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The Artic Monkeys have a lot to answer for. Largely for spawning the bastud son of Blokepop: Tykepop. Milburn, Little Man Tate, The View, Pigeon Detectives, Sunshine Underground, Larrikin Love, Bromheads Jacket, Fratellis - you couldn't walk into a tent in Leeds without being assaulted by their provincial knees-ups - "this next one's about a bloke from our: pub/chipshop/street" . If you were actually in the pub where the aforementioned 'Strange Brian' was the potman, it's all terribly amusing; but refracted through Myspace, the image loses any relevance, and all we're left with is fast guitars and a shouty chorus - and the crowd goes wild. The soundtrack of next year is going to be good honest Northern folk singing about good honest Northern themes.
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1.9.06 21:55
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You shag one sheep
Out with an old friend I hadn't seen in years. Despite his outward ease - married, children, professional success - there's a hollowness behind his eyes, a pain. I think it stems from the Junior School trip to the urban farm. Amongst the cows and sheep was an excitable collie. The dog, guided by the most primal of urges, locked on to Brian like a guided missile, and fucked his leg in the middle of the farmyard. The hot slap of canine cock against your thigh must be a difficult image to erase. Once something with four legs and a wet nose has declared "you're my bitch, bitch", does the world look different? Is it the spur, the spark? Behind every great man is there a priapic pooch?.
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3.9.06 12:13
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But it wouldn't be nothing, without a woman or a girl
So I'm fluffing my lines, and missing my cues. She's got me like a stumbling schoolboy. I'm unsettled by the uncommon (but not unwelcome) feeling that maybe she's too good for me. Not unwelcome, because it makes me want to be so. And I mean 'good' literally: if I was a little more so (a little less dissocial?), maybe things would be turning out differently. I'm much more at ease with the shallow, the superficial, the flawed. The pure-hearted are my own personal kryptonite. But, these rare creatures are the one's we'll slay the dragons for. I appreciate that it might be beneficial for me to resolve a few Madonna/Whore issues. But that doesn't help me right now, now does it; as the tube rolls into the platform, and I get a, chaste, kiss goodnight.
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3.9.06 14:05
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Leeds Festival 2006
I saw them when they were good, award: Arctic Monkeys phoning it in on the Main Stage, in stark contrast to last year's performance in the Carling Tent I'm with the band (wagon), award: Pigeon Detectives, Little Man Tate, Bromheads Jacket, Sunshine Underground, The View, Larrikin Love The next big thing, award: Taking that the Fratellis are already here, Pigeon Detectives or Little Man Tate Should be the next big thing, award: Bromheads Jacket Most improved, award: TV on the Radio, a spectacular performance as TVotR come round to the view that adding melodies doesn't necessarily mean you've sold your soul to corporate rock. There's never a bottle of piss around when you need one, award: Tilly and the Wall, skipping on stage to "We're Tilly! We're Tilly!" - oh do fuck off So that's what you kids are calling it these days, award: Emo? Emo??? Emo is the nerdcore of Deathcab, Rival Schools, Rites of Spring. It's not MTV wankstrels like Panic at the Disco or My Chemical Romance. Mmmmm Foxy! award: Long Blondes It take more than a potty mouth to get ahead in this game young man, award: Plan B Hair today gone tomorrow, award: the briefly amusing Wolfmother
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9.9.06 20:46
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working weak
Bit of a tough week all told. Monday/Tuesday, up in the post-industrial Northern wastelands visiting the call centre (why I can't find myself a company with offices in Madrid or Milan I don't know). Feedback from agents was basically 'we have absolutely no confidence in the product; we wouldn't buy it ourselves; we wouldn't recommend it to our worst enemy' - hmmmm, bit of re-education needed there then. Wednesday very dull meeting in morning, so felt obliged to recharge my batteries and catch the last of the Kandinsky exhibition in the afternoon. Which was extremely good. Refreshed, I battled through a full day of meetings on Thursday - for a large sum of money I could not recall any salient details. Friday, I fell in with the wrong crowd, and went drinking - Accountants! They're always trying to overcompensate for their inherent dullness; and you'll invariably find yourself ending the evening sleeping at a railway station.
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16.9.06 20:22
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Payday
My Director at BigCo was a tiresome little runt who'd worked his way up from the shop floor, and wanted everyone to know it. He'd read the dust jackets of a dozen CEO biographies and strung the sound bites together. He arrived with the usual bollocks of 'turning the business around', 'making the hard choices', 'in it for the long haul, not just a year and a half'. He leaves, precisely 18 months later, having systematically demolished any remaining morale or team spirit in the Division. No doubt there'll be readying the Christmas redundancy round, to offset his £1m payoff.
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26.9.06 22:49
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