Things were better then

I can see myself becoming one of those old people who constantly talks about how much better things were in the past. I'll say things like "That wouldn't have happened when I was young" and start conversations with "In my day..." I accept this. but early in the week I experienced an extreme longing for the past.

We went to the Natural History Museum.

I found out that hippos roamed where Trafalgar Square is and there was a Woolly Mammoth from Ilford!

I wish there were still hippos in Trafalgar Square, they could wallow in the fountains. And Mammoths in Ilford could only be an improvement on much of the current population. Things were definitely better then.

Time Capsule

Inspired by the forthcoming display of one of Andy Warhol's Time Capsules at the Hayward Gallery, Bryan Appleyard wrote a piece in the Sunday Times this week about what would go in a time capsule to represent 2008.


I'm fascinated by time capsules, perhaps because I contributed to one myself when I was about 10. It was our school's centenary and it was decided that a time capsule would be created, to be opened in another 100 years. I was chosen to do the contribution from my class. For reasons I can't remember I wrote about fashion. This was the Eighties. The piece was accompanied by photographs of me to illustrate the piece. So somewhere there is a time capsule that includes photographs of me in leggings, bat-wing sleeved jumpers, ski-pants and a peach coloured sweatshirt. Not exactly how I'd choose to be remembered.

I discussed the time capsule article with the OH, explaining what was going in their 2008 capsule.

“I love time capsules. We should do one” he said.
“What would you put in it” I asked
“A tin of won ton soup” he replied

A little while ago, he decided to try tinned won ton soup, over enthusiastically ordered multiple cans only to find that he didn’t really like it. He is working his way through it on evenings when we aren’t inclined to cook or there isn’t much else in the cupboard, but still a few cans remain.

He couldn’t think of anything else he’d like to add and for the moment nor can I. So I don’t think we’ll be doing our own time capsule at the moment.

Gazing at my shoes, ringing in my ears

Last night was the first of my series of gigs by older bands - My Bloody Valentine at the Roundhouse.

It reminded me of watching The Chart Show back in the early 90s when the three specialist charts (rock, dance and indie) would rotate and I'd eagerly anticipate the indie week. Back then alot of the indie (and dance) acts couldn't afford to make videos so The Chart Show would play their song accompanied by a swirling graphic. My Bloody Valentine were very much of that era (of a supposed scene and sound given the name "shoegazing") and whilst they evidently did have some videos, they weren't that much different from The Chart Show's graphics.

The music and the visuals last night took me back to those Saturday mornings in my teenage years.

This is what it looked like, and it sounded just like it looks.

It was ethreal, blurry and above all else incredibly noisy. My ears are still ringing now from the blaze of feedback that ended the show.

More Musical Oldies

Following on from my Neil Diamond admission yesterday, I seem to have got myself caught up in a wave of musical nostalgia and whilst I have resisted paying to see Mr Diamond, I’ve found myself lured to see other pop pensioners.

The WonderStuff
They were the first band I ever went to see and at this rate they may well be the last band I go to see, when I see them again in October. You may remember them from the dreadful Vic Reeves collaboration “Dizzy” or the annoying “Size of a Cow” neither of which are particularly representative of the rest of their work. Not that I’m saying the rest of their output was particularly good (an over indulgence on the fiddle being one flaw).

The WonderStuff are a unique band in that they attained a certain level of success but they have never influenced anyone else. No new bands ever cite The WonderStuff as an influence. Nobody ever mentions them as being their favourite band. Their influence has been nil. But they still have some loyal fans, willing to turn up toatch an increasingly bald and overweight frontman and a decreasing number of original band members belt out the old favourites.

Amongst those fans seem to be quite a few of my friends and I will now be seeing them for I think the fifth time. Not only that but my friend who booked the tickets, opted for the VIP tickets which involve meeting the band at a backstage after party. Their frontman, Miles Hunt was surly enough in his youth so I’m struggling to picture him at this “meet and greet”.


An Evening with Primal Scream and MC5
The last time I saw Primal Scream (not counting the time I stalked Bobby on the tube), they were back on form, but I could have probably resisted seeing them again. Until they were put on a bill with MC5. Or what remains of the MC5. I’m not sure if there are many of them left but at least this concert is in June so not too long for the rest of them to hang in.

I really did expect the OH to refuse to go to this one as it means a return to the Royal Festival Hall to see one (or arguably two) bands that are way past their heyday. I didn’t expect him to be too keen on this since he accompanied me to see Roky Erickson last year. But I was wrong.

So in June we will hopefully see both bands on stage together playing Kick Out the Jams.




My Bloody Valentine
Another reformed band, but this time a bit more credible and the OH’s choice. These will probably be pretty good.

It’s a Hard Knock Life

This afternoon has involved making lots of phone calls to theatres around the country. Not the best task on a Friday afternoon, but this post is not going to be a moan about the things that are getting my down at the moment (it would be quite a list). This is actually a happy post.

In the course of this job, I was put on hold at one organisation and their hold music was the song ‘It’s a Hard Knock Life’ from the musical “Annie”. This is going to blow any credibility I may have, but I loved hearing that song again.

I had to resist the urge to sing along but my foot was tapping away and I was almost disappointed when I got through to speak to someone.

I loved ‘Annie’ so much as child. I saw the stage play, I saw the film numerous times, I even had the doll (which in retrospect I think was rather creepy looking). I pictured myself in the Molly role. But I really had completely forgotten all this until this afternoon. And now I really want to see it on stage again.

Actually the song is still going round in my head and I’m going out for drinks with friends quite soon, so I really need to get it out of my mind otherwise mixed with alcohol, it may escape out of my mouth, which won’t be good. I'll need to listen to something catchy but credible en route to displace the show tune!

RIP, Anthony H Wilson

I was on my home from the office party last night and texted the OH. He replied to tell me Tony Wilson had died.

I'm not normally one for public outpourings of grief for people you don't actually know, but on this occasion I'm going to make an exception. I didn't know Anthony H Wilson, but (as you may have noticed), music is incredibly important to me and he was the man who brought three of my favourites bands (Joy Division, New Order, Happy Mondays) to the world. His effect on the cultural landscape of this country has been enormous - not only was Factory home to some brilliant bands, but there was the Hacienda and he employed Peter Saville as a designer too. I even loved that ridiculous quiz he hosted, Remote Control (despite the presence of Frank Sidebottom who terrified me)

The tributes to him have already started, for the man once described as "a twat, but he was great twat". Stephen Morris said of him this morning "You couldn't fall out with him. We tried enough times over the years". Paul Morley described him as the "Metaphysical Mayor of Manchester".

He was just 57 which is very young, but I was even sadder by what I read about his illness. The local health authority (of city that he did so much for) wouldn't pay for the cancer drug he needed so there had been a fund set up by the bands he supported to pay for it. If I'd known about this, I would have contributes (I should point out, his music business did not make him rich).

So I'm sitting here listening to the Mondays, and tonight we are going to watch "24 Hour Party People" in remembrance of him.

Jump in, we'll take you for a spin...

and show you round the Wheelie World....

Inspired by reading Cinedelica, I rented the complete first series of Chorlton and the Wheelies.

I've always had a bit of thing for men from the north west and I think Chorlton was probably the first one (although he is actually a dragon, not a man - a happiness dragon if you want to be precise).

I watched three episodes this afternoon - fantastic. It has everything - politics, the class system, a great theme song and psychedelic talking toadstools.

Although I'm slightly worried that Fenella the Kettle Witch might give me nightmares.

Where are they now? - The Goonies

On Saturday, we caught the end of The Goonies. We seem to see the end of this on a different channel quite regularly and always end up watching it. The last time, we realised that one of the bad guys had been in the Sopranos, so this time the conversation turned to what the rest of the cast had done since. Sean Astin is doing ok for himself (Lord of the Rings), Corey Fieldman has spent a lot of time in rehab and Martha Plimpton has been a few things, but to me she will always be bettered remembered as being River Phoenix's girlfriend (I admit I was jealous).



So in case anyone else was wondering, I've looked it up on IMDB. It would appear there is curse on the rest of the cast. The fat kid Chunk did very little else - perhaps he lost weight and thus his USP? The mother gangster was nominated for an Oscar in Throw Momma from the Train but died just afterwards. The bloke who played Sloth did a bit of television work and then died too of suspected steroid abuse. The rest don't seem to have done much else of note.