Thursday 16 December 2010

The Best (and worst) of 2010....


Albums
- The Suburbs - Arcade Fire
- Postcards From A Young Man - Manic Street Preachers
- Life Is Sweet! Nice To Meet You - Lightspeed Champion
- Contra - Vampire Weekend
- Butterfly House - The Coral



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Films
- Toy Story 3
- Four Lions
- A Single Man
- Anvil - The True Story of Anvil
- Cemetery Junction





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TV
- A History of Horror with Mark Gattis - BBC4
- The Trip - BBC2
- Mad Men (Season 4) - BBC4
- Sherlock - BBC1
- An Idiot Abroard - Sky1




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Heroes
- Aung San Suu Kyi
- Lionel Messi
- Julian Assange
- Nicky Wire





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Villains
- Nick Clegg
- David Cameron
- Rev Terry Jones
- Sepp Blatter
- Kim Jong-Il




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News Events
- 33 Chilean miners trapped after the collapse of the San José mine are rescued successfully.
- The BP Deepwater Horizon oil spill, the largest in human history, occurs in the Gulf of Mexico.
- Widespread flooding in Pakistan kills over 1600 and displaces millions from their homes.
- North Korea shells South Korean Yeonpyeong Island, escalating tensions between the two nations.
- The UK General Election produces 'no winner' with the first non-majority result since 1974.

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Sporting Events
- Chelsea win a League and FA Cup 'Double' (only the 7th team to do so).
- John Isner beats Nicolas Mahut 70-68 in the final set of the longest Tennis match in history at Wimbledon.
- Graeme McDowell beats Hunter Mahan in the final singles match as Europe defeat the United States 14½-13½ to regain the Ryder Cup.
- At 52, Steve Davis beats reigning Champion John Higgins, in the 2nd Round of the Snooker World Championship at the Crucible, to become the oldest Quarter-Finalist since Eddie Charlton in 1983.
- Germany destroy a much fancied Argentina side, including Lionel Messi, 4-0 in the Quarter-Finals of the Football World Cup.

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Personal Events
- Seeing The Libertines perform at the Reading Festival.
- Watching Germany's World Cup defeat of Argentina at Old Street's Bavarian Beerhouse
- George's 1st birthday party.
- #moktoberfest2
- Taking and passing my First Aid Course.

Friday 3 December 2010

Album Review: Serotonin - Mystery Jets


***
Mystery Jets are an indie band that have operated under my radar for some time but, thanks to their billing under the Libertines, the Cribs et al at the Reading Festival - at which I was in attendance of course - I have recently forced myself to investigate further.

In doing so, I discovered Serotonin, an album chock full of the most wonderful, melodic pop songs I've heard in some time. The title track and 'Flash a Hungry Smile', in particular, are indie standards worthy of wider audiences, although, surprisingly, neither have been released as singles to date.

The tracks furnished with that prestigious status are 'Dreaming of Another World' and 'Show Me The Light', archetypal in demonstrating the Eel Pie Islander's talent for crafting a catchy number and with such self-assured inventiveness as to send imaginations skyward.

In fact, Mystery Jets' penchant for a flight of fancy is very reminiscent of Super Furry Animals, especially on lines such as 'Have you heard the birds and bees/Have all caught STD's?' and, indeed, these moments, when the album shows the band's more eccentric side, are key to their success.

Elsewhere however, Serotonin does risk sounding like the work of just another indie also ran, bringing to bear further lovelorn malady on an industry already drowning in guitar driven drivel.

Yet overall, there's a tangible and infectious joie de vivre about the album which just avoids the tipping point into sentimentality, and even though some of the well-worn tales of heart break and loss offer little originality, it's impossible not to find yourself slipping into a jaunty reverie and simply enjoying the ride.

Monday 15 November 2010

38 degree burns

I know David Mitchell wrote of 38degrees.org.uk in a recent Guardian column but I feel compelled to have a bit of a dig at it too.

Feeling politically charged up as I have been recently (see here and here), I took up the request, via twitter, to "Stop the power grabbing Rupert Murdoch" and his company's bid to take a majority share in BSkyB.

I am against his already widespread influence over the UK media and had recently been considering terminating my Sky TV contract and moving to Virgin purely on political grounds. I should, I thought, do something about it.

Clicking through to the 38 degrees campaign, I was presented with the body of an email, already written, which simply required the addition of my name and address before, pending a quick postcode search, being 'pinged' to my local MP at the click of a button.

Having dutifully done so, and within a couple of days of sending the email, I received a letter in the post from Conservative MP Crispin Blunt acknowledging my concern and reassuring me that, were any takeover to take place, it would be duly scrutinised.

I wasn't satisfied though, far from it. In fact, it felt like somewhat of a hollow victory, if a victory of any kind it could be called. Here I had experienced a brief glimpse of democracy at work but, somehow, it had just been too easy.

The problem with these templates and sites like 38 degrees is that, although they encourage you to be active - a good thing in many ways - they don't lead you to consider the finer nuances of a political issue independently.

Instead they push a party line of sorts directly at you, in this case, 'down with the money grabbing Rupert Murdoch'. A monopoly on the media by any one single organisation is an undesirable state of affairs regardless of that organisation's political backing.

Write to your MP about a subject close to your heart by all means but don't go blundering into it with some preconceived gung-ho attack on an individual or an organisation. Instead, form your own independent view, whether it is rational or not, that at least attempts to consider the bigger, political, picture.

Had I done that, when the letter arrived from the House of Commons, hand signed by Mr Blunt, I may have felt a smidgen more proud of myself.

Thursday 11 November 2010

Top 5 - Songs about Class

The current focus on Pulp, post this week's news they are reforming, has got me listening to their brilliant music again and, obviously, 'Common People' in particular.

Many have shimmied and sashayed to its pop genius in clubs and discotheques since the mid 90's but I'm also sure many, though understanding the predominant message of the song, are oblivious to the subtle significance of the incredible lyrics.

This blog by Dorian Lynskey captures that significance perfectly and leads me to think of the other great songs about class. Here's my top 5....

1) Common People - Pulp
2) A Design for Life - Manic Street Preachers
3) Cigarettes & Alcohol - Oasis
4) Working Class Hero - John Lennon
5) The Queen Is Dead - The Smiths

Tuesday 9 November 2010

Don't Give Up

Last month I joined the Labour Party. Despite voting, it's the only active political step I suppose I've ever taken and, in all honesty, I'm not even sure what it really means for me.

It feels good to finally pin my colours to the mast at least. Like many, I am confounded by the actions of the current coalition government and feel duped, in particular, by the Liberal Democrat Party.

I voted for them, albeit tactically, but if the current coalition has taught me anything, it's that I will never again allow myself to be drawn away from my political principles, nor indulge, for that matter, in the ultimately negative and personally dishonest practice of voting tactically. It's sticking to your principles you see, that which Nick Clegg seems incapable of doing.

So I pay my few pounds a month to the Labour cause, it's far from being an activist I know. Still, I hope that out of small acorns, great oaks may grow.

To paraphrase Tony Benn in his recent interview with Nicky Wire, 'I won't give up' and I'll leave you with this article which outlines why we all shouldn't.

Thursday 28 October 2010

Album Review: Postcards From A Young Man - Manic Street Preachers


*****
Were 'stars' awarded for sheer ambition, scope and ideas alone, there would certainly be a full set appearing next to every industry review, so engaging is the context of Nicky Wire's desire for a cross-over smash.

However, perhaps that very characteristic is also the one thing that prevents Postcards From A Young Man achieving masterpiece status.

Whereas 1996's Everything Must Go (perhaps the most comparable of their past albums) inevitably rode the wave of enthusiasm for music that would encapsulate the 'Britpop' era, Postcards From A Young Man arrives at a time when the music industry finds itself in considerable decline.

However, it's unfair to label 'Postcards' as merely Everything Must Go 'Part 2' (much as Journal For Plague Lovers was never The Holy Bible Part 2), the album having its own unique identity based on a disillusionment with the modern world and a poetic sense of loss.

Our acquiescence to the digital age in particular comes in for criticism, a virtual existence in which Internet lies "camouflage our screams" and 'Google', the search engine giant, is unmasked as a corporate villain rather than the omnipotent and benevolent 'deity' of our time.

The title track itself revels in the nostalgia of times past, when communication required thought, effort and consideration. When receipt of a postcard would warm the cockles and the Polaroid picture was the height of instant technological gratification.

This clarion call to cherish the physical whilst we still can pervades throughout the album and takes on a further significance in 'All We Make Is Entertainment', a treatise on the sad decline of the UK's manufacturing industry.

It's in such album tracks that the true thematic heart of Postcards For A Young Man is found but that's not to say that when the Manics truly go for broke, as on clear potential single 'Some Kind of Nothingness', there isn't considerable merit to be found too.

That defiance manifests itself here with Ian McCulloch's climactic repetition of, "Never stop" echoing James Dean Bradfield's, "This world will not impose its will/I will not give up and I will not give in!" from the title track again.

'Golden Platitudes' is one of the most musically aspirational songs they've ever put to record, almost Lennonesque in its arrangement and matched by a lyric grappling with New Labour's betrayal of the British public - "the liberal left destroyed every piece of my youth."

Yet, just when you think you're drowning in the lush strings and melody, you're hit by the one-two punch of 'Auto-Intoxication', rumbling in on Bradfield's raging urgency.

Further succour is found on the Nicky Wire sung 'The Future Has Been Here 4 Ever' which on first listen sounds like a misstep but is in fact one of the most surprisingly refreshing moments on the entire record.

It may be naive to hope 'Postcards' crashes onto ipods with the same vigour as CD's once winged their way into the homes of so many, but it's again evidence of the Manics considerable career second wind. A gloriously ambitious rage against the evils of our time and a testament to hope for the future.

Wednesday 27 October 2010

Going Back to 'Back to the Future'

I couldn't let the recent re-release of 'Back to the Future' pass without a blog (and I know there's been a considerable amount of my comment on twitter over the past couple of weeks too).

Having toiled in order to find a screening in my locale, I finally ended up at the 21.20 Friday showing in Crawley, alone and in a screen empty but for a handful of couples and a family of four.

As the lights dimmed and I settled down with my packet of sweets and carbonated drink, pre-purchased from the BP garage en-route, I couldn't prevent a huge smile from creeping across my face. Here was my attempt to regress manifesting itself around me.

For an hour and forty minutes, I melted away from going concerns and sunk into wonderful childhood memories of skateboards, playground larks and Dad's Chuck Berry cassette tapes, the latter of which would also comprise my formal introduction to rock 'n' roll.

As Michael J Fox 'duck-walked' across stage at the 'Enchanment Under the Sea' dance I actually found myself getting quite emotional - in truth I'd already shed a tear at the moment Marty's parents kiss for the first time despite having seen it before a hundred times - yet I realised I wasn't welling up just by way of association with a lost youth but as a reaction to the film's underlying themes.

Here too was a rites of passage, a young man with his own oedipal issues, struggling with that nagging sense that he's retreading his parents past mistakes.

I realise I'm over egging this obsession now so shall draw a line under it here, but the last thing I will say is that the film itself still stands up as a true classic.

On re-visting Back to the Future from an adult perspective, it's incredible just how tight the film making is. There's no excess baggage or padding, every single plot point having a significance that is wound into the overarching story. There's also an abudance of quick-witted charm that flows from every scene. Needless to say, I left the cinema with a very warm glow indeed.

Here endeth my retreat.

Thursday 14 October 2010

Awooga!

Whilst scanning The Guardian website's home page I came across a link to this piece on great sporting moments. Top of the list was a moment I have a real personal fondness for - The 4x400 Mens Relay Final at the 1991 World Athletics Championships.

It's not for any great love of athletics I can assure you (I've been completely indifferent to the recent Commonwealth Games, despite the odd snigger at the organisers misfortunes) only that I remember watching it with my Dad, live on television, and being drawn into the excitement of that final leg, run by none other than former 'Record Breakers' presenter and 'Question of Sport' regular, Kris 'Awooga' Akabusi.

The likes of Roger Black and John Regis had been hot on the heels of the US team for the entire race, but it was only at the exit from the final bend into the home straight that Akabusi was able to pull out onto the shoulder of the US athlete and fight him to the line for the gold medal.

It was genuinely thrilling to see him taking it to the favoured Americans and, inexplicably, both my Dad and I found ourselves rising to our feet and cheering him on for all we were worth - "Go on, Go on, GO ON!!" - in a crescendo of encouragement that somehow channelled from our living room in Carshalton, through the television, to that sweaty stadium in Tokyo.

As Akabusi crossed the line, just a shade in front of his rival, we were jubilant beyond even our own expectation. It was the joy of having unexpectedly, on a sleepy Sunday morning, been party to a wonderful sporting contest, the thrill of an underdog victory and a rare instance of Britain 'getting one over' on our friends from across the pond!

I expect Mum wondered what all the noise was about as she pottered around upstairs. Then again, she may have just resigned herself to the fact that "boys will be boys".

Wednesday 13 October 2010

"What did *I* do?"

I realise I live in a quasi-youthful state these days, torn between the childhood to which I wish to regress and the ongoing, irrepressible surge onwards into adulthood, its trappings of responsibility - financial, emotional, familial - looming ever larger in the rear-view mirror of my conscience.

I would hazard to guess that men suffer from this plight more acutely than their female counterparts. As boys, we are often raised in a manner that fosters irresponsibility and neglects the need to address life's real issues. I have to say that sport, the still predominantly male obsession, is somewhat to blame.

We are rightly encouraged to take an interest and participate in sport, yet we're not necessarily encouraged to take responsibility for doing so. When on-field competition spills over into conflict or injury, we often hear that well weathered adage - "Oh well. Boys will be boys" - the impression that our actions are beyond our control re-enforced in the process.

As an avid child spectator I've often heard, from mothers and grandmothers no less, the sympathetic tones of "Let him watch the football", offered in response to my desperate need to see a particular match on TV, as if it was an accepted right of my gender to be afforded access to this other world.

Now I'm not denying that as an adult I wouldn't still be disgruntled at having my Soccer Saturday viewing interrupted by, say, having to attend a Christening - after all, I still believe in the worth of sport to lift me into a magical realm - it's just that it doesn't set me up for the delicate and subtle responsibilities of adult/fatherhood.

As a case in point, I find it difficult to deal with the oedipal Bermuda triangle that is my son/wife/mother relationship. For example, all too often I struggle to put my own mother to rights on the smallest of seemingly trivial babysitting issues. Rather than putting my wife and son's needs unequivocally first, like Ronnie Corbett, I'm always looking for the next opportunity to say "sorry".

It's a weakness of character I know. If I employ avoidance tactics even for mundane tasks such as fixing a loose floorboard, it's no surprise I do so in the face of real confrontation and all the consequences that its adult incarnation brings.

Of course I know it's not my fault I'm this way, obviously. If fault lies anywhere, it's with how boys are raised in compliance with societies expectations; it's with the prevalence of culture's glamorous anti-heroes ('The Wire's' Jimmy McNulty or 'Mad Men's' Donald Draper for instance)....Oh and with Rupert Murdoch.

Wednesday 29 September 2010

Album Review: The Suburbs - Arcade Fire


 *****
Three albums into their career and Arcade Fire seem more untouchable than ever. Indeed, on hearing the first note of 'The Surburbs', you instantly realise you're listening to something very special.

There's an effortless majesty here which spills forth across the 16 songs, all worthy contributions to the album, and which veer from the Abba influenced glam stomp of Sprawl II (Mountains Beyond Mountains) to the new wave guitar growl of Month of May.

Whereas previous album 'Neon Bible' has been criticised, somewhat retrospectively it must be said, for its overblown sound, here there is a delicacy of touch comparable with that of a fine watchmaker.

Sprawl 1 (Flatlands) is an understated masterpiece of youthful alienation. "The cops shine their lights/On the reflectors of our bikes" as the children of American surburbia lose themselves in the cultural wastelands, defining Arcade Fire's newfound ease of transition from sub-genre to sub-genre and thematically demonstrating the wonderful melancholy of growing up in 80's surburban towns with their nameless, faceless lack of identity.

Unfathomable boredom pervades the album, from the "great big words" the kids use but don't understand, through to the resultant tribal divisions of 'Surburban War' and the endless ennui of 'Wasted Hours'.

There's also anger at the business men who, "...drink my blood/Like the kids in art school said they would" and the apathy of youth, "But how you gonna lift it with your arms folded tight?"

Special mention must be reserved, however, for 'We Used To Wait', an authoritative statement on the intangible transience of modern life. "I used to write letters/I used to sign my name" Win Butler declares, the song culminating in the snarled, "We used to wait for it/Now we're screaming sing the chorus again".

The Suburubs is undoubtedly a masterpiece of the modern man.

Friday 17 September 2010

Album Review: Total Life Forever - Foals


**
Total Life Forever. It's a title that somewhat epitomises the problem with this second Foals album - It appears weighty and portentous but on closer inspection simply doesn't furnish you with any worthwhile meaning at all.

Having embroidered their own unique style of 'math rock' on debut Antidotes, the Oxford quintet merely appear to have stripped away most of the delightfully playful yet urgent guitar mechanics that raised them above the parapet of obscurity, leaving nothing but a sonic waste ground of pretentious etherea.

It's hard not to compare Foals unfavourably with The Horrors, who although also expanding their musical palette on last year's Primary Colours, managed to do so whilst finding their own distinctive voice.

Alas, too much of Total Life Forever feels bereft of any discernible intent. Lead track 'Spanish Sahara' is a good case in point. Over 6 minutes in length and sporting the teeth grinding imagery of lyric, "Now I see you lying there/Like a lilo losing air", you can't escape the feeling that, when push comes to shove, Foals simply don't have the substance to fulfil their musical ambition.

There are moments when their potential exposes itself fleetingly such as on 'Miami' and 'This Orient' but ultimately it feels like Foals have deliberately lent towards the more MOR music listener, a move which their Mercury Prize nomination will no doubt only serve to justify.

Unfortunately for me, it feels like a band with considerable potential are rapidly losing their impetuous.

Wednesday 15 September 2010

Onward, until victory

I've already tweeted the link to this video twice (three times through the twitter feed from this blog) but it's undoubtedly worthy of more attention. Partly because it follows on nicely from my last blog but also because it just feels so timely in general.

As the TUC contemplates organised strikes, the Tory's, day-by-day, reveal more of their true nature to the world and the electorate reels from the long shadow of Cleggmania, this short interview with Labour MP Tony Benn feels inspirational.

Having watched it in full yesterday evening before going to bed, I found I couldn't sleep, couldn't rest at the thought of democracy being undermined by the desperate clambering of individuals for power.

I wanted to march in defence of what I believed. I wanted to start a band again. I wanted to write lyrics, I wished that I could play the guitar properly. I felt more and more guilty about living in my increasingly comfortable middle class malaise. I knew I was merely protecting the status quo.

That there's a new Manics record out next week is no coincidence of course. They always remind me of the true potential of great art to change the world for the better. I wouldn't substitute my life for anyone's but in many ways I know that's a problem in itself. I know I've got too much to lose.

I envy those who I imagine are young, without responsibility, find themselves in life's gutter and who have no other option than to cherish creativity whilst kicking out at the world. If the world kicks back a lot fucking harder then so what? At least they tried, goddamit, at least they did that.

Friday 10 September 2010

Strike to the heart

I get frustrated with the perennial reaction to strikes. This week the tube network in London was all but completely shut down for 24hrs as RMT and TSSA Union members fought back over the decision by London Underground to cut 800 jobs across the network.

The media's perceived reaction? - "Misery" and "Travel Chaos". Worse than that, the strike is "Damaging to our Economy". 'Misery' and 'travel chaos'? Those signifiers don't fit with the scenes of calm stoicism I experienced on my morning commute. A 6 day long Chinese traffic jam - now that's what I call 'travel chaos'.

How ironic too that the striking tube worker receives an ounce of blame for damaging the economy when the generally received wisdom is that the rich 'City Banker' type caused this recession in the first place. The result, of course, this government's perceived necessity for cuts which has had its effect on both public and private sectors.

Yet what chars my heart more than this even, is the utter selfishness of some of the general public's rhetoric. Of course the strike is an unwanted inconvenience but, for the majority, it is merely that - an inconvenience. Surely we can suffer one day of inconvenience for the sake of those who are trying to protect their livelihoods?

Those who, through their presence in maintaining the London Underground network, allow us to reach the office from our suburban havens in the first place. Reading headlines such as "Londoners defy Tube strike" is incredibly depressing. We shouldn't be defying the strike but supporting it! If not as an act of selflessness then in order to ensure we receive a better service as commuters for the foreseeable future. It's not in our interest that 800 jobs are cut, let alone London Underground employees! 

Tuesday 7 September 2010

Family Fortune


Two remarkable landmarks in my family life will have been reached this summer. Firstly, the 5th anniversary of mine and Laura's wedding day back in July, and this Monday on the 13th September, the 1st anniversary of our boy George's birth!

I haven't harked on about either of them too much on this blog. Mainly because nobody wants to hear about these things and also because, well, affection is for us to show each other not the world at large.

However, I am going to indulge myself a little right now. I am eternally, overwhelmingly and stupendously grateful for them both.

Laura is the one person who keeps me from tipping over the edge. Her innocence, wisdom, morality and endearing silliness are all so cherished. Without her I don't think I'd be capable of the responsibility of fatherhood, most probably I wouldn't be capable of coherent speech so far off the rails would I find myself.

George too, of course, is my little diamond! His smile, sense of humour, sense of fun and inqusitive little nature have all been a joy to behold and a privilege to help foster as he grows. I am a very fortunate young man.

Monday 6 September 2010

Album Review: Butterfly House - The Coral


****
In thrall to the 60's beat generation of pop musicians since the scallywag bag of bones that was their debut, The Coral have stuck steadfastly to a tried and tested formula which has, on occasion, left them sounding jaded.

Never more so than on 2005's 'The Invisible Invasion', the Scousers 4th album in just 3 years, and on which their odyssey to recapture the spirit of their swinging sixties forefathers ran desperately aground.

Since giving themselves some breathing space however, they've returned with the admirable 'Roots & Echoes' and now, three years on, 'Butterfly House' sees them at something approaching their barnstorming best.

The influence of producer John Leckie is clear - the man responsible for the much adored Stone Roses debut album - and, although it isn't fit to wash the feet of that masterpiece, there is an air of majesty to the pop hooks here that may similarly echo through the ages.

Both album opener 'More Than A Lover' and the succeeding 'Roving Jewel' sparkle with a renewed sense of purpose and lead single 'A Thousand Years' is instantaneously memorable for its brazen pop sensibilities.

Perhaps surprising, considering the departure of guitarist Bill Ryder-Jones, is the continual existence of those jangly guitar lines synonomous with the verve and infectious cascade of past glories.

'Butterfly House' is the best example with its rolicking coda of electric sqeals and riffing mastery, it's clear The Coral haven't lost any of the creative edge that so often blights those who lose a founder member.

James Skelly's lyrics, although rarely substantive, manage to capture an ethereal charm, turning "scarlet curtains hanging in the window" into a portent symbol of melancholy and the flickering lamp from behind a blind into a Dickensian suggestion of wistful existence.

The only disappointment then is that, with The Coral maturing into indie-pop stalwarts, the surrealism initially displayed on their much acclaimed debut has now all but vanished. There's not a single trace of those shambling sea shanties come 2010 and I, for one, miss them just a little bit.

Monday 30 August 2010

Album Review: Your Future, Our Clutter - The Fall


****
A funny thing The Fall. I've been aware of Mark E. Smith for years but it's only since listening to favourite comedian Frank Skinner's radio show (in which he insists on playing one Fall track every week) that my interest has finally been piqued.

As a result I feel even less qualified than usual to offer a musical critique (this is the 28th studio album under 'The Fall' moniker since 1979).

What I can say about 'Your Future, Our Clutter' is that I've already grown to cherish its eccentricity. From the opening of 'Bury Pts. 1 & 3', which sounds like it's been recorded down a well so compressed is the sound, to the mad ranting of 'Mexico Wax Insolvent', the unique charm of the album is irresistible.

Of course there's no doubting The Fall's sound is an acquired taste. Like your fist sip of lager as a 12 year old lad, the initial reaction is to recoil from the unexpected shock, but stick with it and suddenly the idiosyncrasies begin to have their appeal. Again on 'Mexico Wax Insolvent' the nuance of Smith's repeated 'Aqua Rosa' somehow burns itself into your psyche.

There is, however, a charming delicacy on display too. Album closer 'Weather Report 2', revels in its wistful guitar, Smith crooning "You gave me the best years of my life", yet he still remains joyously cutting, "I watched 'Murder She Wrote' five times/The cast deserved to die". Perhaps in an act of glorious defiance the song ends with the line, "You don't deserve rock 'n' roll".

Similarly witty couplets abound throughout and, although most of the lyrics are spawned from an organised chaos of hotch-potch phraseology, backed as they are by a collection of tenacious tunes from Smith's current band members, the album succeeds as a delightful melting pot out of which many a crystal jewel is smelt.

Thursday 26 August 2010

Album Review: The Chaos - The Futureheads


***
The Sunderland quartet made their mark during the Franz Ferdinand incited 'art rock' vogue of 2004 with a debut album that was indebted to a string of catchy post-punk numbers, an unusual use of vocal harmony and a none too underplayed cover of Kate Bush's 'Hounds of Love'.

Since then however, The Futureheads have found themselves somewhat lost on the wiley, windy moors and were allegedly close to splitting in the wake of 2006's 'News and Tributes'. However, exiting from their major label contract and setting up home on their own independent label, they returned with a more assured sounding album in 2008, 'This Is Not The World', which, if nothing else, confirmed their future as a going concern.

'The Chaos' then, appears to pick up where their previous album left off, although this time it feels as if the band are more comfortable in their own skins somehow, happy to play to their pop/punk strengths and not needlessly throwing curve balls to the detriment of a song's impact. Certainly this album's collection of short, sharp bursts of energy seems more focused than their past efforts.

Lyrically it won't win any first prizes but at least it's quirky and informed enough to offer a few tasty delights. 'The Baron', for example, implores us, in our post recession climate, to cease pulling out our hair or, at least, 'dance as it hits the floor'. Highlight 'I Can Do That' is a worthy treatise on the trials of the job seeker, the protagonist frustratedly imploring that they can turn their hand to anything, the song ending in a comic rendition of Keith Harris and Orville the duck's 'I Wish I Could Fly'.

'Sun Goes Down' is another romping number that evokes images of 'Joy Divison's 'Shadowplay' in its couplet, 'The sun goes down and the double life begins/It's a one way ticket to a city of sins' and, although that's where the comparison with the Mancunians pretty much begins and ends, you do get a sense that Sunderland's landscape has shaped and moulded the Futureheads in a similar way to how Manchester has had its effect on so many great bands.

None of the 11 tracks on 'The Chaos' will change the world then, despite laudable attempts to make some kind of sense of it, but they are delivered with a vim and vigour that makes the ride thoroughly enjoyable. Some achievement for a band who may yet benefit from defining a cult status.

Friday 30 July 2010

Film Review - Toy Story 3


*****
Perfect. I'm tempted to finish the review there. It might be possible to find fault with this film but its unmatched humour, poignancy, intelligence and charm render any attempt to do so entirely ungracious.

Pixar have found a way of pouring more humanity into their animation than the vast majority of filmakers achieve with even the greatest of 'live' actors.

Whereas previous installments focused on the symbolism of toys as the joy of our youth, this 3rd episode reflects the sometimes harsh reality of our transistion from child to adult. Woody, Buzz and the rest of the toys, having not been played with for years but lying dormant in a toy trunk, fear being sent to the rubbish tip as owner Andy, now 17, prepares to leave home for college.

What follows is the toys attempt at making a new life for themselves, hopefully in the attic, loyally awaiting the prospect of Andy's children of the future, or, alternatively, at the seemingly utopian 'Sunnyside' daycare centre.

As the tale unfolds we are presented with elements of horror, in particular the truly freaky child doll, and humour, the best example of which being Mr Potato Head's scene stealing turn as a tortilla (just go see the movie)!

The best of the 'new' characters though, is undoubtedly 'Ken'. His first encounter with 'Barbie' is handled wonderfully and his insistence that he is "...not a girls toy" only adds humour to his overtly camp portrayal.

It's the films finalé though, that pushes Toy Story 3 into the highest echelons of cinema. Fraught as it is with danger, drama and sadness, the characters, now having been with us some 15 years since Pixar's original 'Toy Story', face up to the end in a manner that can't help leaving you very moved.

The underlying theme, so deftly pulling on heartstrings, is that of the emotive burden of parents adjusting to the knowledge their child is no longer truly 'a child', and as with toys being passed on to a new generation, so too the parent must accept that they will no longer be called upon to be their child's favourite play mate.

Toy Story 3 is the very culmination of cinema.

Wednesday 28 July 2010

Ambition Exhibition

Sometimes you read a blog, a newspaper article or, as in this case, an interview, that expresses a point of view matching one you've been harbouring for a while yet had previously doubted the validity of.
This happened to me only yesterday.

For a long time I've felt there are certain bands, championed by the music press, and even some friends of mine, who simply don't deserve the accolades or attention they receive. I won't name them specifically but they tend to be pedalling a new wave 'sound and vision' that apes those of the late 70's post punk era.

I've wondered whether it was just me, whether I was missing something, just being obstinate in my snobbery, but no, there, in a new interview with Nicky Wire, bassist and lyricist with Manic Street Preachers, was a sentiment echoing mine....

The thing with Oasis splitting, you think what is there left? All those people who moan on about the ’90s fucking everything because all the bands became too big, I just keep thinking, what are we left with? An eternity of absolute fucking indie shit that’s not connecting with anyone. There are some truly desperate people out there. They’re lower than tedium. There are bands and they’re aping Ian Curtis but they’re not taking inspiration from the deepness and the true poetry of his lyrics, they’re just doing his fucking kooky dance. They’ve made the whole thing into a cabaret act. For us, Ian Curtis is one of the great writers in any field of the 20th century.

If it's good enough for Nicky, it's good enough for me! In truth, I was relieved when Oasis split, it should have happened a long time ago, but still I can see his point here too. Where is the ambition of those 90's bands now?

For all their flaws their aim of world domination was certainly admirable. And whilst the likes of many of today's young bands pedal the worthy image of artistic integrity, in truth, they're not championing, nor displaying, the very values that made the likes of Curtis great. Indeed, it is just the 'kooky dance'! I feel like we're being hoodwinked. At least the bands of the 90's were honest.

As much as I think the Manics' last album 'Journal For Plague Lovers' (no singles but critical acclaim) is a masterpiece, there's still a little part of me that wants to see the bands I love reach number 1. That the mission statement for their forthcoming LP is as follows fills me with a sense of delight.

One last shot at mass communication

Monday 19 July 2010

Why England Lose

Now the South African dust has settled on the sun baked dirt pitches found in the shadow of Soccer City and the din of the vuvuzela ebbs away, it feels like it might just be possible to cut through the crap, conjecture and downright silliness to once and for all paint a realistic picture of England's World Cup performance.

So how did we get on then? Well, yes, not great obviously. Given the class and status of the players that England can boast in their squad, they certainly would have hoped they could compete with the best teams in the world. Unfortunately, of course, they couldn't.

Despite doing well in their opening game, England struggled against relatively weaker opposition and inevitably fell by the way side when meeting a super German team.

A disappointment then, but should we have been surprised? Our FIFA ranking before the tournament was 8th, which would suggest a probable quarter final exit, though meeting Germany at an unusually early stage, i.e. the last 16, ultimately meant England still kept to what FIFA would suggest was their likely form.

There is an unfortunate belief in England that it is our God given right to succeed. That we really ought to be the best in the world at the game we invented. We hold puerile grudges. We still can't get over the Germans ('Two World Wars and one World Cup'). They got over us a long time ago, they really don't care.

In fact, I'd go further to suggest this stubborn mentality actually damages England's potential for success on the world stage, our literal geographic distancing, let alone our cultural divide, from the rest of the continent makes it more difficult for England to understand what's required from international tournament football.

The strength of the Premier League is ironically somewhat to blame. Our English players, remain in England, reluctant to play abroad and are therefore limited in their footballing education compared to other nations top stars.

It could be argued that Spain succeed with the majority of their stars based domestically at just two clubs but the key to that was an undying commitment to their own style of football above all else.

England historically play with tempo and power, getting to the bylines, crossing to tall centre forwards with a direct style of play (not to be confused with a long ball style). In defence, we are organised and willing to put everything on the line. It's not pretty and therefore often it is doubted in terms of its validity - fatal.

If we aren't prepared to win by being 100% committed to our own style (for better, for worse), instead wanting to compete on a technical level with the best nations, we have to be willing to go and seek the schooling, a footballing 'Grand Tour'.

Here are some of the best articles I've read about England in recent weeks. I don't agree with all that is said but it's better than buying into the notion that our 'failure' is down to overpaid stars, a foreign manager or a lack of goal line technology.

Why England Lose
Capello's Critics and Hindsight Bias'
Flawless Spain are a Footballing Pain - I Blame the English Parents
England's Identity Crisis
England's Fear of Crossing Borders

Despite the heavy dose of realism here, it still won't stop me hoping, that someone, somewhere might be able to change things for the better. 66, 90, 96 are all years in which we were proud of the England team, only once were we actually winners of the tournament.

Tuesday 13 July 2010

Riding along in my automobile....


I have always had a considerable passion for the motor car.

Not in a mechanical way, or, at least, not in the sense of wanting to be a mechanic - getting under the bonnet, understanding the workings, boasting about engine capacity and priding myself on a 'go-faster' stripe - but in an aesthetic and, well, a sort of sensual way.

There's something deeply romantic about the motor car. Think of the number of songs devoted to a set of wheels, the role they've played in your favourite movies over the years, as Morrissey sings in 'This Charming Man', "Why ponder life's complexities, when the leather runs smooth on the passenger seat."

Anyone who's read J.G. Ballard's 'Crash' might confess to at least an understanding of the sexuality, the main protagonist's fantasy of dying in a high speed collision involving glamorous filmstar Elizabeth Taylor.

The smell of the leather, the reflection of the chrome, the joy of a walnut dash are all palpable when sitting in the driver's seat of an expensive sports car, resplendent in its own decadence; and that's all before the key is inserted into the ignition.

I do love to drive. Whether it be go-karting with friends or simply flooring the accelerator in my modest Fiesta.

The thrill of surging forwards, engine roaring beneath you as you watch the gauge of the rev counter flick up, drop at a gear change, then surge skywards again, is hard to resist.

Am I compensating for my repressed libido or simply just the size of my manhood? From the photos I took recently at the Goodwood Festival of Speed, it seems evident there's something going on.

***

The Festival is always held a week before the British Grand Prix in an attempt to lasso as many F1 drivers as possible into attending, but it was former champion Nigel Mansell's 1987 'Red 5' Williams that caught my eye.

I'm just about able to remember the car's finest moment when, driven to victory by Mansell in that year's Silverstone Grand Prix, he performed one of the most exciting and audacious overtaking manoeuvres in the history of the sport.

Dummying outside and then diving inside leader Piquet with just two laps to go, it was all the more impressive when you consider he had been a full 20 seconds behind him after his last pit stop.

At the end of the race the crowd invaded the circuit, bringing Mansell's car to a stop as they mobbed him with Union flags and gestures of celebration. Mounting the back of a steward's motorcycle to return to the pits, he stopped the driver deliberately at the spot where, just moments earlier, he had performed the feat. Jumping off the back of the bike and kneeling to the ground, he kissed the tarmac in thanks.

Sunday 13 June 2010

Top 5 favourite England moments - 1) Psycho's screaming

What would you say is the one quality the English like to associate themselves with above any other? A stiff upper lip? Stoicism? A reserved nature? A good sense of humour?

At least in footballing terms, they like to think of themselves as the hardworking, long suffering fighters, battling their way to achievement through sheer grit and determination, occasionally excelling but often making up for their deficiencies by showing great courage against the odds. That's how I see it anyway.

Stuart Pearce in Euro '96 was probably the personification of this ideal. By no means the most technically gifted of players, he was infinitely adored for his displays of passion, his no nonsense approach and his hard tackling.

Of course he was also a man carrying a great burden. His penalty shoot-out miss, along with that of Chris Waddle in the World Cup semi-final in 1990, cost England a place in their first final since '66 and probably, considering the unsettled nature of potential final opponents Argentina at the time, the nation's best shot at regaining the trophy to date.

Come a Euro '96 quarter-final shootout with Spain six years later, it showed monumental courage to step up to the spot and put himself in that same vulnerable position a second time.

Aware of the significance, we held our breath as Barry Davies, commentating for the BBC, caught the mood perfectly - "....his chance to banish the memory of Turin."

As Pearce's left foot strike eluded the outstretched arm of Spain's diving keeper, the pain of those 6 years and the redemption now found, welled up to produce a moment of raw emotion.

Not only was it significant in terms of his own penance, but seemed, in one gesture, to symbolise the entire nation's 30 years of hurt. The imagined long suffering nature we like to portray was being played out in front of us, thousands, including myself, mimicking Pearce in defiant response.

The full highlights are below but the moment in question can be seen at 4min 20s. Enjoy!

Friday 11 June 2010

Top 5 favourite England moments - 2) Gazza's goal versus Scotland

A second appearance in this countdown for one Paul Gascoigne and certainly, for my money, the defining moment of his England career. At 1-0 up, England had just conceded a penalty which was duly saved by goalkeeper David Seaman.

Within a minute or so, the ball was being looped forward into the path of the onrushing England midfielder who, displaying wonderful creativity, chose instantly to flick the ball, left footed, over the distraught figure of Colin Hendry.

As the ball dropped perfectly to Gazza's right foot, I remember feeling the rise of adrenalin, let alone the literal rise of my body, as we left our seats knowing the ball was falling perfectly for the volley.

That Gazza executed it with such aplomb was no mean feat, despite the collective expectation, and gloriously the ball nestled in the left hand corner of the Scottish net.

Memorably, the celebration recreated the controversial 'dentist chair' drinking incident, an embarassment when it became the focus of scandalous revelations about the squad's Asian tour exploits on the eve of the tournament.

However, if Gazza was lumbered with the ringleader tag in that controversy, he was now taking on the same mantle with regard to England's further success at the tournament.

See it in all its glory at 1 minute 30 seconds.

Thursday 10 June 2010

Top 5 favourite England moments - 3) England's 3rd versus Holland

In the final group game of Euro '96 England finally came good. To date it's one of the handful of performances I can remember where I truly felt that we were world beaters.

The passing, movement and total control England displayed that night was the true blossoming of the euphoria surrounding the tournament, on home soil and with the spectre of '66 looming large from 30 years past.

The crowning moment of the match, the 3rd goal, was scored by Shearer but involved Gascogine and Sheringham, the latter contributing the most audacious of schoolboy dummies to setup the goal scorer when everyone was expecting him to shoot.

It was symbolic of the confidence and swagger England exuded on the night. Seldom seen since.

Alan Shearer Goal Against Holland Euro 96

jonathan | MySpace Video

Top 5 favourite England moments - 4) Michael Owen versus Argentina

Just 18 years old and still to convince manager Glen Hoddle of his ability (he'd been left on the bench for the first two games of the '98 World Cup), Owen laid any doubts to rest with arguably the greatest England World Cup goal in history.

Against the auld enemy Argentina, it was a piece of individual brilliance that suggested our progress to the next round had somehow been preordained. Sadly, of course, this wasn't the case, but perhaps more tragically, who could have believed then that Owen would never return to the heights displayed here?

Though he is, no doubt, now rightly reflecting on a stellar England career that sees him sitting 4th in the all-time England goalscorers list, the wondrous abandon and skill of the teenager that ran defenders ragged that night in St Etienne would never really be seen again. Injuries, perhaps more than anything, prevented the fulfilment of that goal's promise.

Wednesday 9 June 2010

Top 5 favourite England moments - 5) Gazza's tears


I'm just about old enough to remember Italia '90 but at the age of 8 it wasn't the goals of Lineker or Platt that scorched their image onto my young, impressionable mind. My lasting memory is of Gazza's tears.

His booking in the semi-final against Germany meant that, were England to progress to the final, he would have to miss out, suspended for his second yellow card of the tournament. The realisation was so overwhelming that his emotions spilled onto the Turin turf.

What makes this otherwise tragic moment a favourite, isn't only the passion shown by one of England's most talented players, but the reaction of Gary Lineker, captured so perfectly by the TV cameras.

A brief word and a gesture to the bench that displayed wisdom, heartfelt compassion and, ultimately, an understanding of the nature of Gascoigne, that most mercurial genius.

Tuesday 8 June 2010

A different story

A wall chart is proudly displayed, blank at the moment of course, as if waiting in anxious anticipation of those crucial full time results. Results to be inked into designated boxes with either a euphoric flourish or a despairing scrawl.

Miniature flags multiply across the door tops of cars, flag poles flexing while St George's cross defiantly ripples in the 30mph breeze. A simple gesture but one that, this year more than any other year, symbolises a stoic duty more than expectant jingoism.

Plans are made for mass congregation. In homes, gardens, public houses, public spaces, work places. TVs fitted, jumbo screens installed and re-wired, barbecues polished and fridges filled.

Thoughts turn to glories past, of a spirit recaptured, the tears of a clown prince and the redemption of a thunder thighed madman. Not least, the scarlet, so seared into our kaleidoscope culture as if to cut right to the fragile heart of our identity, a lead weight borne of great expectations, the greatest challenge to conquer come the inevitable shoot-out. Death or glory.

Let's hope for a different story, justifying the anthems that rattle the rafters back home, and when the inevitable end does come, resist temptation to seek excuse, laying blame only at our own feet. For a glorious failure can still be cherished. Savour the taste of defeat.

Saturday 5 June 2010

'Radio' Silence (Reprise)

So, June has arrived and I'm pleased to say I'm now plugged back into the aural world - for the entirety of May I ceased listening to podcasts and hardly listened to any music too, my iPod lying pretty much dormant in my bag throughout.

As the songs of the Beatles, Manics, Clash, Smiths et al have always been a soundtrack to my day, being without those familiar companions has obviously been somewhat odd. I must confess, however, it's also been something of a blissful release.

It's afforded me the chance to enjoy a perfect companion piece to Chelsea's Double winning triumph, provided an excellent 'director's commentary' on my viewing of the exceptional 'The Day Today', given insight into the twisted genius of the man behind the song 'Love Will Tear Us Apart' and, perhaps most bizarrely, has seen me reading a superhero comic book whilst sat between pinstripe suited bankers on my daily commute! (Honestly, I think the comic could be the true nugget of all the books I've read this month. Incredible!)

I must confess I didn't manage to get through every title I had planned to but I'm more determined than ever to make ample time for those that remain.

More than anything, I do feel I've rediscovered the joy of a good page turner.

Books finished in the month of May

It's Only A Movie - Mark Kermode
The Hell of it All - Charlie Brooker
Kings of the King's Road: The Great Chelsea Team of the 60s and 70s - Clive Batty
Touching From a Distance: Ian Curtis and Joy Division - Deborah Curtis
Disgusting Bliss: The Brass Eye of Chris Morris - Lucian Randall
Watchmen - Dave Gibbons and Alan Moore

Tuesday 1 June 2010

Because fact into doubt won't go

'The Day Today' is an exceptional little comedy series, highly underrated and filled with scathing, razor sharp, intellectual comment on news broadcasting and the media as a whole. It's also bloody funny!

This is not just personal opinion but can be backed up by evidence from the front line. During a DVD showing round my gaff, those friends viewing at the time (and previously unaware of the show) guffawed and sniggered as if they were watching a particularly amusing auditionee on 'Britain's Got Talent'.

I suspect the wide scale popularity of 'The Day Today' may have suffered from the scandal surrounding 'Brass Eye', broadcast some years later, but I'd urge you to seek it out wherever you can. Chris Morris, the anchorman and co-creator here, is an enigma and an innovator. I can't wait to see his new film 'Four Lions'.

Wednesday 26 May 2010

Gone and done a blog....

I've changed my mind. On a whim I updated my blog template but, after noticing a few bugs and niggles with the way it worked, I decided the glamorous new look just wasn't worth the annoyance of things not working properly.

It's a bit like what I imagine people feel when they get tired in a relationship. A new, sexy and apparently more glamorous suitor comes along but, having dumped your old reliable partner for a new love interest, you realise that, in the cold light of day, they're not as ideal as they appeared. Ahh...you don't know what you've got til it's gone....

Friday 21 May 2010

Decorating in the Corner

So I've customised a template thingy to give a bit more pzazz to the old bloggeroo. Still only trialling this new look at the moment. It's taking a bit of getting used to.

If any regular readers take a dislike to it then let me know. I'm so image conscious, I make myself sick!

Tuesday 18 May 2010

A 'Cup Final' hurrah



History! As expected it was far from simple, hitting the woodwork 5 times in a half certainly makes you question if it's going to be your day, but, thankfully, Boateng's miscue paved the way for our talismanic strop meister to finally charm the goal frame into performing his bidding - a trademark Drogba free kick flicking off the inside of a post and rippling the net obediently.

Watching live as the following day's victory parade rolled along the King's Road, it was hard to remember such a wonderful feeling. Ancelotti's singing was a surprise and watching Kerry Dixon interviewed by Sky Sports News whilst trying to dodge, duck, dip, dive and dodge the celery being thrown at him (an odd Chelsea tradition) was a true joy to behold. Truly, I'd wish this kind of carnival event on all my football fanatic friends. Incredible!

As chance would have it, the culmination of the football season has coincided with my reading of 'Kings of the Kings Road: The great Chelsea team of the '60s and '70s', a book which has complemented the last week or so brilliantly, contextualising the significance of current events within the often fraught history of the blues.

What strikes me most is the number of missed opportunities in the past. Numerous occasions where Chelsea appeared to be on the verge of major success only for circumstance to undermine the club in one way or another.

Tommy Docherty, took the club to 3 FA Cup semi-finals and the brink of a First Division title in the 60's only to destroy ambitions by sending home 5 first team players, including one Terry Venables, on the eve of a crucial away game title decider. Their crime? Breaking the hotel curfew. Mind you they were staying in glamorous Blackpool! Chelsea lost the game and any hope of the title in what came to be known as the 'Blackpool Incident'.

Even the flair team of the 70's, which brought an FA Cup and Cup Winners Cup trophy to Stamford Bridge, was destined to underachieve, spending more time on the booze and chasing film stars through the West End than on the training pitch. They were loved for it, of course, and still are! Osgood, Cooke and Hudson, names that carry a great weight, but, perhaps, with a little more application and better man management, things could have been even better!

Reading of their escapades, it's far easier to see how today's players, particularly the likes of Lampard and Terry, might be viewed in the same vein, especially as they have fulfilled that same potential shown by previous sides. They have been the heart and soul of this Chelsea team and, like their predecessors in the '70s, have been hauled across the coals for revelations about their private lives (revelations at which Ossie and co would surely scoff, having been caught drink driving, frequenting brothels and being imprisoned for assaulting police officers in their time. Imagine how today's press would react!).

Through the prism of elapsed time, they too will be spoken of in such celebratory tones. For my part, I've been buying up the newspapers, all to be kept safely preserved for the future. I'll be seeking out the season review DVD as well, when released - George might like to ask his old man about the Double winning team of 2010 when he's older. I want to make sure I'm fully armed....

Wednesday 12 May 2010

A final hurrah

"A final hurrah" - I have a habit of using this phrase, when the opportunity arises, despite it making me sound like an ancient, doddery, old toff straight out of a novel by potential racist Enid Blyton.

I found myself using it again at the weekend, albeit as part of my inner monologue, contemplating the exciting possibility of my beloved Chelsea claiming an historic League and Cup double!

"We'll have no better chance than this", I said to myself. "With our star players all perilously teetering on the brow of the hill, Drogba (32), Lampard (31) and Terry (29 - but pretty much ready for the knackers yard), it's now or never. Yep, this is our last opportunity for some real history, a final hurr....yada, blah, rhubarb."

Terry's comments after the match about this being "the beginning" were laughable - he certainly knows how to give ample ammunition to his numerous critics. Clearly, over the years, Chelsea have relied on the consistent performance of a handful of players who make up the spine of their team, and although there have been superb contributions from Malouda, Kalou and others at times, their younger shoulders couldn't hope to withstand the burden of expectation currently heaped onto our present thirtysomethings.

That's why I'm so delighted at another Championship title. I realise it's unlikely we'll be able to sustain the kind of constant success that Manchester United, an exception in recent decades, have been able to enjoy. Take Arsenal as a prime example, or perhaps more historically, Liverpool, both of whom wouldn't have expected to wait so long in their respective quests for league titles.

Neutrals tuning into the FA Cup this weekend will no doubt be blasé with expectation that Chelsea will sweep aside Portsmouth as they have done Wigan, perhaps they will, but the importance of the game for me is no less than if we were pitted against, Man Utd, Arsenal et al.

For the first time in our history we may do the double - only Tottenham, Arsenal, Liverpool and Man Utd having previously achieved such a feat in the modern age - and that makes this game incredibly significant to Chelsea fans.

The European Cup may continue to elude but this Saturday could well see our defining and final opportunity to be branded with the mark of a 'great' team.  All of those mentioned above, perhaps with the exception of Man Utd, look back on illustrious histories they are trying to recapture. As clichéd as it might sound, Chelsea could be writing their history now!

"Crikey and cor lummy", a head splittingly over entusiastic member of the 'Famous Five' might declare, "how exciting!"

Thursday 6 May 2010

It's unofficial - I'm decided


It's unofficial in that I haven't voted yet. I'm off to scrawl my 'X' on the ballot paper sometime this evening when I arrive back in Merstham which, barring a cataclysmic event, will see the Conservatives 'Crispin Blunt' (an incomprehensibly stereotyped name) first past the post.

I have however, decided upon my vote and that vote will be for the Liberal Democrat representative Jane Kulka. This is primarily a tactical vote in that, in the unlikely event that the Tories are beaten, their downfall is most likely to be at the hands of the Lib Dems who coveted more votes than Labour back in 2005.

It's therefore more with regret than an affirming flourish that I cast my vote today. I am in principle a Labour supporter - their policies I respect more than either of the other two major parties - yet due to the restrictions of our voting system and, if I'm honest, a sense of needing to protest against Labour's obvious failings, I feel my hand is forced. I hate that.

Were I voting in a marginal constituency I would, no doubt, be voting Labour. I suppose this is some solace in light of my wounded principles. Regardless, one principle remains steadfast and that's my persistent despair at the thought of a Conservative government.

I am preaching now I know, but frankly I'm tired of sitting on the fence. I seriously believe that a Conservative government would be detrimental to the welfare of the vast majority of people in the UK.

I hope therefore, for what is the only realistic alternative to a Conservative majority i.e. a hung parliament. At the very least this will shake things up and ensure there is a presence from Labour and Lib Dem MP's in some of the top jobs in government.

I also have a certain faith in the power of the online community who, through social networking and blogging, have proven themselves influential, albeit in the admittedly less significant arenas of the pop charts and holding right-wing columnists to account. Who knows what they might achieve now. Naive? Perhaps, but fingers crossed.

I wonder what we'll wake up to in the morning?

Tuesday 4 May 2010

'Radio' silence

I threatened to do this on twitter last month, now I've decided to go through with it - I'm going to give up listening to podcasts for a whole month!

This may not sound like a massive sacrifice but, believe me, it's self flagellation of the most severe kind. No Barry G and ACJimbo on 'Football Weekly', no Mayo and Kermode's film reviews and, worst of all, no weekly double dose of Frank Skinner!!!

Being in the knowledge I shall miss out on all the banter is akin to a 'cat 'o' nine tails' unleashed on my crown jewels.

So 'why', you ask, would I do it to myself? As wonderful as owning an iPod undoubtedly is, and as grateful as I am for the companionship of a podcast during my daily commute, it does tend to leave you a slave to its serialized nature.

I perhaps only listen to 5 or 6 podcasts but at roughly an hour each, my week is soon consumed by them, leaving little time for the more traditional pleasure of sitting down to a good book. Not being blessed with many opportunities to do so at home, I therefore rely on my 3hrs 'train time' a day for the lion's share of my cultural engorgement.

I'm ashamed to admit this, especially as a librarian, but I have yet to read, in full, a single book since Christmas. My 'New Year's Resolution' was to read more! Pah!

The time invested in reading a book may be considerable but that in itself brings rewards that no amount of web browsing, blog reading or twittering can come close to.

Now, having just received 4 new and wonderful books for my birthday, I have a backlog of unread gems that's rapidly becoming a library collection in itself!!

I'll let you know how well I get on once the month is up!

Books to be read in the month of May:

It's Only A Movie - Mark Kermode
Mozipedia: The Encyclopedia of Morrissey and The Smiths - Simon Goddard
The Hell of it All - Charlie Brooker
Kings of the King's Road: The Great Chelsea Team of the 60s and 70s - Clive Batty
Touching From a Distance: Ian Curtis and Joy Division - Deborah Curtis
Disgusting Bliss: The Brass Eye of Chris Morris - Lucian Randall
The Clash - Stummer, Jones, Simonon, Headon
Watchmen - Dave Gibbons and Alan Moore

Books of Albion - Pete Doherty