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Reading Festival 009

THESE IMPORTANT YEARS

Having taken a sabbatical from all things human and musical for the last three years or so, I knew next to nothing of 99% of the bands playing this year -or, to speak like a English person, "thish year"- and so the festival provided the perfect occasion to catch up with what's going on. Or down. Or up too.
As is usually my wont, I spent more time down the tent than watching the main stage: less crowd and much better sound quality. In fact, a number of my most treasured Reading experiences will have taken place in the tent (most memorably Leatherface, and Dubwar, Underworld, the Wedding Present, Dubstar etc.) Unsurprisingly, the issue of the main stage sound will pop up time and again downbelow.

FRIEND, YOU'VE GOT TO FALL

Tendency of the season: dayglo face paint. Lots of youth were walking around with orange or pink stripes crayoned onto their faces. Many girls also sported sparkly starry make-up around the eyes -very cute. Probably pioneered by Florence outta the Whatevers or Little Boots.

ICE COLD ICE
YOU LEFT ME STANDING IN THE RAIN

Rain -like hope in life- was mercifully episodic; the sun shone most of the weekend.

Talking of tradition, whatever happened to the old Reading Fest competition for the most offensive t-shirt? What happened to the "John Peel Is A C*nt", "Hate Hate Hate", "Find 'em F*ck 'em and Flee" (an Ice-T title), "Ars*nal FC", "Anal C*nt" or "this man" (arrow to the left) "likes c*ck" tops of yore? Gone. Disappeared. Unless you count "pennies for whores" as something to be tut-tutted in which case you really should write for The Independent. This being said, I did see a youth sporting a magnificent hand-painted orange "AIDS" on his forehead -the cheeky rascal!! Also spotted: a girly with "Kev's bitch" on her forehead -lucky Kevin. The usual "it's not gonna suck itself", "The Man" (arrow up) "The Legend" (arrow down). The M*n*c Street Pr**ch*rs.

Battle of the t-shirts: no clear winner here (surprisingly few FaithNoMore in fact); quite a number of Radioheads. Here are some of the best I spotted:
The Stranglers; Kansas; "Pull the trigger bitch"; "Lost 8 kilos in two weeks -bloody sniffer dog."
Tellingly, a number of sweatshirts celebrating the graduation of some school or another "Class of 09"; Flight of the Conchords;
but the best one had to be Olympique Lyonnais as sported by a dashing 50something inbetweener who may well be half-robotic by now but who stills remembers whence he once came. And where l'OL leads, others follow. Saturday being footy day, a number of revellers took to sporting their team's colour, most notably United: the 18 times English / twice world / four times European champions were in action that day. (Which reminds me: I didn't get to hear the final scores, does anyone know who they beat that afternoon? huh?)
I enjoyed the sight of lads dressed a giant hamburgers. (And superheroes, but that's less fun -there is a costume shop nearby).

People buy cameraphones not to take pictures of others but of themselves.


-Saw a bit of The Living End, all the way from Australia (like "hooway the loods on the toon, moote!!" or something): blimey, they can't half play can they! The guitarist reminded me of Josh Homme embarking on a ten minute solo a few years back. (By da way, someone else who is a sh*t-hot guitarist: ....Wyclef Jean. Word.) Oh yeah, something-I-learnt-at-Reading: apparently, Josh Homme was going out with Cristina Martinez which begs the question: has she divorced from Jon Spencer then??

No bird in the sky, young lady with "I heart c*ck" on the leg -promises promises...
Fish and chips for seven quid; 5,50 ten meters further down. A pint of beer? 3,85.

-The View Aka The Scottish Arctic Monkeys (you caennae understand a wee word the soft shite was saying). That bunch of 16 yr olds are supposed to hail from Dundee right? So you won't hear a bad word against them from me, bless their cotton socks. (Still eh, your man's got craep ta'ts oh aye.)

-Was awaiting Glasvegas with loiguesque trepidation (i.e. world weary boredom as opposed to the usual existential despair) and... they were ok. Ranging from pretty good to excellent but then we tend to approve of bequiffed men in black so we do. The singer the spitting image of a young Joe Strummer with surprising ripped biceps (fancy that, he dropped the leather jacket in favour of a sleeveless T midway through :-)) One thing though, the Mo Truckeresque drumming might get a bit grating after a while (your woman made Meg White sound like Kamen/Copeland/Katche).

-The Horrr'rs. They were OK I s'pose. Disappointed with regards to their half excellent recent album.

NO RESERVATIONS

-Caught two songs by Ian Brown. Ten years later, the man is still off tune.

-Five minutes of Florence and the Machines: had seen five minutes of hers at Glasto' and hadn't exactly been convinced. I am still not. (Banal drivel that makes the Kaiser Chiefs come across as Captain Beefheart or am I missing the point one more time?)

-Little Boots. Now I have a lot of respect for anyone able to play any instrument -let alone several at the same time- but when I see the OTT reviews about miss Boots... ??? The stuff I heard was good, sure, but nothing outstanding per se; it also appears that she has an army of songwriters behind her. Anyway, what about her gig: it - was - thrilling. All the pop kids -especially female- were singing along and going mental like a robot from 1984, real heartwarming stuff. Her frankly banal cover of Moroder's "Love Kills" was hailed as a masterpiece and her yoke about "take you home tonight - make you feel alright" (check the lyrics man! that's genius that.) was met with nothing less than rapture. Uplifting stuff, smiles all to here all round.

-Jamie T. Featuring right before FaithNoMan's great return, I had predicted that he would suffer, faced with a "less than captive" audience (we remember Uncle Nick facing a barrage of "Nir-va-na Nir-va-na Nir-va-na!!"). ...How wrong was I!
First of all, I had never even heard of that guy/girl's existence, so once again (see opening remark), I was totally open-minded about he/she had to offer. Then I got told that he was not a hundred miles away from The Streets -not the most promising of premises- and "very popular with students". Now there's nothing wrong with students writes Loig: it is thanks to them that you can drink heavily subsidised beer while pretending to be a visiting foreign professor. ...Or so I've been told. Anyway, on came your man and the place heated up ten degrees instantly: massive ovation before he even opened his mouth. Absolutely brilliant atmosphere with the kids chanting along every song from beginning to end -really impressive. The material itself I couldn't quite judge (the kids were singing so loudly!) but it sounded okayish I guess: echoes of Billy Bragg and Carter USM maybe. Not too sure about the ciggie planted inside the ear (inside the ear); had never seen that before, not even with confirmed cancerologists like Uncle Nick or Barack Obama.


Their eyes flicker, they agree intermittently to anything you say and then they go "no offence mate but there's some place I've goddago".

-And on to FaithNoMore. How different the vibe was! I had a quick look at the NME review the next day and it was -like- ecstatic blahblahblah but I'm afraid I will beg to differ: it was nowhere near the one for "local" acts such as Jamie T, Little Boots or Florence. The Americans did their best to batter us into submission but... I found it no more than satisfying. Very professional (i.e. well rehearsed), as I felt with other American acts as diverse as Susan Vega, RedHotChiliPeppers or even Fugazi: n.e.a.t. stuff. Listening to your man haranguing the crowd, I would have been ready to bet that he would offer the same quips to the Leeds audience the next day. (Did you ever hear the story about someone going to see Patti Smith in concert and being amazed by Patti's profound one-liners; your woman decides there and then to follow P. S. on tour ...and every night is subjected to the exact same pearls of wisdom in the exact same order.) Listing-wise, they did everything: "easy", "be aggressive", "midnight cowboy", "caffeine", "be aggressive", "from out of nowhere", the silky sexy one off "King etc.", "be aggressive", "land of sunshine", "last cup of sorrow", "be aggressive", "I started a joke", etc.
As expected, they peppered their midsong breaks with wacky cover versions. I remembered them doing "Twin Peaks" and Portishead back in the days, this time it was.... "Eastenders" (ROTFLOL!!!!!1 etc.) and twice too. Mike Patton -still an impressive vocalist- seems to have developed a limp, Roddy is a Gay.

COULD YOU BE THE ONE

-The 'Ctics. Was after watching Glasvegas so missed half of it. Well it was... good to be sure, but I sensed a certain lack of warmth from yr man. Every now and then, he would slur: "Hey... (pause) Reading. 'You still with ooz?" which didn't quite ooze enthusiasm, gay abandon and reciprocated love. (Was he a wee bit inebriated, by the way?) Some of the new songs were quite gorgeous and I have no doubt that the new album will be another masterpiece, once again different from the previous one, once again surprisingly mature for such a young man. Some great extended versions of old favourites ("fluo ado") which is always a bonus, I mean: what's the point of reciprocating the album note perfect on stage? The punters might as well stay home and play the record in the comfort of their bedroom right? Right. (And that will also spare the said punter the pleasure of being stuck next to a fatarse rabbitting her mouth off for the duration of a gig -nuff said.) ....Wasn't too enamoured with his new long hair though, makes our Alex look a bit scruffy purses his lips Loig.

SHE FLOATED AWAY

-Fall Out Boy: now I may have missed the boat entirely but, in my mind's eye, Fall Out Boy was some kind of L.A.M.T.V. U. S. F.M. safe mainstream glitzy shit (the guy is with Jessica Simpson/Nikki Hilton or some such luminary) ...turns out they are massive. Massive with the Reading Festival crowd: hundreds of people moshing about and singing along etc. Huh. I have an album somewhere ...maybe I should try to locate it again. Dreadful sound though: gusts of winds constantly swinging it from side to side.

-The Kaiser Chiefs came on to the sound of Dire Straits "Money For Nothing". Sadly, they then switched off the intro tape and started playing themselves.

-Moving on to the Prodigy. Another genuinely massive band, another dreadful sound: the crowd was chanting "turn it up, turn it up" but, really, there's not much that could be done due to the swirling wind. Nodding his hairy head appreciatively to the Proge backstage was... Dave Grohl in person. (Did the Grohlster put in a cameo for the encore? I wasn't there anymore.)

-Placebo did their Placebo thing. "Here is a Buddhist song..." -eight minutes of yelping proto indie F.M. glitter workout follows.

-Another band which I had never heard of and which went down like a storm: the Macchabes (is that a play on French words? "les macabés" means "les morts"). Jangly guitar singalong teenage manic pop thrill -really, The Wedding Present and The Woodentops should sue for royalties.

-Had been recommended this one: Friendly Fires. Who said middle class white boys can't funk? Inverted racists inverted snobs that's who. The FfffffFires funked like mad and here the inevitable reference to Talking Heads will rear its 80s head. Great craic, part XCVIIIIIII. The Observer calls them "the band of the summer".

Sunday: popped in at the start of the afternoon then went back home after a while: there is only so much twenty year olds you can take in before feeling clinically depressed. Besides I had to catch up with the rest of this highly amusing Japanese movie which I was after watching; it's called "C*cktoppers" -sorry, "ClockStoppers"- in which your man comes up with a way of "freezing" people around him -with hilaaaarious consequences as he reassembles their limbs in compromising positions and has his evil beastly way with unaware nymphets, oh I guess you had to be there, the subtleties may be lost in translation like -great craic all the same.

-Yeah Yeah Yeahs, Bloc Party and Radiohead all in one go: my attention was, er, somewhat focussed elsewhere so I may not have been completely receptive... Great stuff all of them let's say.
Karen O seemed determined to show off the most hideous clothes known to man; she pretty much succeeded. Her band was surprisingly dance oriented -must remember to check their latest stuff (having stopped at the album featuring "Maps").
Kele-Block has grown some fairly tasty biceps. "Tommy Yorke has just turend up backstage and he looks like he means business!"
True to the reputation f*cken bores endow him with ("oh Radiohead they're so miserab'le blah blah blah po faced politckalcorekness gone mad Lily Allen Gazza top birds -enjoy!- Becks Posh she's so ugly holiday at Naya Apia lapdancing clubs "Hello" magazine poor Diana did you catch "Hollyoaks" lass night?") Thom phroved himself to bhe a rhight lhittle schamp: cf. his cheeky wink at the camera magnified a hundred thousand times on the big screens. Crazy Yorke dance moves too man!
What else: I received a glass full of Cologne on the side of the head during the gig lobbed from behind which was -like- hilaaarious: I was almost knocked out, some got into my eye and then I stank to high heaven. (PS: Huge facial scar this morning.)

And you know you have to savour every second of this precious moment, commit it to memory and seal it there cos' it will never happen again.

TURN IT AROUND

S'leb S'pot! No back rub by Sarah "St-Eti*nne" Bracknell this time: didn't really see anyone in the guest area apart from Jack Penate (reader's voice: -who he? Exactly.), Simon Price (didn't know that f*ckw*nk still lived), and your man from that yoke. The universally acknowledged "King Of Pop" (TM) remained sadly elusive, even though he should be in the area shouldn't he?(I hear he's about to embark on a series of 50 dates in one month in London.)


In short (LOL!!!!!1 etc.).
We are liking:
-girls' noses
-fit lads with no top on (but they have to be fit eh)
-"The National Anthem"-Radiohead ("je suis parti seul, completement seul")/ "There There" (I took the glass off her hands as I sensed the lads were about to thrash about and she was able to cope with the mosh)
-the ability to pop back home every now and then
-the news of Oasis's demise. (Not that it makes any difference though: the Dickhead Brothers are bound to release more stuff under N.E. other name.)
-overhearing Dutch girlj chat yeah -like... totally gelig!
-the tw*t from K*iser Chi*fs attempting to climb on the side of the stage all of three feet. And getting stuck there.
-FNM and Radiohead t-shirts -very street
-the crackdown on ticket touts scumbags
-The Go! Team (who didn't play)
-Husker Du (idem)
-Faithless (bis repetita); when oh when will we have Rammstein: perfect Sunday night headliner
-being able to stick to my 20 Pound a day budget (cue: I ate a lot of chips)

YOU CAN LIVE AT HOME NOW

Enough for now. Next instalment:
the Oscars with 'Strickland next year -sorry, nexht year- for "Katalin Varga" as best foreign filum. "Katalin Varga" is out worldwide on the 9th of October.
The great thing about writing this kind of stuff is that nobody reads it til the end so you can afford to let rip or open up, noone will notice: god this is all so pointless. Thanks to Uma for the use of her bandwidth.

Modern Parlance

-"smug" = someone more intelligent than the speaker
in the same ballpark,
-"arrogant" = a winner
-"I'm not quite sure" = I simply don't know
-"annoying" = intense
-""po faced" = serious
-it's to longg!!" = anything over ten lines
-"pretentious" = cultured, arty


to be continued no doubt!

Thank you.

-First of all, please bear in mind that this blog has to be read, er, backwards as it were: with the latest instalments appearing at the top of the page.

Thankfully the various chapters have been dutifully numbered and should be easy to follow chronologically (note to ******: that will be 1, then 2, then 3, and so on; no, the introduction does not come after the epilogue).

-Little explanation here. When I embarked on that project, I was barely able to breathe fully, walk, let alone carry anything -clearly I had to find some occupation/distraction and put my mind to it. Ha! Writing that pi*ce of crap certainly proved therapeutic! ...Anyway, here we are now, it's all of twelve months ago already so it's pretty much ancient history. Kept me occupied for about nine months in all -job's done!


-Finally -and most importantly-, Uma sincerely thanks you for your attention.

To be frank, the whole thing is a bit of a dog's breakfast, it certainly is all over the place and is -more often than not- something of a cringefest -but I like to imagine that it has its moments.
Yep.
Hopefully you (yous?) will be able to discover them and even enjoy them. If you do, don't hesitate to let me know, that would/will be appreciated.
Peace yous all!

they're dropping like flies!

RIP Steven Wells, legendary NME "critic" usually found foaming at the mouth. It's hard to believe it now, in these days when the NME is edited by a twelve year old whose favourite albums are -and I quote- "The Beatles' greatest hits and Nirvana "never mind" (sic)"- but there was once a time when the NME meant something.*
Anyhoo, S. Wells was the one writer a certain someone would always look up first thing on the Weds. morning.
....Quite a few expletives were usually likely to be found during the course of Wells's customary pieces.

Loving dat BigBrother yoke: isn't it unmissable that all of the objects of hate by the inmates come from cultures alien to the English Isles? (quick geographical note here: yes, the island of Ireland is situated in what is officially "the English Isles" so be it)?
Quite clearly, the only original/different/unpredictable inmates here are not English-acclimatised: Shree the Indian and Angel the Russian ...as well as Feckwit the Tory tosser. These two don't have the same references, they don't react the same predictable way, ...these two rock the cosy little boat composed of laaaaads and wanna "WAG"s (god do I hate this word).

Now what about your man you will object? For sure he is English is Feckwit ...but he is also from a different class, from a different viewpoint -and this is precisely why he's hated. Just listen to the actual reasons explicitly offered by that horrid horrid HORRID woman from Beuuuuuuuurmingham. Her likes resent him not so much because he's a tosser -which he undoubtedly is (it's so easy being idealistic and a would-be hippie when you're a millionaire)- ...but because he is different. Because he is culchured (check out the musical references on show here: they're quite telling.)

And we can't possibly have that can we.

Now then.
My other half (but he's a creep) forces me to mention the death of Farrah Fawcett (RIP) and quips my other half:
"there's been a lot of talk today about your man who was supposed to be so good to children and so forth but let me tell you... Farrah Fawcett -ha!-, she certainly gave me much more pleasure as a young boy growing up!"
...I am sure this must mean something.


Current expression we like: "I'm not sure..."
...It basically means "I don't know".


Stay kewl yous all!

*'musingly, Conor Something resigned his position that very day! ...to go and edit -you'll love this- the Daily Heil's polluporno mag "Top Gear". H'a!

A Frank Disclosure

Uma, in keeping with the MPs' latest bold move, has decided to come clean and will be completely frank: in these post 911 neo-Credit Crunch days she needs to be absolutely clear -literally- and send a strong message as well as a clear signal -like, totally-: she will admit to all her demeanours. All of them. Let's wipe the state (state??) slate clean and turn the page once and for all in these sad times where polit'calcorectness has gone mad and out of control so it has!

So here we go:

yes, I admit it, I did ******** -there, I said it. I did ***** **** *******, I did **** **** ******, I got ****** *** ********* *** ******* (Shabba!), I **** ******** ****, I **** ****
and I also ***** *** with *****, ****, whipped cream and strawberries (oh the smell...).

OK, I **** the ********: I committed it twice, and even ********* **** *** once (pity the dog if you will!)

Now If I need to address these ugly ugly ugly rumours that have redefined the term "baseless" and plagued me for as long as I can remember, I'll hold my hand up. I'm not afraid to address the question:

yes, it is true that I ********** a******************.

Just the one time or two (three in fact). I did.
But -and let me be absolutely clear on this as well as completely frank- it was only as a ****** ******** for me **** ***********, and not perfectly straight up the ******* ********!
I also ****** a ******* **** ***** at a ************% rate more than once (eight in total I think, over the course of ***** ********* so come on, gizzas a break).

What else,
oh yes I did get ************* ********* in the ********* ***** *** -this is a fact ...I am not too proud about it to be honest but it did happen. It did happen. But before yous all go judgemental, let me ask yous this. Let me ask you right?: put yourself in me shoes. Put yourself in me shoe and maintaining position, tell me frank. Tell me straight: what else would yous smarty pants have done eh?
Eh?
Right. So there.
Let he who shall cast a stone exit his glass house first.

Also.
(Might as well let it all out.)

Yes, I ****** **** *******.
Yes, I ************.
Yes, I **** ** ******** ******** ( and I even enjoyed it :-(( ).
Yes, I **** ********* **** a ****** ****** standing up against the **************** on the 1*th of M**ch 19** and got ***** ****** ***** right in the ******* *******.

As for disgraceful rumours of me ********** ************ ******* into a **************, all I can say is that they are grossly exaggerated! I only ********** *********** ************** ***** down the *************** ********** *************** with ******, ******, vinegar, ******, a vacuum cleaner, ******* **** -or so I thought at the time. Jaysus for crying out loud I was young and naive so I was, I only aimed to please!
Serves me right for being all candid and shite.

Finally I **************** *** *** ************* *********** *** ****** ** a dozen times at the most, no more . ************* ***** **** ****** the ***************************** *** or ********** ***** ****************** *** ** "woof woof!" ****** ******* ********* ** ** * ************** ******* *** ** (ouch) ************************************************** ************ ************************ ************* parsley and thine ********************************************************* a ************************************************ ***.

Did I really ***************** (hubba hubba!) *** ********* **** Des Lynam (oops) ********** ******** + ***** ************** ******? Read - my - lips: absolutely not!

********** **********, Richie McCaw, Norman Lamont, Harvey Keitel, ****** *******, Scarlett Johansson, Penelope Cruz, ****** ************, Julian Clary, T*m C**se, J*hn T*******a, ******** *********, the office janitor, ***** **********, ***** *****, Anne Wyddecombe, ******* *********?
Maybe. But only in passing. Only affectionately like.

Finally, **************************** ****** ******* ** ****************************
******************************************* ***************'s ********************* ***************************************************************** ************* ************ ***************************** ****** *************************** ************************************************************* * ***************** has to be my greatest shame (long sigh)
...but what 'you gonna do about it! What's done is done; the broom was there, it had to be put to good use.


So there yous are, dear friends. All done.
Ah, feel much better!

Books Books Books

-just about anything by Don DeLillo, my favourite living US writer -DeLillo has understood everything about modern life; start with "White Noise" "Mao II"

-in the goes-without-saying category: Brett Easton Ellis / Chuck Palahniuk / Michel Houellebecq / Douglas Coupland / Paul Auster / Irvine Welsh

-Marguerite Duras (my favourite French writer) -but I don't know how she translates

-my personal hero Boris Vian -he was everything

-the -like- Dub, alcohol fuelled, B. Vian Flann o'Brien

-Alain Robbe-Grillet

-the admirable John Steinbeck "Cannery Row" "Tortilla Flat"

-the admirable George Orwell (did me thesis on him so I did!) "The Road To Wigan Pier"

-Faulkner (I like me Southern Gothic me)

-talking of, Paddy mcCabe

-Martin Amis "Money" "Time's Arrow" "Dead Babies"

-Fielding "Tom Jones" / Sterne "Tristram Shandy"

-Phil K. Dick

-Louis de Bernieres

-Jane Austen

-Jimmy Baldwin: "The Fire Next Time"

-Pierre Prevert / Raymond Queneau / Marcel Ayme

-"l'Honneur perdu de Pedonzigues"

-probably the most imaginative novel I came across: "The Book Of Danish Dreams"-Peter Hoegh

-John Irving (for ex. "The Cider House Rules")

-Dickens

-Kundera

-could never really get into Murakami though; read 3 of his always critically acclaimed novels but... it doesn't sound right.

-Zadie Smith "White Teeth"

-ABCD Pierre "Vernon God Little"

-Mary Roach "Stiff" -terrific stuff! need to read her latest one ("Bonk" or something)

-seminal study (even though I think he loses it in the 3rd part as he extrapolates the plots onto history in the making as if there were a predetermined / structured movement to history) "The Seven Basic Plots"-Christopher Brooke

-Joyce "Ulysses"

-Carson McCullers

-Pinter, my favourite playwright

-Joseph Heller "Catch 22" "Something Happened"

-frankly... could never get into Updike, I just can't; idem with Roth -I just don't care for his world.

-Russell Banks ("The Rule Of Bones")

-comics: Daniel Clowes ("Ghost World") / Bill Skenkiewicz / Dave McKean / Neil Gaiman ("Signal To Noise" "Cages" etc.)

-comics: the lovely Argentinian "Mafalda"

-comics: Reiser / the abominable Vuillemin

-the extraordinary Pierre Bayard "Who Killed Roger Ackroyd"

-Rimbaud

-"The Moon In The Gutter" -great baroque oddity of a filum too!

-bought but as yet unread: "The Testament Lost In Zaragossa" by this Polish guy

-idem with Bruno Schulz; always meant to get into him