Zombieism is an art form.
Let’s face it. Making a zombie movie is so easy on the face of it that you’d die laughing. Until you try. Then you might DIE.
There is some utter zombie shit out there and the genre needs protection as much as it needs celebration.
So, this initiative, to live the (un)life must be applauded, albeit with hands that break up on contact.
Be there or be alive.
I had the great pleasure of seeing Grinderman live on Tuesday night at the Barrowlands Ballroom in Glasgow. Nick Cave was electrifying, Warren Ellis insane and the “other two” held it all together with aplomb. It is a unique experience (and my first) watching and listening to Nick Cave in action. He has an intensity that I’ve never seen any act match in my history of gig going and Warren Ellis as his stooge is quite awe inspiring. At one stage Ellis was smashing, and I mean utterly battering the fucking life out of, a Hi hat with a pair of marracas that looked life threatening to the front row of the audience.
So lupine is Cave’s performance that you expect him to gorge on the flesh of one of the few female members of the audience at any point in the show. Howls and roars whilst looking for the moon through the Barrowland’s hallowed ceiling are frequent. He was honoured to play here as one of his legends, the (not so sensation in my view) Alex Harvey had strode these boards in his youth. Cave is in his 50’s now, but acts as though he is in his 20s.
Grinderman’s songs are tongue in cheek misogynistic maelstroms. Women are disparaged, objectified, lusted after, loved, hated, disparaged; you name it. This is not balladry this is death metal on acid. But, as I say, it’s tongue in cheek. It’s full of humour and it’s priceless. No pussy Blues, an anguished cry for some pussy action despite every form of wooing known to man sums the band up and it was performed brilliantly. The highlight of the night for me though was the eponymous Grinderman that echoed Jim Morrison set to a hypnotic bass and drum rumble that could easily have been the Doors.
It was wonderful, loud, musical extremism that had my ears tingling with Ttinitus well into the morning hours.
Yes folks. It’s true. A couple in Glasgow gave birth to their baby in the Yorkhill hospital and chose a very unusual but quite traditional, even Victorian, sounding moniker for her. And it wasn’t Monica.
Good to see the boys showcased on The Culture Show tonight. But they could do with getting their arses in gear and getting some official versions of their wonderful music online.
I mean, what are they doing, living in the web 2.1 world?
Apparently so, because this video of the best song this year, so far, by anyone is still unofficial.
Yir no Little Boots are ye?
And so, for punishment… take this…
The debut album from Glasgow Krautrock/folkie combo, The Phantom Band, has been receiving universal 4 star reviews all week in everything from The NME to The Guardian. My mate Kenneth has been proclaiming their majesty for some time now and I have to say this unofficial pre-release video shows considerable potential.
I for one shall be tootling down to Fopp to stock up.
This is even better, a tribute to German art rockers, Can, from whom they are said to derive many of their influences.
Myself? I was a bigger fan of Faust and this masterpiece may demonstrate why.
On the other hand you may, like 99% of the population find them ear bleed inducing noiseniks with not a musical quality to their name. (But you’d be wrong.)
Watching this week’s Secret Millionaire put the series back on track for me.
It was starting to look staged.
Not this week.
Nick Leslau is a super rich property developer with a yacht in St Tropez and a lifestyle to die for. (We shouldn’t like him, should we!)
In the programme he gave across an air of inexperience when it comes to sharing his good fortune (not true in fact). But his honesty about his feelings towards the poverty he encountered in Glasgow’s Possil Park was totally refreshing and his humility throughout the programme was highly engaging.
But it was his humility that most stuck me.
His closest experience was with a group of disabled people and he opened up so frankly as to, no doubt, give his PRs heart failure. But he was simply reacting to what he saw in the most basic human way. His admittance that he ‘couldn’t deal with disabled people’ made him so real, so frank that you couldn’t fail but love him.
His gifts, as it happens, were super-generous but delivered with a plan.
This is a man I would dearly like to meet and tell him how good he is.
Gor blimey. What's gonna go wrang next?
So, as predicted, Alex Salmond has delivered a further body blow to what is appearing to be an increasingly inept Brown government. But it’s hardly a surprise is it. After all Alex was crawling all over Glasgow East on a regular basis wooing the electorate whilst Brown just shuffled about apologetically in an unapologetic way.
OK, it’s a protest vote and not likely to be repeated in a general election, but you cannot argue with Salmond and his very able deputies (Swinney in a role he is far better suited to than leading the party) and Nicola Sturgeon, an articulate and likeable deputy to Salmond.
At this rate he could actually convince the country to vote for independence.
Is Walter Smith the greatest football manager Scottish football has ever enjoyed?
I think so.
I was in Glasgow tonight to witness, in a pub, the effect this remarkable man has had on a patently average football team. Not only has he achieved greatness for Rangers Football Club but he has done so with six Scottish players on the pitch. Sadly, two of them Hibbies.
Clearly Rangers were not actually better than Fiorentina (or Werder Bemen, or Sporting Lisbon) but they beat them all- this is not typically Scottish behaviour.
But a Scottish team, is in a European Final.
This is genuinely something to celebrate.
C’mon the Gers!