Archive for December 2001

How To Write Drunk   Leave a comment

A crazed review of today/tonight/at the Portland arms.

I awoke fortified by sections of actual sleep, though I daren’t admit to her. THE BABY HAS BEEN ILL AND WE ARE RAGGED. Had to take tha little nifgga to tha dctr this morning. My dad was coming> He came, early. We did Dad stuff quite well, semi-pressureless. He left. Christmas shit all ove=r the place. Ludicrous cheque. More ill-baby madness, like freaking the kid out into the cold (actual snow) at 6PM to the emergency Chesterton doctor shit for no real reason other than actual understandable parental mind-shit. Fucking nice dctr. Wanted to make love to his beautiful tidy face, clothes and manner. Syd was suddenly happy, r3elaxed, ordered cocktails. fUck and thank god.
Thus I ended up at the pub, and eventually dr=unk, as you cam clearlty see.
Saw some 55 seconds of the Broken Family Band, bu t seeing as how the Bfb are so ggoood it huts me personally, and plus STEVE helpe dme on my way as I left the premises, I’ll leave them out, so fuck em.
Then Fonda 500. Didn’t particularly… obviously I rate them (seen them before, actually) but I found them tainted by their relative success, ha ha. Impressed and then bored by the Casio aesthetic. Matey’s got his shtick down pat and you almost feel a bit left out. He seemed peeved as well. Couple of brilliant songs though. Obviosly. And matey is a great frontperson. Found myself idly wanting to suck the bassist’s tits at one point, and was then surprised to find that I was surprised at what goes on in my mind when I’m not thinking about it. Stared at the audience too, for quite a while, and resolved to make a film (especially good as a backdrop for one of my stupid performances). The front row’s faces were all illuminated in yellowy light from the stage, and it was interesting to see the expressions of those worshipping at this humble church of rock.
Fuck knows about Chris TT. He’s played on every gig I’ve almost gone to at The potland in the past few months>. He was badly dressed (like casual square) yet his bassman was superfly, and the drummer had some keithmoon modshit goin on. And the bass feller is a fucking god for his styles and effects-use. But I wasn’t sure about Chris, and his songs, and his voice, until I’d let the first one wash over me. He sings badly, with honesty, and then they go off and rock out in a weird place that you don’t expect them to, and its really good. Bassman impressed me with clothes/style, as I say, and using a really dirty but understated bass sound with FX. Odd band. No bad thing. Horendously fucked on the way home. Skunk = The Fear.Young drunk girls in tinsel said something. I just gave a cracked, leery grin.

Posted December 23, 2001 by peteum2013 in Uncategorized

Sharp 777   Leave a comment

Today I get the following email:

Dear Sir,

Would you please tell me if it possible to buy Sharp 777 listed on this page
Thank you in advance.

Kind regards, Dmitri

Now this is my fuck-off tape-recorder, about the size of a small horse, bestows instantaneous b-boy credibility on any nerdy caucasian etc etc. Obviously I’m deeply attached to the thing, bt anyone willing to enquire about shipping horse-sized boom-boxes to the former Soviet Union must have pockets of a certain depth. I might reply with a firm “no”, but casually enquire about what he would have been offering…

Sorry about the shit diary styles. I’ve either been busy, looking after Syd, or pissed.


Posted December 18, 2001 by peteum2013 in Uncategorized

krautrock payback time   Leave a comment

Perhaps there is a proper Christian God after all. After at least 5 solid years of proper charity-shop hunting in search of that Krautrock moment, my achievements to date consisted of scoring a scratchy copy of Can’s “Rite Time” (pleasant enough, but a fucking travesty when you compare it with the kosmiche majesty of, say, “Ege Bamyasi”) in The Mind Shop a couple of years ago. To be fair, I did get a Guru Guru album in Resale once, but Resale doesn’t count. However, I gave a pound to Amnesty International today, and in return I got the eponymous La Dusseldorf LP, so fuck you very much. Oh yes.
Also got:
Miasma – The Bevis Frond (presumably shite, but possibly saleable)
12″ Of Pleasure – General Echo
Mateso – Master Musicians Of Tanzania
Check Out The Groove – 80s funk collection

Posted December 13, 2001 by peteum2013 in Uncategorized

Twinkle in Plastic   Leave a comment

Sheepishly, I return.
Cor! Last night’s LEAPS gig (Plastic#3) at the Portland. Rather a subdued evening where the performers outnumbered the paying customers quite heavily, and most of the acts involved ambient sound-twiddlery rather than rock ‘n’ roll theatrics of any kind. Plus I personally was hung over and very tired from the excesses associated with Loop Soup the previous evening. Shame about the empty room because the line -up seemed really strong to me. Adrian Thing’s Reaktor stuff was a welcome discovery, and The Man From Uranus (in the guise of MOONBUGGY) just gets better and better with his Stockhausen-inspired space-trip. Unfortunately he “couldn’t get into it” and left the stage about what one presumes was halfway through his set. This may have been because of the loud conversation at the back between a woman who we later discovered was called “Twinkle”, and Dr. Tim, who was probably asking her to pipe down, and telling her that she couldn’t come in for nothing etc. I’m speculating. She must have asked if she could do a turn, however, because the next thing I know Dr. Tim is announcing that she is the final act. I should say that she is a vaguely crustie-ish appearance with a crew cut and tattoos, and probably in her late twenties. She then gets up and proceeds to lie down behind the monitors and sundry bits of gear lining the front of the stage, which means that she is almost completely out of view. After a little while it is possible to discern from the occasional glimpse of a slowly twisting hand or foot that she is quietly writhing about in the limited space left on the small stage. Obviously it could have been funny, but I was too fucked to feel anything other than mildly annoyed because I felt obliged to watch her impromptu cosmick nonsense. Eventually Dr. Tim, perhaps fearing that there was no clearly defined end to her act (and seeing, perhaps, no reason why an evening characterised by a sense of lacklustre-ness should suddenly end in pathetic absurdity) stepped across the room and enquired:
“Have you nearly finished yet, Twinkle?”
Unfortunately the question coincided with the moment I had just taken a huge draught of Strong Suffolk into my mouth, and I’m afraid the comedy of the situation just got the better of me. I let out a helpless snort of laugher, together with a couple of jets of Strong Suffolk, which just made me laugh again. In turn, these two helpless snorts led to a third and so on, until I was finally only silenced by the voice of Twinkle’s small but evidently psychotic boyfriend who was standing behind me at the back of the room. I think he said something like:
“Don’t you fucking laugh you fucking cunt or I’ll punch you in the face!”
I stopped, immediately, but didn’t turn round. Instinctively I knew that confrontation is traditionally conducted face-to-face, and this legal loophole might help me avoid the aforementioned physical encounter.
He then said something else equally bloodcurdling, but I resolutely stuck to my policy of facing the other way and quivering gently, and it seemed to work. Anyway Twinkle graciously left the stage, seemingly happy with her performance, and managed to calm him down somehow, so I was spared.

Posted December 7, 2001 by peteum2013 in Uncategorized