old daughter brandishing a newspaper clipping that announced that Avril Lavigne will be playing Glasgow in May!!!!!!!!!!!!
She mentioned she'd already been on the internet and thought the tickets would be £50.
I near shat.
I had a wee look myself later and found this fucked up nonsense:
"Avril Lavigne - Monday 26th June 2008 Glasgow Academy Platinum Experience Package Meet & Greet Get up close with Avril! “Best Damn Tour” Platinum packages are available now …once they’re gone, they’re gone. • Meet & Greet with Avril Lavigne before the show (pre-show) • Photo opportunities may be possible (subject to schedules) • Floor (standing) ticket to see Avril Lavigne live in concert • Private VIP entry (where available) • Exclusive “Best Damn Tour” gift • Tour programme • Commemorative VIP pass £159.00 inc VAT & ticket (£27.50 + Booking Fee!!!!) Platinum Package Your Platinum Package includes a meet and greet opportunity, during which we anticipate there will be an opportunity to take photographs (there will not be a professional photographer present due to time constraints). Video cameras and recording devices will not be permitted. (so how the fuck does that work then?????) The Platinum Package elements (VIP Pass, tour programme and “Best Damn Tour” gift) will be presented to you on arrival."
I had to mention to my girl that , and I used The Stranglers here as a "for example", pretty much any other band, if you turned up early enough on the day of the gig, you had a good chance of meeting them and getting yer photo taken etc. So to charge £189.00 a pop (and obviously I'd have to get a another ticket for myself too) for some star-struck 11yr olds to stare at Miss Lavigne for 30secs has got to be a fucken rip-off liberty of the highest fucken order!!!!
etc etc e fucken tc
She mentioned she'd already been on the internet and thought the tickets would be £50.
I near shat.
I had a wee look myself later and found this fucked up nonsense:
"Avril Lavigne - Monday 26th June 2008 Glasgow Academy Platinum Experience Package Meet & Greet Get up close with Avril! “Best Damn Tour” Platinum packages are available now …once they’re gone, they’re gone. • Meet & Greet with Avril Lavigne before the show (pre-show) • Photo opportunities may be possible (subject to schedules) • Floor (standing) ticket to see Avril Lavigne live in concert • Private VIP entry (where available) • Exclusive “Best Damn Tour” gift • Tour programme • Commemorative VIP pass £159.00 inc VAT & ticket (£27.50 + Booking Fee!!!!) Platinum Package Your Platinum Package includes a meet and greet opportunity, during which we anticipate there will be an opportunity to take photographs (there will not be a professional photographer present due to time constraints). Video cameras and recording devices will not be permitted. (so how the fuck does that work then?????) The Platinum Package elements (VIP Pass, tour programme and “Best Damn Tour” gift) will be presented to you on arrival."
I had to mention to my girl that , and I used The Stranglers here as a "for example", pretty much any other band, if you turned up early enough on the day of the gig, you had a good chance of meeting them and getting yer photo taken etc. So to charge £189.00 a pop (and obviously I'd have to get a another ticket for myself too) for some star-struck 11yr olds to stare at Miss Lavigne for 30secs has got to be a fucken rip-off liberty of the highest fucken order!!!!
etc etc e fucken tc
posted by Alias at 4:16 PM
0 comments
Inspirational Thoughts #2987
"The corrupt and brutal regime of President Ceausescu of Romania was infamous across the world. His ferocious government had run the country emphatically for many years, crushing any signs of dissent ruthlessly. In November 1989 he was re-elected President for another five years as his supporters at Part Conference gave him forty standing ovations.
On December 21st the President, disturbed by a small uprising in the western city of Timisoara in support of a protestant clergyman, was persuaded to address a public rally in Bucharest.
One solitary man in the crowd, Nica Leon, sick to death with Ceausescu and the dreadful circumstances he created for everyone started shouting in favour of the revolutionaries in Timasoara. The crowd around him, obedient to the last, thought that when he shouted out, “Long Live Timisoara!” it was some new political slogan.
They started chanting it too.
It was only when he called, “Down With Ceausescu!” that they realised something wasn’t right. Terrified, they tried to force themselves away from him, dropping the banners they had been carrying. In the crush the wooden batons on which the banners were held began to snap underfoot and women started screaming. The ensuing panic sounded like booing.
The unthinkable was happening.
Ceausescu stood there on his balcony, ludicrously frozen in uncertainty, his mouth opening and shutting. Even the official camera shook with fright. Then the head of security walked swiftly across the balcony towards him and whispered, “They’re getting in”. It was clearly audible on the open microphone and was broadcast over the whole country on live national radio.
This was the start of the revolution.
Within a week Ceausescu was dead."
On December 21st the President, disturbed by a small uprising in the western city of Timisoara in support of a protestant clergyman, was persuaded to address a public rally in Bucharest.
One solitary man in the crowd, Nica Leon, sick to death with Ceausescu and the dreadful circumstances he created for everyone started shouting in favour of the revolutionaries in Timasoara. The crowd around him, obedient to the last, thought that when he shouted out, “Long Live Timisoara!” it was some new political slogan.
They started chanting it too.
It was only when he called, “Down With Ceausescu!” that they realised something wasn’t right. Terrified, they tried to force themselves away from him, dropping the banners they had been carrying. In the crush the wooden batons on which the banners were held began to snap underfoot and women started screaming. The ensuing panic sounded like booing.
The unthinkable was happening.
Ceausescu stood there on his balcony, ludicrously frozen in uncertainty, his mouth opening and shutting. Even the official camera shook with fright. Then the head of security walked swiftly across the balcony towards him and whispered, “They’re getting in”. It was clearly audible on the open microphone and was broadcast over the whole country on live national radio.
This was the start of the revolution.
Within a week Ceausescu was dead."
posted by Alias at 4:12 PM
0 comments
Making Nick Cave Smile
Did I tell you my Nick Cave story?
It was a good few years back and me and a mate were in Edinburgh to see his gig with the Dirty 3 in the gardens below Edinburgh Castle.
We got there in the afternoon, already more than half cut, and the city was jumping- it was during the Festival and, for once, the sun was out.
As we passed the park where Nick was to play later we suddenly heard a burst of piano and a few, low Antipodean grunts, "One Two, One, Two!"
A quick check over the hedge and sure enough, it was Nick soundchecking; walking this open- air bandstand, surrounded by pensioners enjoying the sun in the park.
We quickly staggered to the front to watch, a few seats along from an obviously awe-struck goth girl, frozen to her seat by Nick's proximity.
We were treated to a few run throughs on the piano then Nick got caught up in a discussion with the stage guy. They were debating whether the seats already laid out in front of the stage were a good idea or not.
Suddenly Nick looked down from the stage and asked me,
"What do you think, should we leave the seats or get rid off them?"
I took a moment or two to mull his dilemma over, then replied,
"I have absolutely no opinion on the matter."
Nick looked, for a split second only, taken aback, then smiled as if he had got the answer he really should have expected.
He chuckled, thanked me for my honesty and carried on with the soundcheck.
Not the most awesome tale ever told, I know, but I can honestly go to my grave knowing that once upon a time I made Nick Cave laugh.
And that, my friend, is good enough for me.
It was a good few years back and me and a mate were in Edinburgh to see his gig with the Dirty 3 in the gardens below Edinburgh Castle.
We got there in the afternoon, already more than half cut, and the city was jumping- it was during the Festival and, for once, the sun was out.
As we passed the park where Nick was to play later we suddenly heard a burst of piano and a few, low Antipodean grunts, "One Two, One, Two!"
A quick check over the hedge and sure enough, it was Nick soundchecking; walking this open- air bandstand, surrounded by pensioners enjoying the sun in the park.
We quickly staggered to the front to watch, a few seats along from an obviously awe-struck goth girl, frozen to her seat by Nick's proximity.
We were treated to a few run throughs on the piano then Nick got caught up in a discussion with the stage guy. They were debating whether the seats already laid out in front of the stage were a good idea or not.
Suddenly Nick looked down from the stage and asked me,
"What do you think, should we leave the seats or get rid off them?"
I took a moment or two to mull his dilemma over, then replied,
"I have absolutely no opinion on the matter."
Nick looked, for a split second only, taken aback, then smiled as if he had got the answer he really should have expected.
He chuckled, thanked me for my honesty and carried on with the soundcheck.
Not the most awesome tale ever told, I know, but I can honestly go to my grave knowing that once upon a time I made Nick Cave laugh.
And that, my friend, is good enough for me.
posted by Alias at 3:40 PM
0 comments
Large Hard-On Collider!
i feel cheated.
So, despite the combined brain efforts of billions of fucktard boffins and the pissing up against a wall of literally thousands of dollar (or was it the other way around? The finer details are already sketchy to me) the mighty Death Metallic Colander sucked and we have failed yet again to destroy man’s oldest nemesis; the Earth.
It was all just a bunch of bullshit wasn't it?
The egg headed ones promised that mibee, ‘round about 8.30am this morning, when the Metallic Machine (in reality just the world’s longest torch) was switched on we would all be cataclysmicaly sucked off into another, better dimension.
And we weren't.
Not even a wee bit.
What a pisser.
It was even predicted by some of the more enlightened boffins, that when the promised black hole was conjured up we’d all have roughly eight to ten minutes before our eyeballs were sucked through our pulsing bodies and out our collective cocks, draining us away down a cosmic space plug hole for ever. I forget the actual physics.
Some even put forward the proposition that, mibee, those last ten minutes would wind strangely back on themselves, like a snake swallowing it’s own tail, and we’d be forced to repeat those final moments over and over and over again. To infinity, and beyond, I believe was the time scale quoted, though I may have dreamed that part.
So, I got to thinking, and came up with 2 questions.
1) In an ideal (end of the) world, how would you like to spend those remaining/ever repeating final last 10 minutes?
And
B) In actual real reality, how did you spend them?
Me? I took a nice, if rather large shit and thunk up all this old bollocks.
And failed, once again, to be sucked off.
So, despite the combined brain efforts of billions of fucktard boffins and the pissing up against a wall of literally thousands of dollar (or was it the other way around? The finer details are already sketchy to me) the mighty Death Metallic Colander sucked and we have failed yet again to destroy man’s oldest nemesis; the Earth.
It was all just a bunch of bullshit wasn't it?
The egg headed ones promised that mibee, ‘round about 8.30am this morning, when the Metallic Machine (in reality just the world’s longest torch) was switched on we would all be cataclysmicaly sucked off into another, better dimension.
And we weren't.
Not even a wee bit.
What a pisser.
It was even predicted by some of the more enlightened boffins, that when the promised black hole was conjured up we’d all have roughly eight to ten minutes before our eyeballs were sucked through our pulsing bodies and out our collective cocks, draining us away down a cosmic space plug hole for ever. I forget the actual physics.
Some even put forward the proposition that, mibee, those last ten minutes would wind strangely back on themselves, like a snake swallowing it’s own tail, and we’d be forced to repeat those final moments over and over and over again. To infinity, and beyond, I believe was the time scale quoted, though I may have dreamed that part.
So, I got to thinking, and came up with 2 questions.
1) In an ideal (end of the) world, how would you like to spend those remaining/ever repeating final last 10 minutes?
And
B) In actual real reality, how did you spend them?
Me? I took a nice, if rather large shit and thunk up all this old bollocks.
And failed, once again, to be sucked off.
posted by Alias at 3:33 PM
0 comments
Large Hadron Collider #2
...One factor that I find rather distressing, it must be said, is the fairly commonly held belief that “mini” black-holes could be created.
Doesn’t that sound to you like an oxymoron?
“It’s alright, it’s only a mini black-hole”.
“Oh, okay.”
I mean, I’m no scientist, honest, but surely by definition a black-hole is an awesome, indescribably powerful phenomenon, yeah? The fact that they now apparently come in mini sizes does not offer me too much consolation.
It’s not like Mars Bars or ladies skirts.
It’s like a mini cataclysm, or a minor apocalypse- can these things ever be seen as less than fucken enormous?
And how the fuck do you make a black-hole anyway?
Well, I’m guessing, and again I must reiterate so as not to lend too much credence to my musing, for they are only that, I wouldn't want to be seen to be leading anyone down the wrong path here; I’m no fisiks boffin furfukake, but...I’m guessing the answer may be rather simple one.
First, you make a mini black-hole…
Doesn’t that sound to you like an oxymoron?
“It’s alright, it’s only a mini black-hole”.
“Oh, okay.”
I mean, I’m no scientist, honest, but surely by definition a black-hole is an awesome, indescribably powerful phenomenon, yeah? The fact that they now apparently come in mini sizes does not offer me too much consolation.
It’s not like Mars Bars or ladies skirts.
It’s like a mini cataclysm, or a minor apocalypse- can these things ever be seen as less than fucken enormous?
And how the fuck do you make a black-hole anyway?
Well, I’m guessing, and again I must reiterate so as not to lend too much credence to my musing, for they are only that, I wouldn't want to be seen to be leading anyone down the wrong path here; I’m no fisiks boffin furfukake, but...I’m guessing the answer may be rather simple one.
First, you make a mini black-hole…
posted by Alias at 3:31 PM
0 comments
Large Hadron Collider
Well, It's a big fucker, measuring 27 kilometers, lying underneath the Franco/Swiss border, and reputed to be the biggest machine on planet Earth. It looks like summit out of a James Bond movie, and it's being used to re-create the "Big Bang" (the reason for building such a colossal and expensive machine being to study the ultimate building blocks of all matter, and in particular to search for the Higgs boson, known as the God particle because of its postulated commanding role in explaining how subatomic particles interact with each other.) Some fear that this particular particle collider could create black holes that could devour the Earth! Oh, and it gets switched on next Wednesday! The collider is contained in a circular tunnel with a circumference of 27 kilometres (17 mi) at a depth ranging from 50 to 175 metres underground. The 3.8 metre diameter, concrete-lined tunnel, constructed between 1983 and 1988, was formerly used to house the LEP, an electron-positron collider. It crosses the border between Switzerland and France at four points, although most of it is in France. UC Santa Barbara Physics Professor Steve Giddings has co-authored a paper documenting his study of the safety of microscopic black holes that might possibly be produced by the Large Hadron Collider (LHC), which is being switched on September 10th 2008. The paper, co-authored by Michelangelo Mangano of the European Center for Nuclear Research (CERN), which is building the world's largest particle collider (and remember- never totally trust a scientist funded by the same group their results support), investigates hypothesized behavior of tiny black holes that might be created by high-energy collisions in the CERN particle accelerator. If they appear at all, these black holes would exist for "about a nano-nano-nanosecond," Giddings said, adding that they would have no effect of consequence. However, the paper studies whether there could be any large-scale effects in an extremely hypothetical situation where the black holes don't evaporate. The Giddings/Mangano study concludes that such microscopic black holes would be harmless. In fact, he added, nature is continuously creating LHC-like collisions when much higher-energy cosmic rays collide with the Earth's atmosphere, with the Sun, and with other objects such as white dwarfs and neutron stars. If such collisions posed a danger, the consequences for Earth or these astronomical objects would have become evident already, Giddings said. "The future health of our planet and the safety of its people are of paramount concern to us all," Giddings said. "There were already very strong physics arguments that there is no risk from hypothetical micro black holes, and we've provided additional arguments ruling out risk even under very bizarre hypotheses." The LHC, near Geneva, Switzerland, will begin operations this September. It will collide proton beams at levels of energy never before produced in a particle accelerator. Those results will then be studied for clues to new forces of nature, and possibly even extra dimensions of space. The first collision of beams is 10th September. The $8 billion project has taken 14 years. Concerns have been raised regarding the safety of the Large Hadron Collider on the grounds that high-energy particle collisions performed in the LHC might produce dangerous phenomena, including micro black holes, strangelets, vacuum bubbles and magnetic monopoles. On 21 March 2008, a complaint requesting an injunction to halt the LHC's startup was filed by a group of seven concerned individuals against CERN and its American collaborators, the US Department of Energy, the National Science Foundation and the Fermi National Accelerator Laboratory, before the United States District Court for the District of Hawaii. Following the publication of the LSAG report, the US Government called for summary dismissal of the suit against the government defendants. On 26 August 2008, suit was filed against CERN in the European Court of Human Rights in Strasbourg alleging the Large Hadron Collider poses grave risks for the safety of the 20 member states of the European Union and their citizens Two men have filed a federal lawsuit in Hawaii in an attempt to halt the LHC due to their concerns about the safety of black holes. Giddings' study has been cited by CERN as evidence of the safety of the LHC. Some of their fears are based on recent developments in physics which suggest the possibility that an experiment, scheduled to begin at the European research facility at CERN 10/9/08, will destroy the Earth. CERN is installing a new high-energy particle collider, the Large Hadron Collider. It is expected to produce particles scientists have not seen before. Two of these particles could be dangerous:
Black Holes - Several string theorists have published papers predicting that the LHC will produce mini black holes. In the worst case, a mini black hole could swallow Earth.
Strangelets - another potential collider product, might catalyze conversion of normal matter into more strangelets, turning Earth into a small ball of strangelets.
CERN has published a paper asserting several safety factors. Black holes are supposed to dissipate via Hawking radiation. A collection of strangelets is supposed to be electrically positive on its surface, and therefore not attract other matter. However, new studies have put these safety factors in question. New physics papers question the existence of Hawking radiation. A recently published paper finds that a collection of strangelets can be negative on its surface. Other safety factors also seem subject to question.
Oh, and BBC4 Radio will be broadcasting "Big Bang Day" on 10 September to coincide with LHC being switched on.
So, to recap: "On September 10th, CERN - the largest centre of particle physics research in the world, will switch on the Large Hadron Collider (LHC) and in the process begin arguably the most ambitious science experiment ever undertaken. This "Big Bang Machine" will recreate conditions just a billionth of a second after the big bang and in the process may answer some of the most profound questions about our universe and how it all began. By smashing particles together at speeds 99.99% the speed of light, scientists hope to answer some of the greatest mysteries in particle physics. What is mass? What is dark matter - the invisible but massive substance that fills the universe? Why is there no antimatter ? Are extra dimensions and parallel universes science fact rather than science fiction? In order to answer these deep questions about the cosmos, the LHC will whiz tiny subatomic particles, known as protons, around a giant ring-shaped tunnel, 27km in circumference that runs 100 metres below the Swiss/French countryside. The particles will then be smashed together 600 million times per second, and the results recorded and observed by four huge detectors that sit in cathedral-sized chambers, deep underground. The experiment will generate 40,000 gigabytes of data each day, which will be analysed by a virtual supercomputer made up of 100,000 processors around the world, linked by the Internet. It's taken 20 years of preparation, 10 billion dollars and has involved more than 10,000 scientists from 70 countries. Many of the technologies it uses hadn't even been invented when scientists started building it. Scientists have called the LHC the greatest scientific endeavour since the Apollo moon landings, and it heralds a new era in our understanding of the universe we live in." http://www.bbc.co.uk/radio4/bigbang/programmes.shtml
An interesting BBC clip showing what might happen: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SndbB8hA0UQ
So, what's it to be, do you think? The opening of a gateway that will allow our lord satan to enter our world, as foretold by the same people who once believed that the atom bomb would ignite the atmosphere, or that train travel was imposible due to the human body being unable to withstand speeds of 24 mph?
Messin'round playing god?
Or "the greatest scientific endeavour since the (disputed) Apollo moon landings ?
And anyhoo, who doesn't like a good scare, eh?
Still, best not put anything in your diary for 11th September this year.
Just in case.
Black Holes - Several string theorists have published papers predicting that the LHC will produce mini black holes. In the worst case, a mini black hole could swallow Earth.
Strangelets - another potential collider product, might catalyze conversion of normal matter into more strangelets, turning Earth into a small ball of strangelets.
CERN has published a paper asserting several safety factors. Black holes are supposed to dissipate via Hawking radiation. A collection of strangelets is supposed to be electrically positive on its surface, and therefore not attract other matter. However, new studies have put these safety factors in question. New physics papers question the existence of Hawking radiation. A recently published paper finds that a collection of strangelets can be negative on its surface. Other safety factors also seem subject to question.
Oh, and BBC4 Radio will be broadcasting "Big Bang Day" on 10 September to coincide with LHC being switched on.
So, to recap: "On September 10th, CERN - the largest centre of particle physics research in the world, will switch on the Large Hadron Collider (LHC) and in the process begin arguably the most ambitious science experiment ever undertaken. This "Big Bang Machine" will recreate conditions just a billionth of a second after the big bang and in the process may answer some of the most profound questions about our universe and how it all began. By smashing particles together at speeds 99.99% the speed of light, scientists hope to answer some of the greatest mysteries in particle physics. What is mass? What is dark matter - the invisible but massive substance that fills the universe? Why is there no antimatter ? Are extra dimensions and parallel universes science fact rather than science fiction? In order to answer these deep questions about the cosmos, the LHC will whiz tiny subatomic particles, known as protons, around a giant ring-shaped tunnel, 27km in circumference that runs 100 metres below the Swiss/French countryside. The particles will then be smashed together 600 million times per second, and the results recorded and observed by four huge detectors that sit in cathedral-sized chambers, deep underground. The experiment will generate 40,000 gigabytes of data each day, which will be analysed by a virtual supercomputer made up of 100,000 processors around the world, linked by the Internet. It's taken 20 years of preparation, 10 billion dollars and has involved more than 10,000 scientists from 70 countries. Many of the technologies it uses hadn't even been invented when scientists started building it. Scientists have called the LHC the greatest scientific endeavour since the Apollo moon landings, and it heralds a new era in our understanding of the universe we live in." http://www.bbc.co.uk/radio4/bigbang/programmes.shtml
An interesting BBC clip showing what might happen: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SndbB8hA0UQ
So, what's it to be, do you think? The opening of a gateway that will allow our lord satan to enter our world, as foretold by the same people who once believed that the atom bomb would ignite the atmosphere, or that train travel was imposible due to the human body being unable to withstand speeds of 24 mph?
Messin'round playing god?
Or "the greatest scientific endeavour since the (disputed) Apollo moon landings ?
And anyhoo, who doesn't like a good scare, eh?
Still, best not put anything in your diary for 11th September this year.
Just in case.
posted by Alias at 3:28 PM
1 comments
Tom Waits, Edinburgh 27/7/08
From barely decipherable, drunken ramblings found on a scrap of scribbled paper by my bedside this very ‘morn…
All Glitter, No Doom.
There must be a tax dodge in it somewhere, I mean- hiring a couple of the Waits boys to play in his own backing band? To help finance this year’s family European vacation, one suspects. But, still, what a band.
Although the obvious question must be asked of gifted wind and string man Vincent Henry -could he not strap a couple of rusted cymbals between his knees and mibee kick a big bass drum the odd time as well, the lazy sod? And despite the theatre’s, indeed the whole country’s, anti-cigarette stance, the guitarist, Omar Torrez, was smokin’ throughout. The whole band were. That expression (never used enough, in my humble opinion) “Tighter than Tom Thumb’s arsehole” definitely springs to mind.
Fantastic, inspirational set- yeah, of course at one point I did wish for Burma Shave, but I was getting greedy by that point- greedy, feeling lucky and touched by the songs I got to experience. We could have sat there all night, enthralled, fingers crossed for just one more song.
Wonderful stage dressing/look/feel/vibe blending and blurring naturally into the ornate surroundings of the capital city’s listed theatre, which dates from 1929 and was modelled on the Roxy Cinema in New York.
And it's crowd were good, if mibee a wee bit reticent to join in whole-heartedly on the audience participation moments. I think this was probably just down to being a good bit awe-struck and enchanted by their proximity to Tom Waits, unwilling to forgo even a second of the magic by, god forbid, interacting with it.
Before the show started and as they were being seated, a couple of wags behind me exclaimed on realising their fortuitous seating location, “At least we’ll be able to see the hem of his garment, even if we can’t actually touch it!” We silently agreed that it was more than enough.
Okay, so a few of the tall tales and insect facts divulged by Tom were familiar to me, but they all got big laughs in the right places and, hey, they were still another highlight in a show of highlights for me.
As for the tunes themselves- I was happy. I knew and loved every song, some bringing unnoticed tears and all gave unstoppable grins. The sight of folks in the queue to leave after the gig, with glitter in their hair and on their shoulders sparkling as they made their slow, dazed way out into the night will stay with me, and it’s glimmer seemed to me like the tiny remains of the magic scattered by Tom tonight, slowly fading away like pixie dust.
Or something.
Tom’s hold on the crowd was bewitching, it’s spell never broken- I rose cheering from my seat every damn time he amusingly commanded us to!
Merchandise wise, I couldn’t see me wearing any of the 3 official t-shirt designs, but I liked the idea behind them and at £15.00 a pop they were surprisingly cheaper than I had been expecting. Ok, I might have worn the one that had what looked a bit like a wee stick-man on it, but the little Confession book was a steal- it’s fun, different, but limited to 5000 European tour sales. The nice bootleg t-shirt I got outside was a bargain too at £10.00 for a fairly cool design. I’m off to sleep now, perchance to dream, no doubt, of stomped dust clouds and swinging bare lightbulbs. Of workboots and carny barkers, Romany Greek Cuban-heeled bar mitzvas - the music at which is real gone, trust me, I now know.
Of god and The Devil and The Blues, Invitations and Lies.
Love. Crimson velvet desire, and swamp green obsession.
The World, the dirt in the ground and, above us all, the Moon- in all it’s hues and guises.
Spiders.
Dead Ringers.
Rags.
Stitches.
Rain.
Dogs.
Rain Dogs.
Eggs and Sausage, and the laws against them.
Sweat and Steam.
Mules, I have no doubt, and Diamonds and will o’ the wisps.
And…
And, for once, the Ohrwurm that visit tonight will be welcome, I'm sure.
All Glitter, No Doom.
There must be a tax dodge in it somewhere, I mean- hiring a couple of the Waits boys to play in his own backing band? To help finance this year’s family European vacation, one suspects. But, still, what a band.
Although the obvious question must be asked of gifted wind and string man Vincent Henry -could he not strap a couple of rusted cymbals between his knees and mibee kick a big bass drum the odd time as well, the lazy sod? And despite the theatre’s, indeed the whole country’s, anti-cigarette stance, the guitarist, Omar Torrez, was smokin’ throughout. The whole band were. That expression (never used enough, in my humble opinion) “Tighter than Tom Thumb’s arsehole” definitely springs to mind.
Fantastic, inspirational set- yeah, of course at one point I did wish for Burma Shave, but I was getting greedy by that point- greedy, feeling lucky and touched by the songs I got to experience. We could have sat there all night, enthralled, fingers crossed for just one more song.
Wonderful stage dressing/look/feel/vibe blending and blurring naturally into the ornate surroundings of the capital city’s listed theatre, which dates from 1929 and was modelled on the Roxy Cinema in New York.
And it's crowd were good, if mibee a wee bit reticent to join in whole-heartedly on the audience participation moments. I think this was probably just down to being a good bit awe-struck and enchanted by their proximity to Tom Waits, unwilling to forgo even a second of the magic by, god forbid, interacting with it.
Before the show started and as they were being seated, a couple of wags behind me exclaimed on realising their fortuitous seating location, “At least we’ll be able to see the hem of his garment, even if we can’t actually touch it!” We silently agreed that it was more than enough.
Okay, so a few of the tall tales and insect facts divulged by Tom were familiar to me, but they all got big laughs in the right places and, hey, they were still another highlight in a show of highlights for me.
As for the tunes themselves- I was happy. I knew and loved every song, some bringing unnoticed tears and all gave unstoppable grins. The sight of folks in the queue to leave after the gig, with glitter in their hair and on their shoulders sparkling as they made their slow, dazed way out into the night will stay with me, and it’s glimmer seemed to me like the tiny remains of the magic scattered by Tom tonight, slowly fading away like pixie dust.
Or something.
Tom’s hold on the crowd was bewitching, it’s spell never broken- I rose cheering from my seat every damn time he amusingly commanded us to!
Merchandise wise, I couldn’t see me wearing any of the 3 official t-shirt designs, but I liked the idea behind them and at £15.00 a pop they were surprisingly cheaper than I had been expecting. Ok, I might have worn the one that had what looked a bit like a wee stick-man on it, but the little Confession book was a steal- it’s fun, different, but limited to 5000 European tour sales. The nice bootleg t-shirt I got outside was a bargain too at £10.00 for a fairly cool design. I’m off to sleep now, perchance to dream, no doubt, of stomped dust clouds and swinging bare lightbulbs. Of workboots and carny barkers, Romany Greek Cuban-heeled bar mitzvas - the music at which is real gone, trust me, I now know.
Of god and The Devil and The Blues, Invitations and Lies.
Love. Crimson velvet desire, and swamp green obsession.
The World, the dirt in the ground and, above us all, the Moon- in all it’s hues and guises.
Spiders.
Dead Ringers.
Rags.
Stitches.
Rain.
Dogs.
Rain Dogs.
Eggs and Sausage, and the laws against them.
Sweat and Steam.
Mules, I have no doubt, and Diamonds and will o’ the wisps.
And…
And, for once, the Ohrwurm that visit tonight will be welcome, I'm sure.
posted by Alias at 3:18 PM
0 comments
Tuesday, June 10, 2008
For about 10 years I lived up a close in Ibrox, and right across from my flat was a pretty-much all-night "grocers"/papershop run by an old Asian guy who had to have been a saint to work there.
I went in one time and was just about to get served when this jaikey-looking cunt came staggering in, shouting,
"Can I get a bottle of Turps?"
"Sorry I can't serve you that, " I remember the old guy saying, "you'll drink it."
"Naw, man," the junkie looking fuck says, "Naw, I'm painting the hoose, and I need some Turps."
"No way, I've had the cops round here telling me I'm in trouble if I sell Meths, and Turps an' that to all the jaikeys" comes the reasonable reply, "Away you go."
The jaikey was having none of it though.
"I'm telling you," he insisted, "I need some Turps to put my brushes in, cos I'm painting the bloody flat!"
After what felt like an age, the old guy finally relented, and I remember him reaching for a bottle from the dusty shelf behind him.
"Naw, naw," says the jake, "Can I have one from the fridge?"
I went in one time and was just about to get served when this jaikey-looking cunt came staggering in, shouting,
"Can I get a bottle of Turps?"
"Sorry I can't serve you that, " I remember the old guy saying, "you'll drink it."
"Naw, man," the junkie looking fuck says, "Naw, I'm painting the hoose, and I need some Turps."
"No way, I've had the cops round here telling me I'm in trouble if I sell Meths, and Turps an' that to all the jaikeys" comes the reasonable reply, "Away you go."
The jaikey was having none of it though.
"I'm telling you," he insisted, "I need some Turps to put my brushes in, cos I'm painting the bloody flat!"
After what felt like an age, the old guy finally relented, and I remember him reaching for a bottle from the dusty shelf behind him.
"Naw, naw," says the jake, "Can I have one from the fridge?"
posted by Alias at 3:40 PM
0 comments
Thursday, May 08, 2008
M!B Moments
In absolutely no order at all:
1) Like a few others I have to include the Rockstage TV show, I remember sitting up biting my nails all through Hazel O'Conner's set counting down the seconds till the MiB hit the screen. Screen is probably too kind a word for it though- I watched this up in my room, me with headphones plugged into a Tapedeck/Radio/TV combi we had up there. One of those car ariel type things you had to pull out and stick at a crazy angle just to get a picture, holding it in place when you got one and with a Black & White screen of about 4" Square, but it didn't matter- for that half hour I was in heaven and got to record it too on an audio tape that I wore out within a couple of months. Getting to see that show again a couple of years ago for the first time since then was truly breathtaking, it's still probably the best filmed performance of the band I have ever seen.
2) 1st gig- it really is a blur now, the details gone, lost to the mists of time and burnt out braincells but I still wouldn't swap what memories I have left with anyone. There might have been people at the same gig with better memories of it than me but no one felt as fucken electric as I did that night. Being "lost in the crowd" at those early Stranglers gigs. No feeling like it. Not even seeing the band for most of the gig due to being right at the front of the huge Apollo stage and being part of the universal unconscious, jumping and shouting and clapping and cheering and singing along and sweating and falling over and picking others up. Truly excstatic. It shaped the way I experienced gigs for a lifetime, I'm still unable (or not comfortable) to sit at a fucken Rock N Roll show. Sacrilege. And experiencing it all over again, once again sweaty and bouncing and lost in music last year at the ABC gig.
Bliss.
3) Going into the town and buying The Gospel According To... on release day (the first time of what would become a ritual). Feeling so fucken PROUD striding up to the counter (HMV Shop, Union Street, Glasgow) and asking for the new Stranglers album. How good did that use to feel? I love the Stranglers - you fucken know it and who gives a flying fuck what anyone else thinks. Studying every inch of the gatefold cover all the way home on the train (sadly no printed inner sleeve this time, I loved ogling all the icons on The Raven and all the wee live pix on Live XCerts), hardly able to wait to stick it on the turn-table and find out what the MiB had been up to.
4) Oran Mor gig- Fan Power in action!
I once stuffed my face with pasta, I think it was. Might have been chicken. Or mibee lasagne, next to Baz and JJ at the Oran Mor. Thanks to John (who was doing the sound that night) who I banged into in the bar beforehand and, after sharing his cracking stories of Stranglers old and new he kindly invited me to sit his table. I ended up at the table at the front where JJ and Baz would spend their time between sets, with another load of hard core fans, and a couple who had heard about the event on the radio. The girl was a raving Stranglers fanatic, but her boyfriend was a self confessed "Stranglers virgin" and had just been dragged along, really. And guess who the night's main attractions sat right next to? That's right- the guy next to me that had been dragged along by his burd! Best seat in the house he had- with both Baz and JJ leaning in to have a chinwag throughout the sets, much to the ungrateful swine's indifference.
Still, I was close enough to get Baz a drink during JJ's set and I also got to hear the big guitarist mutter, under his breath, "I couldn't take the grief!" as JJ took the stage and said something like, "Well, if we ever need a new singer we know who to ask".
It was a brilliant night, a great laugh with a raffle and all sorts of mad pish, and a chance to bang into MatesinBlack, both new and old- at the signing/chat at the end I ran into an old mate I hadn't seen for about 12 years, so that was another "made my night" moment.
5) I'd have to include finding the M!B Forums site (and through it Dr.Blacks site and the BUT PDFs) in my personal MiB moments, can't remember now how I stumbled upon it, but it definitely rekindled the old Stranglers flame that had burned down low in the preceding years. Once I got a PC and started looking around the internet and buying too much from ebay (got well sick of the sight of Mr.Postie dragging his bulging sack down my garden path) it was The Stranglers that I returned to, buying up a couple of old Mk1 gig discs and DVDs for nostalgias sake but never really counted the band at the time as a going concern, but it was from visiting the Burning Up Time site that I lost myself all over again in the world of the Stranglers, past and present. It rekindled my interest enough to go see JJ's now infamous solo gig at Kind Tuts, where I met Christopher who ended up organising the Oran Mor gig. I took in a few more Hugh gigs, solo and with band and resigned myself to once again being a fan and going to see the Stranglers again next time they played, convincing myself that I could now just about handle "the new singer"!
6) Meeting JJ, Hugh and Dave in the alley beside the Apollo on the Aural Sculpture tour, and getting the 12" of Bearcage/Shah signed by the same outside the Barrowlands years later (How fucken huge JJ and Shug looked that day as they strode towards the entrance (and me) from their shared car).
7) Sticking Aural Sculpture on for the very first time and hearing those horns come in halfway through Ice Queen- it really was devastating for me at the time. And not in a good way. Can't all be good memories!
8) Drunkenly agreeing to sell a mate in the pub a couple of shaped and picture discs in the "dark days" and then luckily forgetting all about it when sober.
Sorry John.
9) Sitting up all night in bed listening to Street Sounds on Radio Clyde through one of those wee hearing-aid style headphone thingies plugged into a tiny tranny, hoping for some Stranglers on the radio.
10) Searching for Stranglers goodies at countless record fairs and up the Barras. The totally shit quality video tape I got with the Black Doc, a couple of TV shows and a bit of the No Nukes gig on it was a prized possession for many years.
11) Being totally into the band at just the right age- Pissed out of my box on Croft Original, doing the JJ shuffle on a disused bandstand in St.Andrews. http://www.thestranglerssite.co.uk/forums/viewtopic.php?t=6462&start=36
12) Being so proud of the band and Golden Brown when I was at school and it was heading up the charts and on the radio, other people started to get a small inkling of what all the fuss was about, why I always wore docs and black.
Shit, and that's just the ones I remember tonght!
1) Like a few others I have to include the Rockstage TV show, I remember sitting up biting my nails all through Hazel O'Conner's set counting down the seconds till the MiB hit the screen. Screen is probably too kind a word for it though- I watched this up in my room, me with headphones plugged into a Tapedeck/Radio/TV combi we had up there. One of those car ariel type things you had to pull out and stick at a crazy angle just to get a picture, holding it in place when you got one and with a Black & White screen of about 4" Square, but it didn't matter- for that half hour I was in heaven and got to record it too on an audio tape that I wore out within a couple of months. Getting to see that show again a couple of years ago for the first time since then was truly breathtaking, it's still probably the best filmed performance of the band I have ever seen.
2) 1st gig- it really is a blur now, the details gone, lost to the mists of time and burnt out braincells but I still wouldn't swap what memories I have left with anyone. There might have been people at the same gig with better memories of it than me but no one felt as fucken electric as I did that night. Being "lost in the crowd" at those early Stranglers gigs. No feeling like it. Not even seeing the band for most of the gig due to being right at the front of the huge Apollo stage and being part of the universal unconscious, jumping and shouting and clapping and cheering and singing along and sweating and falling over and picking others up. Truly excstatic. It shaped the way I experienced gigs for a lifetime, I'm still unable (or not comfortable) to sit at a fucken Rock N Roll show. Sacrilege. And experiencing it all over again, once again sweaty and bouncing and lost in music last year at the ABC gig.
Bliss.
3) Going into the town and buying The Gospel According To... on release day (the first time of what would become a ritual). Feeling so fucken PROUD striding up to the counter (HMV Shop, Union Street, Glasgow) and asking for the new Stranglers album. How good did that use to feel? I love the Stranglers - you fucken know it and who gives a flying fuck what anyone else thinks. Studying every inch of the gatefold cover all the way home on the train (sadly no printed inner sleeve this time, I loved ogling all the icons on The Raven and all the wee live pix on Live XCerts), hardly able to wait to stick it on the turn-table and find out what the MiB had been up to.
4) Oran Mor gig- Fan Power in action!
I once stuffed my face with pasta, I think it was. Might have been chicken. Or mibee lasagne, next to Baz and JJ at the Oran Mor. Thanks to John (who was doing the sound that night) who I banged into in the bar beforehand and, after sharing his cracking stories of Stranglers old and new he kindly invited me to sit his table. I ended up at the table at the front where JJ and Baz would spend their time between sets, with another load of hard core fans, and a couple who had heard about the event on the radio. The girl was a raving Stranglers fanatic, but her boyfriend was a self confessed "Stranglers virgin" and had just been dragged along, really. And guess who the night's main attractions sat right next to? That's right- the guy next to me that had been dragged along by his burd! Best seat in the house he had- with both Baz and JJ leaning in to have a chinwag throughout the sets, much to the ungrateful swine's indifference.
Still, I was close enough to get Baz a drink during JJ's set and I also got to hear the big guitarist mutter, under his breath, "I couldn't take the grief!" as JJ took the stage and said something like, "Well, if we ever need a new singer we know who to ask".
It was a brilliant night, a great laugh with a raffle and all sorts of mad pish, and a chance to bang into MatesinBlack, both new and old- at the signing/chat at the end I ran into an old mate I hadn't seen for about 12 years, so that was another "made my night" moment.
5) I'd have to include finding the M!B Forums site (and through it Dr.Blacks site and the BUT PDFs) in my personal MiB moments, can't remember now how I stumbled upon it, but it definitely rekindled the old Stranglers flame that had burned down low in the preceding years. Once I got a PC and started looking around the internet and buying too much from ebay (got well sick of the sight of Mr.Postie dragging his bulging sack down my garden path) it was The Stranglers that I returned to, buying up a couple of old Mk1 gig discs and DVDs for nostalgias sake but never really counted the band at the time as a going concern, but it was from visiting the Burning Up Time site that I lost myself all over again in the world of the Stranglers, past and present. It rekindled my interest enough to go see JJ's now infamous solo gig at Kind Tuts, where I met Christopher who ended up organising the Oran Mor gig. I took in a few more Hugh gigs, solo and with band and resigned myself to once again being a fan and going to see the Stranglers again next time they played, convincing myself that I could now just about handle "the new singer"!
6) Meeting JJ, Hugh and Dave in the alley beside the Apollo on the Aural Sculpture tour, and getting the 12" of Bearcage/Shah signed by the same outside the Barrowlands years later (How fucken huge JJ and Shug looked that day as they strode towards the entrance (and me) from their shared car).
7) Sticking Aural Sculpture on for the very first time and hearing those horns come in halfway through Ice Queen- it really was devastating for me at the time. And not in a good way. Can't all be good memories!
8) Drunkenly agreeing to sell a mate in the pub a couple of shaped and picture discs in the "dark days" and then luckily forgetting all about it when sober.
Sorry John.
9) Sitting up all night in bed listening to Street Sounds on Radio Clyde through one of those wee hearing-aid style headphone thingies plugged into a tiny tranny, hoping for some Stranglers on the radio.
10) Searching for Stranglers goodies at countless record fairs and up the Barras. The totally shit quality video tape I got with the Black Doc, a couple of TV shows and a bit of the No Nukes gig on it was a prized possession for many years.
11) Being totally into the band at just the right age- Pissed out of my box on Croft Original, doing the JJ shuffle on a disused bandstand in St.Andrews. http://www.thestranglerssite.co.uk/forums/viewtopic.php?t=6462&start=36
12) Being so proud of the band and Golden Brown when I was at school and it was heading up the charts and on the radio, other people started to get a small inkling of what all the fuss was about, why I always wore docs and black.
Shit, and that's just the ones I remember tonght!
posted by Alias at 2:33 PM
0 comments
Sunday 4th November 2007 was the 30th anniversary of the last time The Stranglers played the famous Roundhouse in London, when they broke the existing record for sold out shows there (previously held by The Stones, I think) and to celebrate the fact the band decided to play gigs in Glasgow, Manchester and the Roundhouse it's self, playing the exact same set on the same night as they had done 30 years ago.
I managed to make it to the Glasgow and London shows, here is my tale:
Firstly, I thought I'd do a review of the Glasgow & Roundhouse gigs at the same time, a sort of travelogue, if you will. But, after a chat with a few other fans on the Thursday night in Glasgow, I was reminded that if I leave it too late, a couple of days or so, I'll probably have forgotten half of whatever I had half remembered not to forget in the first place. This would be due, obviously, to my advanced years and goldfish-like memory span these days, and not that the gig was in any way unmemorable- it was a fantastic gig, and a brilliant night out.
One early highlight for me was helping to finally pop my mate Paul's Stranglers-cherry. His major Stranglers claim to fame up until then had been getting to shake Dave Greenfield's hand in the alley outside The Glasgow Apollo back in 1984. He never went to the Apollo gig though, and up until that night had never seen them live.
Shocking, I know.
Anyway, all it eventually took, after initially only luring him out for a few pints before the rest of us went to the gig, was a good few pints of Heavy and a couple of hours well spent in the pub soaking in the vibe of the gathering Stranglers fans, all chomping at the bit eager for the gig, all with a crackin tale or two to tell.
We left the pub about 8.30ish? and crossed a street now black with Stranglers fans to get to the venue, me still not tired of tonight's joke of catching a fellow Stranglers Tshirt clad fan's eye, nodding slightly and asking, "Out anywhere special tonight mate?" and Paul was soon scraping up enough dosh to buy a ticket from a tout outside. I got into the hall and had a last hope that'll hold me for the whole gig pish (especially, as it transpired, no Golden Brown to give me time to empty a full again bladder mid gig) and I got back out in time to hear the distinctive pre-intro rumblings of JJ Burnel's Heroes bass line- No intro music at all- straight into it -wham bam thankyoumam.
And already, the rest is a wonderful blur.
I remember a brilliant set list, and trying to ring my other mate Paul, in London, on my mobile, not sure if he was getting the calls or not, and I recall an ecstatic crowd loving every minute and a band with very warmed cockles in response, and that I was grinning from ear to ear at the end. And afterwards my mate Paul raved about what a great gig it was too, he was very impressed, although, as it was his first Stranglers gig, he would have quite liked to have heard Nice N Sleazy, Duchess and even Always The Sun, (there's always one, isn't there? )- I did assure him that it was just his tough shit- as it says on the tin- tonight it was 1977 again and no one I saw looked the least bit disappointed. Quite the opposite, in fact.
Thirty years ago eh? Who'd a thunk it? Well, my body for a start. Drinking- it's a young man's sport isn't it? 20yrs ago I could handle all that Going out on the piss every Friday, Saturday and Sunday night, and still being up relatively fresh for work come Monday morning. Now, not so much. Drinking on Thursday afternoon before that night's gig 'till the wee small hours was brilliant, and just about worth the cost of admission the next day - a depressive, grey hangover that hailed from one of the less exclusive outer provinces of Hell. Finding my way to the airport and down to London the next day was fine though, and marked by a nice building buzz about the trip. Classic schoolboy error when I got there though, drinking with PaulinLondon 'till 4am the morning of the gig. Fucken brilliant idea at the time though, highlights being meeting the man in the first place, the cool local Sicilian restaurant were we finally stumbled off to through the bright lights of Finchley (Impressively, all the staff knew Paul by name and they happily revealed that their favourite Stranglers song was Stai zitto!) and then the pished up Stranglers jam back at Paul's until my Hugh Cornwell impersonation got just too accurate and I burst the first E string with a surprised "Whoa!" Brilliant night, me and Paul rambling non-stop about our love of the band.
Felt fucken shit when I woke up mind, and first stop for me was up to the local chemist for a large cork for my arse; it had been happily producing what had looked (and take my word for it here) what had looked like Large Manure Smoothies ever since the pizzas the night before. The pizza was brilliant at the time, but it melted in my mouth only to come shooting out the other end minutes later. Like that old culinary joke about curries- I don't mind a piss after a meal, but not out my fucken arse!
So yeah, it was down the local Finchley hardware shop early next morning to get me a bathplug and chain for my arse. Still, it gave me the chance to see a bit of the local history, a guided tour from Paul that culminated with a good ten minutes nosing around the back of where The Torrington pub used to be, a very early venue for the Stranglers, now sadly though not surprisingly a Starbucks, and seeing where the ice-cream van they used to carry their gear about in would have been parked and the swing doors they would have struggled getting through with Dave's Hammond organ. Forced myself back onto the booze by mid morning, though basically spent the rest of the day trying not to shit myself, wouldn't recommend it, not as much fun as it sounds. Anyone I met must have thought I looked like I had a bit of a face on, like I was straining to hold in a particularly violent shart.
And I probably was.
But put that thought out of your mind, if you can, by lunchtime Paul had put on an impressive spread of cold meats, chicken, prawns, salads-the works, not to mention all the booze, as the smoking area outside his gaff filled up with a constant stream of smiling faces, all enjoying the buzz and the warm Autumn sunshine. Paul was in fine form, the perfect host, Stranglers on constant rotation on the HiFi, filling every glass as they emptied, the previous nights drinking spree a piece of piss for him to handle. Got introduced to Paul's lovely mate from work Yvonne, who first saw the band back in the 70's, in a sweaty little pub the size of the inside of a matchbox, and who's loved Paul dragging her to the gigs in more recent years.
Too soon though it was time to fill the mini-bus that had been waiting a bit long outside the door and a quick jaunt into the big smoke. Not quick enough for two particularly weak bladdered passengers (who shall remain nameless) who could just about hang on -crossing their legs, eyes, fingers and toes until they could jump out into the nearest hotel urinal- the resulting groan of pleasure as we, sorry, they made their merciful release could be heard all the way back to the bus, and gives me shivers even now. Still, we were back on the bus again soon enough, and it was a short hop from there to the Spread Eagle pub in Camden, our pre-gig meeting spot. It was second wind time for me for a while, as the bar filled up and spread out smoking into the street and the Black & White album pumped from the speakers inside. Lovely spot for any bird watchers out there too, I seem to recall, what with the great view of the ladies gym across the road. Happy smiling faces everywhere, all decked out in Stranglers t-shirts- brilliant vibe.
Spoke to a few folk outside the pub who weren't going that night, just happened to be out for a pint and got caught up in the buzz, but most of them assured me that they had seen the band back in the mid'70's, playing a sweaty little pub the size of a fag box. Again, too soon, it was time to take the trek to The Roundhouse, and what had been billed as the Main Event. The walk to the gig turned out to be an added bonus, Camden on a warm Sunday night was heaving with all manner of freaks, weirdoes, reprobates and butterflies. And not all of them in Stranglers tshirts either mind. It was a great sight for the tourists to see.
Got inside, saw the end of John Cooper Clarke's set, he told a couple of good jokes and got a great reception I thought. Band comes on, I jump up and down, get covered in a constant spray of lager, jumped about a bit more, got hot, escaped to the bar, sat down, cooled off, watched the band some more, jumped about some more, got covered in more lager, flicked the v's at the overhead camera (they were filming for a DVD) - repeat for about a set and a half and stagger out through the throng at the end to the fresh air in the street.
By the time I hit the Marathon bar, (a kebab shop, basically, but with drink and "entertainment"and the final port of call on that day's busy schedule) across the road from The Roundhouse, I was more than flagging, starting to dream about my kip and my guts were still playing up from all the abuse of the past couple of nights. Even a few hours sleep on the De-flatable mattress back at Pauls was starting to look like nirvana. I mean- kebab, chips, booze, a room full of fucken mad characters and boisterous Stranglers fans all on fine form, with a rockabilly cat from hell playing live and slurring out some top tunes and strange guitar licks as a sound-track- on any other night I would have been in my element, I just wish could have drunk more but I'd burnt out by that stage, still sweating like a papist from the gig. Fucken old lightweight that I am. Everyone else was having the time of their lives thought, then it was a taxi back to Paul's with him and three others that were crashing at his, a small aperitif, then a couple of hours trying to sleep though a cacophony of farts, belching, coughing and finally snoring from a certain dood who shall remain nameless. Next morning Gizz commented that he hadn't realised the Tube ran underneath Paul's gaff, obviously mistaking it's floor shaking rumble for all the racket that had came from a now bright eyed again dood who shall remain Martin. Gizz and his best mate Greg were like a comedy double act at times, I was chuckling to myself later at their routine in the greasy spoon cafe the next morning.
We all went for the traditional pick-me-up breakfast of Kings known as Fullys - a good sized portion of Sausage, Beans, Bacon, Egg, Toast etc etc etc that filled our plates, whilst Greg, and I'm sure he wouldn't mind me saying this, who is of a slightly fuller figure than the rest of us, went for what was advertised on the menu as The Big Breakfast, which was basically what we had, only 3 times bigger and with chips. Gizz took a look at him as he was happily tucking in, shook his head and quipped, "I don't know where you put it mate." "In my mouth!" was Greg's instant reply.
Within the hour they were driving off with Martin in the back of the car and me and Paul were back into the city for a traditional English dish called an Italian (just chips for me). Again fantastic company - and a constant stream of great tales and mad experiences gained following The Stranglers for years and miles from all there, from the extremes of youth and it's exuberance from Lucy who is 14 and goes to all the gigs with her just as fanatical Dad Sid, right up to the haggard, senile ramblings of Paul himself.
Everyone I met, every single person I met for the gig, was either a total gent or a classy lady, every one of them a star. The community was vibrant.
Others I also met were: The guy on the bus to the airport on my way for the flight down, who I hadn't seen for about 20 odd years and we had a nice Stranglers chinwag.
Daniel, the "guitar playing" Guitar Man, a sort of zombie Eddie Tenpole with a repertoire to die for (and I think he might have already) and the frenzied fingers and musical dexterity of Les Dawson. His intense speedy stare haunts me even now.
Quentin Crisp and all the other Daniel groupies that strutted their considerable stuff to their hero's notes, both good and bum.
The old Rasta guy from The Marathon that was full of worldly wisdom and who had seen the Stranglers back in '77, in a sweaty matchbox sized pub in the area.
There was the toothless old scamp that tried in vain to sell Martin a ticket all through the Camden streets, unaware he was just being strung along for our amusement.
The mohawked guy and his straighter looking mate who were selling their homemade fanzine outside after the gig, in the spirit of '77 D.I.Y. Both of whom, despite not looking nearly old enough, claimed to have first seen the band back in the '70's, in some sweaty pub back-room there abouts.
I met so many characters, the crustie looking guy who pointed me the right way on the first Tube train (who had seen the band in Germany in the 90's), the Irish bloke outside having a quiet Guinness before his local was taken over by Stranglers fans, and who had seen the band back before he had moved to London, but, as I said before, the real stars were all the Stranglers fans that I was luckily enough to meet and get the chance to talk to.
Which reminds me, as an added bonus as I was winding my way home on Guy Fawkes Night, the weekend safely tucked away in the memory banks for many years viewing pleasure, I could look down from the plane over clear starry skies to the cities of London, Manchester and Glasgow as they were lit up with a constant volley of fireworks that seemed to unite and link the country.
Seemed a fitting finale to a fucken fantastic weekend actually.
I managed to make it to the Glasgow and London shows, here is my tale:
Firstly, I thought I'd do a review of the Glasgow & Roundhouse gigs at the same time, a sort of travelogue, if you will. But, after a chat with a few other fans on the Thursday night in Glasgow, I was reminded that if I leave it too late, a couple of days or so, I'll probably have forgotten half of whatever I had half remembered not to forget in the first place. This would be due, obviously, to my advanced years and goldfish-like memory span these days, and not that the gig was in any way unmemorable- it was a fantastic gig, and a brilliant night out.
One early highlight for me was helping to finally pop my mate Paul's Stranglers-cherry. His major Stranglers claim to fame up until then had been getting to shake Dave Greenfield's hand in the alley outside The Glasgow Apollo back in 1984. He never went to the Apollo gig though, and up until that night had never seen them live.
Shocking, I know.
Anyway, all it eventually took, after initially only luring him out for a few pints before the rest of us went to the gig, was a good few pints of Heavy and a couple of hours well spent in the pub soaking in the vibe of the gathering Stranglers fans, all chomping at the bit eager for the gig, all with a crackin tale or two to tell.
We left the pub about 8.30ish? and crossed a street now black with Stranglers fans to get to the venue, me still not tired of tonight's joke of catching a fellow Stranglers Tshirt clad fan's eye, nodding slightly and asking, "Out anywhere special tonight mate?" and Paul was soon scraping up enough dosh to buy a ticket from a tout outside. I got into the hall and had a last hope that'll hold me for the whole gig pish (especially, as it transpired, no Golden Brown to give me time to empty a full again bladder mid gig) and I got back out in time to hear the distinctive pre-intro rumblings of JJ Burnel's Heroes bass line- No intro music at all- straight into it -wham bam thankyoumam.
And already, the rest is a wonderful blur.
I remember a brilliant set list, and trying to ring my other mate Paul, in London, on my mobile, not sure if he was getting the calls or not, and I recall an ecstatic crowd loving every minute and a band with very warmed cockles in response, and that I was grinning from ear to ear at the end. And afterwards my mate Paul raved about what a great gig it was too, he was very impressed, although, as it was his first Stranglers gig, he would have quite liked to have heard Nice N Sleazy, Duchess and even Always The Sun, (there's always one, isn't there? )- I did assure him that it was just his tough shit- as it says on the tin- tonight it was 1977 again and no one I saw looked the least bit disappointed. Quite the opposite, in fact.
Thirty years ago eh? Who'd a thunk it? Well, my body for a start. Drinking- it's a young man's sport isn't it? 20yrs ago I could handle all that Going out on the piss every Friday, Saturday and Sunday night, and still being up relatively fresh for work come Monday morning. Now, not so much. Drinking on Thursday afternoon before that night's gig 'till the wee small hours was brilliant, and just about worth the cost of admission the next day - a depressive, grey hangover that hailed from one of the less exclusive outer provinces of Hell. Finding my way to the airport and down to London the next day was fine though, and marked by a nice building buzz about the trip. Classic schoolboy error when I got there though, drinking with PaulinLondon 'till 4am the morning of the gig. Fucken brilliant idea at the time though, highlights being meeting the man in the first place, the cool local Sicilian restaurant were we finally stumbled off to through the bright lights of Finchley (Impressively, all the staff knew Paul by name and they happily revealed that their favourite Stranglers song was Stai zitto!) and then the pished up Stranglers jam back at Paul's until my Hugh Cornwell impersonation got just too accurate and I burst the first E string with a surprised "Whoa!" Brilliant night, me and Paul rambling non-stop about our love of the band.
Felt fucken shit when I woke up mind, and first stop for me was up to the local chemist for a large cork for my arse; it had been happily producing what had looked (and take my word for it here) what had looked like Large Manure Smoothies ever since the pizzas the night before. The pizza was brilliant at the time, but it melted in my mouth only to come shooting out the other end minutes later. Like that old culinary joke about curries- I don't mind a piss after a meal, but not out my fucken arse!
So yeah, it was down the local Finchley hardware shop early next morning to get me a bathplug and chain for my arse. Still, it gave me the chance to see a bit of the local history, a guided tour from Paul that culminated with a good ten minutes nosing around the back of where The Torrington pub used to be, a very early venue for the Stranglers, now sadly though not surprisingly a Starbucks, and seeing where the ice-cream van they used to carry their gear about in would have been parked and the swing doors they would have struggled getting through with Dave's Hammond organ. Forced myself back onto the booze by mid morning, though basically spent the rest of the day trying not to shit myself, wouldn't recommend it, not as much fun as it sounds. Anyone I met must have thought I looked like I had a bit of a face on, like I was straining to hold in a particularly violent shart.
And I probably was.
But put that thought out of your mind, if you can, by lunchtime Paul had put on an impressive spread of cold meats, chicken, prawns, salads-the works, not to mention all the booze, as the smoking area outside his gaff filled up with a constant stream of smiling faces, all enjoying the buzz and the warm Autumn sunshine. Paul was in fine form, the perfect host, Stranglers on constant rotation on the HiFi, filling every glass as they emptied, the previous nights drinking spree a piece of piss for him to handle. Got introduced to Paul's lovely mate from work Yvonne, who first saw the band back in the 70's, in a sweaty little pub the size of the inside of a matchbox, and who's loved Paul dragging her to the gigs in more recent years.
Too soon though it was time to fill the mini-bus that had been waiting a bit long outside the door and a quick jaunt into the big smoke. Not quick enough for two particularly weak bladdered passengers (who shall remain nameless) who could just about hang on -crossing their legs, eyes, fingers and toes until they could jump out into the nearest hotel urinal- the resulting groan of pleasure as we, sorry, they made their merciful release could be heard all the way back to the bus, and gives me shivers even now. Still, we were back on the bus again soon enough, and it was a short hop from there to the Spread Eagle pub in Camden, our pre-gig meeting spot. It was second wind time for me for a while, as the bar filled up and spread out smoking into the street and the Black & White album pumped from the speakers inside. Lovely spot for any bird watchers out there too, I seem to recall, what with the great view of the ladies gym across the road. Happy smiling faces everywhere, all decked out in Stranglers t-shirts- brilliant vibe.
Spoke to a few folk outside the pub who weren't going that night, just happened to be out for a pint and got caught up in the buzz, but most of them assured me that they had seen the band back in the mid'70's, playing a sweaty little pub the size of a fag box. Again, too soon, it was time to take the trek to The Roundhouse, and what had been billed as the Main Event. The walk to the gig turned out to be an added bonus, Camden on a warm Sunday night was heaving with all manner of freaks, weirdoes, reprobates and butterflies. And not all of them in Stranglers tshirts either mind. It was a great sight for the tourists to see.
Got inside, saw the end of John Cooper Clarke's set, he told a couple of good jokes and got a great reception I thought. Band comes on, I jump up and down, get covered in a constant spray of lager, jumped about a bit more, got hot, escaped to the bar, sat down, cooled off, watched the band some more, jumped about some more, got covered in more lager, flicked the v's at the overhead camera (they were filming for a DVD) - repeat for about a set and a half and stagger out through the throng at the end to the fresh air in the street.
By the time I hit the Marathon bar, (a kebab shop, basically, but with drink and "entertainment"and the final port of call on that day's busy schedule) across the road from The Roundhouse, I was more than flagging, starting to dream about my kip and my guts were still playing up from all the abuse of the past couple of nights. Even a few hours sleep on the De-flatable mattress back at Pauls was starting to look like nirvana. I mean- kebab, chips, booze, a room full of fucken mad characters and boisterous Stranglers fans all on fine form, with a rockabilly cat from hell playing live and slurring out some top tunes and strange guitar licks as a sound-track- on any other night I would have been in my element, I just wish could have drunk more but I'd burnt out by that stage, still sweating like a papist from the gig. Fucken old lightweight that I am. Everyone else was having the time of their lives thought, then it was a taxi back to Paul's with him and three others that were crashing at his, a small aperitif, then a couple of hours trying to sleep though a cacophony of farts, belching, coughing and finally snoring from a certain dood who shall remain nameless. Next morning Gizz commented that he hadn't realised the Tube ran underneath Paul's gaff, obviously mistaking it's floor shaking rumble for all the racket that had came from a now bright eyed again dood who shall remain Martin. Gizz and his best mate Greg were like a comedy double act at times, I was chuckling to myself later at their routine in the greasy spoon cafe the next morning.
We all went for the traditional pick-me-up breakfast of Kings known as Fullys - a good sized portion of Sausage, Beans, Bacon, Egg, Toast etc etc etc that filled our plates, whilst Greg, and I'm sure he wouldn't mind me saying this, who is of a slightly fuller figure than the rest of us, went for what was advertised on the menu as The Big Breakfast, which was basically what we had, only 3 times bigger and with chips. Gizz took a look at him as he was happily tucking in, shook his head and quipped, "I don't know where you put it mate." "In my mouth!" was Greg's instant reply.
Within the hour they were driving off with Martin in the back of the car and me and Paul were back into the city for a traditional English dish called an Italian (just chips for me). Again fantastic company - and a constant stream of great tales and mad experiences gained following The Stranglers for years and miles from all there, from the extremes of youth and it's exuberance from Lucy who is 14 and goes to all the gigs with her just as fanatical Dad Sid, right up to the haggard, senile ramblings of Paul himself.
Everyone I met, every single person I met for the gig, was either a total gent or a classy lady, every one of them a star. The community was vibrant.
Others I also met were: The guy on the bus to the airport on my way for the flight down, who I hadn't seen for about 20 odd years and we had a nice Stranglers chinwag.
Daniel, the "guitar playing" Guitar Man, a sort of zombie Eddie Tenpole with a repertoire to die for (and I think he might have already) and the frenzied fingers and musical dexterity of Les Dawson. His intense speedy stare haunts me even now.
Quentin Crisp and all the other Daniel groupies that strutted their considerable stuff to their hero's notes, both good and bum.
The old Rasta guy from The Marathon that was full of worldly wisdom and who had seen the Stranglers back in '77, in a sweaty matchbox sized pub in the area.
There was the toothless old scamp that tried in vain to sell Martin a ticket all through the Camden streets, unaware he was just being strung along for our amusement.
The mohawked guy and his straighter looking mate who were selling their homemade fanzine outside after the gig, in the spirit of '77 D.I.Y. Both of whom, despite not looking nearly old enough, claimed to have first seen the band back in the '70's, in some sweaty pub back-room there abouts.
I met so many characters, the crustie looking guy who pointed me the right way on the first Tube train (who had seen the band in Germany in the 90's), the Irish bloke outside having a quiet Guinness before his local was taken over by Stranglers fans, and who had seen the band back before he had moved to London, but, as I said before, the real stars were all the Stranglers fans that I was luckily enough to meet and get the chance to talk to.
Which reminds me, as an added bonus as I was winding my way home on Guy Fawkes Night, the weekend safely tucked away in the memory banks for many years viewing pleasure, I could look down from the plane over clear starry skies to the cities of London, Manchester and Glasgow as they were lit up with a constant volley of fireworks that seemed to unite and link the country.
Seemed a fitting finale to a fucken fantastic weekend actually.
posted by Alias at 2:13 PM
0 comments
Friday, March 16, 2007
Dreamtime - Stranglers Night BBC4 *
Auntie Beeb finally lightens up, sees the funny side, takes the rod out her arse and celebrates the national institution that is The Stranglers. With over 5hrs of classic and never before seen footage and searing performances from the vaults, along with specially commissioned documentaries, programmes and surprises galore.
8pm: The NightInBlack will kick off with a special Rock School masterclass programme, originally recorded in 1980, where Jet, Hugh and JJ join the hosts to explain away all those devilishly tricky bass lines, fiddly "angular guitar" parts and unusual time signatures in the song Genetix, while keyboard maestro David Greenfield shows how to play every key on a Hammond in 1.27 seconds. A must see for any budding teenaged muso, sadly never transmitted at the time due to the scenes of violence, harsh language and prolific drug taking that amply fill the half hour show.
8.30pm: The Black Documentary. Classic, rarely seen rock-doc made by the band on the colour black.
8.50pm: Fan's Favourites- The Raven. Live footage from 1979.
9.00pm: We Are TheFansInBlack. Hard-core MIBs and WIBs from around the globe, selected from regulars at the outstanding Stranglers website, Burning Up Time give their memories and views on what it means to have been Strangled.
9.50pm: Linsey Dawn McKenzie Does It Every Time. The first of a choice selection of supermodels, actresses and pornstars trying their hand (and other bits) at performing an erotic dance routine to the Stranglers classic Nice N Sleazy. An ongoing phone-in poll will decide the winner by the end of the night.
10.00pm: A Lot Of Noise. Uberfan and original Finchley Boy "Big" Al Hillier and cyber punk web monkey "Slim" Jim Radley lead viewers into the dark, seedy world of the pubs, clubs, venues, stomping grounds and locals made famous in Stranglers songs and mythology in this specially commissioned film. Contains scenes of extreme violence.
10.50pm: Fan's Favourites- Down In The Sewer. Live footage from 1977.
11.00pm: Norfolk Roast. Stranglers drummer and all round good egg Jet Black takes viewers on a culinary odyssey up and down the country, from the Little Chef, Watford Gap to Fat Malky's greasy spoon in Govan in search of the worst pie in Britain. Parental advisory.
11.20pm: Salma Hayek Does It Every Time. More celebrity stripping.
11.30pm: Shut Up ! Definitive and hard hitting documentary that explains once and for all, and in plain fucken English how The Stranglers were a mirror to their times, accurately reflecting the zeitgeist and social mores of Britain in the mid to late 1970's. Containing wry wit and biting social commentary originally missed by most critics at that particular period in history, the programme also includes illustrative footage from news reports and popular prime time television shows of the time including The Benny Hill Show and Love Thy Neighbour.
11.50pm: Fan's Favourites- Toiler On The Sea. Live footage from 1979.
12.00 midnight: Celebrity Fight Club Special. The Stranglers lean, mean scrapping machine Jean Jacques Burnel takes on, single handedly and at the same time, Chris Martin, Robbie Williams and Bono in a caged free for all death match. Only one will walk away at the end. No prizes for guessing who.
12.05am: Mean To Me. Jon Savage, Julie Burchil, Tony Parsons and "London Lady" Caroline Coon piss and moan, airing their collective tired old gripes about The Stranglers in a manner reminiscent of recently scolded school kids. All of it no longer relevant.
12.10am: Angelina Jolie Does It Every Time. Mrs.Pitt gets them out for the MIB.
12.25am: Anyone for Peaches? T.V chef Keith Floyd's playful look at the impact that The Stranglers' music has had on cookery programmes on the BBC over the last three decades.
12.40am: Bitching Around. Very rare rehearsal footage filmed prior to the aborted reformation tour of 2007.
12.45am: MIB Covered. A "Later..." special featuring a variety of acts performing their versions of tracks from The Stranglers opus The Gospel According To The Men In Black. Includes Radiohead's acclaimed version of Turn The Centuries Turn , Kraftwerk's radical reworking Hallow To Our Mensh, as well as groups such as The Residents and the Chemical Brothers.
1.15am: Fan's Favourites- Walk On By. Live footage from 1977 of The Stranglers own wondrous cover version.
1.30am: Ugly. The true story of the Nice University riot. With previously unreleased audio and video footage, along with new interviews with the band, road crew and other witnesses including police and students.
2.00am: Rock Goes To College. The Stranglers complete performance on this show, recently uncovered after being thought lost forever. With new introduction from that twat that originally introduced it explaining what a twat he was.
2.30am: The Story of No More Heroes. Hugh Cornwell explains, once again, who the fuck Elmyra was and what was so great about him, and the reasons behind the writing of this classic track. Includes rare footage of the comedian Lenny Bruce.
3.10am: Milla Jovovich Does It Every Time. The rauncy Ruskie gets her turn bumping and grinding along to Dave's massive swelling organ bleeps and squelches.
3.20am: In His-Story. The NightInBlack draws to a close with acclaimed homosexual rock scribe Jon Savage as he tries vainly to justify the vitriol and disproportionate resentment he has harboured over the decades for The Stranglers. Includes his plea to re-write the history books and concludes with an extended public apology for the way the band have been treated by the media, music journalists and him in particular.
3.25am: Fan's Favourites- Hanging Around. Live footage from 1982.
*Provisionally penciled in for for the Spring programming schedule, 2024. And might actually have happened if The Stranglers hadn't told a few pompus arseholes to fuck off a few times. Dreamtime indeed.
8pm: The NightInBlack will kick off with a special Rock School masterclass programme, originally recorded in 1980, where Jet, Hugh and JJ join the hosts to explain away all those devilishly tricky bass lines, fiddly "angular guitar" parts and unusual time signatures in the song Genetix, while keyboard maestro David Greenfield shows how to play every key on a Hammond in 1.27 seconds. A must see for any budding teenaged muso, sadly never transmitted at the time due to the scenes of violence, harsh language and prolific drug taking that amply fill the half hour show.
8.30pm: The Black Documentary. Classic, rarely seen rock-doc made by the band on the colour black.
8.50pm: Fan's Favourites- The Raven. Live footage from 1979.
9.00pm: We Are TheFansInBlack. Hard-core MIBs and WIBs from around the globe, selected from regulars at the outstanding Stranglers website, Burning Up Time give their memories and views on what it means to have been Strangled.
9.50pm: Linsey Dawn McKenzie Does It Every Time. The first of a choice selection of supermodels, actresses and pornstars trying their hand (and other bits) at performing an erotic dance routine to the Stranglers classic Nice N Sleazy. An ongoing phone-in poll will decide the winner by the end of the night.
10.00pm: A Lot Of Noise. Uberfan and original Finchley Boy "Big" Al Hillier and cyber punk web monkey "Slim" Jim Radley lead viewers into the dark, seedy world of the pubs, clubs, venues, stomping grounds and locals made famous in Stranglers songs and mythology in this specially commissioned film. Contains scenes of extreme violence.
10.50pm: Fan's Favourites- Down In The Sewer. Live footage from 1977.
11.00pm: Norfolk Roast. Stranglers drummer and all round good egg Jet Black takes viewers on a culinary odyssey up and down the country, from the Little Chef, Watford Gap to Fat Malky's greasy spoon in Govan in search of the worst pie in Britain. Parental advisory.
11.20pm: Salma Hayek Does It Every Time. More celebrity stripping.
11.30pm: Shut Up ! Definitive and hard hitting documentary that explains once and for all, and in plain fucken English how The Stranglers were a mirror to their times, accurately reflecting the zeitgeist and social mores of Britain in the mid to late 1970's. Containing wry wit and biting social commentary originally missed by most critics at that particular period in history, the programme also includes illustrative footage from news reports and popular prime time television shows of the time including The Benny Hill Show and Love Thy Neighbour.
11.50pm: Fan's Favourites- Toiler On The Sea. Live footage from 1979.
12.00 midnight: Celebrity Fight Club Special. The Stranglers lean, mean scrapping machine Jean Jacques Burnel takes on, single handedly and at the same time, Chris Martin, Robbie Williams and Bono in a caged free for all death match. Only one will walk away at the end. No prizes for guessing who.
12.05am: Mean To Me. Jon Savage, Julie Burchil, Tony Parsons and "London Lady" Caroline Coon piss and moan, airing their collective tired old gripes about The Stranglers in a manner reminiscent of recently scolded school kids. All of it no longer relevant.
12.10am: Angelina Jolie Does It Every Time. Mrs.Pitt gets them out for the MIB.
12.25am: Anyone for Peaches? T.V chef Keith Floyd's playful look at the impact that The Stranglers' music has had on cookery programmes on the BBC over the last three decades.
12.40am: Bitching Around. Very rare rehearsal footage filmed prior to the aborted reformation tour of 2007.
12.45am: MIB Covered. A "Later..." special featuring a variety of acts performing their versions of tracks from The Stranglers opus The Gospel According To The Men In Black. Includes Radiohead's acclaimed version of Turn The Centuries Turn , Kraftwerk's radical reworking Hallow To Our Mensh, as well as groups such as The Residents and the Chemical Brothers.
1.15am: Fan's Favourites- Walk On By. Live footage from 1977 of The Stranglers own wondrous cover version.
1.30am: Ugly. The true story of the Nice University riot. With previously unreleased audio and video footage, along with new interviews with the band, road crew and other witnesses including police and students.
2.00am: Rock Goes To College. The Stranglers complete performance on this show, recently uncovered after being thought lost forever. With new introduction from that twat that originally introduced it explaining what a twat he was.
2.30am: The Story of No More Heroes. Hugh Cornwell explains, once again, who the fuck Elmyra was and what was so great about him, and the reasons behind the writing of this classic track. Includes rare footage of the comedian Lenny Bruce.
3.10am: Milla Jovovich Does It Every Time. The rauncy Ruskie gets her turn bumping and grinding along to Dave's massive swelling organ bleeps and squelches.
3.20am: In His-Story. The NightInBlack draws to a close with acclaimed homosexual rock scribe Jon Savage as he tries vainly to justify the vitriol and disproportionate resentment he has harboured over the decades for The Stranglers. Includes his plea to re-write the history books and concludes with an extended public apology for the way the band have been treated by the media, music journalists and him in particular.
3.25am: Fan's Favourites- Hanging Around. Live footage from 1982.
*Provisionally penciled in for for the Spring programming schedule, 2024. And might actually have happened if The Stranglers hadn't told a few pompus arseholes to fuck off a few times. Dreamtime indeed.
posted by Alias at 3:03 PM
0 comments
Thursday, December 07, 2006
Xmas in NY
An apparently true christmas story I remember hearing years ago.
The British ambassador in New York received a phone call from a local radio station asking him what he would like for the up-coming christmas. It was around the time of the "Cash for Questions" furore in the UK, or some such regular bribery and corruption scandal, and so, fearful of being caught up in similar shame, he obviously thought, "I'm not going to mention anything that may be misconstrued as a bung", and warily replied, "Oh, a new pipe, or maybe some comfy slippers would be nice."
It was the evening of christmas eve that the ambassador finally heard the radio show, riding home in back of his limo-
"...We asked the representatives of all the major world powers stationed in the city tonight what they would like for christmas." Announced the radio jock. "The Russian ambassador said he would like "World Peace", the Chinese embassy official asked for "An end to world famine and poverty in a more compassionate world" and the British ambassador asked for a new pipe and a nice comfy pair of slippers".
The British ambassador in New York received a phone call from a local radio station asking him what he would like for the up-coming christmas. It was around the time of the "Cash for Questions" furore in the UK, or some such regular bribery and corruption scandal, and so, fearful of being caught up in similar shame, he obviously thought, "I'm not going to mention anything that may be misconstrued as a bung", and warily replied, "Oh, a new pipe, or maybe some comfy slippers would be nice."
It was the evening of christmas eve that the ambassador finally heard the radio show, riding home in back of his limo-
"...We asked the representatives of all the major world powers stationed in the city tonight what they would like for christmas." Announced the radio jock. "The Russian ambassador said he would like "World Peace", the Chinese embassy official asked for "An end to world famine and poverty in a more compassionate world" and the British ambassador asked for a new pipe and a nice comfy pair of slippers".
posted by Alias at 1:45 PM
0 comments
Monday, November 06, 2006
Gigs I missed #3207
I've got a mate who cherishes dearly a ticket he got for Nirvana at the SECC in Glasgow for a date that ended up getting cancelled when Kurt bought it. Pretty sure they go for a fortune on ebay. Anyone have tickets for the Joy Division tour of the states that never happened? Or a Pistols gig that was cancelled?
What's yer sob story about missing a gig?
Back in the '80's some-time I got talked into going to a weekend festival in Germany. Rock-AmRing, I think it's called. It's still going and it's based at the Nurburg Ring race circuit. The main attraction, for my traveling companions anyway, was Bowie playing there as part of his "Glass Spider" tour, but there was a couple of other decent bands that were an the bill too; The Smiths and Echo & The Bunnymen were on, and sandwiched between The Eurythmics one night and Bowie the next there was also about 80 German Heavy Metal bands. Oh, and I think UB40 and The Pretenders played too. Anyway Echo & The Bunnymen were a highlight, I think they just thought, "Fuck it, we're in the middle of Nein-Ver, Germany- who's gonna see us?" and played mostly classic Doors and Velvet's songs with lots of improvisation / jamming / pissing about.
But the point of the story is that just before we left on the midnight coach to kick off the journey it was announced that The Smiths had just split up. I'll never forget the look on the faces of the passengers on that 2nd bus from London to the gig, as it drew up beside ours at the gates to the festival. Every gloomy lad; his face pressed hard up against the glass mournfully, was, to a be-quiffed, speccy (but Charming, I'm no doubt sure) man, decked out in a Smiths tshirt. It's print already mysteriously fading; a Turin Shroud in reverse.
So not only had their favourite band just vanished forever from their miserable lives, but they were about to be stuck in a muddy race track in deepest, darkest Germany getting pissed-on for the weekend. And with about 40 thousand pissed up German bikers for company.
Thats how it looked, anyway.
I had to laugh.
What's yer sob story about missing a gig?
Back in the '80's some-time I got talked into going to a weekend festival in Germany. Rock-AmRing, I think it's called. It's still going and it's based at the Nurburg Ring race circuit. The main attraction, for my traveling companions anyway, was Bowie playing there as part of his "Glass Spider" tour, but there was a couple of other decent bands that were an the bill too; The Smiths and Echo & The Bunnymen were on, and sandwiched between The Eurythmics one night and Bowie the next there was also about 80 German Heavy Metal bands. Oh, and I think UB40 and The Pretenders played too. Anyway Echo & The Bunnymen were a highlight, I think they just thought, "Fuck it, we're in the middle of Nein-Ver, Germany- who's gonna see us?" and played mostly classic Doors and Velvet's songs with lots of improvisation / jamming / pissing about.
But the point of the story is that just before we left on the midnight coach to kick off the journey it was announced that The Smiths had just split up. I'll never forget the look on the faces of the passengers on that 2nd bus from London to the gig, as it drew up beside ours at the gates to the festival. Every gloomy lad; his face pressed hard up against the glass mournfully, was, to a be-quiffed, speccy (but Charming, I'm no doubt sure) man, decked out in a Smiths tshirt. It's print already mysteriously fading; a Turin Shroud in reverse.
So not only had their favourite band just vanished forever from their miserable lives, but they were about to be stuck in a muddy race track in deepest, darkest Germany getting pissed-on for the weekend. And with about 40 thousand pissed up German bikers for company.
Thats how it looked, anyway.
I had to laugh.
posted by Alias at 3:41 PM
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