(Friday the 13th eh!)
You know that feeling when you're sooo tired -you almost want to cry and your belly aches! Sign of a good day. Quite productive. I hate to count but must have spent, say... a good 5/6 hours this afternoon/evening (it's now gone half past eleven)
-and yet it doesn't look like I've made much progress! (Should have numbered the pages, that'd give me a more accurate idea.) Still somewhere before the actual start, in a manner of speaking -there are a number of false starts ....and false endings involved.
Various bands/songs in the background or on my Internal Jukebox: the drone-like instrumental remixes of The Hope Blister -right up my street; the Wedding Present "Octopussy"; Rammstein (yes!) "Amerika"; the fabulous David Sylvian (esp. "Nostalgia"); Bloc Party "Your Visits Are Getting Shorter"...
Distant/secret references: Douglas Coupland, Chuck Palahniuk, Irvine Welsh, "Frasier", "The Simpsons"... Nothing to be ashamed of, then. OK, night night!
Thursday, 12 July 2012
Irish English Dictionary
A short Anglo-Irish lexicon of love.
(Please note that this refers to 2007/2008, i.e. before the banking crash. There's obviously a new Taoiseach, G. Ryan's dead, etc.)
-"Absolutely" = "yes". I once explained that "absolutely" was the new "actually". Talking of which...
-"Actually". I postulated somewhere by "actually" reveals an epochal deep-seated anxiety on the speaker's part: as if everyone were now so unsure of being believed in this here age of Internet-based unreliability ...that they therefore engage in some sort of escalating mania for redundancy.
-Alliance Francaise = French cultural centre offering "the best coffee in Dublin" according to Irvine Welsh who used to take lessons there. Haunting place of various luminaries.
-"AMG" = "AhMyGahd". Unimaginative variation: "Oh. My. God. (you won't believe who I've just seen, etc. etc. etc.)."
-"Aul’ wan" = old woman.
-"Away with the fairies" = to have a bird brain, to be mad.
-"Back in the land of the living" = back in Dublin, usually from the countryside. Not often used by speakers hailing from outside the capital (see "Culchies").
-Ballyfermot = Dublin area, like Kilmainham, Donnybrook, Crumlin, Tallaght, Clondalkin...
-"Bertie" = the godfather. Irish Prime Minister Bertie Ahern.
-Bewley's = cafe slash restaurant where one goes to have a nice cup of tea after a spot of shopping in the adjourning Grafton Street.
-"The black stuff" = Guinness.
-"Bold" = naughty. ""Oh Ramon, but you are being awfully bold here", whimpered Lucinda, aglow with embarrassment and not a little shiver of excitement."
-"Bollix" = bollocks. The legend that is Roy Keane once famously invited his then national manager to "stick it up (his) bollix!", an anatomically inventive feat if there ever was one.
-"The-Brits" = the subjects of Her Britannic Majesty.
-"(by) the Bono!" = (taking a sacred name in vain) interjection denoting either pleasure or displeasure. Refers to Bono Vox (aka Paul Hewson), rock singer with U2 at night, cigar smoker / future President of Ireland (25/1 as I type) / ideal Pope / perennial Nobel Peace Prize nominee / hotelier by day.
-"Brutal" = not brutal per se, more like: terrible, serious, proper, hardcore.
-"Celtic Tiger" = that probably unique period in Irish history of financial prominence. No actual tiger is involved.
-Charlie Haughey = eighties Prime Minister whose, er, colourful personality and -cough cough- flamboyant finances did not meet with everybody's approval. The so-called "father of the Celtic Tiger", he abolished taxes for artists and granted free transport to pensioners.
-"C’m here till I tell ya" = an invitation to come forth, the speaker being in a talkative mood.
-"Craic" = fun; the essence of which is often the vexed subject of many an opening address, namely: "What’s the craic?!"
-"Croker" = Croke Park, one of the biggest stadiums in the whole of Europe, home of GAA and -until 2007- forbidden to "Anglo" sports such as soccer and rugby, on account of the 1920 massacre.
-"Culchie" = derogatory term meaning someone from outside Dublin. In the interest of balance, one must also mention the reverse insult aimed at Dubliners: "Jackeens" (with reference to the Union Jack).
-"Cute" = clever. "See this Loig7San -he’s awfully cute!"
-"Dear" = expensive.
-"Deco" = short for Declan. Guy who usually goes out with a girl named Sinead (-hey, some of my very best friends are called Deco!)
-D 4 = postcode to the posh part of Dublin (such as: Dun Laoghaire or Blackrock).
-(The) Dail = the Parliament.
-"Deadly" = great (appreciative).
-"Dub" = Dubliner (name and adjective); the salt of the earth; fecking useless at GAA since the eighties.
-Eamon Dunphy = ex-footballer turned media pundit. Never in lack of an opinion or ten. "Rabble-rouser" and "unmissable" are two adjectives often used in conjunction with the man.
-"Eejit" = idiot.
-"(to) Feak" = to kiss, to snog –one step short of to fuck.
-"filum" = film.
-FAI = Football Association of Ireland. Organism that once appointed Stan "Steve" Staunton manager of the national team.
-"Fair play to you" = well done, good for you.
-"Fecking" (and "focken", which is soundedly more brutal) = clever roundabout way not to utter another interjection whose correct spelling I'll leave to your imagination.
-"Fella" "Fellow" "Fellet" = boyfriend.
-"(to) Fret" = to worry.
-"Frog's Legs" = a potent supersweet cocktail of dubious colour aimed at young ladies in quest of a good time. Cf. also a "screaming orgasm", "sex on the beach", etc. -Yous get the general idea. It may not be advisable to buy someone a "Frog's Legs" when, unbeknown to you, that someone's burly father is standing right at the bar.
-GAA = a man's game (in fact, several); All-Ireland Gaelic games involve batting a ball -and sometimes an opponent- with a great fecking wooden spoon.
-"Gas ticket" = somebody fun, providing joy and a good laugh. "Baby Aibhin is such a gas ticket", exclaimed her mum "-it’s like having a new telly!"
-"Gaybo" = the venerable Gay Byrne, lifelong host of "The Late Late Show" and keen motorcyclist.
-"Gedda out of the park!" = you are having a laugh, my dear boy/girl.
-"Gee" = lady’s part (rude).
-(The) George = gay drinking establishment. Hosts jazz sessions on Sunday afternoons (and no, this is not a euphemism for something else).
-"(to) Give out" = to moan, whine, and generally let it all out for a refreshing frank and open.
-Gerry Ryan = inexplicable presence on the radio.
moving on to
-"Gobshite" = eejit.
-"Good for the goose" = susceptible of sexual conduct, as in "Hey dude, here comes Aoife -ay caramba!- do you reckon she’s good for the goose?"
-"Good luck!" = goodbye!
-"Good man yourself!" = well done!
-"Goodbye!" = good luck! -only joking. Means "Goodbye."
-"Grand" = that which is good, fine, and even great.
-Grainne Seoilge = the gods’ gift to TV viewers, Grainne Seoilge is a Bambi faced newsreader blessed with a peachy complexion, a sparkle in her almond eyes, a darling of a chin, and a full set of perfect teeth that come in handy for (all too rare) flashes of a smile.
And, oh, what an unfortunate juxtaposition we have here with the next term:
-"Ham shanking" = the practice of self-pollution.
-Haughey = see Charlie Haughey.
-"Holiers" = holidays.
-George Hook = mountain of a man who doesn’t half-like to pontificate on rugby and various subjects on the box and the radio. Blessed with a sandpapering voice which, once heard, is never forgotten. Everybody loves George Hook.
-"GSOH" = "Going Soft Or Homo" as in "Hey dude, ripped the remake of "Cannibal Holocaust" last night, the one made with children and fluffy little kittens you know? ...Huh. Didn't flip my switch, must be GSOH."
-"Hoor" = alarmingly affectionate accolade, made up -who would have guessed- after the word "whore". "See (insert name of choice) –what a cute little hoor!"
-"How's she cutting?" = how do you do. Cf. also "How's she hanging?", "What's the story (bud)!!", "Ah there you are".
-"Howsa." = how do you do, what’s up bitches?
-"(((((hug)))))" = sending good wishes to someone over the World Wide Web. IMHO, men just love to receive such messages -and talk about getting them to write one themselves!
-"IMHO" = "In My Humble Orifice" -er, opinion! In My Humble Opinion! (oops...)
-"It’s all good" = judgement of a probably appreciative nature.
-"Jaysus" = Jesus.
-Sinead Jennings = Olympian athlete and trainee nurse from county Donegal who sure does her country proud.
-Joanne Cantwell = beguiling sports TV presenter with a little side-smile, a studiously repressed glitter in the eye, and an accent that would melt butter at twenty paces.
-"Kecks" = trousers.
-"(we) Know how to enjoy ourselves" = we get piss*d a lot.
-"Know-what-I-mean" = like "actually" and "like", a mandatory part of any Dubliner sentence.
-Liffey = river smack in the middle of Dublin that supposedly separates civilisation from the wilderness (please note I am not saying which side is which; let's just point out that the airport was built for faster escape on the North side).
-"(the) Lights are on but there’s nobody home" = someone not overly endowed with powers of reflection. A footballer maybe, or a model.
-"Like." May just be heard uttered occasionally by da-yout-of-today. Pillar of any sentence, never used as a term of comparison. Makes for a nice sing-song stop at the end of any proposition like.
-"Like I said" = as I said (Americanism).
-Lillie’s Bordello = select hang-out de rigiour for the Colin Farrell bad-boy type. …Would also benefit from the patronage of wild wacky and wonderful novelists, mind.
-"LOL" = "lots of laughs" or "laughing out loud"; expression of amusement used by texters (or TxTrs, even). Does not mean "lots of love", as a certain person's mother believed and used to sign all her messages with -God love 'er.
-"LOLnot" = "laughing out loud -not"; expression of distinct non amusement used by texters.
-LUAS = the circular electric tramway.
-"Ma" = Mum.
-"Me" = my. Unless when it means "me".
-M50 = parking space masquerading as a circular motorway.
-"Morto" = mortified. "Dude, Eimear gave me the evil eye and I was -like- morto!"
-"Mot" = girlfriend.
-"Munter" = a young lady not blessed with pleasing looks.
-"Muppet" = idiot.
-"Myself" = more often than not, me. An extraordinary amount of people don’t seem to know the difference between "myself" (reflexive) and "me" (accusative). One gets to actually see "he looked at myself" printed in the paper (true).
-NLI = the National Library of Ireland -fair play to the NLI, says I!
-"Nice little ride" = young person whose pleasing appearance and overall genial demeanour elicit thoughts of a sexual nature. Good in the sack. "Check out Aoife dude, she looks like a nice little ride, know-what-I-mean?"
-"Noddies" = female breasts. As in "Gee dude, check the noddies on that little ride! Wouldn’t kick her out of bed if she farted!"
-"NOF" = "Not Office Friendly"; clearly someone who doesn't like offices. Probably someone who prefers working on his/her own. A freelancer, perhaps. Or a misunderstood genius novelist.
-"North Side" = the Liffey river defined half of Dublin which is generally considered to be the more working-class of the two. This being said, personalities such as Bertie Ahern and The Bono In Person are native Northsiders.
-(Senator) David Norris = flamboyant –in other words, gay- representative, human rights activist, Joyce scholar, and radio personality whose main historic legacy will have been to bring about the decriminalisation of homosexuality in the Republic of Ireland.
-"Now then." Warning before any course of action, usually stated when the person sits down.
-"Off The Rails" = the, like, most totally awesome show on the telly which Lily should, by rights, be fronting (even though it's not very good) instead of that old ******* of ****** ****** ***.
-"On me todd" = on my own.
-"OPW" = Office of Public Works.
-"Pal" = mate.
-Panti Hose = superlative drag-queen (at least seven feet tall) who would have dear-old-Oscar running for the hills. Traditionally hosts the highlight of Dublin’s annual social calendar: the election of "alternative miss Ireland".
-Pat Kenny = inexplicable presence on the radio and the television.
-"Plastic Paddy" = accusation levelled at that celtic brethren residing abroad who dares to be proud of its heritage. Who hasn't been labelled a "plastic Paddy" at some stage or another?
-Podge and Rodge = foul-mouthed TV puppets beloved of children of all ages. Catchphrase: "Talk to me sack!"
-"Poxy" = that which is of inferior quality. Shite.
-"Pulling the devil by the tail" = to be in top form.
-"Rashers" = meat-based product beloved of non-vegetarians.
-Roses of Tralee = talent show for young Celtic ladies selected the world over, the alpha and omega of Irishness. And Uma adds: could do with commissioning new talent to go down there and report in their inimitable style, know-what-I-mean! Takes place in Tralee.
-"ROFL" = Retching On the Floor, Legless -or, for the less poetically inclined, Rolling On the Floor Laughing.
-RTE = Radio Television Eireann; you could say the BBC is the UK's version of RTE.
-"Sambo" = sandwich. Now here is a local expression that would travel badly over the sea. As a rule, spoken abbreviations often take "o" as a suffix : cf. "Keano" for Keane, "Deco" for Declan, "The Indo" for "The Independent newspaper, and so on.
-"Scratcher" = bed.
-"Scoby" = some stuff, dat ting.
-"Scouldy" = rather lacking in cleanliness, one might say. Fecking shite like.
-"Shaking hands with the unemployed" = the act of micturating. "Splashing one’s boots."
-"Skanger" = derogatory description of a disreputable young person usually dressed in tracksuit bottoms and a baseball cap despite not thought to be frequenting a gymnasium or playing baseball.
-"(to) Slag someone" = to slag them off.
-"Slainte!" = cheers!
-"South Side" = the more opulent and touristic half of Dublin.
-"Spanner" = politically incorrect questioning of someone’s mental ability. Yet another idiot.
-"Sprog" = a wee little bairn. An infant, not always legitimate.
-"Spuds" = potatoes. The main course of "breakfast", "tea", and "supper" -along with MEAT of course (cf. rashers).
-"Steaming" = under the definitive influence of alcoholic beverages.
-"Straightener" = a "hair of the dog" drink ...or a punch administered to the face, the choice is yours.
-"(to be) Sucking diesel" = to be on a roll.
-"Talk-to-Joe" = popular radio program (actual name: "Liveline") hosted by Joe Duffy, a gentleman whose voice makes Eamon Dunphy sound like Enya. Ideal for the days when your local newsagent has run out of copies of "The Sun".
-"Talk to me brown!" = (extremely vulgar) indication of a lack of interest for someone’s forthcoming opinion.
-"(go) Take a long walk off a short pier!" = an invitation to off eff.
-"Tea" = lunch. And tea.
-TCD = Trinity College Dublin.
-TD = Teachta Dala (member of Parliament).
-Temple Bar = drinking district for foreign tourists, mainly British, policed by Eastern European bouncers. Also site of cultural institutions such as the IFI (Irish Film Institute), the National Photographic Archive, the Olympia theatre, as well as the organic market on Saturdays.
-"Thanks a million" = thank you (please note: no smaller amount will do).
-"That yoke" = anything, really.
-"The man himself" = your man.
-"To be perfectly honest wid cha," = a Dubliner's start to any sentence.
-"Toodleeoh!" = goodbye.
-"Trinners" = Trinity College for short.
-UCD = University College Dublin.
-UK, the = mysterious neighbouring country less economically advanced whence revellers (male and female) arrive every weekend to get intoxicated in Temple Bar.
-"Up the Dubs!" = local exhortation aimed at encouraging the GAA team to go and actually win some fecking thing after twenty-odd years of frustration.
-U2 = popular beat combo.
-VPL = visible panty line. "AMG, "whale tails" are like so last year's VPLs!"
-Louis Walsh = bachelor pop music manager personally responsible for Johnny Logan, "The X Factor", Westlife, Boyzone and Girls Aloud (…and it is sometimes claimed that Aleister Crowley was "the world’s most evil man" eh).
-"Wagon": less than appreciative comment on a woman.
-"(do you want to) Wake up with a crowd around you?" = "Do you want to have a go big man? huh? do you??" An invitation to engage in fisticuffs and get properly out knocked.
-"(to) Wreck someone’s bonce" = to get on someone’s top bollix, to do their head in.
-XXX = signatory "love and kisses" sign-off. Or, alternatively, hardcore porn.
-"Young Wan" = young woman.
-"Your man" = anyone really, anyone -except your actual man. He who is being talked about, the man on the street, etc..
Excerpt from "You Know Yourself 2.0"-Uma o'Gil. For any comment, here is a contact email: loig7san "at" gmail.com -peace, yo'all!
Some updating -at last.
Right, and this is quite exciting, but three/four years on, I have gone back to that Dub chicklit yoke and re-edited it. Let's be honest, and as those who came across its original incarnation will have noted, it was pretty awful! (Insert smiley emoticon here)
Here is not the place to detail the rather trying circumstances in which it was produced -suffice to say that it was... therapeutic.
A few years down the line, I have been able to take a few steps back and look at it again critically. Translation: am in the process of rewriting it almost entirely!
Here is not the place to detail the rather trying circumstances in which it was produced -suffice to say that it was... therapeutic.
A few years down the line, I have been able to take a few steps back and look at it again critically. Translation: am in the process of rewriting it almost entirely!
Friday, 17 June 2011
How the media works
You may want to go n check Le Dessoutitreur:
http://dessoutitreur.blogspot.com/2011_06_01_archive.html
http://dessoutitreur.blogspot.com/2011_06_01_archive.html
Thursday, 10 March 2011
Credible News
Credible News (c). For an alternative world view. Now available at http://credibleheadlines.blogspot.com/2011_03_01_archive.html
Thursday, 18 February 2010
gratuitous Loig 7 plug, after all
Keeping it in the family...
Check out Loig 7 San 's graphic blo(i)g at
http://loig7san.blogspot.com/
Check out Loig 7 San 's graphic blo(i)g at
http://loig7san.blogspot.com/
Monday, 31 August 2009
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.
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.
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