Gawd bless the internet and the people I have met from it, especially Twitter and the way it leads to various separate friends ending up knowing each other and getting on due to shared supergeek levels of fandom for things (usually involving Doctor Who) … my pal Bert (from the days of MySpace, bloody hell) ended up becoming mates with my ‘follower ‘ Michael (I am the new Jesus or something) and the three of us all went out to the South Bank last night for some food and drinks. Not been round there for a long time and had lots of time to kill so I wandered about and admired the concreteyness of it all. Weird how it has been modernised yet the old fashioned greyness still shines through , looking uncannily like the future Earth in Frontier In Space…
To kill a bit of time and read a bit of book I went for a coffee in a leading chain which is not bloody Starbucks and found the man serving me to be a rather excited geek, staring at my True Blood t-shirt. He asked where I got it so I told him it was off Amazon and then he grabbed a piece of paper and wrote down ‘Amazon’ on it… sweet. I don’t know if he knew that it was a website and he had not heard of Forbidden Planet when I pointed out it was also available there so I hope he finds one. He insisted that I not pay for my drink because of this so finally being a massive nerd pays off. Oh those crazy vampire fans, but not Twilight. Never Twilight. True Blood season three is coming along nicely and is basically Twin Peaks with more accents and a bucket of gore every week, which is not a bad thing at all. I should do a TV round-up blog while I think of it but not right now.
While waiting outside the BFI bar I listened to the next chapter of my Daleks: Mission to the Unknown audio book which is the first one I have actually bought in the ‘Target Books Read In An Interesting Way By Actors Plus Music and Sound Effects’ series. From the sleeve notes I learnt that The Actor Peter Purves has directed over twenty five pantomimes which sounds like something the delightful Matrix Data Bank (follow on Twitter if you are Who Geek) would make up. Then I spotted Margaret from The Aprentice (sorry new lady Apprentice boss with the nice hair but you are no Mountford) walking like a normal human being and then I noticed that the new hipster beard is in fact a hipster moustache and vowed never to be a hipster. We eventually went for a food and drink extravaganza in the BFI bar and learnt about guest ales:
” A pint of the guest ale please. What is it?”
“I don’t know. But it never changes.”
“So it’s always the same guest but you don’t know what it is?”
“Yes.”
The mysterious guest ale was very nice and I may have had too many of them and stayed out bloody late, meaning I took forever to get home (at gone midnight) which was careless as Jamie had to get up for work in the morning. Oops. We had a lovely time and ended up reappraising Delta and the Bannermen (it’s The Doctor Who Summer Special), listening to unrepeatable tales about Doctor Who actors and impresionable teenage fans (but not me. Never me), made “played a Voord but in a non-speaking role” one of my favourite phrases, and agreed that I had to write a proper review of the forthcoming DVD of Time and the Rani. Hmm…
I went to my first gig in around 8 years on Thurdsay. I’m a lazy sod and noisy crowded places get on my nerves but as it was the first appearance of the full band version of The Melting Ice Caps I couldn’t miss out. Up until now they have mostly been just David Shah’s project but he assembled a crack team of musicians to flesh out the songs for the live experience and you would never have guessed that this was their live debut.
Brief recap: I knew David in 1996 when he had just got involved in a band called Grosvenor. They eventually morphed into Luxembourg who were active from the early 00′s up until 2008 (their unreleased 2nd album is free to download here on Last FM) and my friend Cheryl recommended them to me a few years ago as she knows my musical tastes. I loved their album and then realised who their lead singer was, in one of those Small World moments that seem to happen. Luxembourg ended and David started the Melting Ice Caps, releasing singles via his website, much to my delight. Numerous tracks ended up on friends’ mix CDs and if I had to pick a few to recommend right now I would go for the following singles (with links for free mp3s):
Single 8 is the most recent one (download here) and includes October and My Wrong Turn which show their melancholic beautiful side off rather well.
Single 4 (download here) features Mise En Scene and Night School which are both quite demo-ish and pretty with the usual arch moments.
The gig on Thursday was part of Fry’s Unsigned (more on that here at the official site) which was for the mental health charity Mind. Unintentional rhyme there! The set included one new song plus a selection of the best of their catalogue, including stonking versions of How To Appear Well-Adjusted, Happy In Crewe, Mise En Scene and Through A Prism. The band versions are not as indie rock as the Luxembourg era but had a new energy that was well-received by the audience, especially the man in the vest who was bopping away through all the bands’ sets that night in-between taking photos. Hopefully some of those images will turn up on the Fry’s site soon.
The venue had good ale, we had a nice chat with David and I won a prize in the raffle and then we went home. It was a good night.
The Melting Ice Caps will return soon: 4th August at 229 (more information here). Very recommended if you like happy/sad wistful indie with strong songs and a sense of humour.
It’s Sunday and I am trapped in my room while Jamie does more work for work and my dad does more tiling for our bathroom. Occasional banging and drilling (ooer) means my reading of Under The Skin (halfway throught now and it is a proper book and everything) gets distracting so I shift to catching up on the Phonogram comics. Yes real comics not collected editions. Gotta support the indies and so I bought them on my London trip on Friday where I went for drinks and lots of chips & wedges with old bookshoppy people and micro-celeb spotted Denise Black from Queer As Folk in the pub and Rikki Beadle-Blair from all sorts of theatre and TV stuff in the newsagent next to Fopp where I bought a Snickers. It’s a showbiz whirl, so it is.
Stuff of interest this week:
The Saint Etienne deluxe reissues begin and one of them is more of an ‘issue’ as Continental has never been out in the UK. My pirated copy will soon go in the bin when I get the real thing. It’s got some of my favourite tracks on it plus some that have never even been released anywhere ever. Also out at the same time: Foxbase Alpha. That’ll be my third purchase of it (I think the cassette lives in a dusty drawer) but I have deluxe fever and it has new songs called Chase HQ, Sally Space, The Reckoning, Sweet Pea and Winter In America.
If I was drunk I would have bought this in London: Christopher Eccleston miniature Hero? With wallet, staff and pigeon? Who could resist?
Well me actually. Although I loved this week’s BBC2 episode.
Other thrilling events this week include the moment I realised that eating a yogurt whose lid had puffed up and tasted a bit funny was probably not a good idea, the moment where I realised that all the bottles of Kopparberg pear cider in my cupboard were of the previously-unheard-of non-alcoholic variety (why? why? why?) and the moment that this wek’s episode of Dollhouse was rather good and surprising again. Which means of course that it will be scrapped as I am a sucker for those prematurely-cancelled telly shows.
I had left a blog post half-written on my Notepad document thing, about Tori Amos and Plushgun but then I forgot I hadn’t wrote it and only remembered after deleting all the words. So instead here are some mostly poor (the out takes are either blurry non-flash or whiteout flash shots) pictures of Cheryl’s 13th birthday at Ben Crouch’s Tavern* * Ben Crouch not actually pictured, same as the Crayola Pony Makeover Kit, Flight of the Conchords DVD, Barmaid Who Couldn’t Make Coffee From A Machine But Was Nice Anyway, the lovely food, the funny toilets, some shots in test tubes and various oddities including a blond man with dyed black hair that didn’t match his face. * She was 24 actually.
Someone with a really bad Michael Jackson costume came to London today to tell some screaming folks that he was going to do some singing there. They screamed, the people watching on the telly screamed (what IS he?) and then he did a speech… Doing a really weird mime here. Or something…
Is this really it? It is? Are you sure? Oh, it is. It’s really it… oh do shut up you silly man, you don’t love the scary crowd (who seem to be immune to all the scandals) who whoop at your every “ouch!” or whatever it is you do on those records.
While I ponder Michael Jackson’s randomly occuring illnesses and disabilities (they only seem to come on when he is accused of touching boys’ wieners or not paying his phone bill) I feel like I should share my bus trip with you. Got on, went upstairs as it was quite full, heard the tinny sounds of musical shite from the yoof (not Musical Youth), came back to the lower deck, driver asked me why so I told him “some kids playing shitty music on their crappy phones as per usual” prompting driver to wander off upstairs to tell them off. Such power. In the meantime I had to sit next to a toothless old man who kept trying to talk to me even though I had my earphones in (quietly of course, I am a good citizen) so does that make me a bad person? He was quite mad if that helps, and smelt rather musty. Then a giant man (not Hank Pym) got on and seemed to know half of the passengers, waffling on to anyone who would listen (like I do on here) and he smelt of damp and the 1970s. How excellent. I managed to listen to two episodes of an old Doctor Who play about a sinister right wing political party and an alien thingy that feeds on mass fear (ooh satires), part one ended with an “Aaaaaaaace!” and part two with them being shot. Or are they? We’ll have to wait for part three when I can be bothered. I also listened to some Bananarama for some reason and wondered what their individual voices would sound like outside of the Big Uber Banana Voice. Nobody knows. Well maybe Shakespear’s Sister. Yes it was misspelt on purpose, boffins.
Went to London yesterday for David Mitchell stalking. Just kidding, we saw the real stalkers and they were not us. Kidding again. Venue was crowded and hot, could have done with a nap. So we had a nap in our comfy seats and got confused due to missing bits. If she saw us Lucy Porter would think we were actually stalking her but is it our fault if she turns up at most of the things we see recorded? Anyway, The Unbelievable Truth is back on Radio 4 this month and is funny haha. I bought my Doctor Manhattan action figure while in London. Used some of my birthday vouchers (thanks, friend) and also splashed out (dirty) on Starman Omnibus 2. Because it is, like Lily might sing, f@cking fantastic.
As I am counting back through the week I am now onto Tuesday and the continued deterioration of The Pub Quiz. No music round for the 45th week running, and the theme round called “Rat Race” included questions about Dangermouse and other mice who were not rats. oh shame!
What a stoopid day. The office building had a weird semi-powercut so the electroinic key fob reader on the door was deactivated. Trust me to come in early on that morning and have to stand outside freezing my everythings off for an hour until the caretaker arrived. Still, it gave me a chance to meet some of the other people who work in the building and rather worryingly they knew who I meant when I described “the person with the disgusting cough” , “annoying shouty mobile phone man who always has a loud financial crisis” and “sweary angry mobile phone woman who I think has relationship problems” when I mentioned the voices I hear outside my door. Oops. Internet came on around 11, phones around 2 and lights at 3. What fun! I empathise with the Black Widow, and recommend the new Captain America comic. That Mark Millar is a cheeky bastard… and Manhunter will be sorely missed.
Other lowlights today? The worst omelette I have ever eaten, the dirtiest bus I have ever travelled on and the worst episode of Hollyoaks. Not good bad , just bad. As many of you would expect no doubt.
My comedy nerd credentials came in handy at the pub quiz last night with the question about who was Britney Spears’ first husband….
And just because I can, here’s a picture of Kevin Zegers pretending to be having a poo and looking pretty: How confusing.
It was a momentous occasion last night when the end of an era was reached down the pub: We only went and won the Final Pub Quiz Ever (probably)! The pub in question, where we have been regulars since drinking was invented, is closing down before it opens again in one of those ‘under new management’ stylees. So no more smuttiest pub quiz in London, no more rubbish vegetarian option menu that I secretly like, no more leaky urinals, no more most overflowing toilet bin, no more regular team member falling asleep by round four (but still answering questions correctly), no more chance of stroppiest team member from the past ever doing a surprise return to have tantrums during the music round, no more horror at the scary elderly singles club team who just expand rather than ever cop off with each other (oh the horror) and no more me getting annoyed by the blind lady’s dog randomly licking my leg and making me sneeze. It went out in classic form with the filthiest pub quiz mistress inserting a swear word between every word of the final ever question until she ran out of rude things to say, and they had no food so we had to go to Tesco for sandwiches. The fact that we won was unrelated to being the only team that bought her a present, honest. Imagine that logo on a mug with a Shatner face and you’ll have the present.
I do not approve of cheating. Now what will we do as our semi-weekly social life trip out? Answers on a postcard please.
Buffy Season Eight issue 14 is out now and is as good as usual. See? Angel (season six in all but name) issue 7 is also out but is once again not all that spectacular, which is a shame.
Something has been bothering me about The Actor James Nesbitt for a while now and not just my jealousy at his marvellous range of accents. Now what could it be? Hmmmm… I suspect magic was involved. Another one kicked out of the Bald Pride Club. Oh well…
Another long day so I have no brain left. I started work very early for making of display tables and windows. Bonus fun points for the bag of ‘foreign tat’ (their words not mine) that I got given from our resident ‘great Escapes’ person who had just returned from Australia. And Japan! Bloody hell! Then I went to Fancy London for a works drink thing, which was nice. We started off in a quiet untrendy old fashioned pub in Soho (just off Shaftesbury Avenue, before the prostitutes bit) which was a refreshing change, and then on to a trendy multi-storey bar near The Trocadero that had very expensive drinks and people to help you wash your hands in the toilet. Now call me old-fashioned but I do not wish to tip somebody for holding the handwash and squirting it onto my hands when I could easily have odne that myself thank you very much. I felt sorry for Toilet Man and his female equivalent in the ladies’ toilet, as they seemed a bit unnecessary and full of politeness that probably concealed loathing for the general public. Not that I would blame them off course. The leaving do drinks were nice (Kopparberg pear cider, mmmm), the leaving person was nice and got a nice present. We were all old and tired from running our bookshops and not being of the age that wants to be out in The West End on a Friday night. So I came home and had a cuddle and a cupp of tea. Fun? Yes, for me, definitely.
Here’s a free mp3 of White Diamond by a certain Aussie lady. It’s now a ballad, which is nice, and happens to link nicely to a certain thing on Channel 4 on Sunday evening.
No exciting stuff as I am rather tired so here are some handily ‘one I prepared earlier’ things. More rubbish Christmas present ideas: It’s only a Battlestar Galactic Number Six bust! Of course! Why not?
The Very Best of The Friday Night Project? Huh? What? Why? How? No. Just no.
That boy/man who played the goth on Coronation Street has gone done a CD. Say no more.
While people (as in retards and orange-faced celeb spotters) are going on about Them Spicey Girls I am sitting here listening to Them Girls Alouds. Much better. I like their new album rather a lot, is it actually in the shops (both physical and virtual) yet? I never know these days. Thanks to Phil from Worrapolava I am in the kool kids klub with these tunes. Good pop is having a good run at the moment and I might have to make a mix CD if I can be bothered to snap out of my Christmas Plotting Knackeredness. Have an mp3 of them loud girls. Go on, it’s free, and better than the Duran Duran stuff I listened to on the bus today. Yes I know, it’s shocking. Me on a bloody bus? Whatever next? White trainers? Er… damnit.
Last night was a good night out even though I didn’t last all evening due to tiredness from watching too much TV on my PC all day. Meh. The pub quiz team was hugely expanded by such illustrious occasional guest stars as The Man Who Had An Angry Jeffrey Archer Voicmail On His Phone (long story) and The Woman Who Was The Nun In The Kylie Show Sketch Last Week. You know, the unfunny comedy interlude between the music. She’s lovely though (and not just because she’s worked on Doctor Who and Robin Hood etc) and it’s work, innit?
Talking of Kylie, some more bits have leaked all over the internet. I feel no guilt as I am buying the damn CD when it turns up.
The Mighty Boosh made another series. It played to the crowd horribly, just rehasing old ideas and being ‘surreal’ (ha! I know they hate that word) etc etc etc. Using old characters in similar situations as before stinks of Third Season Tiredness (see many other shows for examples of this) but the trailer for episode 2 looked more promising. I still hate the crow-faced strutting hairstyle with a mouth that is Noel Fielding though. Maybe it’s the Shoreditch thing. Or the boots. Or the hair. Or the stoopid clothes. Or… Damn you series 3 episode 1! Re-using The Hitcher and having them not remember meeting him in the first place? Bah mint imperial!
Here’s a clip of the Radio One Live Lounge recording of Love Games instead.
Random weirdness today: The bus shelter has vanished! It was bloody freezing at 6:28 AM even with my hat and hood on. I cannot do ‘chav’ though. Talking of chavs, as I came home there was a lot of smoke and an ambulance in the distance up the road in the council estate bit. Maybe they were putting up their tasteful Christmas Grotto Decorations and something went horribly wrong? I think it’s too early for that kind of thing but you never know. Obviously I hope nobody was hurt, even though I have not forgotten the time we got threatened with hand-chopping or some other such moronic caveman attempt at scariness in our front garden for looking ‘too gay’ or something many many years ago, by morons who walked in that direction. When I say that I mean towards Grotto Central. Charming. I shall have to drive round there in a few weeks and attempt to photograph the horror of Chav Chrimbo.
Today was a busy one, with a long meeting about shrink (don’t ask, it’s not a medical condition), a look at loads of forthcoming books that scare me including Kerry Katona’s ‘novel what she wrote’ which was written by somebody else and a great book about poo that’ll do well at Christmas, a piece of interesting information about a forthcoming work event that involves one of my favourite comedians ever, and a drink with my book monkeys in the pub after work. I loves me ciders. I like those Magners ciders, I like those Weston Organic ciders, I like those Strongbow Sirrus ciders, I like those Kopparberg made with pears from Sweden ciders.
I got all the ciders. But I am not Calvin Harris. Phew.
We got given some brownies by a very nice lady. We ate them all. Brown Owl was not amused. The cow.
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