Sunday, March 21, 2004

Carpe diem

Both ourselves and Charlton went into yesterday evening’s match knowing that four of our closest rivals had lost – Birmingham, Villa, Fulham and Spurs – while Liverpool had only scraped a home win over Wolves with an injury time goal. Sir Bobby had described the clash as our biggest game of the season so far, and whoever could win it would steal a march on the rest of the chasing pack.

In the first half we bulldozed a strangely out-of-sorts Charlton, going in 2-0 up at the break thanks to goals from the half’s two star performers, Shearer and Jenas. The skipper, buffeted throughout by some “robust” Charlton defending, settled the nerves with a header after just two minutes, and Jenas was rewarded for his persistence by deflecting Luke Young's attempted clearance into the Addicks’ net. The Newcastle players seemed determined and resolute, focused on the task in hand and applying themselves to good effect.

If the feeling at half time was of it having been all too easy, and disconcertingly so, things were rather different after the break. In contrast to Charlton’s swift and accurate passing, our game was aggressive, physical and not particularly pretty to watch. Claus Jensen stole in to pull a crucial goal back, and the previously solid defence reverted to its customary shakiness (the introduction of Bramble at half time probably didn’t help either). Carlton Cole was looking dangerous, and as Jenas faded, Matt Holland and Jensen were allowed to marshall midfield.

Chris Perry came perilously close to equalising, denied by a brilliant Given save, but then conceded a penalty at the other end. My initial reaction to the incident was that Robert had played for it by leaving his leg trailing, but that Perry had taken the bait and so the decision was valid. It didn’t take many replays to show me otherwise, though – there wasn’t any contact whatsoever. Even then the goal which resulted was hardly straightforward – Kiely brilliantly tipped Shearer’s spot kick onto the post, only to find that his static defence had allowed the striker to run in and score from close range to make immediate amends for the penalty miss.

In the event, that third goal (dubious to say the very least) wasn’t crucial – though it certainly could have been, had substitute Jonatan Johansson’s shot crept in rather than striking the upright. Overall it was a result we probably deserved based on the first half showing, Charlton paying for their initial sluggishness and defensive disorganisation, but, after the nervy second period, 3-1 was a little flattering. After the dropped points of recent matches, though, the result was all that mattered.

(There are, of course, two sides to every story – read Inspector Sands’s thoughts on the match here…)
Blogwatch: in brief

Well, there’s gratitude for you. No sooner do I welcome the return of He Who Cannot Be Named to the blogging fraternity, than he reminds me of what made his last blog so great and arouses my jealousy in the process. Not only has he trumped my prĂ©cis and appreciation of BBC3’s ‘Nighty Night’ with his own, but his new venture Excuse Me For Laughing is packed full of fantastically splenetic stuff like this, on the Pink song 'My Vietnam':

"Comparing your childhood to a conflict which cost millions of peoples' lives is akin to wiping a shit-smeared stick over a war memorial then crying like a baby because you've got a splinter. It is contemptible beyond words. Why didn't someone just club poor Alicia to death? It would have put her, and us, out of her obscenely prolonged misery."

Meanwhile, you’ll find no speculation or tittle-tattle here about the identity of a certain award-winning blogger – basically because I really can’t be arsed. If, however, you want a handy (and tongue-in-cheek) guide to the potential suspects, Wherever You Are is the place to go.

Elsewhere in the blogosphere: Jaymaster points up the discriminatory regulations which bar sexually active gay men from donating blood; Mike strikes back with the return of his ace Which Decade Is Top For Pops? feature; and LondonMark reviews the Pet Shop Boys best of PopArt.

And finally… Alex and R have at last got themselves set up in their new place after weeks of trials and tribulations – congratulations!
Don’t believe the hype

The response to this American invasion will be interesting, not least because Britain is finally producing a crop of bands with real potential. Already in January there have been hits for Franz Ferdinand and Snow Patrol. But there are scores more to come. This year promises to boast as many homegrown new acts as the giddy days of Britpop.

So quoth Steve Lamacq in this article in the Guardian’s Friday Review.

As if it wasn’t bad enough writing a piece about the threat that the influx of American bands poses to indigenous British talent which seems to play carelessly with the xenophobic rhetoric of the right wing.

As if it wasn’t bad enough that, by allowing smug record company wankers to share their corporate philosophies, he implicitly endorses the idea of music as nothing more than a product calculatedly targeted at a certain demographic in order to reap the maximum profits.

No, he just has to perpetuate that pathetic myth that Britpop was some kind of idyllic golden age for British music. Look, let’s get this straight: it wasn’t. It was a nadir rather than a zenith. The rabid and shallow jingoism of it all was disgusting. Probe beyond that surface and there was precious little of any substance. How could anyone feel “giddy” about the likes of Cast, Echobelly, Shed Seven, Menswear and Sleeper? Unless, that is, “giddy” is taken to mean “unbearably nauseous” rather than “incredibly excited”. Thank fuck Radiohead killed it off.
When I am king, you will be first against the wall

#3: Daniel Bedingfield

Why?: For thinking in all seriousness that what the world really needs is a white Craig David - the world doesn’t need a BLACK Craig David, for fuck’s sake. Oh, and for not having the good grace to die in that car crash.

Imagined famous last words to firing squad: “I gotta get thru this…” BANG!

Wednesday, March 17, 2004

Guinness is not good for you

I hate St Patrick’s Day. I hate the proliferation of patronising and retarded cartoons of ginger-haired leprechauns clad in green. I hate the fact that every year hordes of English people take it as an excuse to get wasted – after all, no one should need an excuse for that. And above all I hate the way that if it didn’t already exist, Guinness would have had to invent it rather than just conveniently appropriating it for their own ends (see also: Coke and Father Christmas). It has nothing to do with Ireland or the religious celebration of a saint’s life, and everything to do with a cynical marketing ploy calculated to make money.

In my experience the worst place to be on St Patrick’s Day is without a doubt London. When it fell on a Saturday two years ago, I had the misfortune to get caught up in the swarm of morons wandering around Leicester Square wearing soft Guinness top hats. Read my lips, dipshit: I am not “up for the craic”. So, maybe you’ve just discovered you’ve got traces of Irish blood – well, why don’t you bugger off over there if you’re so proud of your ancestry? At any rate, get the fuck out of my face.

Let me make one thing very clear: I’m not a killjoy – far from it. I just see no point in celebrating something that has no connection to my life whatsoever, and I refuse to enjoy myself in such a way that has been promoted by a beer company in order to line the pockets of those in the boardroom.
Quote of the day

Before the war, I toured TV stations either preceding or following the shadow Foreign Secretary. It was clear that the issue of legality did not for one moment pass through his mind. At some stages, his gung-ho approach left me feeling that if the Conservatives had evidence of Saddam passing wind, that would have been enough to declare war.

Nottingham South MP Alan Simpson introduces the concept of toilet humour to the Houses of Parliament. Whatever next – knob gags?

On a more serious note, I think I’ve said what follows before, but it’s worth repeating. I’ve contacted Alan Simpson on several different occasions over a range of issues (I think I must be in training to become one of those grumpy old men who spend their time firing off angry missives in every direction), and every time he’s replied with a personal letter which, rather than fobbing me off, has included or been accompanied by the relevant information. Of course it helps that I broadly share his politics, and that I admire his dogged determination as one of those lefties concerned with issues of social justice at home and abroad, and who is perfectly prepared to dig his heels in in a bid to prevent Blair dragging Labour further over to the right.

In this instance I was writing on behalf of Our World Our Say to ask for his support in the campaign for the charges against GCHQ whistleblower Katharine Gun to be dropped; he signed the relevant Early Day Motion and the charges have since been dismissed. In my experience he’s conscientious, caring, responsive, accountable, outspoken and passionate - in other words, the sort of politician who convinces me that the political process in this country is not totally bankrupt.
"That’s just the chemo talking…"

BBC3’s ‘Nighty Night’ at last made the transition to BBC2 on Monday night, and it was well worth the wait. The series is written by Julia Davies, and, as one might expect given her involvement in Chris Morris’s ‘Jam’, her brainchild is more than a little grotesque and twisted, much of the humour tastefully centring on her on-screen husband Kevin Eldon’s cancer and her neighbour’s spinal injuries. “Dark” is one way of describing it…

The most memorable scene from the first instalment was when, as part of a self-help group, Davies’s character began performing a dance to express her feelings at her husband’s illness – but, when her lecherous new neighbour (played by Angus Deayton – an inspired bit of casting) entered, her dance took on a seductive and erotic edge. Sickest of all, though, was the fact that the whole scene was set to a fucking Marillion song. More of the same next week, please.

Now I’ve just got to wait in anticipation until Vic and Bob's ‘Catterick’ surfaces on terrestrial TV…
The call of the wild

I noticed today that the Birmingham Evening Mail is advertising for new newspaper vendors. Judging by the current crop, presumably the only qualification hopeful applicants need is the ability to emit the sort of inarticulate and pained cry that one might associate with a pterodactyl nursing a broken wing.
Smash it up

Nick Southall reviews the new Guns ‘N’ Roses greatest hits LP. He’s right, you know: it’s completely redundant – just get yourself Appetite For Destruction and leave it at that. For what it’s worth, Axl Rose himself seems to know it too, given that nine of the twelve songs on that record made an appearance during the Leeds headline performance in 2002, completely dominating the set-list. Appetite For Destruction was the first album to awaken me to the fact that music can be dangerous, and my 11-year-old’s sense of its illicitness ensured a frisson of slightly guilty excitement every time I furtively listened to it (through headphones, of course).
It’s not every day…

… that you get an answerphone message that begins with the drunkenly slurred words “I’m about to be arrested". Still, considering the merry band of miscreants I count as friends, perhaps it’s a surprise it hasn’t happened sooner.
You WHAT?!!

Recent search engine referral subjects to have led people to SWSL:

donkey wearing neckerchief
waterstone’s suicide piccadilly
egyptian dollmaker
brad friedel’s baby
plastic film packaging norwegian cheese toxic
genital warts comforting advice

Monday, March 15, 2004

How to shoot yourself in the foot in spectacular style: Part 2

Trust Newcastle to end a run of eight straight away draws with a defeat rather than a win. And trust us to achieve this by committing defensive hari-kari late on for the fourth time in four away matches, at a cost of seven points which would, had we held on, have seen us sitting pretty in fourth.

Just when us fans might have been forgiven for thinking our brittle defence had blunted the potent Spurs attack to escape with a creditable away clean sheet, Andy O'Brien pops up four minutes from time to inadvertently supply the finish that Defoe and Keane couldn't muster themselves. Another kick in the teeth, and all the more galling because by all accounts we actually performed better than of late - but then I suppose it's just the wheel of fortune coming full circle, given the fact that in recent UEFA Cup matches we've been lucky to win and in the league we persist in playing badly but picking up fortuitous points. Incredibly we've only lost six league games all season - that was our first defeat since 28th December, and our first away defeat since 9th November. All those draws look like being costly.

The result sees us slip down to fifth, having been leapfrogged by Inspector Sands's Charlton - it's now imperative that we beat them on Saturday. The one consolation we and all the other clubs involved have is that no one team seems capable of putting together the run of results that would surely wrap it all up. This weekend Charlton, Spurs, Fulham and Villa all picked up three points, but ourselves, Liverpool and Fat Buddha's Birmingham slumped to defeat. Next weekend expect the pack to shuffle once again.
Feel good hits of the 15th March

1. 'I Left You' - Sophia
2. 'Where Did You Sleep Last Night?' - Nirvana
3. 'This Is Not' - Blonde Redhead
4. 'I Think I'm In Love' - Spiritualized
5. '1% Of One' - Stephen Malkmus & The Jicks
6. 'Tropical Iceland' - The Fiery Furnaces
7. 'Last Nite' - The Strokes
8. 'A Truth Quietly Told' - The Black Heart Procession
9. 'The Beach At Redpoint' - Boards Of Canada
10. 'Glitterball' - Seachange

The Sophia album People Are Like Seasons is very frustrating - several brilliant songs (especially 'I Left You' and 'Desert Song No 2') but also a few which really let it down ('Holidays Are Nice', I'm looking at you - urgh). Perhaps I would have been better off getting De Nachten or one of the earlier LPs first. Part of the problem has been listening to it alongside Spiritualized - Spaceman and his mob of zonked-out canesters do both the slow epics and the bristling Stooges / Stones-y rockers better.

Malkmus's Pig Lib has also taken time to bed down with me - a lot less whimsical and breezy than his first solo outing, and perhaps the worse for it. There's definitely some good stuff in there, though.

Friday, March 12, 2004

Japan's people

You know what? I like to think I have my finger on the pulse. I really do. But then certain things conspire to wreck this little fantasy and reveal that in fact I'm about as in touch with The Now as Jeremy Clarkson is with his feminine side.

Case in point: 'Lost In Translation'. EVERYONE saw this ages ago - it's been skinned, gutted and thoroughly dissected on blogs all over the place. Me? Well, I saw it for the first time on Tuesday night. And so here, just for all you nostalgia freaks out there who like a good reminiscence, is what I thunk of it.

It's a very, very good film. The cinematography is wonderful, it features two superb performances from Bill Murray and Scarlett Johanssen and there are some brilliant scenes - particularly, for me, the karaoke party and the ending.

(Are you sensing a 'but' on its way? Very perceptive of you...)

But I get the impression it thinks it's better than it actually is. Or, at least, it's not quite the masterpiece it's been made out to be. For a slow-moving film in which nothing much happens, it seemed to me curiously rushed at a couple of points (not sure if I could pinpoint those moments, though), and as a similar movie about a particular feeling more than anything else - or feelings plural, of dislocation, displacement, disillusionment - I'd rate 'About Schmidt' more highly. Plus I was inclined to be perverse and a touch cynical about the accompanying music - of course I LOVED hearing My Bloody Valentine and The Jesus & Mary Chain through cinema speakers, but including those two bands on the soundtrack is an easy way to score Brownie points with me, and I'm sorry Sofia but I won't let you blind me to your film's occasional and slight weaknesses that cheaply...

Still, it goes without saying that it's leagues better than the standard multiplex fodder.

(Incidentally, an embarrassing fact I'll share with you: when I was younger - oh, much, much younger, kneehigh-to-a-grasshopper sort of age - I didn't believe there was such a place as Kyoto. Oh no. I thought that was just people misspelling Tokyo...)
Excuse me for laughing...

... but how exactly did we run out 4-1 winners in tonight's UEFA Cup tie first leg match against Real Mallorca?

Last week, celebrating the outrageous good fortune that ensured we progressed in the competition at the expense of Norwegian outfit Valerenga, I described watching our performance as being "about as enjoyable as systematically and methodically having each of your knuckles smashed with a hammer". Unbelievably, this time around, in the first half, we were EVEN WORSE, managing just one attempt on goal and at one point retaining just 38% of the possession, horrendous for a home match. We were clueless in midfield, getting no joy up front and clumsy in defence. Samuel Eto'o spurned several decent opportunities to put the visitors ahead but somehow we went in 0-0 at the break.

Sod's law, then, that after a stern half-time talking-to from Sir Bobby, we came out, started playing the better football and then promptly fell behind, Speed guilty of cocking up badly twice in the build-up.

But we didn't let that setback get us down, and managed to turn things around completely with a four goal blast in the space of less than 20 minutes. Bellamy levelled it up, before Robert, listless and lacklustre in the first half, came to life - first of all he sent in a corner for Shearer to head in, then he fired in a swerving 35 yard free-kick (and nearly repeated the feat a few minutes later), and then, following the dismissal of Mallorca's left back for a second bookable offence, his free-kick was volleyed in by Bramble. If only he could do it for 90 minutes, and for several matches in a row...

The scoreline was one neither team deserved. But we're certainly not complaining. Instead we should be counting our blessings, and looking forward to getting a decent result in the away leg in two weeks' time and taking a step nearer the big prize. Somehow, though, I suspect we're going to get found out, and then it could be messy...
Resurrection man

Since the demise towards the end of last year of a certain blog which, ahem, made no difference, the blogosphere has been a nice, clean, white-picket-fence, kids-playing-outdoors-without-fear kinda place. But all that is about to change - it's back, reincarnated as Excuse Me For Laughing, packed full with as much bitterness, wit, cynicism and - of course - rooting around in the dustbins of pop culture as you could possibly hope for. After the sort of unpleasantness that left the evil mastermind and SWSL associate behind the previous blog metaphorically nailed to a cross, he has decided to remain anonymous this time around.

So, what's with all these comebacks - Anna, Kenny, Mike and now He Who Cannot Be Named? In the run-up to Easter, is it some kind of bizarre blogland tribute to Our Lord Jesus Christ?
Child's play

Nick Southall recalls his Top 10 Songs I Loved To Dance To At The School Disco (Aged 12). In my experience school discos began with all the boys clustered together in one darkened corner of the room and all the girls in another. After a while the odd brave soul would make a furtive pilgrimage to the Mecca that was the drinks and sweets table to part with a share of the £2 they'd been entrusted with. Of course, by the end of the night the dancefloor was packed with hyperactive E-numbered-up sprites, all inhibitions and reservations about the opposite sex washed away by the gallons of Coke that had been collectively consumed.

Tuesday, March 09, 2004

Just what the doctor ordered

From Sonic Youth's official website comes news that warms the SWSL cockles nicely: their new LP Sonic Youth Nurse will be appearing in June. The tracklisting is as follows:

'New Hampshire'
'Paper Cup Exit'
'I Love You Golden Blue'
'Peace Attack'
'Pattern Recognition'
'Unmade Bed'
'Dripping Dream'
'Mariah Carey And The Arthur Doyle Hand Creme'
'Dude Ranch Nurse'

There are countless wonderful things about Sonic Youth, but perhaps the most wonderful is the sheer sense of the unknown and unpredictable that you have when putting a new album of theirs into your stereo and pressing play for the first time. They refuse to stand still, always moving on and evolving restlessly. Sure, sometimes they revisit similar territory, but no album is quite the same as any other that has gone before. The follow-up to the resolutely "out-there" NYC Ghosts & Flowers, 2002's marvellous Murray Street marked an unexpected return to the "classic" stylings of the late 80s / early 90s material. Which direction they'll go on this latest LP is anyone's guess - and therein lies their irresistible attraction.
When I am king, you will be first against the wall

#2: Geri Halliwell

Why?: For a multitude of sins, but perhaps most prominently her belief that her meagre little existence - pathetic, vapid and limpet-like up to this point in time, and as it no doubt will be for as long as she has the undeserved good fortune to stay alive - is worthy of commemoration by not one but TWO fucking autobiographies.

Imagined famous last words to firing squad: "If I turn sideways I can make myself invisible and you'll miss - oh, no, hang on, I NEED you to be able to see me, I'll waste away and die if I can't feed off your gaze. Plus, even if I turn sideways my massive head will still be an easy target..." BANG!
"Curly-Wurlys? Remember them?"

(Shameless self-promotion alert.)

Over the course of this week I'll be coming over all Stuart Maconie and Kate Thornton by joining up with a cast of many to make brief contributions to Stylus's I Love 1990, the first in a series of features. And before you lump it together with all those space-filling TV shows (cheap nostalgia, infantile regression blah blah blah), let me point out one major difference: it's NOT SHIT.

Monday, March 08, 2004

Howay the lads! And lasses!

For a while there I thought it was just me, Sarah and LondonMark out there in the blogosphere who had any affiliations to the North-East, and more particularly Newcastle. But at last, thanks to BykerSink, whose excellent blog It's Wrong To Wish On Space Hardware is itself a valued new addition to my blogroll, I've been introduced to several other Geordie blogs:

Black Dove
The Head Of Catboy
Look At This...

Click, read, enjoy.
It's not every day...

... that you go to a house party and wind up chatting to a bloke who's got Mark 'Barney' Greenway, lead singer of Brummie grindcore godfathers Napalm Death and occasional contributor to Kerrang!, moving into his house this week.
Quote of the day

"Put yourself into the characters shoes. See how they feel. Take a walk in them. But don't put on a character's shoes when you're already wearing the shoes of another character. They won't fit, and you can't produce truly scary, visionary work when your feet hurt. This is why I wear loose-fitting cowboy boots or leather slip-ons."

Sound advice on writing Terrifying Telly taken from this article by Garth Marenghi, star of C4's 'Garth Marenghi's Darkplace'. Inspired stuff.
Feel good hits of the 8th March

1. 'Up Against The Wall Motherfuckers' - The Icarus Line
2. 'Toxic' - Britney Spears
3. 'Michael' - Franz Ferdinand
4. 'Desert Song No 2' - Sophia
5. 'More Or Less' - Screaming Trees
6. 'There She Goes' - The Las
7. 'Come Together' - Spiritualized
8. 'Date With The Night' - Yeah Yeah Yeahs
9. 'The Recluse' - Cursive
10. 'Why Bother?' - Weezer

Thursday, March 04, 2004

Quote of the day

"Good riddance! I'm still pissed through celebrating!"

Ron 'Chopper' Harris on Ken Bates's departure from Chelsea.
"To begin at the beginning..."

At first Dylan Thomas's 'play for voices' 'Under Milk Wood' seemed far removed from the sort of things I've been reading recently, especially Amis's 'Money'. Though there is a similar delight in the playful manipulation of language, the colourful characters appear straightforwardly comic, treated with fondness and not distanced disgust, and the evocative lyricism of the opening, as the town of Llaregyb sleeps, is wonderful. But gradually Thomas has the characters reveal their darker sides and inner secrets, most being obsessed with past or hoped-for sexual encounters - though Mr Pugh fantasises about murdering his nagging wife and avidly reads 'Lives Of The Great Poisoners', telling her it's called 'Lives Of The Great Saints'. My only disappointment is that Thomas died before having the chance to make any revisions, a sense of the play's unfinishedness coming from the abruptness of the conclusion.

It's not hard to see what The Coral have found so inspiring about 'Under Milk Wood' - the dissatisfied and ultimately suicidal daydreamer Bill McCai, for instance, owes a lot to Thomas's style of characterisation. Similarly, the amusing eccentricities and rather more murky preoccupations of the inhabitants of Llaregyb appear as something of an influential precursor to the likes of 'The League Of Gentlemen' - even to the extent that there is uncertainty over the precise nature and origins of Butcher Beynon's meat. Hilary Briss is not without his predecessors, it seems.
Fortune favours the fucking useless

Oh the joys of being a Newcastle fan. Watching last night's 3-1 victory over Valerenga in the UEFA Cup was about as enjoyable as systematically and methodically having each of your knuckles smashed with a hammer.

We were absolutely woeful in the first half - there's no other way to describe it. The decision to award us a free-kick for Valerenga keeper Bolthof handling outside the area was one of the worst I've ever seen, but Shearer showed no mercy with his strike which went through Bolthof's hands - but from then on we were under constant pressure, inviting a supposedly inferior side to attack us at every opportunity, even going so far as to present them with the ball and the necessary space to manoeuvre. Woodgate looked rusty and failed to calm and marshall the defence as he usually does, and I lost count of the number of headers that Bramble misjudged. Though Given brilliantly tipped a Gashi shot onto the bar, it was only a matter of time before they scored, central defender Hagen volleying in completely unmarked from a corner.

Mercifully the second half performance showed signs of improvement, though half-time substitute Ameobi had Bolthof to thank for another blunder that allowed his shot to creep in and restore an undeserved lead. It wasn't until the final minute that Jenas beat the offside trap to produce his one telling contribution of another aimless display and set up Ameobi for the clincher as Valerenga ran out of steam.

This lunchtime's draw has paired us with Spanish outfit Real Mallorca. It could certainly have been worse for us, with Mallorca currently lying fourth from bottom in La Liga - but they have a couple of very dangerous strikers in Samuel Eto'o and Andrea Delibasic, the latter having already helped inflict a painful and costly defeat on us this season with Partizan Belgrade. If we play as badly again in the home leg which takes place a week today, we'll get taken apart.
Blogwatch: in brief

It's the return of the old guard! Anna's back, and so's Kenny - his arm's on the mend and he's been spending his recovery time immersing himself in 6Music. Meanwhile, it's only a matter of time before Mike's archives quiz is completed and he returns to the fray. All is right with the world!

If it's political comment you're after, look no further than Amblongus which features (amongst other things) lots of fascinating observations and thoughts from an Englishman in Texas as the race for the US presidency grinds into first gear.

On his blog Hold My Life Mark has posted a link to the website for Maritime, a new band featuring Davey von Bohlen and Dan Didier (both ex Promise Ring) alongside Eric Axelson (ex Dismemberment Plan). They've got an LP ready to roll which will be appearing on DeSoto soon. Out of the ashes...

Meanwhile, Largehearted Boy links to a great interview with Alan Sparhawk of Low, in which he describes what his band does as "playing with the air": "It's basically when you're at a show and it feels like there's such a deep and interesting aural texture that it's almost as if you're seeing the air around you being manipulated and massaged and transformed. That's what we tend to go for." There's also an astute comment from Mark Kozelek: "Thirty years ago, with stuff like Watergate and Vietnam happening, Simon & Garfunkel sold out 18,000-capacity halls. And now, again, it's wartime, and the digital age - it's a noisy, crazy time. I think that people now more than ever need to experience quiet for a couple of hours when they go out." Sparhawk reveals that Low have a new album coming out this year, and that it's likely to surprise a few people - watch this space.

And finally... Thanks to Not A Blog I can point you in the direction of Beer In The Evening, a massive database of pubs and bars around the UK to which readers can add their comments and criticisms. You can spend hours looking up all of your favourite watering holes from around the country. A worthy celebration of the noble art of drinking.
Love thy neighbour? Nah

If you fancy proving that Kevin's theory is right, and that Louder really does = Better, then you might very well be interested in Ian Mathers's Top Ten Songs To Play When You Want To Keep Your Neighbours Awake. In addition to the usual suspects (Mogwai, Big Black, The Stooges), the likes of Flying Saucer Attack and even Kate Bush make an appearance.

Monday, March 01, 2004

When I am king, you will be first against the wall

Welcome to the SWSL Shitlist. In what should become a new regular series, the focus will fall upon those who, if they took a bullet to the head, would be doing the whole of humanity a great favour...

#1: Rebekah Wade

Why?: As editor of the News Of The World, she assumed the mantle of Witchfinder General in the paper's infamous and grossly irresponsible "naming and shaming" paedophile campaign. As editor of The Sun, she has condoned blatant racism and homophobia in the pages of the best-selling and most influential newspaper in the country. Plus she's married to Ross fucking Kemp.

Imagined famous last words: "I've got the power to mobilise a whole army of bigoted men in white vans! You'll never get away with this..." BANG!
The unkempt will inherit the earth

Congratulations to Peter Jackson - no, not for scooping 11 Oscars for 'Lord Of The Rings', but for looking even more aesthetically out of place than Michael Moore did last year and brilliantly lowering the tone of the whole ceremony. In the pictures of the event, amidst all the glitz, glamour and razzmatazz, Jackson looks like a particularly dishevelled tramp who's just stumbled into the middle of proceedings having woken up in a dustbin, his fingers gripped tightly round a bottle of gin. He could have topped it off, though, by taking a piss on the red carpet.
Dying for a laugh

Of course, I had better things to do with my Sunday evening than wait up to see a load of plastic-faced film industry wankers slapping each other's backs and licking each other's arses. Instead, I found a way of making 'Midsomer Murders' more interesting - get drunk in front of the TV with a few friends, have a sweepstake on who the murderer is and then sit back and enjoy as the plot twists, turns and performs awkward pirouettes to the excitement and frustration of everyone involved. One point to note: it doesn't help your chances of emerging victorious if your chosen suspect is hit over the head with a heavy object and then set on fire midway through the programme.
Quote of the day

"It's the decaffeinization of Starbucks that troubles me, the replacement of the mighty stimulant coffee by those domed vats of oversweetened, creamy gloop. 'Do you want whipped cream on that?' There's some kind of infantilization going on here, a return to the teat."

As a coffee-obsessive, can I just say a big amen to that, Lord Marmite?
How to shoot yourself in the foot in spectacular style

Never let it be said that the Newcastle team is packed full of overpaid, underenthusiastic, egotistical, illiterate thugs. They’re merely overpaid, underenthusiastic, egotistical and thuggish. To accuse them of illiteracy would be to ignore their perfectly-on-cue reading of the script towards the end of Sunday's game against Portsmouth.

For a third successive away match in the Premiership we were leading 1-0 with less than five minutes to go, only for a catastrophic lapse of concentration to hand the opposition an equaliser on a plate – and this time, of course, the gleeful scorer was our very own Lomano Tresor Lua Lua, inexplicably allowed to play against us under the terms of his loan deal and only too happy to get the chance to stick two fingers up at Bobby whose decision it was to loan him out in the first place. Sanity is in chronically short supply at St James’s Park these days. Lua Lua's customary celebrations seem to have riled some Newcastle fans, but ultimately he appears to have been rejected by the club and was only doing the job he's on the South Coast to do, presumably with Robson's blessing - it's the club at whom we should be feeling aggrieved.

They say that the mark of a great team is winning even when you play badly (see Chelsea against Man City on Saturday, for an example). We are not a great team – whether in those terms, or in any others you care to name. The 1-0 victory which I was very foolishly anticipating as the clock neared the 90 minute mark would have concealed several glaring deficiencies again – the incredible ineptness of our defensive play and the utter uselessness of the returning Bowyer, amongst other things.

There were, it has to be said, three positive things to come out of another afternoon of disappointment. Firstly, Bellamy grabbed his fourth goal in as many games since his comeback from injury – shame he’s the only player in a black and white shirt in anything approaching form at the moment. Secondly, we avoided defeat again. Thirdly, after the weekend’s results we remain in the much-coveted fourth place.

But all this really is clutching at straws. We deserved nothing at all from the game, but as it is we managed to throw away another vital two points, no doubt to the delight (but not necessarily the surprise) of Liverpool and Charlton, both of whom squandered points themselves. The manner of the self-inflicted wound no doubt provided a great deal of amusement, too.

If we were to get Woodgate back, and replace the current lethargy and arrogant complacency rife throughout the side with determination and endeavour, we would be capable of capitalising on our fortuitous position and putting together a decent run of results that would secure the Champions League spot. At the moment, though, we look hopelessly lacklustre and undeserving of Champions League football, and intent on making sure the race for fourth remains exciting right to the death. How very fucking generous and noble of us.

Thank fuck the 29th February only comes round once every four years.
"Oooh, this one's for a green cheese!"

I happened to switch over to Five's 'Back To Reality' on Friday night to see James Hewitt, Rik Waller and company gathered around playing 'Trivial Pursuits'. Who would have thought that bunch of empty-headed tossers would have such a firm grasp of irony?
Is it just me...

...or is the new Outkast single really shit? The less said about Libertine Pete Doherty's latest effort 'For Lovers' the better, too.

Saturday, February 28, 2004

Quote of the day

"I am from a generation that is very artefact oriented. For me, holding a record, the graphics, the cover, the liner notes, the spending time, has as much relevance to it as the music. I don't understand the Internet and the urge to download."

The thoughts of an anonymous record shop owner, as quoted on No Matter What You Heard - comments which struck a real chord with me.

It's been lamented everywhere that the skill behind structuring the tracks of a record into an arresting order is one which is going to disappear as the popularity of downloading and burning individual tracks grows, and the iPod phenomenon continues to spread. Personally, when I get a burned copy of an album it just doesn't feel complete, like the real (often overpriced) thing - even when the artwork and liner notes are nothing special, they still complete the package. When it comes to music, I'm definitely "artefact oriented" - not least because (Luddite that I am) I like to have music in tangible form, but also because (as Kevin has commented on NMWYH) searching out CDs demands the (albeit enjoyable) investment of time. Downloading might open the way for exposure to a whole host of new bands you wouldn't otherwise have ever heard, but if that's all you did it would take the pleasurable effort out of accumulating a record collection.

On the subject of cover art / packaging, what are your personal favourites? In terms of packaging, off the top of my head I really like the hologram-effect ridged case of Tool's Aenima (the inlay booklet for Lateralus is cool too), and the Constellation label can usually be relied on for excellent attention to detail - the latest A Silver Mt Zion LP is particularly good. Any Radiohead album (particularly the last three) without the artwork and inlay booklet just wouldn't be the same.
Required reading

Last night I saw the Reduced Shakespeare Company's production 'All The Great Books' at the Birmingham Hippodrome - triumphantly daft and populist but not in itself much more than an hour and a half's worth of decent japesome entertainment. The show takes the form of a crash course in the novel, with the audience cast in the part of a remedial class who desperately need to get a grasp of the material to pass exams.

From a personal point of view, for a comic performance it was surprisingly worrying - because it brought home the unforgiveable gaps in my knowledge. I left not with tears still running down my cheeks (as some did) but feeling rather ashamed, and equally determined to plug those gaps. My reading needs to step up a gear.

On a related note, I've added (at long last) a set of author links to my sidebar - thanks to Glamorama for some of the URLs. Incidentally, Ballard afficionado Mike has posted some thoughts on his latest book 'Millenium People' - well worth a read.

Books and reading habits have also been the subject for discussion for Invisible Stranger, who (amongst other things) laments Martin Amis's recent loss of form.
Absence makes the heart grow fonder

Over on Troubled Diva, Mike's set a mammoth quiz about his blog archives with the promise that if every question is answered correctly he'll return to the blogging fold. Go on, hold him to it - he's obviously itching to start writing again.

Best post of the week: LondonMark's LondonMark X Guide to post-date "back home for a cup of coffee" etiquette.

Thursday, February 26, 2004

This is an Oslo

Yet another away draw, and again it could and should have been so much better.

This time Norwegian outfit Valerenga provided the opposition in the first leg of our UEFA Cup tie. Having grown in confidence throughout the first half, we went in at the break 1-0 up thanks to a superb Bellamy volley, his third in three games since returning from injury. It looked like we were set up to go on and win comfortably, even without the likes of Shearer, Robert and Dyer, who were all rested.

But then Valerenga came out and really stepped up a gear, and suddenly we couldn't cope, the back line looking jittery as usual when put under pressure and only some last-ditch challenges preserving the lead. The equaliser was coming, though, and they certainly deserved it when it arrived. The rest of the match was fairly even, both sides wasting further chances to win it.

The sad fact is that we were unable to beat a side that only narrowly avoided relegation from the Norwegian top flight last season, and who hadn't played a competitive match since the end of the domestic season last November. Even taking our rested players into account, we could and should have done much better.

Still, to look through rose-tinted spectacles for a moment, the pitch was terrible, and at least we didn't lose and came away with an away goal and a platform to build on next Wednesday. A far cry from some of the Champions League performances of last season, though.
"I have always felt I should be an amputee"

The internet really is a weird place, and this article is the most bizarre thing I've come across in some time. It's all about a phenomenon which has been labelled 'apotemnophilia' - the condition of being attracted to the idea of being an amputee. Some people actually go through with surgery in order to fulfil their desires. So, going out on a limb or just armless fun? Either way, it costs an arm and a leg. OK, enough...

(Thanks (?!) to Steve for bringing this to my attention.)
Get into the groove

A couple of gems over at Stylus at the moment: Dom Passantino takes a look at his favourite Half Man Half Biscuit lyrics - my favourite has to be the snippet from 'The Light At The End Of The Tunnel (Is The Light Of An Oncoming Train)'; and Andrew Unterberger takes a hatchet to The Rapture's Echoes LP - the loss of 'Open Up Your Heart' and 'Love Is All' would upset me, but perhaps it would be for the best.
You WHAT?!!

A selection of recent referral subjects for which readers have alighted on SWSL:

star wars parody sunderland
j low twat
hare krishna campaign watford
paul durkin needs a proper smack
gay men in mud leather and sludge
beyonce farted while singing live

Oh dear.

Tuesday, February 24, 2004

Smog on the Tyne

Saturday's win over the Smoggies might have been tight and scarcely deserved, but right now it's the points that matter - especially after our recent run of throwing away victories on the road. That said, we'll have to improve on this sort of performance to stay in fourth place, and to stay in the UEFA Cup.

The victory owed quite a lot to luck, as we equalised Zenden's first-half opener through a tap-in by Bellamy which followed a horrendous cock-up between Ehiogu and Schwarzer, and then scored a decisive second through Shearer when Southgate made just enough contact with Darren Ambrose to warrant the award of a spot kick. Even then, we had to hang on as the Smoggies were denied a late equaliser by an offside flag - and given the current confusion over the laws of the game, it could easily (and infuriatingly) have been given.

I for one was relieved (above anything) to send Steve Maclaren and his big red face back down the A19 with nowt, but there are problems that need sorting out sooner rather than later. Dyer needs to buck up his ideas again - quite simply, Gary Speed is being forced to do far too much just to stem the tide in central midfield. The Woodgate-less defence again looked shaky, too - fuck knows how we've gone 15 games since conceding more than a single goal (though the last time we did, we did so in style, going down 5-0 to Chelsea). They're all decent players individually, but lack the cohesion and confidence that Woodgate seems to inspire in them.

So, a fortuitous rather than a hard-fought win, I think, especially considering the Smoggies last away trip yielded three points at Old Trafford. If we're going to hang on to fourth place, we need to have the stomach for the fight - and at the moment I'm not entirely convinced we've got it.

Inspector Sands will, I'm sure, be disappointed but not surprised to learn that I was celebrating Brad Friedel's unexpected last minute equaliser for Blackburn against his beloved Charlton with almost as much zeal as our own result - only for substitute Claus Jensen to pop up and do his best to spoil our, and Friedel's, day. Something tells me this one's going to the wire.

A special mention too of the Sunderland fans who spoilt the minute's silence in memory of John Charles before the Mackems' game at Cardiff by singing anti-Welsh songs. Well done lads, your lack of respect only galvanised Cardiff's determination to give you a sound thrashing: Peter Thorne has been quoted in the Western Mail as saying, "I looked over at their fans and thought to myself, 'We're gonna really turn you lot over'." A 4-0 drubbing was then duly administered. The Cardiff supporters taunting their Mackem counterparts towards the end of the match with chants of "Are you Scotland in disguise?" was a nice touch, too.
Feel good hits of the 24th February

1. 'That Great Love Sound' - The Raveonettes
2. 'One Caveat' - Qhixldekx
3. 'Needle In A Haystack' - The Velvelettes
4. 'Six Barrelled Shotgun' - Black Rebel Motorcycle Club
5. 'Teenage Riot' - Sonic Youth
6. 'Negasonic Teenage Warhead' - Monster Magnet
7. 'Toxic' - Britney Spears
8. 'Two Librans' - The Fall
9. 'Overload' - Sugababes
10. 'Miss Jackson' - Outkast
Quote of the day

"The power of accurate observation is often called cynicism by those who don't have it." - George Bernard Shaw

(Courtesy of Blogged.)