Saturday, December 30, 2006

Euroquirk

Back refreshed from a lovely yuletide excursion with the wife, I cannot report much quirkieness in continental europe, much to my (and no doubt your) intense frustration. However, whilst always at pains to sample local fayre, I must say the following two culinary delights caused great mirth and merriment in the Quirkie household.

First, on the train from Malmo to Copenhagen (across Europe's longest bridge no less), I had a very enjoyable Plopp (1).



Not to be outdone, on the return leg, specifically on the overnight train from Hamburg to Brussels, I ate some Spunk (2).



Ahem.

(1) Plopp is a curiously flavoured Swedish choco-biscuit with caramel.
(2) Spunk is a deliciously salty licorish pastille from Germany.


Technorati tags:
,

Friday, December 29, 2006

Pressed Down


Could there be a bleaker artistic existence than to be a band member of the Ordinary Boys right now ? They might have been grateful for being saved a trip to Brighton's JobCentrePlus by singer Preston's successful turn on Celebrity Big Brother. They might have been uneasy at the gradual shift away from their vaguely mod-ish roots to appease their new teenybopper audience. But surely they've hit rock bottom as they find themselves in the ignominious position of being relegated to backing band in their new moniker - Preston & The Ordinary Boys.

It's not 100% official yet. I first heard the new name on Capital Radio as their latest execrable effort "I Luv U" was being aired. On the website they've snuck it into a few very recent news releases but as of yet it's not up in lights. But I guess it's been decided that it's necessary to signpost that yes it is "Preston and his band" to the gormless numbties seduced by the tediously contrived Preston and Chantelle love story.

Anyway, anonymous members of The Ordinary Boys, you surely know it's just a deferred stay of execution for you. The music's shitter than ever and in the artistic veer towards the mainstream who needs a full-time band ? I predict by August we'll be seeing the debut of Preston & Chantelle. And what better vehicle than the Children in Need 2007 charity single ?

Blogmarch got it all sussed.

Technorati tags:
,

Monday, December 25, 2006

Arsenal 2 Everton 2



If Highbury was the library then the Emirates is... whatever's even quieter than a library. At least Highbury as a ground had presence, heritage, an aura. But this... it's the ultimate symbol of football's Faustian pact with the capitalist forces of globalisation.

Fair enough in money terms it was a no-brainer. For as long as Wenger's Arsenal have been the most pleasing on the eye Premiership team by a mile, they've had 20,000 fans-worth of unrealised income just sat there on a waiting list whilst Man U have been steadily expanding away to a fat 70,000+.

In architectural terms, the Emirates is an impressive site. Its undulating 3rd tier gives it a character and unique signature that any number of identical Premiership modern stadia can't match. But it's in the vast hypermart of a club shop "The Gunnery" when you know that football has gone to hell in a handcart.

Writ large on a wall beside an astonishing 17 separate checkouts (including 2 express lanes for the 5 items or less) is the kind of testimonial that you'd expect a bank or an estate agent to have to plaster in lights. Which makes sense because someone has to spell out why we would ever happen to like them. But when it gets to this - when they feel the obligation to somehow spell out the virtues of Gooner "fandom" as a former Canadian colleague of mine used to term English football culture, then I'm afraid all is lost.






Technorati tags:
,

Sunday, December 24, 2006

Wikipedia Death Row

I am currently complicit in the pending execution of a self-important, unremarkable and wholly unnotable music artist who has penned his own inflated Wikipedia biography. With a bit of luck and a prevailing wind, this pretentious turd's tragic B&W photo of himself in a crude film noir pose complete with wistfully held cigarette will be no longer come Boxing Day.

I can't tell you who it is because I don't want to get rumbled by said artist himself but as compensation here is the full list of Wikipedia entries awaiting vaporisation.


Technorati tags:
,

Wednesday, December 13, 2006

Shit Things


Being an occasional series where Blogmarch vents gastrically on our underperforming world.

Number One

"X just got Y", where X is a consumer product (here including tv companies, celebs and even days of the week, as "Friday night just got...") and Y is a comparative adjective: bigger, sexier, annoying-er.

Oh it did, did it? Just this moment? And I missed it? Thanks for the 'heads up'. I'll have to make sure to pay closer attention to these developments in the future. I'd hate to find out about the incremental progress of your product at a rate slower than almost immediate. Thanks for keeping me in the 'loop'. I owe you one, piece of marketing.

But how did it happen? So, X just got Y-er did it? Was noone else involved? Was it truly, as you seem to imply, somehow inherent in X all along? Whichever way, one thing is for sure - nothing will ever be the same again. The world just got crappier.

Technorati tags:
,

Salt Lake Samba


RSL. In the UK it stands most commonly for Radio Station Licence. In the fringe sports arena that is US Soccer RSL means one of the newest Major League Soccer franchises to sprout from dust, Utah's Real Salt Lake who play at the amusingly mundane sounding Rice-Eccles Stadium. Yes, stung by accusations that blogmarch is becoming a navel gazing muso's retreat, we is talking sport.

The only reason I'm aware of RSL's existence is the earth-shattering news that the Washington DC's teenage hotshot sensation Freddy Adu, once dubbed the "new Pelé", America's first (Ghana-born) soccer superstar is on the move.

Having made a sensational debut at the age of 14, complete with million dollar Nike sponsorship deal in pocket, Adu burst onto the MLS scene in 2004 and achieved an underwhelming 11 goals in 87 appearances. Last month, Adu completed a two-week training stint at Manchester United with not even a polite hint of a potential interest in taking up the offer from S'rAlex. The only feedback we have is that old red nose felt he had a "suspect temperament" but let's suggest that's a smart bit of Nike-managed hearsay.

Because by overtly telling the truth ie "I didn't sign him because he was crap" would have burst any remaining pretence that Freddie Adu is anything but the new Cherno Samba. Such was the hype around Samba's potential when still turning out for the England Schoolboys, the far-sighted Championship Manager chaps had him as a first choice Liverpool striker with 10 England caps and 2 goals to his name. In reality, Samba left the dizzy heights of Malaga B to make his English league debut at the age of 21 as a 78th minute substitute for Plymouth Argle.

Monday, December 11, 2006

Late to Market


I hadn't really grasped the astonishing wonderment of iTunes Music store until a couple of recent 79p song purchases. Of course, from the start it allowed me to indulge in my love of outstanding pop anthems which I wouldn't have otherwise had in my discreet possession. The embarassment of going into any half-decent record store to hand over cash for Rachel Stevens' Sweet Dreams my LA Ex is, I suspect akin to trying to buy a copy of Razzle Razzle in a crowded WHSmiths. I would stress I have done neither. Which reminds me of an unnamed friend who used to tell me that his favourite place to buy jazz mags was always small newsagents staffed by a wizened old Asian lady that he felt able to dominate. But I digress quite significantly.

I have also purchased on my pop tour Britney Spears' finest musical moment, the superb Toxic and the unquestionably brilliant Crazy in Love by Beyonce. But these are obvious choices. The more impressive are those tunes which I would never had otherwise been able or bothered to buy. In olden days I would simply have forgotten them until the next time I heard them by chance some five years later.

And so I find myself, in a matter of 5 clicks, barely 5 minutes after I first heard it, in possession of Altered Images' wonderful Don't Talk To Me About Love. Despite the incredulity of others, I'd never heard it before and only a random watching of TOTP2 enlightened me to its existence. Barely days later, Magic FM of all the stations in the all the world, reacquainted me with the utterly sublime "Duel" by bonkers German 80s arthouse synth band Propaganda. 79p worth of heaven, finally mine after many years of vaguely trying to remember looking for it the next time I'm in town..

Technorati tags:
, ,

The Currency We've Spent


Blogmarch's more disco-enhanced readers may already be familiar with the work of West End Girls, the pair of Swedish teenagers who cover Pet Shop Boys with a suitable lack of gusto. They are great, partly cos the taller one is 'Chris', and the shorter one is 'Neil'. That is to say, they aren't doing an impression, but performing 'after' the PSB: they employ dogs, builders hats and dayglo miserablism, but leave it at that. This gives them room to be thrillingly different, while bringing a lovely dumbness to the songs. And the singer has that clogged up, Eurobeat voice so associated with crackers Scando-pop. It just pushes the Pet Shop Boys' careful balance of disco and songwriterliness hard over towards the spangly side. The effect is vapid and disposable in a way you imagine Neil and Chris really enjoying. Well, Chris at least. Make sure you hear the version of Suburbia recorded for The Sims (the Booglurbia mix) by the way. Yer Marshall Mcluhan would get into a frenzy about it all.

Compare and contrast with Devo 2.0. Coneheaded motorik freaks par excellence, the original outfit (below) spent two decades producing some of the weirdest sarky pop and rock ever made. Now Disney have assembled a team of fresh-faced apple pielets (above) to gonk along to a bowdlerised selection of the old tunes, with the original band's full participation. The band's wikipedia entry notes that 'Jerkin' back and forth' has now become 'a perky song about dancing'. Although all this might provoke an immediate revulsion, on reflection it does seem very, well, Devo.

Technorati tags:
, , ,

Thursday, December 07, 2006

Top 10 (non-sexual) Small Pleasures

in no particular order

1. Vindication on the Bus or Walk option

The smug self-satisfaction of a gamble that's paid off. Legs stretched thanks to a brisk walk and no bus passed you by. I AM A WINNER! I AM A WINNER! Meanwhile the losers at the bus stop are still standing there and even when the bus comes it's going to be so cramped that they probably won't get on.

2. An Expense Form completed

Weeks of guilt as receipts swell your wallet to virtual implosion. You're heading towards your overdraft limit and there's all this virtual money just asking to be redeemed. Every day you're burning with the sense of injustice at the interest-free loan you're giving the company. So you knuckle down. Dust down the diary. Invent the specious reason for that unexplainable taxi receipt. Watch the numbers tot up. Sign off the claim with a flourish and skip gaily down to the accounts department. Closure... and the wonderful knowledge that cashback is on the way.

Monday, December 04, 2006

Convenience Store Goes Dirrrrty


One of my favourite named stores in South London. Granted it is on a corner but I can't think why they added the extra N except as a subtle homage to the Christina Aguileira track. No sign of counter staff in leather chaps last time I looked which would be faithful to the video of course.

Saturday, December 02, 2006

Dr Quirkie's World of Quirk (2)

I was contemplating my next world of quirk entry last night, whilst cradling a pint of Badger's Blansford Fly in a pub in Thames Ditton. Somewhat distracted by the entrance of Adrian Mills, he of Esther Rantzen's "That's Life" fame (along with Gavin and Doc Cox), and living embodiment of Alan Partridge in looks and 'attitood', I rested my pint on this incredible beer mat.



This time I didn't find the world of quirk, the world of quirk found me. Life's like that.

Friday, December 01, 2006

The shame of it


Went to Hoxton's trendy Hoxton to see avant soundscape mutterers Jackie-O Motherfucker. They were splendid, particularly their rickety take on Public Enemy's open-goal satire on US TV, 'She watch channel zero'.

They are the sort of hairy band (or perhaps 'collective') who grant the viewer much visual pleasure, though they may well disdain from such antiquated notions as 'putting on a show'. It was fun to spot extra members crouched at the back of Cargo's miniscule stage, honking or battering away at niche instruments. The harder you looked, the more there seemed to be.

However, I seem to be haunted by goons spilling their lousy opinions all over the music. I don't gain from hearing some high-collared Hackett expressing his view that a 25-minute choppy, abstract interpretation of an old American folk song is 'sprawling' or 'indulgent'. Similarly, I got to see the miraculous jazz-pensioner Jimmy Scott a few weeks ago, to have half his set blended with unflattering comments about his idiosyncratic voice. What did you expect? Or more importantly, what did I expect? If you don't want to hear the hell that is other people's opinions, stay home with your boxed sets.

Incidentally, I proved my peccable jazz credentials by gobbing on the next day about Jimmy's moving performance to all and sundry, dropping googlefacts such as 'he was Billie Holiday's favourite singer you know... Oh you haven't heard of him?' I was halfway through this routine to a taxi driver, who said 'so he's got the same name as the tennis player?' I had been lauding the hair-on-back-of-neck-erecting powers of Mr Big Racket himself, Jimmy Connors. You can't delete that sort of retrospective shame. When word gets out I may well be barred from jazz, and possibly tennis, for that.

Technorati tags:
, , ,