I've written the best part of nowt recently, and health reasons mean I'm not likely to do much for a little while yet. However, I did manage to put together a review of the Teardrop Explodes' superb second album Wilder a few weeks ago and No Ripcord have just published it.
Take a read, if you want.
Thursday, 13 June 2013
Tuesday, 21 May 2013
The White Noise Revisited
It's entirely my own fault. When possible, I try to stand right at the front at a gig - in the main part, this is because I like having the barrier to lean on, so I don't get a bad back from being stood in one place too long. I also like feeling close to the music, and the people involved, observing their playing techniques and the like. Tragic as this sounds, this habit also allowed me to shake hands with Morrissey once, a moment that rakes in my all time Personal Top Ten.
Attending a gig last night, I did the same. But I wasn't watching Joan Baez or the Durutti Column here. No, I was stood right in front of Bob Fucking Mould! And that means noise. A lot of beautiful, fast noise. As a result, my ears are still ringing.
Nevermind. Bob has long been a strong proponent of the power trio, starting with Husker Du, then with Sugar and now teaming with up bassist Jason Narducy and drummer Jon Wurster to record Silver Age and embark on this current tour. The album is a return to Mould's vein of fast rock music with power-pop references thrown in. My advice would be to go listen to it if you liked the last few Husker Du albums and most of what he did with Sugar.
Prior to the main attraction, support act North Atlantic Oscillation did their 30 minute set. From Scotland (a clue being one member having the St Andrews cross on his forearm), their music is interesting enough, with enough electronic effects that you feel it must take hours to set up all the wires, their main issue is that they lack any kind of on-stage personality. I can imagine they come across a lot better on CD.
Then the main attraction. Yes, so Mould is 52 years old and looks like Alexi Sayle's skinnier brother, but that doesn't mean he still can't rock like a bastard. The band jump right in by playing the entire first half of Sugar's Copper Blue album. Another album you really, really need to hear if you haven't done already.
As stated at the start, they were loud, with pretty much no let up throughout. Mould has made albums with an acoustic or electronic slant, but this is pure power trio rock, with no slowing down throughout. If it at times the volume seems hard work for the audience, the sheer hard work the three put in up there on stage puts it in context. I don't think I've ever seen a band sweat so much - it was dripping from the guitars, the drummer's shirt was drenched by the end and Mould's glasses actually had perspiration congealing on them by the end, so that it looked like they were covered in milk.
Alongside the Sugar material, there's a fair chunk of the new album and a healthy amount of Husker Du classics. So, so what if the ringing in my ears might keep me up for a few nights? I saw Bob Mould do what he does best.
Attending a gig last night, I did the same. But I wasn't watching Joan Baez or the Durutti Column here. No, I was stood right in front of Bob Fucking Mould! And that means noise. A lot of beautiful, fast noise. As a result, my ears are still ringing.
Nevermind. Bob has long been a strong proponent of the power trio, starting with Husker Du, then with Sugar and now teaming with up bassist Jason Narducy and drummer Jon Wurster to record Silver Age and embark on this current tour. The album is a return to Mould's vein of fast rock music with power-pop references thrown in. My advice would be to go listen to it if you liked the last few Husker Du albums and most of what he did with Sugar.
Prior to the main attraction, support act North Atlantic Oscillation did their 30 minute set. From Scotland (a clue being one member having the St Andrews cross on his forearm), their music is interesting enough, with enough electronic effects that you feel it must take hours to set up all the wires, their main issue is that they lack any kind of on-stage personality. I can imagine they come across a lot better on CD.
Then the main attraction. Yes, so Mould is 52 years old and looks like Alexi Sayle's skinnier brother, but that doesn't mean he still can't rock like a bastard. The band jump right in by playing the entire first half of Sugar's Copper Blue album. Another album you really, really need to hear if you haven't done already.
As stated at the start, they were loud, with pretty much no let up throughout. Mould has made albums with an acoustic or electronic slant, but this is pure power trio rock, with no slowing down throughout. If it at times the volume seems hard work for the audience, the sheer hard work the three put in up there on stage puts it in context. I don't think I've ever seen a band sweat so much - it was dripping from the guitars, the drummer's shirt was drenched by the end and Mould's glasses actually had perspiration congealing on them by the end, so that it looked like they were covered in milk.
Alongside the Sugar material, there's a fair chunk of the new album and a healthy amount of Husker Du classics. So, so what if the ringing in my ears might keep me up for a few nights? I saw Bob Mould do what he does best.
Saturday, 18 May 2013
Frank Talking
As I pointed out not long after I decided (why?) to write this blog, Frank Castle aka The Punisher is one of my favourite comic book creations.
As any geek knows, attempts to get Frank on film have been mixed. The 2004 one with Thomas Jane wasn't too shabby, suffering perhaps by changing the location from New York to Florida (due to being cheaper to film there), but Jane did a fine job. He was better still when he voiced the character in a video game the following year.
To his dues, he backed out of a sequel due to feeling the script wasn't any cop. Judging by Punisher: War Zone, he was right. As a fan of the character, it must have been a bit of a downer. Still, he got to play a guy with a massive penis for a few years in Hung, so at least the work was still rolling in. Until last year, where he decided to revisit the terror of criminals everywhere in a short film.
Dirty Laundry was apparently made for very little, with Jane and Ron Perlman putting their time in for free. It's a sign of how out of the loop I am that I only got round to watching it. My verdict? It's pretty damn good, with a level of violence straight from the comic books. There's rumours of a Punisher TV series in development - if Marvel or whoever has any sense, they'd get Jane involved. The man looks the part to a tee. The issue comes with whether any TV network has the balls to not shackle Frank down with PG standards. We want to see him cutting the guts out of sex traffickers, throwing people from the top of skyscrapers. Stuff like that.
You can Dirty Laundry it on youtube. Be warned though, there's some pretty extreme punishment to be seen.
As any geek knows, attempts to get Frank on film have been mixed. The 2004 one with Thomas Jane wasn't too shabby, suffering perhaps by changing the location from New York to Florida (due to being cheaper to film there), but Jane did a fine job. He was better still when he voiced the character in a video game the following year.
To his dues, he backed out of a sequel due to feeling the script wasn't any cop. Judging by Punisher: War Zone, he was right. As a fan of the character, it must have been a bit of a downer. Still, he got to play a guy with a massive penis for a few years in Hung, so at least the work was still rolling in. Until last year, where he decided to revisit the terror of criminals everywhere in a short film.
Dirty Laundry was apparently made for very little, with Jane and Ron Perlman putting their time in for free. It's a sign of how out of the loop I am that I only got round to watching it. My verdict? It's pretty damn good, with a level of violence straight from the comic books. There's rumours of a Punisher TV series in development - if Marvel or whoever has any sense, they'd get Jane involved. The man looks the part to a tee. The issue comes with whether any TV network has the balls to not shackle Frank down with PG standards. We want to see him cutting the guts out of sex traffickers, throwing people from the top of skyscrapers. Stuff like that.
You can Dirty Laundry it on youtube. Be warned though, there's some pretty extreme punishment to be seen.
Monday, 13 May 2013
Mud, Sweat and Beers
Because I'm a pathetic specimen of a human being, I really enjoy watching The Big Match Revisited on ITV4 (or, given the normally show it about 9am on Saturday, I record it first). Currently, they're working through the 1978/79 season and it's never less than amusing to spot the vast changes we've seen in English football over the last 30 years.
For one thing, they show plenty of games from outside the top flight, which I believe was part of the contract fromt he Football League - Match of the Day on the BBC used to do the same. This means you get to see clashes like Brentford against Watford in the Third Division, where the young Luther Blissett, in the days before he was inspiring Italian anarchists, maintaining dignity (and scoring a goal) while taking sickening abuse from the crowd. Top man.
Of which reminds us of the old cliché about black players - that they were soft and couldn't handle the rough stuff. To which you can only wonder if they ever saw Cyrille Regis play? The man was built like a tank and was capable of battering his way past the overweight carthorse centre halves that most teams employed back then.
"Overweight" is certainly a theme you get from watching players back then, as plenty of the lads showing off their stuff may have wished the shirts had a little more "give", judging by the ample bellies on display. If you think Sam Alladyce has only looked that chunky since he packed in playing, think again. After all, a victory celebration of about ten pints of beer was the norm back then. Though for the losing team, commiseration could come in the form of ten pints of beer.
Luckily, the pitches of the time pretty much prohibited any kind of quick movement, with that vital ingredient of "grass" often being left out of the mix, leaving the surface looking either like Ypres 1917 or Southport beach. Though running fast wasn't an option, neither was standing still, lest you be sucked into the quagmire like in some dodgy horror film - and nobody was going to be able to pull the likes of Larry Lloyd and Mickey Droy back out, that's for sure. It makes you watch in awe that the likes of Steve Coppell and Laurie Cunningham could glide on the mud like it was a bowling green.
Watching old football games can also provide a nice little sociological insight in normal life at the time. The pitchside adverts are for the likes of Visionhire - the idea of people renting a TV may seem a bit alien to people these days, but it was the norm back then. I can remember my mother paying the subs for her parents in town back in the day. Eh ba gum.
And of course, through it all, there's the magnificent Brian Moore, whose head did indeed look uncannily like the London Planetarium. The only downside is watching it in the knowledge Liverpool end up as champions! Bah!
For one thing, they show plenty of games from outside the top flight, which I believe was part of the contract fromt he Football League - Match of the Day on the BBC used to do the same. This means you get to see clashes like Brentford against Watford in the Third Division, where the young Luther Blissett, in the days before he was inspiring Italian anarchists, maintaining dignity (and scoring a goal) while taking sickening abuse from the crowd. Top man.
Of which reminds us of the old cliché about black players - that they were soft and couldn't handle the rough stuff. To which you can only wonder if they ever saw Cyrille Regis play? The man was built like a tank and was capable of battering his way past the overweight carthorse centre halves that most teams employed back then.
"Overweight" is certainly a theme you get from watching players back then, as plenty of the lads showing off their stuff may have wished the shirts had a little more "give", judging by the ample bellies on display. If you think Sam Alladyce has only looked that chunky since he packed in playing, think again. After all, a victory celebration of about ten pints of beer was the norm back then. Though for the losing team, commiseration could come in the form of ten pints of beer.
Luckily, the pitches of the time pretty much prohibited any kind of quick movement, with that vital ingredient of "grass" often being left out of the mix, leaving the surface looking either like Ypres 1917 or Southport beach. Though running fast wasn't an option, neither was standing still, lest you be sucked into the quagmire like in some dodgy horror film - and nobody was going to be able to pull the likes of Larry Lloyd and Mickey Droy back out, that's for sure. It makes you watch in awe that the likes of Steve Coppell and Laurie Cunningham could glide on the mud like it was a bowling green.
 |
| Viv Anderson runs with the ball, probably to prevent the onset of trenchfoot |
And of course, through it all, there's the magnificent Brian Moore, whose head did indeed look uncannily like the London Planetarium. The only downside is watching it in the knowledge Liverpool end up as champions! Bah!
Thursday, 9 May 2013
Every Single One Of Us...
If anything was going to shift me out of my blogging apathy, it would be the retirement of the one man outside my family who has been responsible for a great deal of joy in my life.
I was five years old when Alex Ferguson jaunted down from Aberdeen to take the job of returning Manchester United to the top of English football. Anyone who knows their football history knows it wasn't easy, and there were times most of us would have happily seen him booted back to Glasgow, but in 1993 he delivered what we all wanted, and the prize of being Champions of England was ours again. Sir Matt Busby went to his grave a few months later knowing his legacy was safe.
From then on, there have been few seasons that hasn't seen some silverware brought back to Manchester, and we've even got our hands on the top European prize a couple of times. It's been one hell of a ride, with a huge cast of players passing through. He once said his greatest achievement was "knocking Liverpool off their fucking perch" - you can argue how much of that they did themselves, but the simple fact is that Ferguson nearly tripled our number of English titles. In the early 90s, such a statistic seemed the stuff of a madman's dreams. Yet here we here, from constant underachievers to the most successful team in England over the course of one man's spell in a job.
His replacement? I remain to be convinced if David Moyes is the man for the job. I hope he is, for obvious reasons, but it's going to be beyond weird at the start of next season when another man is sitting in Fergie's seat on the bench.
I was five years old when Alex Ferguson jaunted down from Aberdeen to take the job of returning Manchester United to the top of English football. Anyone who knows their football history knows it wasn't easy, and there were times most of us would have happily seen him booted back to Glasgow, but in 1993 he delivered what we all wanted, and the prize of being Champions of England was ours again. Sir Matt Busby went to his grave a few months later knowing his legacy was safe.
From then on, there have been few seasons that hasn't seen some silverware brought back to Manchester, and we've even got our hands on the top European prize a couple of times. It's been one hell of a ride, with a huge cast of players passing through. He once said his greatest achievement was "knocking Liverpool off their fucking perch" - you can argue how much of that they did themselves, but the simple fact is that Ferguson nearly tripled our number of English titles. In the early 90s, such a statistic seemed the stuff of a madman's dreams. Yet here we here, from constant underachievers to the most successful team in England over the course of one man's spell in a job.
His replacement? I remain to be convinced if David Moyes is the man for the job. I hope he is, for obvious reasons, but it's going to be beyond weird at the start of next season when another man is sitting in Fergie's seat on the bench.
Sunday, 14 April 2013
Tying Up The Trilogy
Having had, as already mentioned, a week off recently, I made the reluctant option to spunk around £30 on all the last three bits of Downloadable Content for Mass Effect 3. I didn't really want to do this, but the option of some extra time with characters I'd grown to love was too much.
This is what I think of all of them. Being spoiler-free on the DLC, but not on the ME3 in general.
Leviathan
So, call comes through, our man Shepard is told some science bod may have found a whole new grade-A weapon against the Reapers. Well, we gotta have that, right? So begins an only-vaguely interested series of jobs, too many of which involve hanging around the scientist's gaff. There's precious little new content in terms of your crew outside EDI, Cortez and a little bit with Vega.
I think it took me around three hours to complete it. For the money I paid, that is frankly pathetic. It does provide some interesting background on the Reapers and their origins, but you can see all that on youtube if you so wish.
Omega
Of course, Aria L'Toak was one of the best characters in Mass Effect 2, a totally amoral bitch who didn't give one about anything bar her own status and power. By the time of ME3, we all know Cerberus booted her off her own kingdom and she wasn't happy about it. Thus, we now get to help her get what she lost back.
This is obviously a good thing, as is that you get to scrap against Aria and someone left behind on Omega, a female Turian (the first we get to meet) named Nyreen. Having read the comic book chucked in with the special edition off the original ME3, I had some idea of what was going on here. Others won't be so lucky, as it doesn't offer much in the way of explanation. The basic gist is to kick Cerberus arse, essentially. You can't bring any of your team - Aria doesn't trust them, apparently - which is a wee bit of let down.
It's a fun little diversion, but still not enough to justify paying a tenner for, given the length of play. One particularly annoying trait was the bigging up of a new kind of enemy as being some unstoppable killing machine, only for them to not be much tougher than yer average Reaper forces.
Citadel
This is more like it. Admiral Anderson orders the ship and crew to dock in and enjoy some R&R. It all goes guns akimbo in no time, natch, as Shep finds a plot to have him knocked off by a mysterious new enemy. All part of a normal day, really.
There's a hell of lot more than just that, though. For starters, you can get Wrex back in your squad if he's alive, which is very cool. You also get use of Anderson's somewhat swanky flat, to which your crew will pay visits. Bizarrely, if you've romanced Tali, she'll sing some weird musical number to you. On top of that, you get a arcade, casino and combat simulator to play in.
The central plot of the DLC is solid enough, with plenty of chuckles. If you've managed to avoid everyone alive to the end of ME3 (just prior to the attack on the Cerberus base) then you'll get the full worth of the content - don't play through it before you've resolved everyone's issues. As a reward, you'll get to enjoy the sights of pretty much all your friends from over the series having a bit of a party and getting a tad wasted.
Citadel is the only piece of ME3 DLC that I would put down as a "vital". The other two are fine, but only worth getting if you have plenty of cash spare. Citadel, however, is a nice little "see ya" to the series, and a wee bit of compo for the lousy ending.
It's a fun little diversion, but still not enough to justify paying a tenner for, given the length of play. One particularly annoying trait was the bigging up of a new kind of enemy as being some unstoppable killing machine, only for them to not be much tougher than yer average Reaper forces.
Citadel
This is more like it. Admiral Anderson orders the ship and crew to dock in and enjoy some R&R. It all goes guns akimbo in no time, natch, as Shep finds a plot to have him knocked off by a mysterious new enemy. All part of a normal day, really.
There's a hell of lot more than just that, though. For starters, you can get Wrex back in your squad if he's alive, which is very cool. You also get use of Anderson's somewhat swanky flat, to which your crew will pay visits. Bizarrely, if you've romanced Tali, she'll sing some weird musical number to you. On top of that, you get a arcade, casino and combat simulator to play in.
The central plot of the DLC is solid enough, with plenty of chuckles. If you've managed to avoid everyone alive to the end of ME3 (just prior to the attack on the Cerberus base) then you'll get the full worth of the content - don't play through it before you've resolved everyone's issues. As a reward, you'll get to enjoy the sights of pretty much all your friends from over the series having a bit of a party and getting a tad wasted.
Citadel is the only piece of ME3 DLC that I would put down as a "vital". The other two are fine, but only worth getting if you have plenty of cash spare. Citadel, however, is a nice little "see ya" to the series, and a wee bit of compo for the lousy ending.
Wednesday, 3 April 2013
Forty From Ten
Recently, I was asked to compile a list of my top 40 albums of the 1990s for NoRipcord.com. An easy task, you might think, given that decade saw me go through just about all of my teenage years.
Alas, not, but I finally managed the task to find one band conspicuous by their absence. Want to guess? Oasis? Nah - they had two good songs (Live Forever and Slide Away), plenty of average rockers and a load of shite. No, it was Radiohead that failed to make my own Pick of the Pops (1990s edition).
Strange, in a way, as I love me a bit of what I will call "miserable bastard music": Joy Division, the Smiths, Depeche Mode and the Cure all provided a soundtrack that made my mother worry that I was bound to hurtle myself off St Bees Head one day. Radiohead were in there too - after all, isn't Creep the perfect adolescent boy song? At least, those of us who scored no luck whatsoever with whoever we fancied. Tough times. But Pablo Honey was an average album at best and somehow its famous song hasn't aged very well, especially when compared to something like Boys Don't Cry, which works perhaps due to a charming simplicity. The line "you're so fucking special" merely sounds derisory 17 years on from the first time I heard it.
The Bends was better and got a fair few playings, then there was OK Computer, which is widely praised to this day. Yet, something must have happened as I've not listened to either album in a decade. The latter has too much I find too self-indulgent, the latter I just seem to have grown out of.
Seems strange that I would do so, given all the other bands I mentioned still get a good blast on the MP3 player on a weekly basis.
Going back to my top 40, I expect very few of them to make the NoRipcord total, bar a few obvious exceptions. After that goes up, I may well print up my list for the sake of completion.
Alas, not, but I finally managed the task to find one band conspicuous by their absence. Want to guess? Oasis? Nah - they had two good songs (Live Forever and Slide Away), plenty of average rockers and a load of shite. No, it was Radiohead that failed to make my own Pick of the Pops (1990s edition).
Strange, in a way, as I love me a bit of what I will call "miserable bastard music": Joy Division, the Smiths, Depeche Mode and the Cure all provided a soundtrack that made my mother worry that I was bound to hurtle myself off St Bees Head one day. Radiohead were in there too - after all, isn't Creep the perfect adolescent boy song? At least, those of us who scored no luck whatsoever with whoever we fancied. Tough times. But Pablo Honey was an average album at best and somehow its famous song hasn't aged very well, especially when compared to something like Boys Don't Cry, which works perhaps due to a charming simplicity. The line "you're so fucking special" merely sounds derisory 17 years on from the first time I heard it.
The Bends was better and got a fair few playings, then there was OK Computer, which is widely praised to this day. Yet, something must have happened as I've not listened to either album in a decade. The latter has too much I find too self-indulgent, the latter I just seem to have grown out of.
Seems strange that I would do so, given all the other bands I mentioned still get a good blast on the MP3 player on a weekly basis.
Going back to my top 40, I expect very few of them to make the NoRipcord total, bar a few obvious exceptions. After that goes up, I may well print up my list for the sake of completion.
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