Friday 23 January 2009

For Ross

Tuesday 20 January 2009

Beep. Feathers.

I used to write long things here a lot more. And then I started pouring that energy into songwriting, Clusterflock comments and Twitter. It moves around. I'm in Ireland again for an as yet indeterminate time and I'm thinking vaguely in the direction of a writing project to do while I'm here.

Meanwhile I am freezing and feeling kind of vacuumed. It is pouring rain and I can't take Tar for a walk until there is a gap in it. I've just compiled a list of some rocking old posts, I hope you enjoy them...

Releasing the Monkey
Milk Cartons
A Cockroach Cautionary
Love on the Carrer de Verdi
You can take the fear out of the mouse but you can't take the mouse out of the cat's mouth
Stories on the Eve of Thanksgiving
Gonna kill you, mister mosquito man

Dearg Doom

How's about this for something real...

Now listen to the first third of that U2 song again. It's really like a high octane Hollywood Blockbuster of a song: absolutely nothing in it of any real feeling or interest but lots of forward momentum and recycled familiar sounds from their own past and classic rock history, without the song itself taking flight at all. The song sounds enslaved. Like it doesn't really want to be at all.

I think it is true that there is only so much megawealth and success that an artist can have and be able to keep making music that has profound resonance and intensity and interest. Unless they are really very good, of course.

In the meantime, I hope you enjoy The Horslips. There's that bollocky youtube delay on the visuals but it's a reasonable enough audio.

Get on your earplugs

U2 released their latest song yesterday. Have you heard it? It's like the sound of repackaged bad debt. And this is the stuff they've been doing with Lanois and Eno. After they threw out the stuff they did with Rick Rubin.

This is about as clicheed as Bono's usual rants about being from the workingclass northside suburb of Glasnevin and blah blah blah about kings and greatness.