I was far too old when I heard this; long past the age when it should have been part of my soul. I should have heard this growing up, letting its searing riffs embed themselves deep into my adolescent psyche; its heart-rending, tear-inducingly beautiful solo entwining itself with my memories like roses in a trellis.
As it is, I only heard this a few years ago and thought, “F*** me, it’s pretty.” It is pretty. Its central section ranks alongside Comfortably Numb and Hangar 18 as the most lovely thing you can reasonably do with a guitar. Continue reading →
I’m going to have to start skipping these, several at a time, because there’s just no time to fit them all in before this blog closes. I do want to mention this one, though, because it holds a particular charm for me: when I was little, my sister convinced me that there was a family of cannibals living down the road, singing this song by way of illustration. Continue reading →
I had the weirdest dream that I interviewed Kavus Torabi. I’ve known him since I was 16, but we lost touch for many years. In my dream, he told me everything I’d missed – a tale by turns witty and warm, touching and inspiring – and I woke up with a profound understanding, not just of my candyfloss-haired pal but of life and our place in the universe. Continue reading →
I’m still sick, lying in bed, catching up. I went to work today, but was too tired to wait for a bus, so I cabbed it from the station. The kind of tired where I forgot the name of my road for a moment. The tired where I tripped getting out, grazing my knee and ruining my beloved shoes.
Luckily the Bowie song I’ve been putting off hearing in case it’s crap turns out to be good. Continue reading →
Bugger! Is that the time already? Sorry, I have been too busy laughing my assorted menagerie off at this piece from The Stool Pigeon someone’s just passed to me:
Bastard lovechild — Is sex out of wedlock still considered edgy? So why would anyone still be writing that albums ‘sound like the bastard lovechild of X and Y musicians’? I mean, there’s a good chance your parents hadn’t gotten round to tying the knot by the time you were conceived. But so what? It doesn’t make you a latter-day Edmund from King Lear. Hell, it doesn’t even make you Jon Snow off Game Of Thrones. And he’s f***ing boring.