NOVEMBER 2014
NOT REVIEWING ART PROPERLY SINCE 1066
 
I am a jailbird!
ASTRID'S TEA PARTY / CALLENBERG / DANCING MICE / JEFF BELL / MANY THINGS / NICKY / SGT BUZFUZ / THE PLASTICS / THOMAS MERCY
WE'RE GOING MAD AND LOVING
THE SHIT OUT OF STUFF
DI CYNIC REPORTS
It's quite easy, although very tiring to hate. Obviously, some things are worth the effort, Cliff Richards, Bono, the rest of U2 who hoover up the money and mutter on about what a bastard Bono is and we find that politics is also full of people and ideas to hate, although they sometimes come in handy 'kwik-hate'
                                                                                           packages like Nigel Farage and UKIP and you'll say
                                                                                           "what the fuck has that got to do with contemporary
                                                                                           music and we just say Mike Racist Fucking-Twat
                                                                                           Read. We have to put the hyphen between 'fucking'
                                                                                           and 'twat' otherwise the racist twat, Mike Read
                                                                                           could sue us for defamation, or libel, or implying
                                                                                           that he's a hyphenless cunt. So, let's love this...
                                                                                           NICKY WAS UNDERAGE, BUT PUT IN A LEAKY
                                                                                           SHOT SITUATION BY LIBERAL SWEDES!

                                                                                           Yes indeed, a young man who is now nineteen,
                                                                                           was once fifteen and obviously vunerable and
                                                                                           conflicted and easy meat for any old Swedish
                                                                                           pervert / sadist who wanted to trawl his pure young
                                                                                           brain for songs of heart warming affirmation of true love and they did... This is why we covered the current Nicky single, "Wake Up" on the Reviews page and it's why we display his previous thing, "Future Lover" just above, er... this.

THAT IS NOW AND THIS
IS THEN...
It's also impossible to hold anything but huge affection for
the best band in the world, ever. We're not entirely
star-struck and speak on a pound for pound basis, but
the fact remains, The Nectarine No.9 were the best of the
rest and their combination of a loose-limbed sneer wired
tight to a bulging eyed riff-o-rama and a  bag full of "We
really do and really don't give a shit" lyrical scatter-gun
gurning that hit every target by trying to slaughter
everything and everyone in passing, in a clatter, crash,
smear and haze of old T.Rex riffs, feedback and fuck
you... What... Is... Not... To... Love?
FUCK SUBJECTIVITY, THESE RECORDS ARE GOOD
BEA NYCE SAYS THIS:
David Bowie has made a lot of records, some are awful, but "Diamond Dogs" is merely dismissed as awful while being absolutely brilliant. It sees Bowie dragging the tar from the fag end of a glam model that he nicked from Bolan and his despair, boredom and desperation are the ideal ingredients to give flesh to such a fucked up and fucked over genre, "Diamond Dogs" is half dealing with half a dystopian concept, it's truly an album that reflects the mood and the state of the artist and the result is clattering, soaring mess of sounds and, like he says; "When it's good, it's really good and when it's bad, it's better than watching tv".
The accepted wisdom is that Marc Bolan was pretty much a cockney tea leaf who put glitter on old Chuck Berry riffs and was massive fun while being massively lightweight. That's bollocks as the 1974 release of something that a cocaine maddened and fame weary Bolan insisted on calling "Zinc Alloy & The Hidden Riders Of Tomorrow, A Creamed Cage In August". He was also fed up with glam rock and used "Zinc" to pioneer the 'plastic soul' sound that Bowie went on to nick as well. Fact reamains that "Zinc" is an album of brutally metallic guitar squalls, skewed soul smooching and fantastic vocal arrangements.
In a world where any tit with a mournful expression and a trust fund can be acclaimed as a 'songwriter' Steve Adams must be regarded as god all fucking mighty. A hugely gifted songwriter, Adams is likely to deploy whimsicality as readily as brutality and both, either or neither with deadpan wit. Member and chief wordsmith for The Broken Family Band, and their 2005 release "Welcome Home Loser" is easily one of the best 100 albums of the last million years. A meld of crunched out guitars, pretty pop melody, down home country and the effortless, towering assurance of a band at the top their form.

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