lynx java under review

hey there

there's absolutely no chance of me going back (rather than forward) and checking this, but still i would be pretty sure i made some claim somewhere of intending to engage no further in deodorant experimentation. by that i mean trying different fragrances, look you see, and not any sort of unconventional use for this product. well, here we are, me doing another one. 

an unusual departure, or venture, this one is. for me at least. it goes beyond just departing from my comfort zone of the "gold" lynx one right into the realm of a "nostalgia" or revival (on limited edition for marketing purposes) of one that i can't recall at all. so far as i was aware the only uses of "java" were a type of coffee and some computer program language. yet someone out there probably remembers it. so here we are. 

i would ask if it's even possible to get nostalgic for a specific deodorant, but yes of course it is. rather likely that favourites of mine were missed with some sadness when they went off the shelf, but they are forgotten for now. so someone out there probably missed this java one. yet i simply cannot comprehend why that would be so. 

how is it, this one? f*****g awful, man. true, or sure, not quite as bad as that time they made one what smells of marmite, but still. describing a scent is somewhat beyond my writing skills, but i shall try. on a base, or foundation of the worst smelling elements of butane and diesel, they have added a scent which appears to be remnants of vomit off of a rat what has built up some degree of resistance to poisons such as arsenic, but not complete immunity. quite why someone would wish to smell so is a mystery to me, but apparently yes a market exists for it. or existed. again, yes, i appreciate that i am not the target market for this stuff, with the main demographic being feral teenagers. 

just a quick look at my most recent away travel (for travel is generally away) range of scents. the epic fresh was on special somewhere, and as previously noted it is not so bad. i have taken a shine to using versace blue jean when on travels, as the robust tin makes it safe to carry. usually versace dreamer is what i use, if interested. which i imagine you are not. 

presumably there is some sort of "grown up" deodorant i am supposed to be using, now my age has reached that fifty mark. i have no idea what that one is, though. oh. no one has provided me with a list of things i should use instead at this age, so i shall just carry on. and yes, as i am obliged to point out in each post of this nature, lynx is indeed called axe in some countries.

be excellent to each other!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

images of broken light which dance before me like a million eyes

greetings

originally this post was going to be called something rather more boring, like snow in march or march snow, look you see. and then i opted (or elected) to have a listen to the Let It Be album, and that one lyric appeared more appropriate. maybe. please note it was The Beatles recording of said record, and not the quasi tribute one what Laibach gone done. 

anyway, yes, then, this concerns some snow what we had (briefly) during the month of march. which is when this is being published, or "dropped". gone now, it has, thankfully. 

it would appear, or seem, that the greater good and glory of Commodore 64 mode turns out not to be the best way to capture an image of snow. oh. well, i tried for you, as you can see above. my issue, or if you like quarrel, was the quasi white snow against a semi black night sky wasn't the best for the format i prefer. when i moved so that a little light fell into frame, as you can see, in its wisdom Commodore 64 mode elected to focus on that, giving a peculiar sodium effect. but in the top right you can sort of see the streaks of snow as they fell. 

despite the issue with the image above i was not, of course, prepared to simply give up. acting on a hunch, i thought maybe one of them animated gif things may well turn out not too bad. this would also, surely, give the exciting effect (affect) of it looking like snow was falling on you. well, yes, if you are watching via some 3d or "virtual reality" device. 

that, if i may say of such myself, isn't all that bad, but there is a more better one down below. feel free, if you are so inclined, to scroll down to it now. up to you. 

for those of you who are (for some reason) interested in fragmented images of snow but would wish to see such in a (considerably) less Commodore 64 mode, you are not excluded. yes, we have got a video, and yes, it is below. this is some footage i "shot", or recorded, or simply captured, for my sister. i have little doubt that she would object to it being showcased here, as it wasn't personal snow or anything. 

quite a few people appeared to be taken by surprise that we got this snow when we did. i did not feature among(st) such a number. over the last ten or so years (give or take, with more of whichever means fewer) there's been a pattern of snow around november and december, some in january, a sunny if not entirely warm snap in february and then a last bit of snow around march. certain people, i know, quite like to hold up any event as proof (or evidence) of some theory or other, but i would like to think that once in a while something can just happen which is vaguely normal. 

eventually i found a spot where i could stand and get images of the falling snow in which the subject was relatively clear and little in the way of the light required seeped in. yes, it was pretty much the spot from where i did the video. behold, a non Commodore 64 mode image of it. 

some of you shall, undoubtedly, taken heed of the words earlier and have already scrolled down to the final image here, which is (of course) the one below this text. another animated gif thing of the snow, then, presented in the greater good and glory of Commodore 64 mode. 

rather happy with that, thanks. if you were asking. just a slight intrusion to the right (or left if you're looking from a non standard position) of the light source which helped. a clever person could probably well edit that out, but i am not that person. 

we are now within the realms of the "British Summer Time" clock, so no, further snow is not expected. except we might get some in april, which is always good as it means i can quote a very specific Prince song when that happens. but, or yet, from a driving and getting around experience, i would not be so upset if that was the snow gone for eight or so months. 

be excellent to each other!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

suede

howdy pop pickers

and so another gig this month to write of. which, if you are counting, makes two (2). should such be of interest to you the first one in notes and observation form can be found by clicking here, look you see. but, we are here with this one now. yes, as the title of the post gives every (reasonable) indication of being, indeed i did, or have, at last, seen suede in concert. 

now this was something special. it has taken me, give or take, 30 (thirty) years to finally get to see the band live. comparable, i suppose, to the 40 (!) years it took me to see Adam Ant, and the somewhere north of 20 to see The Stone Roses. and then others, but no i am not putting in links, but feel free to browse my blog and see the details. it's not hidden. 

i was supposed to see suede, for the first time, about two years ago. that was one i was very much looking forward to, since they were playing my favourite album, Coming Up, in full. had tickets and everything, but the (quite) short version is that absolutely everything which could have gone wrong went quite f****d and i didn't end up seeing them. oh. well, another chance came up, and was taken. 

yes, indeed, if you like really, really bad quality pictures of gigs, this post is almost certainly going to be your thing. fans of exceptionally poor video are in for a treat, as indeed there will be a few briefly recorded moments for you to stare at and wonder what was the point of me trying to film. perhaps i am in need of a fancy new phone with a better camera welded to it. but then, for the most part i wished to watch the show, thanks. 

ostensibly, or in real terms, this gig was part of the tour suede gone done to promote their most recent of albums, AUTOFICTION, which i have very frequently had on the stereo since it came out. as you would expect, and to be entirely fair, quite a chunk of the set was songs from this record. the set opened, perhaps with a sense of subversion, with the album closer, Turn Off Your Brain And Yell. which let the band play for a couple of minutes as an intro before Brett came on stage. so to speak. 

to get some of the poor quality video out of the way from you, here you go then. a number off of the new album, and i believe a "lead single" in the current understanding of the term, all in the form of some of 15 Again. i would say that this is a particular highlight, or if you will an outstanding track, off of AUTOFICTION, but that's moot since the whole thing is superb. 

let go of any ideas (hopes, really) that the video quality shall get any better as this post goes on, or if you will progresses. actually, oddly, this isn't out of character for suede. certain special editions of their albums come with a video (dvd), and that for the most part features bootlegged footage from gigs. 

before this turns into an inevitable (and immensely predictable) Brett Anderson love in, a word of praise for the band, please. and here i defer to my good friend what i went to the gig with. he described the performance as it being "the band owned the stage". if you have been to some great gigs and (hopefully not too many) less great gigs i suspect you will know what is meant by this. so no, i shall decline to clarify, at least too much. of the many things that make a band become rock legends, gods or huge is delivering performances like this. for some in the audience (and i am not sure if i count, it was that good) it shall be the greatest rock band performance they will witness; to the band it's "just" what they do, it's the only way they know how to do it. 

quite an odd concept exists that this, the above, is "remarkable" for the band, considering the number of line up changes. a strange myth. sure, true, they did lose the lead guitarist who was (rightly) hailed as one of the greats of his generation and elected to replace him with a 17 year old who sent a tape in to the fan club, and certainly wasn't old enough to be (legally) doing the splendid things what the band sung of on their first album. many laughed and said it was now Suede Tap, yet the first full album with that line up was Coming Up, one of the greatest albums of all time. 

fair enough, it is true that only bassist Mat Osman (indeed that one's brother) is there from the days before record contracts and fame, along with Brett Anderson. and now no more shall i shy away from the very deliberate, obvious and overt star of the show. 

my god, my creator, my science, my whatever it is that put us in the form of a life that can act, think and operate the way we do, be blessed for conjuring up a scenario in which i existed in the same space or place as Brett Anderson. whatever hopes i held of it being quite class to see him live were surpassed in minutes, or any limited form or type of measurement. if ever a man, a singer, a person or whatever belonged on a stage, soaking up the adulation and love they inspire, it's him. he is frankly incredible. i am a fifty year old music junkie, and have been in the audience to see icons such as Bowie, Ian Brown, Morrissey, Nick Cave, Bono and so on. Axl, even, when he was actually on stage for the gig. not sure i have ever, ever, ever experienced what i did with Brett Anderson. 

just a quick pause to my outright love of Brett Anderson to, well, show off what caused the love in the first instance. my friend summed it up nicely when he described me as "completely losing my sh!t" in a way he had never seen before or thought possible when the band did a double whammy of Animal Nitrate and then Trash. if that first of those two were them flirting their eyes at me and attracting my attention (which worked) then the second was the creation of a bond far, far stronger than commitment, it formed a never ending love, a relationship that you can test all you like but shall never break. so, then, a brief bit of Animal Nitrate. 

indeed just twenty seconds or so. sure, i wished to record it, to share with some and of course on here, but mostly i wanted to be in the zone (see previous paragraph) and enjoy the moment. when the band were just starting, and getting huge press (back when we had a music press), i fondly recall someone sending a letter to NME complaining about all the fuss, and how that "one song" they did, which they called Animal Nighttrain, wasn't that good. well, they were wrong. 

so, Brett. by about three or four songs in he was a hot, sticky, sweaty mess, and not from any lack of fitness. rather a determination to leave as much of his (metaphorical and actual) heart and soul on the stage and in the hearts and soul of the audience. no stopping for chats or idle questions of "how are you", just the occasional shout, or complaint, no matter how "mental" we went or how loud we were, that he could neither f*****g hear us or f*****g see us getting into it. energy created by him, in us, fed back to him and powered him on, up, higher, louder, more passionate, more incredible. 

from the early days there indeed was a huge buzz about the band before anyone had heard them. and an actual, proper word of mouth buzz, not manufactured. it was weird. the more (music) press coverage got, the more their entourage, or disciples, or if you will fans, just grew. some got touched by the music, what was going on, and became devout. whereas this didn't quite happen for me, when i did latch on i could understand why. yes, this leads to a (kind of) point, but hold on. 

perhaps you suspect that the above image is of three (3) forms of contraceptive (at the risk of getting yet another warning, rubber johnnies) branded with the art of suede's frequently mentioned (in this post) record Coming Up. indeed they are. knowing the answer i asked if, at the merchandise stall, they had any t-shirts my size. alas, no, but the lady offered these (for sale) instead. before i could ask about size she offered the opinion that they would be perfect for me, as they were extra small. oh. 

the bit which took me by surprise (beyond the above) was just how embryonic, if you will symbiotic the relationship between Brett and fans actually is. let us not forget this man is a huge, huge star. quite a big deal. and yet frequently, and patently not staged, Brett simply jumped into the crowd, surrounded by the fans, and sang away. sure, there were gasps (from people like me not expecting it) and a lot of touching. but not pawing, clawing or molesting. i mean, it was beautiful, man. no i didn't try to touch him for fear of losing all control. other music stars, of an "importance scale" higher or lower depending on your perspective, true, but not like this. as with so much of suede, it escapes reason, it defies definition, it just comes into being and feels like it has always been so. 

undoubtedly i was clumsy in my review, which i am not going to go and read, but there's that one track residing on AUTOFICTION, the magnificent What Am I Without You. he means this that i describe above, i believe. and no it's not a "i am nothing without the fans" luvvie type statement. going further back (rather than forward), now that i think, and Barriers, which is the perfect song of the bond existing between fan and band. the journey for suede, and let us not forget a ten year absence, has reached the point where all accept what it is, which was a gig like this. and it's beautiful. 

an extended clip (by the standards of others here) for you of Trash, then. i filmed a bit more for another good friend who wasn't there, but had called me to declare this song as being one of the greatest pop records of all time. which it is. happy to spend some more time recording this one, for the sentiment shall no longer ever be true for me in the form of a relationship. once it was, but that's all gone now, and yet the song remains just as beautiful as ever. 

other highlights from the set? indeed i did again do that thing where i apparently "lost my sh!t" when they also cranked out Metal Mickey. not sure, but i suspect i would have been far too busy singing, shouting, screaming "she sells heart, she sells meat, oh, dad, she's driving me mad" all the way on that one. a rather new, brilliant reading of The Asphalt World from dog man star was extraordinary. keeping The Beautiful Ones in the back pocket for an encore is also a lovely trick to be able to play. 

effectively, in reality or whatever you may wish to say of such, there's no such thing as a bad moment at all in the entire gig. no down time. well, except for the bit where two people chatting got on Brett's nerves (or t!ts) a bit and he said they had twenty seconds to finish the conversation or they were out. for perfect sets and perfect gigs, the only ones i have seen i could compare this to are Frankie, Stone Roses and Nick Cave. not bad company to be in.  

would i go and see suede again? part of me thinks to answer this no, let this moment be a perfection remaining unblemished, a treasured memory for however long i have left. but here in the real world, i suspect the moment tickets for any other tour go on sale i shall be buying. if i can. 

and that's that for now. momentarily, or as things stand no, no other gigs planned. well, not quite true. there are one or two ahead that i am not sure of, but we shall see. i am quite confident, though, that no matter how good any future gigs may be, i have seen the best one i shall see all year, and possibly ever see again. that is a challenge which would be awesome to see defeated. 

be excellent to each other!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

ace

hello there

just another random sighting from my travels, look you see. but one that kind of answered a question which wasn't really asked by all that many. yet those who have made such an enquiry may well be pleased, if not relieved, to be informed of the fate. 

seeing litter strewn across our streets is nothing out of the ordinary. if anything, alas, it is something which is on the increase. for all the people going out volunteering and collecting, and those brave people who go out and fine people for doing so, an even greater (or "less fewer") number seem determined to do it. perhaps this is symbolic of the decay of the fibre of our society, or maybe it's just a whole bunch of people who will be f****d if they are going to let some teenage girl off of Sweden (or wherever) tell them what to do. 

undoubtedly the most common item i see discarded in the streets are vessels dedicated to housing drinks of an alcoholic nature. this kind of makes sense, without justifying it, for those who have fallen so low ("fewer") in their own value to, in the years after being a teenager when such seemed exciting, drink such in public. generally the brands of cans, or bottles, are predictable for being the cheapest available to the public, but every now and then you see a new one. like, now. 

well, it is and it is not new. as you can see, either in the greater good and glory of Commodore 64 mode above and in "regular" mode below, it's an empty can of the Ace. i was momentarily all excited as i had come to believe, like Lager of Lamot, the Ace was no longer a thing. so it was not all that much of a surprise to learn, on closer inspection, that it wasn't a can of the beloved Ace lager as such, but one of something called Ace cider. 

no one, i believe, has ever spoken of the face of Ace lager. everyone i know of, which is not too many to be honest, has kind of assumed, or taken as a given, that the brand was surprisingly quietly withdrawn in the face of Eight Ace, the character out of The Viz, showcasing the lifestyle this drink was an essential part of. whereas this has been a source of entertainment for many readers over many years, i am not too sure it was something that the proud owners of brand Ace were overtly enthusiastic about. 

going back ever so slightly, and a celebration (or shout out) for those what go around fining people for discarding litter. one imagines they get a lot of abuse, which is unfair as they are doing a job which they should not need to if all were just as responsible as they should be. if anyone is interested, i happen to know as fact that the fine for littering in the Blyth region of Nottinghamshire is a flat £100, whereas the same in Bognor Regis is £130, reduced to £65 if paid in two (2) weeks. and yes, in each instance there were many bins available. 

from memory, the design aesthetics of Ace Cider appear to be very close indeed to the classic Ace Lager look. the only real differences are the word "cider" appears instead of "lager", and an image of an apple has been added, for those wondering what kind of cider it is. indeed, that 7.5% volume for the level of alcohol included does appear rather high, but as i don't drink so much i am not certain if this gets the job done faster than any other drink of similar nature. 

as an aside, yes. it is so that Spiros and i (or me and Spiros) have discussed taking a break from our regular, somewhat (partially) responsible lifestyles and seeing how the others who seem happier with their lot in life live. we would very much like to take a "time out", go and buy some of them massive plastic bottles of cider (two litres or so in each), and sit in a park getting smashed via drinking them, rather disgracing ourselves where we land rather than seeking public bathroom facilities. unlikely that we shall ever do so, but a dream is there to cling to. 

do try, please, to gather all your rubbish and litter up and dispose of it responsibly. it's not too much to ask to either use bins provided for members of the public, or to bag it and take it with you. 

be excellent to each other!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

normal for norfolk

aha

i would not really have any wish to perpetuate myths about norfolk, look you see, but it is not like the people of the place do themselves favours. on a recent excursion around these lands i happened to see this sticker placed on a bin at a service station

exactly why football fans off of norwich would adopt the famous font of the decidedly london (innit) centric only fools and horses is a mystery. and a mystery not to be solved. i am not certain, but i believe, or think, that the sticker states the three (3) favourite things of any given norwich football fan, presumably in the correct hierarchical order of preference. if so, hard to fault. 

be excellent to each other!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

further new shoes

greetings

some people live by a convoluted, yet conclusive, rule. that would be to always expect the unexpected, yet beware that nobody expects the spanish inquisition. i, alas, or unfortunately, do not live by this, look you see. so it came as quite a surprise when i all of a sudden needed some new shoes, or other such form of agreeable footwear. just recently, after all, i had purchased some shoes off of him out of Shaq Fu, and had presumed this would be it for a bit. 

not so, dear reader, not so. i believe in my original review (linked above) i did mention they were a bit stiff. that has not eased off at all, alas. further, they are enormous faff to put on, what with that elevated or raised ankle part, made popular by them what do the basketball and other predominantly american things. since my feet, and legs, are giving me what one might call "jip", i felt it prudent to remedy the situation by purchasing more (further), which is opposite of fewer, footwear items to see if that would ease it all. indeed i probably should consult a doctor, or physician. the days of moi having my own, personal physician (and photographer) ceased a decade ago, and seeing just a regular one (doctor) would simply see me get told to lose weight and quit smoking and all shall be well. neither shall happen, so it would be futile to expend what moments i have left listening to such. 

how fortunate, then, that when this dilemma of how to adorn my feet presented itself i was in reasonably close proximity to a chapter (or branch) of a much loved brand here in the UK. or not, as it were. 

yes, i braved the world of sports direct, owned as it is by that nice mike ashely, so sadly missed by fans of a certain football club and undoubtedly due to be warmly welcomed by supporters of whichever one he can next get his hands on. should you wonder as to why the fans of that club are not bothered about any moral ambiguities concerning their new owners, to be frank their perspective is the sheer joy of who they have rid themselves of, not of who they have now. 

to be fair, or "tbf" as the kids of today say instead for they do not have the time or (nor) the attention span to actually write out all (hang on) eight (8) letters of to be fair, it is so that sports direct are just about the only shop what sells my size shoe. at the least this is true at selling them to me for a not unreasonable and close to realistic price. yet this dynamic, or saving grace, was one which they made every effort to erode, or change, as i wrestled with them to purchase the shoes i showcase. 

observe, if you will, the merest hint of my (at this stage still relatively) new shoes, with particular attention, or emphasis, placed on the marked price. 

for reasons of clarity, that is a straightforward price of £34.99 they had them for. or, since i have not done much in the way of exchange rate adventures of late, about US$42 (ish). north of five thousand six hundred japanese yen, too. just over three thousand two hundred roubles, oddly, if we are by any chance actually allowed to do business with the ruskies momentarily. 

imagine my surprise, then, when they attempted to charge me £39.99 (as in a fiver more) for these shoes. when that amount came up on the till, i protested, pointing out the price on the box. the lady behind the counter said no, the price on the box "does not matter", and the correct price is the one that is actually on the shelf from where i took the shoes. i pointed out there was absolutely no different price attached to any shelf. she did not believe me, and sent a different staff member off to look. when he returned confirming what i had said, she disappeared into lift with one of them massive 80s style walkie talkie things what the owner makes all sports direct staff use. 

quick break in this tale, then, to show me taking the shoes (which are not pictured) out on their first outing. which was that gig i went to recently, via the most recent of new tube services, the Elizabeth line. and getting off (the tube) at a beloved station. 

yes, Tottenham Court Road. beware, fellow lovers of history, for it has been gentrified. no cereal bars or bistros as such, but it all looks very different from how it did when it was introduced to the world in the motion picture An American Werewolf In London. from what i could work out now absolutely all the blood from that particular scene has been cleaned up. oh. 

so, to resume, off the lady went into a lift. with her walkie talkie. ostensibly to confirm the price. i am assuming (or presuming) she went to a different floor, so as to "check" what price she should be selling them to me for. yet her conversation about this was heard, in full, by me, for the person she spoke to, whilst on a different floor, via the walkie talkie, was the lady stood at the till right next to hers in the first instance. i heard the full conversation, and confirmation that indeed they were to be sold to me at the marked price, no more no less. when she came back down off the lift ("elevator") she informed me how i was able to buy them at the marked price by "special arrangement". 

a very large (measured in the abstract of time) amount of f*****g about then followed as she did whatever to the till to make the price the £34.99 marked on the box. should my basic (base) salary off of verk be an actual measure of my worth (which i would argue is less or fewer), then the time all of this took was, in either real or actual terms, worth more than the £5. but, principal, matter, etc. 

unfortunately i have no clue how "the law" works. not sure if a shop has to sell you something at the price they have marked it, or if they are indeed allowed to just change it as they see fit. with the latter being one of the most mike ashley things of ideas ever. quite likely that they can, legally, just make an arbitrary change as they see fit, and customers are welcome to tell shops to rather just shove it somewhere or other instead. one would think, so as to attract and retain customers, most shops would just mark items at the price they intend to honour as sale value, but then most shops are certainly not sports direct, are they. 

how are the new shoes? not so bad, actually. i don't see them as tarnished by the pantomime in which i unexpectedly had to play a part to get them, put it that way. the weather thing is true, for i recently had to go through some snow in them and my feet remained remarkably dry. also stepped in a puddle or two, rather than dodging them. feet and legs, with peculiar specific emphasis on the left, still knack quite often, but i do believe this is down to lifestyle choice and medical issues than choice of footwear. 

certainly it shall be something of a surprise, to me and my (limited) budget, if i write of purchasing another pair of shoes again this calendar year. by the way, for the extremely limited (fewer) number of people concerned about my well being, fear (or fair) not. worst case if i get rushed to hospital and they determine i need to lose one or both leg(s) i shall simply tell people that i lost them in a game of cards, or that a shark bit them (or it) off whilst i was saving some orphans from it or something like that. maybe a skiing accident, but that would make me sound a bit too posh. 

be excellent to each other!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

50 at 100

howdy pop pickers

and so to the first gig of the year. well, no, there's been loads, obviously, but the first one what i have been to since the dawn of 2023, look you see. of two planned, or that i have (had) tickets for, yet who knows how many i shall, in real terms, get to. 

this first one (see qualification for use of that terminology above) wasn't exactly the one i had planned to go and see. kind of. as in they went right ahead and changed (dramatically, yet by only one person) the bill for it, which prompted a rename of it all. initially it was the Tony Fox Sales tour, featuring he (a member of Tin Machine, no less) and an excellent selection of musicians performing arguably the most famous, most celebrated album he (and indeed Hunt Sales) played on. that would be Iggy Pop's Lust For Life. 

so, on the table was the chance to see Tony Sales on his first tour of the UK since 1991. a tour that, as it happens, i went to, and have mentioned once or twice. for a plus, two of the venues (at least) fell into the category of iconic, if not plain legendary, in terms of rock, being the 100 Club in London and the Cavern Club in Liverpool. going to either was vaguely viable. 

but then, no. quite early in the year this year (2023), after the tour was announced late last (2022), it was put out that Tony Fox Sales would not be on the tour, for reasons unspecified but it was oddly stressed his health was fine. i had suspected or expected that meant the tour was cancelled, but then, no. instead it was going ahead, with a certain Glen Matlock standing in on bass duties. which made at least one choice simple; if i were to be in the presence of this then of course it was going to be the gig at the 100 Club. and so it came to be. 

reasonably and realistically, yes, one could call the idea of the tour going ahead as bonkers. it was so that, after all, the only person who was to be on the tour that had actually played on the Lust For Life album was no longer going to be on stage. but went ahead with it they very much did. far be it from me to argue with the celebration of any classic album in any form. 

for clarity, then, the touring band i and the lucky others saw comprised of Glen Matlock (out of Sex Pistols) on bass, Katie Puckrick (off of The Word) on vocals, a certain Clem Burke (out of Blondie!) on drums, Kevin Armstrong (most famously Bowie's guitarist at Live Aid and other gigs) on guitar and a couple of others. true, each and every one had played with Iggy Pop at some stage, but not on the album they were to play in full. quite remarkably the tickets for this were south of £25.

how about some really badly recorded video with shocking sound? that is, i would like to think, what i am partially famous for delivering to you, the people, here on this blog. quite the dilemma struck when my favourite track off the album (except the titular song, of course) came up, because i was very much determined to get my groove on for it, but also for no apparent reason felt compelled to document it. so, click on the below for a little bit of Tonight. 

usual apologies for the poor quality video, etc. anyway, Tonight is my favourite because, of course, i first heard Bowie's version of it on the album of the very same name. which is Tonight to clarify, and gets far too much bad coverage. of course Bowie turned it into a romantic lullaby ballad duet thing with Tina Turner, whereas on the Iggy Pop original it's a tale of someone watching their loved one die of a heroin overdose. certainly the Bowie version is nicer; the Iggy Pop version is better. 

why celebrate the Lust For Life album? i forget the exact words Katie used when explaining how class it is, but they included or were similar to how the album is funny, dirty, sexy, salacious, dangerous and just beautiful. yes, the album was played in full, and in the order as the songs appear on the record, and no there was absolutely no holding back on any of the lyrical content. had this record been composed and done today, there's every chance some lyrics might not have been used as they were (looking at Turn Blue here) and some songs may well not have seemed wise to do (Sixteen). but we should not really keep rewriting history. 

many of you, i know, will have no interest whatsoever in how i am doing and even less than that in how i presently look. so, be warned, a selfie is below. 

it is with thanks to my travels for verk that i was able to be able to go to the gig. nice one. indeed i do appear to be spending more time in exile in London (innit) that my usual place of exile. which is fine. how very fortunate (ahem, thanks skipper) that i was placed in a hotel that let me get to the gig via the tube, then. not just any tube, but this fancy new Elizabeth line. which is class. and i got to go to the much vaunted Tottenham Court Road station, although it now looks totes different from how it did in the motion picture An American Werewolf In London. 

statistically yes, this is the first gig i went to since passing the milestone age of 50. hence the title of this post, of course, not that it matters. certainly all of this could well be taken as evidence of my three quarter life crisis going full tilt. but i am not sure if i have a quarter to go still. 

yes, then, to the left in the above is of course Glen Matlock. i want to state this again, and make it clear, thanks - i got to see an actual Sex Pistol perform at the 100 Club. there are a finite number of people who can say that. with my passion for and obsession with rock legend and mythology, i am unable to play that down in any way, shape or form. it's frankly one of the most excellent things what has happened in this life of mine, thanks. utterly, utterly bizarre that the disappointment of not getting to see Tony Sales again turned into such an epic moment of existence. 

not so much got played in the way of Sex Pistols songs as such, but there was at least the one. for your enjoyment, if your enjoyment involves bad video with poor sound, here, have a song from the second part of the set, No Fun. 

oh yeah. to give food to the pretence that this post is in any way an actual proper review, the ensemble band did all of Lust For Life, and then moved into a set filled predominantly with other Iggy Pop tunes. nods were given to other acts, too. a Blondie tune turned up in the form of Rip Her To Shreds, and Glen himself did a couple of songs. 

giving an honest review of the show would be that the performance of Lust For Life was mindblowingly brilliant, and an event i shall remember fondly. the second half felt like it kind of lagged a bit. in no way did the band run out of steam, far from it. as it turns out i was more familiar with songs by Iggy Pop than i had imagined, but not that familiar. so some tunes went over my head. 

big major shout out to one of the support acts, Fifteen Lions. please please please click here to go and hear his album. what a fantastic bloke and a remarkably talented musician. at this stage i believe he only has a dozen or so followers on that "Spotify" thing. hopefully that audience grows, because it would mean more people are discovering some excellent vibes, man.

indeed i went alone to the gig, for so very few would choose to be in my presence, less (fewer) so in actual public places. but this was an event attended by like minded people. during the evening i got chatting to a wonderful lady who had come over from Berlin (the Germany one) just to see the gig, and three blokes from Belgium had made a similar (as in exact purpose) journey. certainly there were one or so people from actual London (innit) there too, all impressed that some of us had come so far to see this. distance tends to become irrelevant for once in a lifetime chances, 

a bit more video for you all, then. this is off of the encore, just south of 11pm. of course Bowie had to make a more direct appearance on the setlist, and to that end here's a substantial chunk of Be My Wife. 

what made this special, to state the perfectly obvious, is that it shall not happen again. there is little chance of Lust For Life having another 45th anniversary, and i am not sure the assembled musicians shall play together again. unlikely not, since they weren't supposed to be playing together in the first instance. 

for anyone who was there with me, or went to a different show on the tour, may it be so that you carry all the fond memories that i shall from this.

be excellent to each other!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

my only friend, the end

hello there

right, as reporting my posts seems to be fashionable (perhaps i have inexplicably become part of all this wonderful cancel culture what i don't understand, look you see), best i do the warning up front. it so happens that smoking (as in cigarettes or cigars, apparently smoking grass is fine) is very bad for you, extremely silly and you should not do it. should you be a smoker, quitting is a really good idea and you can get all sorts of support and help. to that end, this post isn't really meant to be an endorsement or promotion of such. honest. 

starting off with where i would much rather have started off and, well, lots and lots of strange things happen down in that there London (innit). certainly quite a few peculiar things happen to me. like, for instance, that one week where i was approached by a gentleman who thought, on the basis of mistaken identity, that i had solicited his friendship on a short term basis (it was the bloke next to me), and then kind of got caught in an armed police operation or "sting". 

but strange is by no means always bad. just unexpected. like, for instance, a moment where a gentleman randomly approaches you in the middle of the street, asking if you would care to purchase some, and these were not my words, "authentic French Marlboro". 

yes, i said, rather enthusiastically. or oui oui, tres bien, if that's the French way of saying such. actually i believe it was more the case of me saying how much, and when i was told the price being requested, which was a curiously specific £4, i very much passionately said yes. due to the shambolic, insane and unfair taxation policy of our government, that's about one third (or better) of the "legal" price. quite the bargain, assuming they were ok, and a valuable lesson, kids - cash was, is and always shall be tax free, don't rush to make the world a "cashless society". 

a relatively new colleague was with me, and asked me what was going on after the deal had been both brokered and completed. he, reasonably, asked me what the f*** i thought i was playing at, for it was entirely likely (plausible) that they were bad fakes, or dangerous. like, for instance, he said, they could be totally laced with asbestos. i pointed out that off the shelf, real cigarettes (i don't think i can use the proper English word, fags, for them no more as Americans use that world all wrong) are hardly known for being overloaded with vitamins and so forth. relenting he said i should have at least waited for him as he would have negotiated it down to £3 for me, to which i pointed out that had he asked for £5 he would have got it. he then just asked me not to smoke them whilst with him in case they did indeed instantly kill me, so i agreed to break them open at a later date. like, now. 

there was of course every chance that they were (potentially dangerous) counterfeit or bootleg cigaretts claiming to be Marlboro. i didn't think they were, for surely those what do the pirates don't waste costs on the embossed packaging, which these have. or had. as in the Marlboro lettering is "lifted" up, so you can feel it. a but like braille, i suppose, but for smokers. on opening, as above, you can see they did seem to be legit. that said, the classic red packaging is a thing of the past in most countries, with plain packets and warnings being all the rage. 

prior to smoking one, though, i did pause for thought. and that thought was of an incident which feels many a lifetime ago, somewhere as a different person in a different place, what, three or more decades before where we are now. a group of us were out and about, being social, when a rather imposing, somewhat intimidating looking gentleman offered us a sample of some "powder". the overwhelming number of us declined in a polite way, but one of us decided to dip a finger in, taste it, decide it was really rather good and procured more. what are you doing, we asked, but on the went. 

later on we found said unnamed person, after he had departed from us momentarily. he had placed himself under a bed, where he had taken to biting a pillow frequently. the only break, or respite he took from this was to stop biting the pillow, do a bit of a growling noise and plead for it all to stop. we felt it best to just leave him to it rather than trouble any authorities unnecessarily. but what if such fate was what awaited smoking these? 

up to now, no. just a relatively straightforward smoking experience. and a lovely one at that, for the brand Marlboro are the best you can get for such (even though it is bad for you and you should not do it at all), with red being the ultimate pinnacle. oh, but it has been so long since i had these, and my senses dulled by cheaper alternates, but the familiar sense of them was there from time to time. 

by virtue of the fact that you are reading this (thanks for doing so) i guess you are aware of it being so that there was no instant death off of these cigarettes. long term, for sure, certainly, for i am condemned, unlike all of those non-smokers who are immortal. yet science, of course, says that i am immortal, but let us not have that conversation again. 

now this is interesting, for tow reasons. firstly it's a count of the nicotine in it, and presumably tar, if that is what "goudrons" translates as. this information used to be on all packets, but quietly fell away at some stage. either it was found to be inaccurate, i suppose, or too many people were misinterpreting why it was there, and took it as a challenge to smoke only cigarettes which had the highest content of each of these things. secondly, then, i suppose these are not "authentic" French cigarettes as they are in some way off of Algeria. which is kind of French only when an Algerian footballer looks good enough for the French side to steal as one of their own. 

so, no, not a single regret about this purchase in itself. i certainly do regret not asking the chap if he had any more, and buying as many as i had cash for off of him. everything about his approach and manner, however, suggested he just had the one. let me assume it is so, rather than dwell on what might have been. 

generally things not in English (either proper or American variation) sound quite exotic and interesting, but then this is quite class. i could speculate, or guess, what (exactly) is meant by fumer nuit a vos poumons, but where's the fun in that? likely that it just says smoking is bad, or poisonous. which of course it is, best i clarify. 

fate, destiny or simple choice dictates that i am indeed to return to that there London (innit) place once more, and further still. it will be with joy if someone one more offers me something of this nature for the cost of £4 or less (or "fewer" as is trendy) whilst there. 

be excellent to each other!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

cuts and bruises

howdy pop pickers

mostly time is an inconsequential thing. it has no beginning or end, is measured in an entirely created rather than scientific way, and in all senses is not actually "real", look you see. yet i feel compelled to write of how "time has flown", for i was not at all expecting to be writing about the second album off of the band Inhaler quite so soon as i am. 

yes, i did have to go and check. it was so that their debut, It Won't Always Be Like This, came into my collection during the business end of the third quarter of 2021. kind of 18 months, then. no, i had no idea who the parent was of one of them, i bought it purely after hearing them on a facebook advert, liking it and figuring the £5 they wanted for the record was a decent gamble. 

as i recall it, their debut album, was pretty good. if not one i had played much since the time. well, i pick up a great many tapes on my travels, and one can only listen to so much music when one seems busy more than they are not busy. enough of it was recalled, however, in a good way to go right ahead and purchase, from HMV provenance fans, their second one, Cuts & Bruises. 

for those of you in a rush, or simply impatient, this record, Cuts & Bruises, is a really f*****g good album, resplendent with a very Nigel Tufnel 11 songs of consistently high quality. it is quite likely going to be played for longer, or have "better legs" (industry term i think) than the debut, which was not at all bad. the frustration, if any, is that the songs are all ace but (on the basis of a couple of plays so far, i confess) there's no "wow" mega sounding hit single on it; no anthem to take them to the level they wish to be at. yet then again "singles" as they were known, understood and loved no longer exist.

that which counts as singles these days, as in the ones which are "dropped" on streaming prior to the album proper coming out, or handed over to radio stations to play, do feature here. both of them, These Are The Days and a particular highlight of the album Love Will Get You There, are very good as being ambassadors for the sound entire of the record. if you check out them two and dig them this is an album you will quite like, if not fall in love with. hang on, listening to it again right now and These Are The Days may well be that one "hook" signature single from which their ambitions shall emerge. 

what i know now, and how it relates to all of this, then. that's the "nepotism" thing. it's not something i have ever had much of an issue with. for me it's not how you get the job, or gig, or place in the world, it's what you do with it. being "son of Bono" in the present day is (if we're honest) likely to hold you back more than it would get you forward (sadly, and i don't understand the hate), but at best shall only get you into so many record label offices, will only get you so many suspiciously high profile support slots (the boring Gallagher, no less). you have to do something with the opportunity, and that's exactly what this band sounds like they are doing. 

oh. this is a good one on the stereo now, and i am surprised. when i looked at the track list, this one, which is number seven (7) on the tape (disc), sounded like it was going to be a right load of w@nk, being called Dublin In Ecstasy. no, that's actually a really decent tune despite the misleading title, and certainly a highlight. 

in passing i saw some snippet from a headline or interview (or similar) with the band, with the tagline or catch being the statement "we are not here just to play afternoon slots at festivals". clearly the ambition is to be as big as possible, like, to avoid a certain reference, REM or Oasis or Stones big. well, why not? hard to see a point in being a rock band if you are not going to try and be massive. just so very few bands come out and say it as a statement of intent. 

certainly they have embraced aggressive pricing as part of the strategy to be headliners. if HMV are selling this for £5.99 then i dare say i could have got it direct off the band for a fiver, again. but i do like visiting HMV, thanks. for a comparison, Depeche Mode have proposed an eye watering price of £17.99 for the standard tape (disc) of their imminent new album. as in, you could get three (3) copies of this new one from Inhaler for the same money. considering how forgettable their previous album, Spirit, has proven to be, i think i shall just wait on a sale price, Dave and Marty. 

should the charts still actually matter, and the albums chart appears to be going the way of the singles one, this album went in at number two. pipped to the post, as it were, by the heavily promoted, in particular by Radio 2, new one off of P!nk. which, to be fair, does sound rather good, at least on the basis of the bits frequently played by Radio 2 in the week leading up to release. 

any third or further albums off of Inhaler shall be bought as i watch (with interest) their quest to be massive. i hope they make it. much of Cuts & Bruises certainly sounds like it should be heard in as large a venue as possible. and that's from the quality of it, not via the soulless, bland, deliberately created for stadium sound of, say, The Killers. good luck, Inhaler, keep it going. 

be excellent to each other!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

ultra needle

greetings

so little is the time i appear to have to do all of this any more that i bring you news of not just one, not quite so many as three or five but two (2) new hedgehog effigy likeness things. normally such would see me do one post for each of them, so as to give me something (or other) to place here, but here we are. 

once more the provenance of these is off of service stations. and that would be service stations exclusively found on the great M1. driving down the A1 is a miserable experience, as many of you will no doubt be all too aware, with a lack of decent service stations and basically a terrible road to travel. 

and also once more, yes, the in no way to scale and (rather) inaccurate likenesses of the hedgehogs, for we are in the realm of plural here, come in decidedly Greta-baiting big plastic balls. not sure if these can be recycled, or repurposed. one would like to think so but no, i am not going to investigate all that far. 

further and also once more these are very much off of the "needle" range of hedgehog miniature statues purchased from service stations. not squedgehogs, then, or squeezy hedgehogs. if you are of a mind to read more of the original needle hedgehog what i got, here you go, this is the link. 

yes, i can give you some more better, specific provenance of each. the first (of these two) what i bought was the orange one. or auburn one, if you wish to maintain a strange pretence of that being a more realistic colour for a hedgehog. i picked this one up at Tibshelf services, which is vaguely classified as being of Chesterfield. the place, not the (by UK tax standards) cheap cigarettes. most recently i got the yellow one, and that was off of Watford Gap services. which isn't really near Watford as such (i don't think, unless Watford is massive), but is generally regarded as the "north south divide" border. that was a matter i discussed in another post somewhere, unless someone has also (kindly) flagged that for having disturbing content. 

if you are interested in such things, both were purchased on the north going variation of each service station. so yes, i bought them as i returned to my lodgings in place of exile, rather than as i headed towards the south for verk related matters which i would prefer not to discuss. needle fans, however, will know that these needle hedgehogs do a quite smart light display trick, and would much rather see that in full effect than worry about provenance. 

perhaps some form of warning should have been placed before that smart animated gif thing, in the greater good and glory of Commodore 64 mode, on the off chance flashing images cause some distress or medical impairment. whoops, sorry. a warning for such, or similar, is certainly applicable for the video which comes up next, and yes we have got a video. 

exactly where did my fascination with hedgehogs start? i suspect this is something i have discussed before, and also am fairly sure no one is interested. but, since we are here, undoubtedly it stems from that Ethel The Frog segment of Monty Python's Flying Circus, where infamous east end gangster Dinsdale Piranha believed he was being stalked by a massive hedgehog called Spiny Norman. what's not to love about that?  

the promised, or at least previously referenced, video is above. indeed, to clarify (and for the benefit of anyone who did not click on the link) it is so that the blue one in the video is the original needle hedgehog what i picked up on my travels. 

how many more of these hedgehog things am i likely to buy? quite a few, really. nope, no practical use for them, except showcasing them here, and limited space to keep them all. for the moment they all reside on top of my tape (compact disc) cabinet, but i am indeed running out of surface area. such is unlikely to prevent me adding, it's a compulsion or instinct thing. 

what shall happen to them once i am gone from this world? that's not really going to be my problem, is it, for no more shall i be here to tend to them, or add to their number. i don't think i am particularly interested in that, really. sure, i might be curious as to what shall become of, say, my Bowie collection, or my formidable library of erotica, but mostly, well, no, it will be of no further concern to moi. 

bit of an unintended downer way to end this all off, really. sorry, really was not intended, it just all sort of came to mind, and so i wrote. anyway, don't let that distract you, just hang around for as long as you wish and admire the latest hedgehog additions to my collection. 

be excellent to each other!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!