I resisted most social networking sites for as long as it was practical – setting up and closing down myspace and bebo sites respectively. I thought I was being well ahead of the pack setting up a Twitter feed:
Turns out I’m a bit of a bandwagon jumper – apparently Stephen Fry was gibbering on about it recently so every middle-class QI watching pseudo intellectual in the country has signed up. In my defense it was the serendipity of finding an article about it in the Morning Star that made the decision for me.
I’ll link the blog to it once someone more cleverer than me tells me how to… anyone?
Posted in Music, Musings on 24 January, 2009 by Christopher
Every January, the music magazines and broadsheet pull-outs run the obligatory ‘who’s going to make it big this year’ article. Most of the time they’re completely identical to one another, and the crushing inevitability of Little Boots and Florence and The Machine dominating the festival season this year is as depressing as it is manufactured.
I was over visiting my folks the other day, and had a flick through the local paper while I was there. To give this some context; the front page was a story about the debate raging over the hanging baskets. That’s how we roll in my ‘hood boyeee. Of course the teenager writing the music pages had compiled a 2009 list, only being a local paper he was only allowed to mention bands from within a fifteen mile radius.
One of these was Big Ned. They produce doom-laden two chord Americana (which is an oddly popular sub-genre round these parts. One day when I’m feeling a bit more verbose I’ll expand upon that in a Paul Morley-esque manner.) and have a single out on the Optimo record label – so will presumably be playing there sometime soon. They’re surprisingly good. Have a gander at their mySpace, or on the Optimo website.
Where did this thing of calling it a mixtape come from anyway? Oh, we’re so fucking retro and iwonic like its a hand-spliced C90. It’s an mp3 people. Don’t be afraid of technology. That only leads to Ocean Colour Scene.
So, I’ve signed up to this thing. The challenge is to record an entire album in the month of February – sounds like it could be good fun! Sign up here. As they say:
Anyone can come up with an excuse to say “no,” so don’t!
My cunning rock star pseudonym is Christopher Queen, by the way.
Posted in Music, Recipies on 17 January, 2009 by Christopher
Note: These chords are with British tuning, for American tuning play the chords in brackets
Transcribed by Mario Jaconelli.
Intro as Verse
..
Cm (Bm)
Baby, can't you see, I'm calling, A guy like you
Should wear a warning
Bb (A)
It's dangerous
G (F#)
I'm falling
Cm (Bm)
There's no escape, I can't wait, I need a hit
Baby, give me it
Bb (A)
You're dangerous
G (F#)
I'm loving it
Cm (Bm)
Too high, Can't come down, Losing my head
Bb (A) G (F#)
Spinning round and round
Do you feel me now.
Cm (Bm)
With a taste of your lips
Eb (D)
I'm on a ride
F (E)
You're toxic
G (F#)
I'm slipping under
Cm (Bm) Eb (D)
With a taste of a poison paradise
F (E)
I'm addicted to you
G (F#)
Don't you know that you're toxic?
Cm (Bm) Eb (D) F (E)
And I love what you do
G (F#)
But you know that you're toxic
etc, etc
It's getting late
To give you up
I took a sip
From my devil's cup
Slowly
It's taking over me
Too high
Can't come down
It's in the air
And it's all around
Can you feel me now?
***
With a taste of your lips,
I'm on a ride,
You're toxic,
I'm slipping under,
With a taste of a poison paradise,
I'm addicted to you,
Don't you know that you're toxic?
And I love what you do,
But you know that you're toxic!
But you know that you're toxic!
***
Taste of your lips, I'm on a ride
You're toxic
I'm slipping under
With a taste of a poison paradise
I'm addicted to you
Don't you know that you're toxic?
With a taste of your lips
I'm on a ride
You're toxic
I'm slipping under (toxic)
With a taste of a poison paradise
I'm addicted to you
Don't you know that you're toxic
Intoxicate me now
With your loving now
I think I'm ready now
I think I'm ready now
Intoxicate me now
With your loving now
I think I'm ready now
Posted in Uncategorized on 15 January, 2009 by Christopher
I just had three teeth taken out. You know you’re in trouble when a hardened Glaswegian dental nurse covers her mouth and yelps ‘Oh my God’ as a small bespectecaled man presses his knee on you chest.
For some reason, with a mouth full of medical equiptment and three peoples hands, face half paralysed like a stroke victim all I could think of was Captain Beefheart singing ‘Upon The My Oh My’.
Posted in Music on 13 January, 2009 by Christopher
Hey, so I went AWOL for a couple of days there. It’s a long and convoluted tale involving; my old boss, Antony and The Johnsons, the head of the National Theatre for Scotland, a transsexual, Emperor Palpatine and a bottle of Polish Buckfast. Remind me to tell you the full story one day.
Anyway, back now with the news that Fever Ray’s album will be available digitally from today, and features some rather lovely artwork by Martin Ander. So there you go then.
yu talkin di play Vixy…wid Shabala…?? …if so mi did si it too…a wun peice a scandal eee…bout man a try swingle ooman fi operation fi him granny?….bwai wah mi did almos pee mi panty wid lafftah ….wen di same bwai fling dung pon di groun wen police ketch im r***… wwooooiiieee it sweet mi ….wah im nyame hoffica daffodil…. …. wen granny appear mi buss mi side yu si….mama man play di pawt a likl too wel … …yes ay Bless vixy fah di memory pon dis dull ole mawnin….
One of the things on my list of over-ambitious New Year’s Resolutions was that I would play guitar on a stage. Inspired by that ‘Guitar Man’ book, and the fact that I’ve played guitar for about twenty years, but never in front of an audience I had decided. This was going to be the year.
So, I merrily took myself off to my local acoustic night.
‘I’m not going to play’, says I. ‘Just seeing what the quality is like’.
I walked in the door to find a young guy, in corduroy, with a beard, singing a song about rainbow and unicorns. Really. He was followed by a Spanish finger-picking guy who was, in all fairness, pretty good, and then a selection of ragged jumpers and checked shirts singing lonesome dirges about their lonely nights. (Here’s a hint, guy. Get a new jumper. I can smell the fucking cat piss from here.)
The final straw was a young emo boy who broke into a Jeff Buckley falsetto:
Every time you cut your arms,
My eyes bleed tears..
I shit you not. My hand had teeth marks from suppressing the laughter.
Now, I know I batter on about a lot of big beats on here, but some of my favourite songs are one man and his guitar. Bon Iver, Nick Drake, Jackson C Frank. Robert Johnson ferchrissakes. That guy from New York… You know big in the sixties, bushy hair, nasal voice… it’ll come to me. They all had a bit of passion though, a bit of something that makes you want to hear what they have to say. Even the Incredible String Band at their flowers-and-maidens worst had something you could dance to. If I didn’t do something, I was going to fall asleep.
So I got up. Played some Davy Graham. Left shortly afterwards. The point is this: acoustic music doesn’t have to be dreary. It shouldn’t be. And a man with a bit of funk about him could do pretty well at one of these nights, I reckon.
So you never know, I might go back and do some Prince.
After a thoroughly dull night, got home to find out that Ron Asheton had died. Bugger. Should have done No Fun; it would have been appropriate.
So there’s a miserable post, eh? Here’s a new Diplo tune to cheer you all up.
It’s by a Japanese-Cajun guy called Kazu, and is so new it doesn’t have a name yet. Cheerier tomorrow, I promise.
