“Turn that bloody blimey space invader off!”
2006 in review
Two thousand and six has been a pretty eventful year, politically and personally. While for me, the most important event was my wedding to Gemma at the end of September, numerous moments featuring Lt Gen Aguado, Spain Herald, Reial Madrid, FC Barcelona and Solidaridad Española Con Cuba have added spice, and traffic, to the site.
This has also been a year during which Catalan and Spanish nationalism have been among the top issues discussed on blogs, including thebadrash.com. Much has been written in these pages about how I am not a nationalist, nor a supporter of Esquerra Republicana de Catalunya – the left-wing Catalan nationalist party. I have, however, spoken out several times against a series of myths and falsehoods which are circulated and often repeated by their critics. Beyond a broadly leftist outlook, I have no party loyalty here or in the UK. I’m most interested by the ways people use language when engaging in political debate – and this includes popular misconceptions about ERC as well as the PP.
This year’s FIFA World Cup wasn’t the most awe-inspiring tournament in history and I reckon it’ll be remembered as something of a low point for international football. But that doesn’t really matter because Barça won la Liga and the Champions League. I predict another league title for them but the Champions League is going to be much tougher. A final against Chelsea is possible but I don’t think that Barça would beat them. But they will have Eto’o and Messi back, so you never know. Anyway, they’ve got some hard work to put in before we need to start thinking about that.
I’ve spent a lot of time this year delving into the back catalogues of various artists on the roster of Drag City Inc., the Chicago based record label. While my obvious link with them is my passion for Royal Trux (I recently purchased “Hero / Zero” with the prestigious release code DC1), I’ve built a strong affinity for Silver Jews, Bonnie ‘Prince’ Billy and Neil Hamburger – who has left a comment on this very blog. We were also lucky enough to see Silver Jews in June on what was their first proper international tour despite a career of more than 10 years. They rocked.
As I said before, the highlight of my year was undoubtedly my wedding with Gemma. We had a fantastic weekend in Tarragona and then a splendid honeymoon in post-coup Thailand. We both fell in love with Bangkok and we’re looking forward to a trip to India next Christmas. Meanwhile, we’re passing this year’s holidays in Modbury, my home town in Devon, England.
It’s been a good year: let’s hope that we can say the same for 2007. Though I should mention that I’m not planning to marry again, just to boost ratings.
Three top BCN gigs for December
As the winter rolls in, so does what seems to be the best season to catch live music in Barcelona. Don’t get me wrong: the summer and spring festivals are awesome… but I’ve seen some pretty spectacular performances over the last few years during the colder months (such as the Flaming Lips, the White Stripes, the Kills, the Strokes, RTX).
This month, Gemma and I will be rocking out at concerts by Lambchop (cool funk-country with a million-piece band and loads of Curtis Mayfield: Thursday 7th at the Casino d’Alliança de Poble Nou); Albert Hammond Jr. (the guitarist from, and coolest member of, the Strokes: Wednesday 13th at Sala Apolo); and Jarvis Cocker (wise-mouthed northern lanky man off of Pulp: Friday 22nd at Razzmatazz).
If anyone’s planning to go to any of these fine concerts, let me know and we’ll share a beer and a Ducado (if you’re lucky!). Oh… plus, two bank holidays this week and a massive Barça game tomorrow… what a month!
This post was simultaneously published at talkBCN.com
The King is back
Many people have previously written Michael Jackson off as a creepy, melt-faced loon whose bizarre antics have directly contributed to his very public demise. Last night, those nay-sayers were firmly told where to go, after MJ (that’s what we, his fans call him) shook up London in a storm of glamour, children and warbled lines.
The rumours started a few days ago. Those in the know started saying that MJ would be making an appearance at the World Music Awards (which sounds suitably vague and meaningless as to have been invented by the King of Pop himself!). As fans and other misfits flocked to London in order to prance and moan in the traditional ‘love you / hope you die’ spectacle, Michael Jackson sped through the city in a black limousine, about to make a triumphant comeback which would rock the pop world and briefly rank as the sixth piece in BBC News’s ‘Other top stories’ section. Still, he was pursued by uncertainty and mystery… would he sing? would he not sing? if he did sing, what song would he sing? if he didn’t sing, then why not? if he did sing, would he attempt another misguided set-piece to prove how much he loves ‘the kids’? Yes, no, We Are The World, N/A, yes.
The man himself arrived at wherever the venue was and showed off his new face. More angular than previously thought possible, Michael’s cheekbones now appear to have been fashioned from china clay and then kilned for several days – a look which Victoria Beckham will agree is very much ‘in’ this autumn. MJ insisted to staff outside the theatre, or whatever, that he had never planned to sing that night and there had been a misunderstanding.
But that was just another clever trick from The Most Important Man In The History Of Music™! Because he was planning to sing and he knew that all along! With a choir of more than twenty minors, MJ danced to a tape of his classic masterpiece in fatuous sentimentality, We Are The World. At one point, Michael joined in with the recording, moaning the words to the chorus softly as he was clearly out of breath. Despite being nearly 60, the great man still knows how to feed off the energy of the innocent souls around him. And I think that this is what makes him so great. Cheers, Michael!
BNP in Kaiser Chiefs furore
The British National Party (BNP), a tiny, ultra right-wing political group in the UK has sparked anger across the music business by using the song ‘I Predict A Riot’ by the Kaiser Chiefs as the soundtrack for one of their propaganda videos on the website Youtube.com.
A BNP spokesman denied that the video had ever contained a Kaiser Chiefs song claiming, “This isn’t the type of music our party would ever want to be associated with, like rap music we think it’s wrong to play this stuff. What’s wrong with Beethoven?” This reminds me of the argument I had with a neo-Nazi in the Red Lion one evening where he tried to convince me that rock and pop music are bad because they’re both ‘black music’. What an idiot.
The Kaiser Chiefs have yet to confirm whether they will be taking legal action against the party. The video has since been withdrawn from the Youtube.com site after complaints were made about its content. Despite this, there remain a large number of unpleasant, racist films hosted at the site as well as hundreds of members actively involved in posting racist, fascist and homophobic comments to videos and fellow users alike.
It strikes me as very odd that the people who run Youtube.com find nudity disgusting but organised, political racism passable. How can it be that the site’s editors can delete a film with a handful of expletives in it, yet films featuring such disgracefully racist material stay intact?
Neil Hagerty, Ian Svenonius: Two pop music heroes you may not know but, like, should
Pop music can be a difficult terrain to navigate: just what do you feel okay listening to, and can you admit to it? This issue is at the heart of dozens of websites (like myspace.com and last.fm) and grips millions of young people searching for their Pan.
Myself, I pretty much decided that I’d stick with Royal Trux about seven years ago. For me, their blend of free jazz, 70’s opiate-rock, RnB, boogie-woogie and smart, personal, witty, political lyrics was enough. Despite my liking for bands such as The Fall, I am still certain that Royal Trux sum up what it is I want pop music to be: cool, sexy, angry, bored, wasted, wise.
Neil Hagerty, one half of Royal Trux is my first pop music hero. He was a guitarist in Pussy Galore, a band now confined to the ‘most mental album I own’ category (a bit like Royal Trux?!)… and while I’m unsure as to how much influence he had on the values of that group, I’m aware that he was behind their covering the entire Exile On Main Street album. A declaration of intent, perhaps.
Through their albums, Royal Trux have covered enough material for a complete website or two (see the links in my sidebar). Suffice to say, I drank a bottle of vodka the night they broke up. Stupid of me. It should have been juice. Since then, Neil Hagerty has released a series of albums (firstly solo, now with The Howling Hex), all of which I’ve found to be entertaining, challenging and good pop records. My favourites are probably the two solo/band crossover records, Niel Michael Hagerty – The Howling Hex and The Howling Hex – All Night Fox. Continue reading Neil Hagerty, Ian Svenonius: Two pop music heroes you may not know but, like, should
AK47
AK-47
Once upon a time the AK-47 provided
some solace to anyone
who defied the empire and who dared
to march and hold a gun
I remember walking through the jungle looking up
through my new defoliated roof;
Everybody said : “Ooh, run for cover”
but I stood my ground cos I knew:
There was nothing that could catch us
there was nothing that could hurt us
yeh, we’d inherit the earth
As long as we kept
that hatred in our heart
as long as we could
strike first
With our
AK-47
With the power of
AK-47
R.I.P. Arthur Lee
Inspired, eccentric, singer and guitarist Arthur Lee has died from leukaemia in hospital in Memphis. As the unpredictable leader of psychedelic pop band, Love, Lee inspired generations of musicians as well as his peers with his combination of folk, rock and punk. To me, their album Forever Changes is almost perfect (and this is from someone who as a rule, strives to ‘prefer the earlier stuff’ from everyone).
Gallery
Our photo gallery includes hundreds of images depicting life in Barcelona, our terrace garden, as well as concerts, festivals and trips we’ve been on.
Review: Stars Are Blind – Paris Hilton
Wealthy heiress and socialite, Paris Hilton has long been rumoured to be keen on a career in popular music. As early as two years ago, news spread like wildfire that she was planning to create and release an album which would serve to strengthen her position as multimedia goddess and icon of the mid 2000’s nekulturny.
It is perfect that this woman’s first moves into the public consciousness were with stimulant-dulled eyes as she preformed fellatio on a ‘stud’ known by some as a pornographer and by others as the son of a Warner Bros. executive. How marvellously apt that she earns royalties from perverts and misogynists who wish to purchase a film of her uninspired and loveless copulation.
So to the single, a ‘reggae-influenced’ mishmash of this season’s popular sounds, floated over by an autotuned and yet perversely tuneless girl’s voice. Everyone knows that girls can’t sing. This landmark song, completing Hilton’s trajectory from banal, ubiquitous dog-carrier to banal, ubiquitous model/actress/singer/whatever has, I’m reliably informed, been compared to both Gwen Stefani and Blondie. Ms Stefani’s 2005 song, ‘Rich Girl’ springs to mind, if only for the sensation it induced of a fatuous and self-important airhead making stupid people believe that what she thinks is in some way valid or interesting. Stefani and Hilton are both rich girls, so who cares what they think?
The lyrics of ‘Stars Are Blind’ are, on the whole, as stupid as the song’s title. I quote:
Even though the gods are crazy
Even though the stars are blind
If you show me real love baby
I’ll show you mine
Forgetting that we’ve already seen ‘hers’.
Those other guys all wanna take me for a ride
But when I walk their talk is suicide
Some people never get beyond their stupid pride
But you can see the real me inside
And I’m satisfied, oh no, ohh
Paris Hilton is a girl whose every wish can become reality. Her separation from ordinary life is what made her such an amusing and disgusting ‘character’. Her lack of character made us treat her with less contempt than she might have received for being an utterly contemptible person. But now, the tables have turned. Paris Hilton is no longer satisfied with the dull and unconsidered ambivalence of hundreds of millions of people; she wants, she needs their love. And she’ll get it, because she’s Paris Hilton.
‘Stars Are Blind’ stormed into the US single chart at #18 in June. 0/1