Monday, July 21, 2003
So I nip into Martian Records to see if they've got the new Jane's Addiction record sans bonus DVD for a tenner (they steal all their stock from the continent and are staffed by metal heads so this is likely) because I'm not arsed enough to pay £15 in HMV or Virgin for the limited edition version (which seems to be all they have) as I am convinced that while the single at least sounds like them, the album will be disappointing, as they are now old men (and, more pertinantly, because it's a photograph of the band on the cover and not a nude woman made of papiér maché fucking herself with a dinosaur bone). Only as soon as I walk in to Martian Records I have to walk out again because the kids behind the counter (I say kids, they're probably 20-22, and I'm only 24) are listening to Live. And singing along / nodding their heads in time. Oh for fuck's sake. That record's haunting me. Only this morning another email turned up in my inbox from some irrate fan of earnest post-grunge wank for 30-somethings ("why are you making personal attacks against the singer? what's he ever done to you?" - he made a fucking awful record, mate). I've had more mail about that Live review than anything else, it's ridiculous. Hasn't the total commercial and critical failure of the record (not to mention it's screaming crapulence) even hinted to these buffoons that it might be shite? Pavlov's Dogs, the lot of them. Urgh. What's more, they were onto the worst track, "The Sanctity of Dreams", which makes my guts contract and my chest tighten. Jane's Addiction and SFA release albums on the same day (and Dizzee Rascal too - picked up a copy for Emma) and the 'bright young things' of Exeter's 'coolest music shop' are listening to Live? It's like the death of culture round here, mate.
7/21/2003 01:50:00 pm
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