In moving recently from a more happening part of inner Melbourne to the (sub-?) urban fringe, I was concerned that this friendly Antipodean‘s social life would be a shortcut to the old folks home.

A notable concern was the local public house. There was no local public house.

Yet I thought there was a reprieve (and my, how excited I was) in the form of a ladies night, as per the flyer above. Thoughts were conjured of my innercity days, a vision of the my abandoned hedonic halcyon.

Oh! What I left behind. Booze, thrilly underwear, dildos.

Goodness. Mains-powered vibrating apparati. MMmmmm.

And then, upon reading the flyer, I admit I was not feeling overly confident in a good night. It was a dubious venue (a kindergarten – yes, a kindergarten!).

And there was no booze (can you get buzzed off tea?), which just made me consider staying in.

However,  hopes were lifted by the mysteriously mentioned “Enjo”!

How my mind wondered. Who are you, Enjo? My imagination conjured toned buttocks, tight knees and a wholly inappropriate chest. Such handsome virility for this hungry feminist to devour.

Now, being sheltered and having lived for 9 years in the inner city, I was unaware of what happened in the ‘burbs.

What could I expect from this “Enjo”? I was expecting a gleaming European. He would be a raging, throbbing, oliveskinned hunk of stripping man flesh. Oh Enjo, I thought, turn me on. Make me feel like a woman. Make me viscous and conducive. Leave me breathless, inconclusive.

Heart racing and blood pumping, I donned my favourite stripper underwear and sped to the Fawkner kindergarten…

How utterly disappointed I was to discover that “Enjo” was not my tantalisingly bronzed adonis, but actually a brand name for cleaning products. The ladies night truly was a night of embroidery and tupperware. Is this what counts for fun?

I am wondering if I need create my own fun by dressing up in a burka and staging up a Pythonesque ladies night at the local mosque…

EDNA will be back with more reviews. Your feedback has been amazing and only encourages her, if only to flirt with our readers.

Completely unannounced till just a couple of days ago, Hello Land! has been made available for instantaneous free streaming via the marvel that is Soundcloud. And here it is…

Oh, and did you know that this is planned to be the first of four LPs in 2012? They’re going to be loosely based around the seasons.

No pressure then. I mean, hey, the Beatles chucked out 2 albums a year at peak.

Away from the limiting and highly-structured commercial music industry of the big labels, it seems to me they’ve rediscovered their experimental roots. Initial impressions of Hello Land! are of a luscious but not unsophisticated lightness.

It is a departure from the hit-single focused efforts that has perhaps held Guillemots back in recent years (in this writer’s humble opinion). They’re not trying too hard to be something they’re plainly not. Not until they’re ready to take over the world.

(What a horribly cynical reason to make music. But baby needs shoes, right?)

Looking back on Guillemots’ output, following an erupting romantic rush of excitement felt within debut Through The Windowpane, its successors Red and Walk The River were somewhat staid affairs overall and never quite met up to the delirious bombast of their first release.

Fyfe Dangerfield has explained the rationale behind the departure from the traditional music biz mould as follows:

I was just a bit lost in the music industry, you can get very lost in the music business. It’s not like I hate the music industry. I think it’s just you can get very immersed in it without even realising and there are so many patterns and waves that you expect to do things. I think we were just used to playing the line without realising. The one thing we were really getting frustrated by was this album cycle.

You generally spend a few months at a time making a record and then you kind of sit on them for a time. It’s very hard to be creative, I think we started realising we don’t need to do this. We thought why not put out loads of music and do it ourselves!

You can support the band by giving them your money and buying their CD or MP3/WAV downloads by clicking this link:

http://guillemots.greedbag.com/buy/hello-land-0/

What’s that you say? A fiver for a whole album? I remember when non-chart CDs were £16.99 in the Rock ‘n’ Pop section of HMV back in the mid 1990s, when I were a teenager.

Oh, just whilst I remember, Guillemots are also headlining our pals’ festival 2000 Trees this year.

http://www.efestivals.co.uk/news/12/120413c.shtml

Beak tells us he’s in the 50%, in his own wiry words:

I am the 50%

TRANSCRIPT

I’m the kind of moaning little cunt who despises other people’s happiness. When I’m not trying to earn more money than my friends I take the high ground at every opportunity.

I consider myself and my values better than those around me. I feel guilty about the ice caps and the rainforests and the ozone.

You’ll hear me say: “I’m the way I am because I’ve never had to go to war.”

When the war that is going to end this financial mess kicks off, you’ll find me under my bed. Drunk. Shitting it.

I am the 50%.

facebook.com/SonicAstronic
soundcloud.com/SonicAstronic
sonicastronic.com

Mystery Jets / Count & Sinden – After Dark
The reliably hyper-melodic Mystery Jets play through a set of perversely powerful euphoric hooks, whilst filtered through Count & Sinden‘s production, beats and mixing, defines the potential for what a new era of true indie disco could sound like. Utterly unparalleled right now, I want more of this material and if I don’t get it, I’ll have to make it myself. Wonderful Strictly Come Prancing dance competition video. A lot of fun.

Young Knives – The Decision
Taking matters into your own hands takes an absurd and intense turn in this track. Daft but at the same time intensely serious:

“I’m the Prince of Wales / And if all else fails / I am the Prince of Wales / That decision was mine”

…is still perhaps the best vocal hook I’ve ever heard as we hear the views of someone descending steadily into psychosis, perhaps as a result of a nervous breakdown induced by middle management in an office environment. And how on Earth would I know anything about that? Such power in the face of powerlessness. Talk about defining your own reality.

LCD Soundsystem – Daft Punk Is Playing My House
An indie punk rock band playing dance music about a dance band playing at their house. Which also SOUNDS as if it’s a live band playing Daft Punk. It’s a brilliantly self-aware crossover of genres. It’s postmodern and ironic but it’s still a cracking tune irrespective of ignorant critical slurs like those. Like me. Like those. Like me. Like those.

Bombay Bicycle Club – Shuffle
As a bassist I love the understated but precise lock of the groove. It’s a demonstration of rather mature songwriting with all manner of subtleties throughout the track. And lyrically it’s a celebration of loving music. Not just listening to music passively but actively engaging within it, acknowledging the temporal limitation of a song (i.e. music captures and replicates a mood but for only as long as it plays) coupled with the very human reality of any artist’s self-doubt in the face of the drive to create and engage.

Justice Vs Simian – We Are Your Friends
This cross-pollination of Simian and Justice – respectively an established indie band and a relatively-new French dance act – propelled not only these two artists to a whole new paradigm of success, but also culminated in the evolution of Simian into Simian Mobile Disco. Everyone’s a winner, especially the listener.

Reblogged from Danny Isn't Here, Mrs. Torrance:

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Scanners! You were far sillier than I remembered!

20 SECONDS...YOU EXPLODE! Awesome.

Cronenberg’s next film after The Brood lacks its gravitas. Scanners actually differs from almost all Cronenberg films in that there is far less emphasis on psychological and physiological irregularity, and almost none of the skewed sexuality that permeates his other films. Scanners is, dare I say it, a pretty straight horror/sci-fi flick.

Read more… 645 more words

Following on from reflective ruminations of our time in the BBC Scanning Room (see previous post)... “We’re gonna do it the Scanner way. I’m gonna suck your brain dry!”

And 6 Music is ten years old. I only started listening to 6 in 2003, when my employer (coincidentally the BBC) happened to permit me to listen to it whilst working.

I had neither a DAB radio of my own, nor broadband internet. It was a different era. It was like the 1950s of the Internet compared to now. Social media hadn’t been invented. There was no Facebook or Twitter.

As a recent graduate of an arts-based degree I wasn’t hugely employable, so whilst I was working at the BBC, it was in the highly confidential and sensitive “Scanning Room”, document managing high profile employee paperwork and seeing all sorts of naughtiness.

As for us BBC scanners – myself, Vanessa and Bonnie (later of Electricity In Our Homes infamy) – we became fast friends before the management realised how much money they could save by selling off the entire HR dept to a third party, albeit a third party which would run it really quite terribly (Capita, aka BBC HR Direct), and thus give the management lovely big bonuses to buy big houses in Holland Park and Notting Hill.

As part of 6 Music’s Birthday celebrations we want to hear 6 Of The Best from you.

Just select six songs that most represent 6 Music to you by filling out the form below.

You’ll be able to hear a different listeners’ selection each week on the Liz Kershaw show on Saturdays, 13:00-16:00. We’ll also be compiling a chart of all the entries that are sent in.

I’ve replied. I bit on the bait. Here’s my first of the 6:

Guillemots – Made Up Love Song #43
The wife and I played this at our wedding for the first dance. Our Auntie Pam in a broad Manchester accent is on video yelling, “WHAT THE BLOOMIN’ HECK IS THIS?” in response to the wonky Hammond intro to which my newlywed wife and I did a close dance. We pulled some delightful dancey twirls out of the bag in the song’s climactic second part, much to the surprised cheers of onlookers who hitherto had only ever seen me raving sketchily in muddy fields.

Can you resist a few dancey twirls, dear reader?

Sonic Astronic meld electronic soundscapes and live humans.

It’s been suggested they sound like Four Tet – albeit with Mick Jagger on vocals, Hooky on bass, and with a world music percussion section.

Sonic Astronic bathe their audience in audio: shimmering guitars; delicate but intense hypnotic rhythms; a fusion of electronica, earthy beats, tremendous crescendos and tender moments.

GET HERE. LISTEN HEAR.

TOWER TAVERN – Saturday 28th January – 8pm

Very near the BT tower.

21 Clipstone Street, W1W 6BA

Warren St / Goodge St tubes

CLICK HERE TO VISIT FACEBOOK EVENT PAGE, HERE. OR HERE. TAKE CARE TO HEAR.

EDITOR’S COMMENT: Trust the BANKERS to rip-off an honesty box to the tune of a hundred and sixty dollars!

Never let it be said that bankers don’t deserve their massive pay and bonuses. They are extremely hard working and accountable. And ethical. And clever. And cunning. And brilliant.

And as part of their oh-so-busy schedule, bankers also find time to “borrow” from poor, cancer-stricken children. Not to feed their socially-acceptable gambling habits, you understand. Not at all. But to leverage their investments. Yes, to leverage their clever investments from charity funds. What could possibly go wrong?

After all, in death, who needs the money?

As the adage goes, “You can’t take it with you.” Especially poorly children. Particularly poor, poorly children. And they’re used to being poor. And poorly. Why should they have any extra monies?

And the bankers are the new gods. They’re doing God’s work. And God knows they do it well.

So think of the poor bankers at this time, taking this adage to its extreme conclusion:

LAST CHANCE to pay the $160 YOU STOLE - f*cking thieving bankers

It’s tough times in Big Finance. Got to look after number one. Just like American Psycho.

Edna might be naive, but she always thought that banks were supposed to lend money?

No wonder nobody understands the economy these days.

Better keep coughing up those tax quids to keep it all propped up and plump like a big fat goose that defecates infinite golden eggs for the Illuminati, whilst puking into the taxpayer’s hungrily open lips.

Edna is feeling edgily satirical today.

This post is helping nobody.

Least of all Edna.

Lizzie Roper sees Twitter as the dwarf in her cupboard

SUNDAY ROAST. Isn’t it delicious? We were midway through our roast dinner and it was made all the more scrumptious by the company of the highly entertaining naughty schoolgirl of Yorkshire puddings, Lizzie Roper, as we continue to discuss Sarah Beeny’s salmon mousse, fingerbanging and Twitter.

Oh Cheers: I can’t believe you put your bottom in Sarah Beeny’s flan.

Lizzie Roper: FISH MOUSSE! Get it right.

OC: I did read you once tried to encourage someone to put their arse in their birthday cake.

LR: Exactly! I’m always trying to encourage people to put their arse in their birthday cake.

OC: If only I’d’ve done that last night, with my friend’s thirtieth. But… she’s not exactly flamboyant. Bit normal and nice.

LR: It would’ve made a woman of her. It would have made her thirties.

OC: It would have made the cake special. Going back to the inspiration for the interview – your tweet that used the word “fingerbang” – can you tell us what fingerbanging is, exactly?

LR: You know what fingerbanging is!

OC: I wanna know what YOU think fingerbanging is.

LR: It’s when a gentleman gently – or viciously – inserts a finger up a lady’s loo-la.

OC: Loo-la?

LR: Yeah. Making sweet, sweet love, around about the ages of sixteen, mainly. Fingerbanging is very important when you’re a teenager.

OC: So does it stop at a certain age?

LR: No! No. No, it shouldn’t. But it moves from the main menu to the hors d’oeuvres by the time you’re thirty, doesn’t it? Whereas when you’re young that’s like WA-HEY! “Did he finger you? Did finger you? Did you get fingered?” You know it’s very important; it’s a rite of passage. I went to a private girls school, so we would have discos with private boys schools.

We’re interrupted as the pub owner comes to take plates; offer us apple crumble; take feedback on the roast dinner component of roast beetroot.

Lizzie: “The beetroot was delicious and there were heaves. Full of antioxidants.”
Pub owner: “It’s an acquired taste.“
Oh Cheers: “Didn’t like the beetroot. Another Yorkshire pudding next time, pal.”
Pub owner: “If you mention that next time then I’ll do it for you.”

LR: They’re the new owners. They’re all excited. It’s a new thing. Been open 2 weeks. Minor refurb. No dartboards. No TV sets. I like it. I like my places empty! You give me an empty dancefloor I’m a very happy girl. I don’t like crowds. I don’t like PEOPLE. F*ck people. F*ck right off.

OC: Well, don’t live in London!

LR: I AM a Londoner. I was here first. YOU piss off.

OC: Oh I see, it’s people like ME, ruining it for the rest of you. So, one of my questions was: “is this a persona?”

LR: Um…

OC: How much of this is an act?

LR: As I say, when I’m defending Twitter, I say, “Twitter is my toilet. Twitter is where the bad stuff goes.” I don’t have a partner to whom I can say, “oh for f*ck’s sake, meh meh meh meh.” I DO have this little thing in my pocket where I can go <makes gremlin noises>.

OC: How do I spell that?

LR: It’s up to you. I really like the brevity of Twitter. I like that there’s only 140 characters. What can you express in 140 characters? Can you be funny in 140 characters?

OC: The strictness, yeah, it focuses the mind. Structure and order. We need more structure and order in this country. Or do we? No we don’t.

LR: I didn’t realise how f*cking vile I am on Twitter, until –

OC: Until?

LR: Well… Twitter is the dwarf that lives in the cupboard, and I can go <makes gremlin noises>. I’m there everyday. I re-read my tweets and I see how vile I am. I’m appalled by myself. I’m not impressed. I would take myself outside and smack me. But people keep coming back. They keep wanting more. Maybe I’m Nick O’ Teen, giving the people what they don’t NEED, but what they want. I’m disgusting. I’m a very nice person, but there’s a dark side of me and that goes in there. So, is it a persona? It’s a tangent for me, I suppose.

OC: So it’s sort of just you, isn’t it?

LR: It is me.

OC: Just all the different sides.

LR: And I’m very lucky. I don’t work in a corporate world. My world is acting and voiceovers. I don’t have to be normal and good.

OC: That’s the point isn’t it? You’re not conforming.

LR: That’s my USP: I’m a bit wild and loud-mouthed and rude. And then it gets me in trouble when I go too far. Because I did think Twitter was a dwarf in the cupboard. It turned out it’s a dwarf with a megaphone, that is screaming to the whole world.

OC: And the people who follow you tend to go, “look at this everybody, isn’t it brilliant?” They retweet you, and you’re f*cked.

LR: But I love it.

OC: Good. So what did you do BEFORE Twitter?

LR: I used to have sex with men. I had boyfriends. It was brilliant.

OC: Real stuff. Who needs real stuff anymore?

LR: Real stuff. No, before Twitter… was there life before Twitter? Yeah. No. You know, we’ve gone from living in a family with one phone in the hallway, and your dad’s screaming at you – “IT’S BEFORE 6 O’ CLOCK” – to this ridiculous, over-indulged state of communication.

OC: I liked that on your email signature, it says:

Sent from my iPhone. Just like every other fanny on this bus.

OC: So on every email, it has that on the end?

LR: Yes.

OC: That’s what I notice on the train. You see so many people using phones. Tweeting. Twittering. Texting. Facebooking. Facehugging. There are idiots though who just use social networking for slanging matches. No need for that.

LR: I was told that blocking someone on Twitter is like walking away from a drunk at a party. And as soon as someone steps out of line, or is a bit weird, or is a bit boring: block, block, block, block, block. Twitter brings me so much joy, so why would I get involved in the shit side?

OC: And does it feed into your constructive creativity?

LR: I think it really does. Because I don’t do standup anymore, Twitter is a place where I can put out something that’s funny or quirky and I can see, “tee-hee-hee I’ve been retweeted!”

OC: So as a follow-up, what do you think of TWIDIOTS like us, who contact you out of the blue and say, “hey, you know what, let’s have an interview?”

LR: I love it. I’ve met other people on Twitter. There’s a brilliant guy called Newsagent Provocateur. Look up his videos. What I do find quite freaky – well, I love being flirty on the Twitter, and I am single – is that on two separate occasions I’ve been asked out by chaps for a drink. I love that they know what they’re gonna get: I don’t have to pretend I don’t know what a swearword is. But I’ve met up with these guys and I’ve discovered that they have girlfriends. So I’m like:

What did you think I was looking for? I have friends. I don’t need friends. What I need is some OTHER SORT of liaison, and I don’t think your girlfriend would appreciate you meeting up with a random girl from Twitter.

LR: My greatest Twitter conquest, when I was doing Betwixt (the musical), which I loved, but I did write a random tweet one day saying:

F*cking hell. I’m so busy I haven’t had a wank in a week.

LR: This guy replied saying, “it sounds like you need one of these.” And it was a link to a £110 vibrator on an adult sex toy site. He was the marketing director and he sent me one. 3 days later, I had a £110 vibrator in my hand. Turns out he’s the most adorable man. He’s a homosexual. There’s nothing threatening. Nothing kinky. Nothing weird. And I… got a £110 vibrator.

OC: Are you disappointed he was gay? He sounds like a nice guy.

LR: Well. I’m awful. I love the gays. I have a huge collection of gays. But we’re back to fingerbanging again.

OC: All roads lead back to fingerbanging. The most primal urge.

STAY TUNED FOR FURTHER LIZZIE ROPER HIGHLIGHTS.

WE JUST DON’T KNOW WHEN THIS IS GOING TO END.

AND NOR DO YOU.