Thursday, September 04, 2003
The most fun (read ‘satisfying’) part of my ‘job’ at Stylus (apart from having people tell me they want to fuck me, or whatever) is editing Dave Q’s pieces (to call them reviews is an injustice). The man is a genius. Deranged, malcontent, misanthropic, cynical, bitter and nonsensical, but a genius. EVERY time I open a file from him in my inbox I’m astonished and enlightened. We’re so lucky to have him writing with us. I Love Music has been a happy fishing ground for Stylus lately, with Dom Passantino, Cozen, William B. Swygart, Matt DC (killer first review, by the way)and Dave Q all recent recruitments of note from there, and maybe a couple more on the way. With the relaunch looking good (a few niggles to be ironed out and further developments to be finalised aside [not that anything is ever finished, of course, merely not worked on anymore]), these ILMers onboard, plus a couple of other recent writing acquisitions who seem really promising, I’m feeling really confident that in a couple of years we can be contributing something really worthwhile. < /smug>
I don’t listen to it often, or him often, because I’m not one for living in the past, however illustrious it may be, but when I do it’s undeniable that it’s complete sex, vocals pushed all the way out wide on the right-hand side to make way for that instrument, grinding and spinning and wailing better than any voice, drums and bass played well but just fucking ignored, because, let’s face it, if you’re having a wank (let’s not romanticise what this is, for once) it doesn’t matter what colour the bedspread or the curtains are, does it? They’re just context; and if you’re going to drop yourself in it and lose that linear fantasy you had in mind and give into pure sensation then there’s no point in adulterating the fucking thing. So Noel’s doing these backing vocals only they’re not at the back, they’re on the other side, just quieter (and Jimi’s voice isn’t amped up enough as it is), and Noel sounds drunk, punch-drunk maybe, or fuck-drunk, woozy cos the blood’s not in his head anymore, it’s in his pants and in his bass (Mitch and Noel always looked shit too; Jimi’s dressed like a fucking magician on the cover, cos that’s what he’s doing, and these sidemen look like a member of The Small Faces and a stupidly white-fro’d Maths teacher who’s spectacles have been nicked – Jimi’s got two buttons undone and yours are done all the way up for fuck’s sake). But yeah, Mitch can barely speak because his member’s engorged and Jimi’s just as turned on, more so, probably, but in control. On the edge of it, yeah, of course, but in control. You couldn’t play that if you were totally off it. Could you? I’m not a magician. I mean ‘musician’. “Love Or Confusion” spells it out succinctly but it’s not that we’re interested in. If it’s succinct it’s not quite as full-on, is it? Even when he’s succinct he’s giving into synaesthesia though, “must there be all these colours without names / without sounds”, but he’s remembering. It’s in “Foxy Lady” that he’s totally out of it in terms of his headspace, body together just enough to co-ordinate his fingers (which he does backwards you fucking limp-wristed fuckers, backwards and upside-down!). And anyway, it’s not wanking if you’ve got an audience, is it? It’s making love then, performing, which means that other people are involved and you’re all getting yours. Back to a more innocent time, is this? I don’t understand who or what the Baby Boomers are but Dave Q hates them and blames them and I’m inclined to agree with him. But there wasn’t popular and alternative music there was just stuff lots of people liked and stuff fewer people liked. Courtney Love, of all people, made most sense about it. Why feel guilty about being good? Oh yeah because you’re fucking privileged and therefore guilty and therefore a; have to corrupt it into being art and b; have to make it seem like you struggled to get there anyway, you fucking Catholic little piece of whinging shit. Oh, and of course, if you’re privileged it’s not your place, is it? So either stop whinging about it or else get the fuck out. But yeah. “Foxy Lady”. Like “Voodoo Chile” (the looooooong one) he’s not gonna hurt you (“I made love to you in your sleep / and Lord knows you feel no pain” – oh the pressures of having a big dick, eh Jimi?) and maybe he even throws Tarantino’s “Like A Virgin” speech into full relief (oh to be black and a musician and sexy, eh Quentin?- that’s why you made such a shit vampire-killer; I bet Van Peebles could do it with a silver bullet and a string of garlic). Yeah. Jimi’s off on one. “Not necessarily stoned… / but… / beautiful…”
Up next, “Piss Diary”.
9/04/2003 09:11:00 pm