The Next Big Thing

Before I start – some important news (literally) just in via Russell’s fb... Moon Duo at Stereo in Glasgow on Monday 26th July.

Today was a struggle and this will be a short attempt at flinging something up here because the flesh and the spirit are in cahoots. Making me pay for a few days of high jinks down in merry old Engerland. It’s only right that I should be punished. On top of that, my OX column is overdue and that will be my priority prior to falling over. And it’s the “General Election” tomorrow, this could be misconstrued as a Japanese translation – no offence to out far eastern friends intended. This attempt to make light of the situation is actually a thin veil over an overwhelming cloud of depression. In anticipation of the clobbering we’re about to receive when the dust settles on the result. When all the already hollow promises are exposed as utter bollocks in what must rank as the very, most rancid campaign that it’s been my misfortune to live through.

What was it Iggy said, being that he’s more ubiquitous than any politician? “We don’t believe in anything, we don’t stand for nuthin” or something like that. With a slogan like that, high office is almost guaranteed. Looking at his mug on the giant billboard as the train pulled out of Peterborough station yesterday, the notion of how we came to be at this point crossed my mind. I harrumphed a bit and decided to try and go back to sleep in the hope that my next bout of waked-ness (Yes, so that’s not even a word) would find me in a more agreeable scenario but as it was, the train was heading back to reality and what’s more it was on time.

I would ideally go and see “The Girl With The Dragon Tattoo” tonight but to be honest, I’m running on fumes as it is. The decompression after two Suicide sets and first day back is still taking its toll. As an exercise on the corner of visceral and primal, Sunday night could well have established a new record for loose expression. There’s only one act on earth that can get away with that. Hearing and seeing clips is further disorienting because capturing the feeling is like harnessing lightning in some cockamamie jar. Documentary evidence is one thing but there are greater powers at work here. There has to be. It’s pretty funny to read the stuff from the haters. And it’s especially funny when these same individuals don’t get tickets because they don’t want to deal with seeing them. While The Stooges weren’t entirely dreadful they were anything but monolithic (on my telly). A wee bit leaden but it’s a free(ish) country and old people should be permitted to enjoy themselves and/or hang on to past glories in most occasions.

Conditions might apply though.