metal in your face, dude

howdy pop pickers

sorry, if an apology is bewilderingly required, for not giving this one of them variations of "day of release" titles. if it is of consequence or note, this did all arrive on the day of release, via the post. yes, a preference was and always shall be to go to HMV for new releases, look you see, but that's not always possible. 

anyway, here is where we are now. where we are now is the new album off of Metallica, called 72 Seasons, presumably for some altruistic artistic reason instead of calling it, say 18 Years. or 216 Months or even 936 Weeks, to save you some calculator issues. the thing of it being "seasons" does sound quite cool, mind, so no really complaints or issues with the name. even if i did have complaints, presumably the answer to them would be so what? 

for those in a rush, yes, this album is particularly good. great, even. excellent. exactly which you would say is rather (somewhat) dependent on if you are a fan of, or are down with, the Metallica sound. no, i am most certainly not saying "all Metallica songs sound the same", but they do have a defining style of music, and if you're not taken by it by this point i would consider it unlikely it shall win you over. that said, and i really don't know where "the kids" hear new music these days, any new fans this album attracts are sure in for some fun when they explore their other records. 

in what way is it good? well, you've got four (4) men braying the absolute f*** out of instruments, very loudly and with remarkable skill, whilst one of them sings in a style which very much remains one of shouting "oh yes you are f*****g going to listen to me, for i shall drown out all else". it continues on rather nicely indeed from the previous album, Hardwired, and the one before that, Death Magnetic. as in we are so far removed from St Anger we really can pretend it never happened. 

bit of a mixed bag feel with the lavish packaging for the disc variation of 72 Seasons. it all folds out, as you can see in the above, and yes you do find the disc to play inside. eventually. i am sure they arty, monochrome, chiselled, grizzled look of the band in the images makes sense to them. not certain but i am assuming they are in their 60s now, or really very close. James Hetfield is looking (quite) disturbingly like that old bloke on that show about bikes (American Chopper, i think) what did loads and loads of pointing and shouting. from what i can remember, didn't watch much of it, for i found it frightful and rather dreadful. also featured across the artwork are images of childhood (and growing up) things all burned and destroyed. this, again. is presumably some artistic comment too clever for me. 

music quality? the seven (or so) years since the last album appear to have been spent wisely. no dud tracks here at all, with each of them (12, i think) offering something of interest. so far, after a couple or a few plays, nothing has really grabbed me like Moth Into Flame or Hardwired did, but no track has suggested it will get skipped on any or all future plays. exactly how many future plays this shall get remains to be seen. i just don't have the time available, or years ahead, to play is as often as i shall have played my favourite, And Justice For All, or Metallica (Black Album) or Master Of Puppets. 

indeed i did buy the tape (disc) and the tape (actual tape). both together off of their website was, with postage (reasonable but) excluded, £20. they are decent to the fans, and/or wish to sell lots. indeed the latter was achieved with it going to the top of the UK album chart, outselling the rest of the top five combined. healthy, compared in particular to other, ludicrous pricing exercises. no, i haven't played the tape (which is a tape), but i was pleased to see them do it "proper" and not a cheap thing in a cardboard sleeve. the tape is now owned by William, who has a "thing" for tapes. and why not. 

every now and then some degree of familiarity creeps in. like on the first track. when James is singing wrath of man on this, the titular tune of 72 Seasons, it's quite easy to find yourself singing along, except you are singing exit light. oh. there's a fair few other moments where musically you get the feeling you have heard it before, but at least they appear to borrow only off of themselves. well, one track sounds a bit like the middle of It's So Easy off of Guns N Roses but i assume by accident. 

perhaps the biggest fright i got on this, or any Metallica album, was (is) the first ten or so seconds of track nine, If Darkness Had A Son. it starts of sounding suspiciously like a quasi synth pop new wave song with Lars' drums. however, that soon gives way to the classic sound, and to be fair some of their bestest guitar hammering. no synthesizers involved, then. 

my favourite tune off of the album? i don't really have one. none of them are bad, none of them stand out and say "this is the best thing here". which i sincerely mean as a compliment. i think it's quite safe to state that their view is if it isn't perfect it isn't on the album since day one. sure, certainly every now and then what they believe is perfect differs from the audience, but not all that much.  

where next for Metallica? enjoying success with this one, i would expect. the standard has become for them to promote and tour a record for two to three years, and i dare say this shall be no different. unless it is so they feel the need to take collective feet from the pedal. so far as i am aware they have some headline festival shows coming up, and will probably have some gigs in their own right. going on their current rate (or ratio) the next album (if there is one) is likely not due until 2030, which is a scary number to write down. undoubtedly they shall not be too old to rock at that point, but if i am here then it may well be that i am too old to roll with it. so, let me just dig this one. 

should for some reason you really, really like Metallica but haven't as yet picked up this new album, well, off you go with confidence and do precisely that. 

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

homage

hello there

just another post with me catching up with stuff observed, or seen, down in that there London, innit. and in this instance it is, once again, look you see, something what i gone seen darn sarf of the river, in the area usually regarded as the "east end". which is fine, except i would have reasonably expected to have seen something of this nature up north (actual) of the river, in the soho region. oh well. 

by no means could it be said that i am someone of fashion, or a fashionista, or anything like that. no. i think, or seem to recall, that the last time i was anywhere near "fashionable" was that time in 1985 when i went and bought the same green shirt what Jagger wore in the celebrated Dancing In The Street video. presumably because even i knew not to follow Bowie's dress sense in that one. yet even i am aware of some key, or important, names in the world of fashion and design. not many, but some. 

and yes, the sadly no longer with us Vivienne Westwood would certainly be a name i am most familiar with. there are many, many people who can lay claim to being the instigator of various aspects related to what gets called punk, be it the music, attitude, or even phrase applied. few, and even then only the foolish, would argue against Vivienne Westwood, in a remarkable career overall, being the mother or architect of the punk look, dress sense and, well, fashion. even if she didn't intend it as such.

there is probably not really any such thing as a wrong place to pay tribute to someone held in general and wide esteem, i suppose. yet i did find it peculiar that this was down in where i said it was, rather than soho. but, that said, it's not like i went too far around soho on my adventures, and certainly (so far as i know) nowhere near where her celebrated boutique was (perhaps is). i would take a guess that if still running they probably don't do garments my size, or of a style that i would wear. make no mistake, i would love to have some punk gear on, but me Mum would knack us. 

i can't, having established my lack of credentials, really say all that much on the fashion design she was responsible for. except, well, what did all of the "punk" fashions say to me? i don't think they were ever intended to be as scary or intimidating as they were widely derided (or praised). for me all of the punk look was to defy expectations, to be brave and confident enough to be different, to subvert things and challenge the accepted meaning. of course, not all of that was safe, in particular the flirtation with symbols which had become associated with the nazis. 

outside of fashion, so to speak, is that other thing what Vivienne Westwood was known for. which would be declining to wear undergarments (knickers) on instances where she was in the presence of the royal family. so far as i am aware this happened more than once. despite me never making it a secret that i would quite happily accept a knighthood (or similar), i've not ever really considered that i may meet a royal at some stage, so no i haven't given thought to full attire for such a thing. 

yes, i suppose it is, or would be, rather unusual for someone so strongly associated with anything punk to be in the presence of royals, but there you go. if nothing else, proof (if it were ever needed) that it was so Vivienne Westwood transcended any and all "pigeonholes", labels or attempts to be placed in a category. 

nice one to who(m)ever it was that put this tribute up. whereas i doubt (very much) i get all that many readers who may be interested, hopefully this homage gets seen by many more by me posting it here. i was certainly delighted to see it. 

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

now fourteen

howdy pop pickers

quite a glorious day for shopping, one (fairly) recent friday was. not only was i able to pick up the latest edition of The Viz, featuring preparations for the coronation of HMKC3(PO), but also the latest reissue of a classic volume of Now That's What I Call Music. as you may (might) well have worked out from the title, or simply by following my posts, it is indeed Now 14 they have reached, look you see. 

indeed this was a kind of (sort of) autopilot, i have to purchase incident. for the magazine and the tapes, arguably, but it's the tapes (discs) this is dedicated to. up to now (as documented across this blog) i have gone ahead and bought all of the Now releases, be it re-issues or, for the first few, the first time issued on compact disc releases. not all of them Yearbook things, though. maybe i will get them all at some stage, for i picked up the 1984 one, but not yet. 

to tell the truth, no, i wasn't all that excited (or @rsed) about this volume coming out. as point of fact i had actually forgotten it was due on the shelves. but, then, i haven't been that bothered since, realistically, Now 6, which was the last one i remembered owning with any fondness. some pleasant surprises have cropped up in picking them up, but then also bad ones, like Now 5, which i think only had two or three decent songs on it. 

as it turns (or turned) out, Now 14 is considerably more good than bad. it covers, in the grand scheme of sets, a surprisingly short period of time, featuring hits from (very) late november 88 to around february of 89. with little or no "big" Christmas hits. making a point i have made before would be to say that i didn't "get", as in purchase or be given as a gift, any set after Now 6 simply as any of the tunes on them i would have wanted would have been bought as singles long before the release. so, there was no real need for them. it wasn't that much hard work to switch 7" records on the player, you know. 

perhaps i should (in glorious retrospect) done this for all of the releases, but here we are. a one (1) word review of each track, in running order, is as follows. on tape (disc) one we go - outstanding, brilliant, fun, sh!t, sh!t, ok, excellent, brilliant, excellent, fun, sh!t, excellent, outstanding. even if the latter is an odd edit, but shall get there. meanwhile for tape (disc) two - excellent, yeah, outstanding, ok, excellent, sh!t, excellent, what, excellent, great, what, tiresome, hmn, great, sh!t, what. even if i am being kind for whatever reason, only five really bona fide sh!t songs out of thirty isn't too bad a ratio. perhaps someone somewhere likes them. i would be surprised, however, with one or two in particular, if even the people what gone done them even like them. 

you don't really get these Now releases without some "controversy" or incident, and so of course there are two (2) songs absent from the original tape, disc and record release. a big plus is that one of the missing ones is a Phil Collins number, so that saves wear and tear on the skip button, nice one. the other, however, is Need You Tonight off INXS which is a sad missing one. hey ho, it shall be but the work of a moment to put the Kick tape (disc) on the stereo. 

no, i am not doing a track by track thing, except for that bit a paragraph or so ago. but, that said, what a hellishly good start to the set. it makes me kind of sad to hear Something's Gotten Hold Of My Heart now on the basis that absolutely no one puts anywhere near that much work or effort into making a pop song anymore. the production values are breathtaking and it's an astonishing single. so, too, is the one what comes next, Stop! off of Erasure. true, i appreciated it more after the devastating use of the song in the Rules Of Attraction soundtrack, but still, i well remember it from the time. 

elsewhere on tape (disc) one there's another good song called Stop, of course. there's also the tremendous You Got It off of Roy Orbison, and She Drives Me Crazy off of Fine Young Cannibals remains as good now as it was then. odd that, from the same era, Good Thing off of them tends to get more radio play these days, but there you go. for some reason i associate the Status Quo number with the Bruno vs Tyson fight; i think maybe one of them was on the cover for no given reason. the inclusion of what, if i were forced to pick, is my all time favourite Morrissey song is a plus, yet it does always feel strange that The Smiths never got on any of the sets. after the decent Poison tune (perhaps the only really good one they did) you get a peculiar edit of Belfast Child off of Simple Minds. the song remains staggeringly brilliant, but a strange edit, taking "only" a minute off of the running time. give or take.

moving on to tape (disc) two, then, and oh look, one of my all time ultra great top bangin' tunes of all time. i speak, of course, of Hey Music Lover off of S'Express, although sometimes they called themselves S'Xpress. whichever, whatever. i just think it's ace. with slightly less love but still lots of it i had much merriment in hearing Promised Land off of Style Council, in which Paul Weller (and his mate Mick) for some reason elected to go all gospel rave. no idea why (i have suspicions) but i liked it even if their record label did not. i am not all that big a fan of it, but All She Wants Is remains Duran Duran, so it's worthwhile. 

for the rest of tape (disc) two, well, Buffalo Stance was boss, but i ain't no dancer. which kind of also covers Straight Up off of Paula Abdul. i like the song, a lot, but can't get my groove on to it. good luck to all those who can. Blow The House Down was familiar when i heard it now, but didn't know it was them lot Living In A Box what done it. and who doesn't love some Tone Loc, represented here with the awesome Wild Thing. that song was life changing for a few friends of mine, one in particular. but that story is for another time, another place. 

complaints? the single biggest bestest greatest song from the period isn't here. that is, of course, Love Train off of Holly Johnson. oh, well. perhaps they couldn't licence it, but that doesn't quite explain some of the unmitigated sh!t here instead. like Hue & Cry proving they should never ever have been allowed into a record studio, and the frankly horrendous "soul jazz" disaster for Yazz. and just what the f*** is Michael Ball doing on a pop compilation album, exactly? quite sad to hear Tracie off of Level 42 here, for once they were decent. whilst cover versions are not all bad, some people should be arrested for what they do to certain songs. like, for instance, Adeva for crimes against Respect. 

lots of tracks on tape one and a few on disc two mean that this shall probably get a fair bit of play on my stereo. that's as decent a review as i can give, for many volumes (in particular 5) sit gathering dust or similar. yes, if they release 15 i shall probably by it, but by my reckoning that will be an end to the 80s era of the sets. oh, make no mistake, some great music was recorded in the 90s, in fact some of the best ever. but not necessarily in the first couple of years of that decade, and not of a nature which may end up on a Now set. 

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

unusual promotion

hello there

so, for the time being (or momentarily, look you see), i find myself not frequently in exile to that there London (innit) place. in their infinite wisdom, which many might question as they employed me, it is so that verk have elected to have me be an ambassador (of sorts) in the south west (ish) area of our lands. to be precise, or specific, that Bristol place. a change is as good as a rest, etc. 

i do, believe it or not, have some vague semblance of a social circle. none are really foolish to extend the definition or interpretation of such to "friends", but still. anyway, i spoke to a few of my orders, or given place to be, and all spoke most fondly of the place. they were right to do so, for my experiences of the area so far (granted, limited) are that it is a most excellent part of the world. 

whilst in the area, and at time of writing this was limited to "about" three (3) days (more to follow) i got to have a bit of a gander at the interestingly named Weston Super Mare. or Weston super Mare, as they appear to write (brand) it, with obviously the "s" in super being a debated case matter. considering how normally i am adverse to them, i may well stick with capital S, out of respect. 

my only previous knowledge of Weston Super Mare was, i think, the place being mentioned in one of the live Bottom shows. i believe one was filmed there. didn't pay that much intention, as of course i would have rather been watching Rik and Ade swearing and hitting each other. yet still it resonates, for it is so (and perhaps this is a "me" issue) that whenever i think of the place name in my head, what i hear is the voice of Adrian Edmondson saying "Weston Super Mare". 

as you can probably see, unless there's some weird audiobook version of this blog that i am entirely unaware of, i picked up a postcard whilst there. well, more than one, but just the one put here. and yes, it is presented above in the greater good and glory of Commodore 64 mode, but there's a "normal" version below. 

being something of an experienced chap in the realm of postcards (i send at least two a week) i can assure you that it's fairly standard, this one, with four (4) different images of the place showcasing a variety of views. except, well, i am not entirely convinced that this is common or "normal". perhaps, or maybe, you might like to play "which is the odd one out". feel free to do so with the below, somewhat clearer image of the postcard. 

yes it does indeed appear that the one image i would (reasonably) consider to be the odd one out in the above, bottom left for clarification, was (ahem) borrowed off of the Wikipedia entry for the fire which broke out in 2008. oh. 

now, true, yes, some places are associated with tragedies or events which are as regrettable as they are sad. but it strikes me as being that few, if any, would in effect 'celebrate' such by placing an image of it on a postcard. at the least, well, not just casually dropping it in with generally generic types of images. this would appear not to be the Weston Super Mare way. 

perhaps, with good fortune, i shall get to spend further time there in the not too distant future. if so, then i may well get chance to get further postcards, just to see what they have on them. that and to send them to people, too, true. 

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

forgotten cinema : The Medusa Touch

hello there

well, it's been a while since i have done one of these posts. not film reviews as such, look you see, but a post dedicated to just one film from the past (rather than the future) which might have slipped through the collective minds of many. and in this instance it's, as the title gives every indication, The Medusa Touch. yes, as in no, this isn't one forgotten by all, but also i wasn't sure if i should classify it as another sort of post like this that i have not gone done for ages; classic. 

this is a film i have seen several times over the last forty (!) years. it is one of "those" ones that has a you can watch it again and again feel to it, for some reason which may or may not being within reach of explaining. sure, lots of films have that quality for different people for a variety of reason. yet there are some, oddly usually of a "disaster" nature (see Towering Inferno or Poseidon Adventure or select Airport movies), which have this universal quality. 

so, the plot of The Medusa Touch. a writer (played by Richard Burton) is found brutally beaten in his London home, but remains inexplicably alive. whilst he is tended to in hospital a French detective (there for practical reasons of the French co-financing the film) tries to establish who may have done this to him, and why. this investigation leads to the possibility, as absurd as it is plausible, that the victim had remarkable telekinesis powers, used almost exclusively for evil........

a pause is most advantageous here, for it is likely that one of them *** SPOILER WARNING *** things is wise for the rest of it. mostly. should that premise (assuming you've not heard of the film) be enough to generate interest, along with the promise - no matter what you have heard - that Burton is brilliant in this, rather go find and watch the film than read this. 

oddly it was so that the first time i watched it turned out to be, as point of fact, technically or kind of the second time. in a rare instance i cannot recall exactly when i watched it the second time (first time proper), or even which side of the equator i was on. at the time i was discovering the true magnificence of Richard Burton, with me probably only have seen the excellent 1984 and the fun Wild Geese with him in. to my knowledge. whilst watching, in this instance mesmerised by it, it dawned on me. many years before (rather than after) we "found" the (actual) video of it at a friends' house, stashed in such a way as to presumably have been hidden by parents. hoping it was a vicious horror or, even better (if we are to be perfectly honest) some erotica (ahem), we sneakily put it on. and fast forwarded a lot and had every sense of boredom and disappointment. judge 10 (or so) year old me as you will. 

for me this is one of them class, oddly predominantly 70s classic British films what have an insane level of rewatchability to them. there are two reasons for this. up front, the quite (rather) clever structure of the plot and the events. each and every single event supposedly caused (or created) by the Burton character could just have easily been a chance, co-incidental accident or incident. you just never know for sure, or for real (in the context of the film) if he really has that power, or has been driven insane by quasi quirky premonitions about what was to come. it is the ultimate in being pieced together by an unreliable narrator, for you only have second hand accounts of his testimony.

making all of that work, and then some, is the performance of Richard Burton. a quite lazy thing people do is dismiss just about (very nearly) all of his 70s (and even 80s) work as him accepting jobs purely for the pay (he did have a rather famously lavish lifestyle) and turning up in whatever. oh, sorry. i would also (to throw back to earlier) have been vaguely aware of him from Where Eagles Dare, a film i fondly recall watching on the tele one Christmas with Mum & Dad. but to be fair i would likely have been more interested in the Clint Eastwood element of that one. 

now, where was i. oh, yes. i have no doubt Burton did do some "this will do" performances in the 70s, and i believe Exorcist II is such a case, which i have never brought myself to watch. here, in The Medusa Touch, even if it is not lofty, principled, la-de-dah "high art" stuff, he is scintillating. a particular highlight would be the scene showing him in a previous career, as a barrister (or an advocate, or other such lawyer stuff). his soliloquy is truly remarkable, showing off his natural talent, his gift, in effect all that made him one of the most cherished and celebrated actors ever. that scene alone is well worth the effort of watching this film, believe you me. 

it was not so that the film was well received on release, apparently. far from it. as in the celebrated, of you will legendary American film critics Siskel and Ebert (or how you spell their names, sorry) both declared it the "worst" of 1978. no, i am not going to single out any films from that year which were worse, but have a look if you will (by clicking here), for as well as some all time classics some right proper sh!t came out then too. fortunately, or happily, it lived on in memory for some. enough, at least, for it to be discovered (and re-discovered) over the decades since it was released. 

the fancy tape (blu ray disc) of it was bought on sight when i noticed it at my preferred tape seller down at a local market. just £3, all still sealed too. despite having seen it numerous times i did, oddly, watch it once more on this fancy new disc, either the evening of purchase or the day after. i suppose, then, that this is one of my "favourites", despite a serious lack of nudies or graphic violence. highly likely that i shall watch again, as and when i ever get one again it's perfect lazy sunday watching. 

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

vaguely east end things

owlright daaaahrlings

that's about the best cockney i can do for you. if it isn't right or proper or correct, well, do one, look you see. 

it seems, of late, my travels to that there London (innit) are at an end. probably briefly, for there is every chance that verk may decide, or otherwise determine, that i can be best deployed there. whereas i would hope, or certainly expect, to find some things of interest as i travel further, there's the matter of a few things off of London i haven't posted here. 

until, of course, now. i just get either very lazy, very short of time or very concerned that i put far, far too many things off of London (innit) here as it is. but, with respect to the latter, a consequence, or result, of life choices means that i have indeed spent more time there this year (2023) than up in my home place, which of course is in an actual, proper part of England. 

now that, of course, is somewhere i would have very much liked to have gone done get my hair sorted out, or attended to. whereas generally my hairstyle lacks concept, i believe that such would be attained by going there. sadly it was closed at the time i went past, and also there is that i was on the verk clock at the time, and i have every reason to suspect that they don't want me going for a haircut whilst i am on their paid time. which is fair enough, but i might run it all past a union representative, just to be sure. 

for those who need it spelling out, and i suspect this is a low number, it is so (i at least assume) that this establishment takes its name from a play on Barbra Streisand. it is, going on their website, a unisex salon, with an interesting pricing strategy. as far as i can tell, or see, they charge on the basis of how long it will take them to "do" your hair, rather than the complexity of the job. which, now that i think on, is fair enough. 

this is far from being the first time the name of Barbs has been used in a decidedly British capacity, with of course her likeness being used to illustrate how to do a plague test not so long ago. so far as i can remember it's been six or so months since i mentioned Barbs with any real intent, so here you go, yet another link here to when she was mentioned before. 

all of these images (yes, each of the three) were / was taken in what one might refer to as the east end of London. it's quite difficult to state exactly where that is, geographically, as for various marketing purposes some claim certain parts of London (innit) are in the "east end" when they are not. also, in the business end of (very) central London, you get another east end and west end. for one singular constant, though, if you are in sight of the Blind Beggar pub then you are totes in the heart of the east end. 

much of what you could possibly wish to know of the London mindset - explanations of why the Met police are the way they are, and why the people vote for someone like Sadiq Khan, for example  can be found in one of the primary reasons this pub is celebrated. sure, them Geordies off of Newcastle consider it holy ground purely because this is where their beloved brown ale originated, but for others it happens to be where one of the (in)famous Kray twins murdered someone. bloke called George, according to the internet, when i always thought (or assumed) it was someone called Jack the Hat. 

quite strange it is, the number of apologists what the Krays have had. some are rather famous, like for instance Roger Daltrey, but the majority are not. all sing the same song, though, believing that neither of them should have gone to prison; defending their more barbaric practices with logic like "they only ever killed their own sort". murder is all right if you are killing someone like you? then again, most major cities would hang their head in a collective shame over (at least) five unresolved murders, not turn it into a lucrative marketing strategy a la Jack the Ripper.  

hmn. the so-called London Stadium, then. which i went past due to a misunderstanding with one of them fancy sat nav devices. famously this was built for the London Olympics of 2012, which was the second best thing to happen in England that year. no need to ask first, i imagine, but still. now, with a degree of controversy that i am far from legally intelligent enough to comment on, it's the ostensible home to West Ham (association) football club. yes, a team with "west" in their name are to be found in the east end. this is London. 

possibly the most surprising element to this stadium was just how desolate and depressing it all was. sure, granted, this was in the throes of winter, but still, man. it seems surrounded by wasteland and just all feels grubby. at odds with that new Tottenham stadium, which is a glimmer of a shiny, chrome, silver beacon of hope in the middle of a frightfully distressing place. 

well, that's that. it is undoubtedly the case that there is both much more to the east end of London than presented here, and that i have further images sat somewhere. perhaps i shall get around to thinking of something to write about them as and when i share them here. 

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

got some reading done

hello reader

blimey. it feels like quite some time since i gone done a post of this nature. which is comment on some novels what i read, look you see. and i am (somewhat) confused by exactly how many i just read. as a standard, or normally, i would do all of this after reading two (2), but the covers for the ones i read give every indication that i actually read 3 (three). then also one of them felt like two shoved together. 

anyway, sticking with what is usual (or the norm) for this sort of thing (not that sort of thing) a look at what i have most recently read, and then some spoiler free comments. kind of. 

it was improbably so that The President Is Missing off of James Patterson and Bill Clinton (that one) turned out to be a really good novel, so this follow up, The President's Daughter, was a straightforward purchase. this is not as good, it's not bad, but it takes an awfully long time to tell a contrived, detail free story. as it turns out The Furies of John Connolly turned out to be two "novels" in one. both, for us fans of Charlie Parker tales (and there are many), were good, but frustratingly could have been great. or greater. more better, if you will

right, then, both (or either if you are only interested in one) in some more detail. but, as ever, do be warned, consider a *** SPOILER WARNING *** for each book in place from here on out. 

starting where i did with these two is to commence with The President's Daughter, where the former president as an author appears to outrank the big selling writer. i actually do wonder how big the market remains for a Clinton novel, with his era oddly looking progressively better with each new incumbent. 

provenance, as some of you will immediately clock from the type of price sticker, was Morrisons. from what i remember, no, not a straightforward decision to buy. well, yes, i was always going to get it, but i thought let me hold on as Tesco shall likely sell it to me for £4.50. but then i ended up in Morrisons more frequently than i expected, and how patient do you wish for me to be for 50p.

the plot? well, the title could be applied to everything from a Disney teenager coming of age family comedy to a particularly salacious (and thoroughly entertaining) work of erotica intended for a more mature audience. alas, it is neither of those. due to circumstanced depicted at the start the president hero of the first novel (i forget the character name) is president no more, and the primary reason for that is not at all happy with the now former president so kidnaps his daughter. yada yada yada......

overall i think i dragged reading this entire out over three (3) months. granted, yes, some of that can be attributed to being busy and not getting chance to read. but, still, you know, i can't leave a book i started unfinished, and so very little about this one compelled me to pick it up and read. which is kind of strange, as fundamentally there's not much wrong. simple, straightforward and enjoyable writing, and a not too bad story. perhaps it was the pacing of it that if found so cumbersome. that and the several preposterous things one had to assume would be happening, and the ludicrous number of "plot twists" thrown into the mix. 

quite a lot of what i enjoyed in the first novel pertained to it being a "homage" to the latter Jack Ryan adventures of Tom Clancy. it was of course sad when that author passed, and the tales ceased. mostly, then, everything in this second novel feels like it was one of them ones you picked up hoping would be fairly close to "like" a Clancy novel, but turned out to be too much of a knock off. oh. the, and i did put a spoiler warning out there, ending of this one makes clear a third novel is intended. hopefully it's somewhat more of an enjoyable read, for yes, i will pick it up anyway. 

an easily all too more anticipated novel for me would be the most recent John Connolly to arrive in paperback, The Furies. i had deliberately avoided any details, so was indeed surprised to pick it up - the moment i saw it - and find that it, according to the cover at least, was two (2) novels in one. oh. bonus, i thought, but also oh dear, i thought, as they were clearly going to be two quite short(ish) ones. no matter. 

for provenance, if it actually matters, bought on sight, which means the full tilt £5.50 what Tesco charge for novels what are not their "book of the week" or what have you. could not really care less, i wasn't going to leave it and wait to find if it was cheaper anywhere else. 

so, the first novel in the set, The Sisters Strange. also the best, and very easily the more frustrating that it wasn't a more fuller, larger, expanded book. but, then again, from what i can work out this novel is some serial he did during the lockdown plague, taped together as one novel with some bits added in for good measure. my assumption would be that all who would wish to read a John Connolly novel shall have done so long before i write of it, but still, spoilers. there is truly some amazing stuff here, be it the glorious writing style, the dazzling creation of characters, and the mythology / imagery conjured up. yet it is rendered reasonably shallow, for it lacks the depth he would normally dive into with this kind of thing. a great shame, but perhaps he was too hesitant to go full tilt Dan Brown with some aspects. 

to go quasi cynical but thank the generosity, everything of the second novel here, The Furies, says that it was somewhat hastily knocked together from a few ideas kicking around to give a sense of value to the "main" novel published in the set. rather brief, it is, but not entirely devoid of interest. essentially, or in essence, this somewhat shows off the "day to day" cases what protagonist Charlie Parker does to pay the bills, presumably in between the major things which form the arching plot of the more regular novels. dark, sinister, disturbing and uncomfortable, they are. and once again, so brilliantly written. 

not sure what's going on with Mr Connolly and his creation. there's a weird feeling to it all, for the Charlie Parker story has not "progressed" for some time now. including this one, that's three on the bounce where no major "new" story arc has come in. covering them, i was disappointed to find that one novel was to be a prequel, and yet that was brilliant. then the next one to come along focused 98% on Louis and Angel, which i thought would be ho hum but was brilliant. and here we are, with what feels like some "filler" tales, and whilst not brilliant, still thoroughly good reads. next, i believe, is The Land Of Lost Things, a sequel to The Book Of Lost Things. which i recall as being good, but not Charlie Parker good. presumably it shall be another couple of years before another Charlie Parker "proper" novel comes along, just have to hope i am still around to enjoy it. 

right, well, as ever - specifically with this sort of post but also in general - not too sure if this is of much use or interest to anyone, but here we are. 

yes, indeed i have already commenced (or started) reading another novel. not got too far in to it, but by default it is very likely (to be positive) to be the best ever work of fiction i what i have ever read by a gay vicar who was on Top Of The Pops once. more than you might think, in answer to any question which may come to mind in respect of that nice genre.

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

aspiring to the assumed telford look

hello there

one of the more popular philosophical debates over the decades has been the subject of which came first, the chicken or the egg. it's a (somewhat) compelling question. what many don't perhaps appreciate, or bother to take an awareness of, is the wider metaphorical incantation of such, look you see. actually they do, when they answer a question posed of the order of something by simply quoting the whole chicken or egg dilemma. 

why, exactly, this came to my mind of late was all to do with another sojourn into the realms of that there London (innit) place. for reasons of verk i found myself in, or on, a street (or road, or avenue or what have you) which had the name of Telford. immediately i concerned my thinking with whether this drew its name from the actual place Telford, or if it were so that Telford itself was named after this street (or road, etc). if you have also asked this question and are here seeking an answer, well, i do not have it. yet i am keen to explore the idea, so read on, if you will. 

for illustrative purposes, yes, fans of such, this post is beautified with images of an abandoned trolley i saw whilst on the road (or street) of that name. quite overgrown, it has become. strangely, much like the chicken and egg quandary, this abandoned trolley covered in weeds or similar overgrowth is an actual representation of Telford as a street, and potentially a metaphorical one for the place. 

no, as it happens, i have not ever been to the wonders of actual Telford. well, by that i mean the place. for all we know, as things stand, it could be that the street, or road, i was on is considered (and especially by locals) as the Telford, with the village, town, city or whatever it is of the same name merely cashing in or otherwise exploiting the name. further, i doubt very much i ever shall pay a visit to the place called Telford. not by choice, at the least, as every chance exists that verk may exile me there. if i were ever to transgress in the general area, it is more likely that it would be so to find me making the pilgrimage to Tipton. 

did Jesus (not the bowling one) ever visit either of the Telford variations? well, just as it is improbable that there are two (2) places people could speak of when they said the place, it is remotely possible, i suppose. according to the myth, or if you prefer legend, it was Glastonbury that Jesus visited. looking at a conventional map, it would strike me as unlikely he took a route which went as far as the traditional west midlands location of Telford as we know it. however, it is entirely possible - by accident or chance, rather than choice - he went past the place which now features Telford as a road or street. 

i have, as it happens, encountered at least one (1) person off of the place Telford. one has to be mindful of the perils associated with judging an entire place on the basis of a single representative, but still. this was not a pleasant encounter. he was quite a direct, loud gentleman, and not at all happy with his lot in life. why he chose to make this an issue to address with me remains unclear. but i do recall he did spend a good deal of time stating his "Telford credentials", of which i remain uncertain of the relevance. one would hope he did not represent the entire place, yet he was enough to prevent me from exploring the possibility of the truth of such. 

how nice a place is Telford to live? this is a question i posed of the place, not the road or the street, to the internet. at first the answer came back as "yes", according to the Telford council website. but then virtually every other source said "no". oh. it didn't seem like a particularly worthwhile venture to ask the same of the road or street in London (innit), for as far as i could see not many live there. 

perhaps there is something apt, or otherwise significant, in this long since abandoned trolley being found (or spotted) in a place bearing the name Telford. symbolic, even. a statement, perhaps. no, i am not sure what it would be saying, or means, but something. quite likely that someone of Telford the place, or even someone what had been on the road or street longer than i, would be able to give that a much more better comment than i could. 

unfortunately i don't have that much else to say (or write) of this. it does speak volumes about the absurd lavish financial state of London (innit) that this trolley has been left where it is instead of traded in down at a scrapyard. perhaps too much of London, as in even a street or road bearing the name of Telford is affected, is now gentrified and they don't have decent, cash in hand scrap merchants no more. which would be a great shame. 

rather unlikely that i shall attend, or visit, this Telford of London (innit) place again. i cannot say that someone telling me of how i will never set foot there again causes distress. yet i appreciate some, if not many, of you will have experienced the place in a way different from me, which is to say you liked it all. good for you, really. 

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

just can't get these (yet)

howdy pop pickers

well, well, well. in the last few weeks (at time of writing, look you see) there's been not just one, and not so many as three (unless i missed something) but two (2) significant vibes releases ("drops") by major bands. and bands that i like quite a lot. yet i cannot, alas, tell you all that much of them, for there's no way they are getting purchased momentarily. 

the albums, if indeed one of them can be considered such, would be Momento Mori off of Depeche Mode, and then (this is the consider one) Songs of Surrender off of U2. at once these would have been instant, pretty much autopilot purchases, but no. reasons exist in variety as to why i walked out of HMV with neither (of either), with some of it being down to cost. 

for some this may well all sound like a whine, or a moan. certainly it could also be said that this is all very much "first world problem" territory, but here we are on my blog, with you reading it off of a fancy device of some description. whether it comes through or not, there is going to be a vague semblance of an intent to pose a question. 

commencing with the most recently released, then, which would be the Depeche Mode one. all i know of it, really, is the lead "single", Ghosts Again, which has been played so often during each and every day on (bbc) Radio 2 for the last couple of months it could conceivably make one wonder if they needed someone to lend them a few tapes or records to add variety to the playlist. but, then again, it's a really, really good song, and makes a compelling advert for buying the record it was released to promote. except, the price. 

i was not alone in commenting on that social media thing (book of faces) when the link to "pre order" came out. by the way, i hate that term, surely it's just ordering it? if they said "pre release order" then that would make more sense. anyway, the pricing, man. over on the official website it was so that, as i remember, they wanted £17 for the "standard" tape (compact disc) and £25 (!!) for the "deluxe" variation. with the deluxe offering no extra disc, or extra tracks, but a book which (presumably) features images of Martin and Dave looking all sultry and moody. 

most, if not all (there are some exceptions) bands, artists or what have you somehow manage to charge around the £10 mark for a standard disc, and maybe up to £15 (or a bit more, or less or "fewer") for any la-de-dah special version. which has kind of been the "fixed" pricing for such for quite some time now, which makes me think "hang on". 

above are two of the (ridiculous) three (3!) tape (compact disc) variations of Songs Of Surrender, which offers what is proclaimed as "re-imagined" versions of U2 songs. yeah. so far as i am aware it's all stabs at making them "acoustic", with the intention being to have them more "intimate" listening experiences for people now used to listening to compressed streams via headphones. which is not the U2 i love. 

i would ask (or suggest) you not to quote me, but of the three (!) variations, i believe a "standard" 16 track edition is circa £11, the "deluxe" 20 track version (on one disc) is £15 and the "super deluxe" four disc set of 40 (forty) tracks is just south of £30. going on what i have heard of the album, or indeed compilation if that is a more better description (can one call a whole bunch of re-recordings, and ones that i believe 50% of the band had very little to do with, this being mostly Bono and Edge), the best version is probably the cheapest as it is less (fewer) bad by default for being shorter. also, if they can get twenty of these monstrosities of versions on one disc, why do forty of them need 4 discs? 

not sure, but i think the first thing i heard off of it was Pride. which, in its original form, was one hell of a powerful, brilliant song, and likely the first time the world at large (allowing for some success before it) got a glimpse of the band they would be. here it sounds like Bono is in some distress, like he's kind of learning how to speak again or something like that. once more, Radio 2 played a lot. i believe it was around the time they played the now completely wrecked, destroyed version of Desire that i said no, thanks. at least for now. whereas U2 have delivered underwhelming albums before - Pop, for instance, or even worse, No Line On The Horizon - this is something else. 

but what i was thinking with the "hang on" part, in regards of pricing. whereas virtually everything else has gone up a few notches in price, tapes (compact discs) and videos (dvd and blu ray) have not. with limited exceptions (like Depeche Mode here), new albums have come out on disc for £10, with a few quid more for any 'extra' added version. likewise, a basic video (dvd) has been £10 on release for a long time, with the fancy video (blu ray) being a fiver more. within the realm of "arts", even paperbacks have gone up in price, and yest there exists a digital alternate for them, too. 

oh, no. i didn't leave HMV empty handed, as you can see above (in the greater good and glory, of course, of Commodore 64 mode). they had an "alternative 80s" selection on display, and in truth i had been giving consideration to picking up Disintegration off of The Cure for a while. believe i did have it, yes, but no idea what happened to the tape, be it actual or disc. as for Motorhead, well, you got it at that price with any purchase, so why would you not. like the idea of them promoting it, on the sticker, as being a collection of their "loudest" songs. i am not certain they did any quiet ones? can't really see Lemmy walking into a studio and saying "let's do a ballad on this album". 

to the price stability, then. i suspect the price of vibes and videos has been "locked" for so long as the studios worked out this was the most they could push people for with "disposable income buys" instead of cheaper alternates. you can, after all, pluck any album or film for "free" off of the internet. them streaming services are also quite cheap, or at least used to be. can still do so for free (with ads) for music, but films is getting costly with all the different services. a realistic reason for this presumed quasi price cap, then, is that without a physical presence (or alternate) for us collectors, the studios what make films and music would be 100% at the mercy of the likes of amazon and the various streaming services. 

generally, no there is no way i am giving up on what now gets termed "physical media". i am absolutely not trusting my music choices to be in the hands of some "streaming service", where the quality is lesser, i can't play it on my regular stereo and it could all end up being taken away from the service with the flick of a finger. i want to hear a specific tape, i put that tape on. same is pretty much true of videos, with what i may wish to watch not necessarily on any streaming services, or needing to pay for three or four different ones just to watch three or four different films. 

at best, buying the "standard" versions of these two (2) albums would have been an outlay of £30. to go full tilt "proper" fan would have been £55. no, no, and also no to the intermediate values between the two by mixing in different versions. i am not adverse to getting f****d over for vibes i want. consider, for instance, last year, when i was required to pay excessively for Toy at £28, when we were told that this was the only version of it coming out. and then they released a single disc version later. 

every chance exists that both albums will be in the collection, eventually. both of the previous albums by both bands (did that come out right) were available, new and sealed, for a fraction of the original price not long after. in fact, as i recall, the Depeche Mode one, Spirit, that i paid £18 for the deluxe of went down to south of £5 for the same thing. criminally, the previous U2 album, Songs Of Experience, which was brilliant, soon became available for about £2, and then i saw it for £1. my suspicion is, like the most recent Barbs tape, quite soon a very large stockpile of unsold copies of these albums will make it all the way to bulk dealers over on ebay, who will sell it off at a profit to them whilst also having the price very well below what they currently go for. i am prepared to wait a few months and check. 

sure, there is a temptation just to "pirate" both albums. i'd rather have the proper ones, though, thanks. a time existed where i would have just taped (onto an actual cassette) both off of a mate. however, my circle of friendship hasn't got that much of a radius no more. what friends remain are ones who do not purchase tapes themselves, and (kind of) understand why i do but remain all the same perplexed that i do. so, i shall just wait for the prices to fall. 

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

bloods vs crips - silton connection

yee-haw y'all, whassup

over the years one of the most fascinating armed conflicts, if not outright wars, has been that one between the houses of bloods and crips in los angeles. well, there or wherever it is they fight, look you see. many tales of the skirmishes have of course been told, most famously in that one documentary from the time him out of Shanghai Surprise and him out of Apocalypse Now were coppers. it was called Colours in proper, actual english, but our friends in America, as they are so prone to do, lost the "u" when the posters went to the printers.

just about as much is known over this splendid fight as remains unknown. until now, that is. after quite a lot of research into the subject i can, on this day, reveal the previously lost (or secret) origins of the conflict. they are, believe you me, going to cause quite a few surprises, and some revision of textbooks. in regards of the latter, particularly in UK school textbooks, where there appears to be a dogged determination to create a sense of actually being America here. lord have mercy and help us. 

most, if not all, reading this shall be aware of how these two "gangs" (more social clubs, really, but semantics) regularly fight over things like "turf", wearing the wrong shade of clothing, drugs and the ladies. with the latter usually referred to in a derogatory way. what most will not know is that both of these factions were as one, and were brought together by a tourist called Bertie Fettlebottom. 

like most warring parties, a failure to recognise that they have more in common than they have differences precludes any peace. in the case of the bloods and crips, they have forgotten the magical man who first brought them together. even their names, as we shall see (if you read on) come from his very words to them, as point of fact the first words any of them ever heard spoken by him. but, let's go through the story from the start. 

it all began, or commenced, with some youths just wandering around the less affluent areas of los angeles, throwing basketballs at moving vehicles in between smacking worn discarded tyres and dustbin lids with a stick. this generally wholesome pastime was disrupted when they heard, in an accent peculiar to them, a man in a shop shouting "they're bloody crisps" whilst holding a bag of what they would call chips. wrongly call chips. so peculiar was the accent that to their untrained ears they appeared to hear "bloods and crips". hence the names used in the wars to come. 

curious, they looked further, and saw the appearance of this gentleman was even more new to them than the accent. he had what to them seemed was a knotted cloth on his head (actually a handkerchief), wore a shirt of no sleeves and full of holes (string vest), three quarter length trousers with some rope instead of a belt (actually regular trousers rolled up to the shin) and shoes with no laces. it shall be, later on, important to remember this. some of you may have pieced a few parts together, though.

due to a significant police presence at the time the youths could not continue throwing basketballs at moving cars, or stab this strange fellow safely. instead, then, they decided to speak to him. on asking his name in direct American ("who the f*** are you?") they learned it was Bertie Fettlebottom, off of an area in Yorkshire, England, broadly called Silton. further questions were asked, in particular about his choice of garments. Bertie explained that the "hankie on his head" was to keep off the sunburn, the vest was his best, his trousers were rolled up as he went wandering in the sea, the shoes came with no laces when he obtained them from a strange sounding place called the "council tip" and the belt for his trousers was confiscated by the police when he went to prison, despite being innocent. as it was the most interesting part, the youths asked what he went to jail (as they call it) for, to which he proudly responded that despite being innocent he was sent for a full 2 (week) stretch for the non payment of a fine for failing to pay a fine for fly tipping. the youths had no idea what this was, but it sounded rather hardcore, and so they determined Bertie was an absolute badass. 

so yes, then, the classical wardrobe of bloods and crips members all stem from efforts to replicate the look of Bertie Fettlebottom. as best they could, of course, with the limitations of American clothing availability. with handkerchiefs not available in the USA they wore bandannas instead. likewise, string vests were not available, so basketball shirts were it. further, they decided on just three quarter length cargo trousers (wrongly called "pants" in American) rather than rolling up the legs, and also refused to wear belts in solidarity with an innocent man (according to him). laces were also removed from all shoes they wore. 

unfortunately, though, this is where the divide commenced. some believed that the hankie Bertie wore on his head was red, and so sought  a bandanna of that colour. others, meanwhile, were adamant that it was blue, hence their choice. with no proof of either being correct available, this insistence on the colour he had on escalated to a lot of silly bother, mostly in the form of drive by shootings. 

they asked more of his homeland. Bertie explained that although he saw himself as a staunch as he was proud Silton man, the place called Silton did not exist. instead it was split into two districts, or parishes, called Over Silton and Nether Silton. when quizzed on whether or not there was any tension between the two, he replied yes, of course. every now and then, he said, one parish council was found to have overstepped the mark, making decisions which inadvertently affected the other and should have been discussed with them first. 

when pressed on how differences were resolved, their hopes for hearing of shootings and gang wars didn't happen. instead Bertie told them of an event called The Annual Over Silton And Never Silton Net Curtain Twitchers And Jam Makers Congregation. here the two communities would meet, and tell the formal, official jokes of the two parishes. these are "you never get anything good from Nether Silton", which gets the response "oh get over yourselves, Over Silton", and peace is secured for another year. 

in the face of cultural divide, the youths asked of Bertie what net curtain twitching involved, and what jam making meant. he explained, as best he could. at first they tried this, but found in los angeles when you peeked out the curtains at what your neighbours were up to you got shot at, and making jam was more time consuming and considerably less profitable than cooking meth. in the early days of the bloods and crips wars there was an attempt at telling of official jokes to keep the peace. however, these invariably resulted in people saying "hey f*** yo mama" and lots of shooting. 

beyond the colours of bandannas, it is also known that making the wrong (or incorrect) hand sign in los angeles can, depending on whose turf you are on, get you shot. this, too, stems from Bertie Fettlebottom. the youths, desperate to know, asked Bertie if he was ultimately from Over or Nether of the two Siltons. in response he simply tapped his forefinger on his nostril a few times and said "never you mind". some of the gang believed he did this with his right hand, whereas others insist that he did it with his left. hence the divide on hand signs between the two, and why the wrong one will get you punished by means of death by being killed. 

many mysteries exist about how we, as ostensible humans, exist and function. few, however, are surely as strange as the unexplained tourist from an obscure part of Yorkshire accidentally triggering a few decades of open war in the streets of la (man). adding to the mystery is that nearly all traces of Bertie Fettlebottom appear to have been erased. when you go to either Silton and ask after him, you get the expected "we don't like outsiders" look, and the answer is always that they have never heard of him. also, no details of him exist in the parish council records. well, this is true at least of the first couple of pages of their internet thing i looked at. 

right, well, there you have it. many of us in the UK have concerns about elements of American ways of life (i am reluctant to say culture, but still) seeping into our way of doing things. yet, as you can see here, the biggest armed conflict to occur on American soil was in part inspired by just one man inexplicably buying crisps in downtown la (man) one day many, many years ago. perhaps we should resist throwing stones at the glass house. 

no, it is highly unlikely i shall engage in this sort of investigative research again. if we are honest i am likely to have put myself on a hit list for a drive by shooting for revealing these long hidden origins. well, if it happens, it happens. 

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