Saturday, June 27, 2009
In town the other day, I was struck by the waterbeds on legs trading"don't even go there's" in their trademark local twang. I hate that. It's like people from here trying to use "dude" or "awesome". After all you don't get the denizens of the South Bronx going about calling people "bawbag". Chances are that would sound pretty daft too. It's like white guys dressing "hip hop". It's a no no. Or blasting it loudly out of their cars as they "cruise". Happy hardcore kind of suits the chinless little (and big) toerags because it provides a theme for their pointy faced noxious existence. The ob prefix kicks in after they've tanned the prescription Buckfast. I don't claim to have a total grasp on the english language but c'mon - we have enough slang. There's no need to appropriate stuff they've heard Tenecia(s?) yatter on Ricki Lake or Sally. The world may well be just one big onion but...
Another very sickening aspect of the Jacko thing is people like David Cameron or any politician paying “tribute”. Then there was the guy on the radio yesterday plugging HMV and FOPP as places to go to load up on your Michael merch. Not only are they one and the same thing, there was no qualification that these items could be purchased from similar outlets. Any which way, the “charts” will be dominated by the late Mr Jackson so if you’re a new band hoping that you might scrape in there then forget it.
I watch Glastonbury on TV in the hope that something will actually be good. That almost never happens and the Tap was OK but the drummer didn’t explode at the end. I thought The Ting Tings were pretty good, despite the fact that it’s all artificial. I actually hoped that by some trick of fate that Wreckless and Amy would somehow make it to the screen. However for reasons as yet unknown, their Glasto stint never came to pass. There’s a band called Esser or something on just now, playing the John peel stage. I’ve never heard of them and they’re awful so that very probably means they’ll be huge. The singer looks like one of Bros moonlighting as David Gahan.
I had to switch of Kasabian. They’re like Primal Scream vs Reef. CS&N were also less than entertaining but I think the guy who’s on bass is Bob Glaub that played on Amy Allison’s “Sheffield Streets”. There’s a big stooshy going on because the BBC isn’t broadcasting the whole Springsteen set. I don’t care one way or another, just so long as it doesn’t involve a double dose of Doves or some such bobbins. Now it’s the turn of some bunch called The Temper Trap that’s making me go and change the channel. But what awaits when I hit the remote... The Script murdering Bowie's "Heroes"...
Posted by Lindsay Hutton at 9:07 PM 3 comments:
Lisa Marie on MJ. (Link courtesy of Peter Holsapple via fb).
Posted by Lindsay Hutton at 3:37 PM No comments:
Whilst doing a wee bit of google snooping on “Baraboo” I found that it had been shown in Galway but I guess the EIFF were playing the Southern Ireland card with regard to claiming the premiere. One important item that came up is that there’s a new movie with Mark Borchardt doing the rounds called “Modus Operandi”. Let’s get back to the job in hand though.
Mary Sweeney’s directorial debut is an understated, slow burning treasure. After all the rushing about over the past few days it took maybe 10 minutes to wind down into the pace. It’s unmistakably got the ambience of “The Straight Story”. Certain aspects suggest that she was perhaps the one behind creating the atmospheres that give Lynch his edge. I’m just saying. It’s a quiet, tranquil film with an underlying sense of menace. The cast are uniformly excellent and were drawn from local theatre talent. The town itself is close to Madison, Wisconsin. (Ben) Weasel country and it looks like a great place to visit.
It made me recall the time that Randy, Donna and I went to Black Oak in Arkansas to try and find Jim Dandy and travelling with The Skeletons. The score is partly Richard Thompson and some “metal” by the offspring of David Lynch and Ms Sweeney, Riley Sweeney Lynch.
“Baraboo” also reminded me a little of Phil Morrison’s “Junebug”. Maybe it was the outsider art element and the rural setting. Anyway, it made me want to visit the town and maybe grab a cold drink from the general store there where “Jane” works.
Not sure when this will be released to theatres but make a mental note to see it when it does.
Posted by Lindsay Hutton at 11:07 AM No comments:
Hoping to establish a little equilibrium here today. When I got home from Edinburgh last night, Neil Young was tearing through a god-awful version of the already no biggie in my book, "A Day In The Life". I shall dip in and out of the TV coverage over the course of this particular one in mine. And there's live music in the town square here so I'll swing by there just to make sure that my grasp of the local culture can be sated.
I'm not expecting much but at least the rain is off. Good that I managed to get the last of the hedge down prior to the cloudburst but getting rid of the cuttings with the less than adequate garden refuse colletion around here could well take some time. However, if that's all I've got to concern me then I'm doing no' bad. First up will be a short of "Baraboo"...
Posted by Lindsay Hutton at 8:40 AM No comments:
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