Blogwatch

If ever you should find yourself in need of a listening ear, then look no further than Dead Kenny. If the recent four-part album review compendium posted on Parallax View is anything to go by, then he's been doing nothing at all of late EXCEPT listening...
Part One - The Soundtrack Of Our Lives, Rico, Sondre Lerche.
Part Two - Willy Mason, Bonnie Prince Billy & Matt Sweeney, Low, Mercury Rev.
Part Three - LCD Soundsystem, Chemical Brothers.
Part Four - The Others, The Beat Up, The Fiery Furnaces, The Arcade Fire.

A warm welcome to...

Pete Ashton, a sometime Brummie blogger;
Office Shaped Prison, newish home of an old friend;
The World Of Jill Twiss, whose post about the lack of basis board games have in reality is especially good.

Congratulations to...

Del, who's moved house and whose blog is one year old;
Lord Marmite, whose new job is likely to restrict postings on Amblongus.

Elsewhere:

He Who Cannot Be Named struggles to piece together a coherent account of last weekend's Slint-curated All Tomorrow's Parties festival - "I puked all Friday night into the tin dustbin. You know how after the drink and food has been expelled, then you get the gut bubbles and finally the luminous bile. That was me";

Kevin is disgusted by Pitchfork's coverage of the new John Frusciante solo album Inside Of Emptiness;

Meg is confronted with the prospect of a messy break-up - "Breaking up is hard to do. Now every time I pop into a different sandwich shop for lunch, near my new office, I find myself scanning the passing crowds on the street beyond the plate windows, in case one of the Deli-from-Helli employees is out and about, making a delivery, and catches me cheating on them - or rather, cheating on their memory. The guilt. The shame";

50 Quid Bloke reflects on the New Bob Dylan (NBD);

Wan reviews Robert McCrum, William Cran and Robert MacNeil's 'The Story Of English', which sounds similar to Melvyn Bragg's excellent 'The Adventures Of English';

Donna's been to see the burlesque show at the Electric Cinema - "And yes, there were strippers. We saw stars on nipples, flowers on nipples and the promised tassels on nipples... and Elle McPherson-type bodies were not required. Sheesh";

Creepy Lesbo takes Julie Birchill to task for her recent comments on chavs - "Julie Burchill jumps on any bandwagon which is going to get her a bit of publicity for being 'subversive' until she tires of it. She'll soon find something else to whore herself publicity-wise with. And if I were a chav I'd tell her to fuck off and stop using them to fight her own class wars/issues".

And finally...

Anna finds herself mesmerised and terrified by Tom Cruise's eyebrows.