Monday, May 24, 2004
Some Words (Dance With Wicked)
S/FJ is the only music journalist who makes me feel totally inadequate. Everyone else is either rubbish or else does something so completely different to what I want to do (do do? – you tell me) that comparing myself is pointless; Marcello, Finney, Morley (hahahaha, I don’t even know who the fuck he is, never mind want to), Reynolds, Jess, etcetera etcetera – there’s a degree of respect, admiration even (contempt for some, haha), but whatever it is that Sasha does makes me feel sick with jealousy; his recent blog-deconstruction of Nick Hornby’s craptacular treatise of cultural conservatism and nasty, bitter old mannerisms (in The New York Times) was awesome (Hornby is evil and is damaging people; he is not a music critic because he a; knows piss-all about music and b; has fuck-all critical faculties and c; IF THIS IS NOT OBVIOUS YOU SHOULD CUT YOUR OWN EYES OUT and d; High Fidelity is fucking well NOT about me, you idiot – anyone who knows me properly who’s read it knows this; it’s not a book about music, it’s a book about being an emotional retard and collecting things). Plus I just don’t care enough about this game as anything more than a reason to keep up, if you will. I certainly don’t value these words as words as words for words in words with words. I’ve opened a bottle of rioja. It’s quarter past eleven. Jus’ 1 glass, will make it better. Which is apt because I’m listening to JC Chasez. “Build My World” is soppy as fuck but that piano that falls in the chorus makes it work, plus it’s about buildings falling down, perhaps. He mentions ‘gravity’ and ‘concrete’ so it must be. That piano totally reminds me of something else but I can’t put my finger on it. Better than Justin? I think it might be actually, as a whole piece; the jump cuts from Timbaland to Neptunes made Justified start to jar once you were aware of the pattern. JC’s stepped away from those two superman-makers and wisely so; “Something Special” is like George Michael covering Guns N Roses’ “Patience” in the style of Hanson doing “Hey Jude”. “Shake It” actually is Basement Jaxxx only bite-size and thus better. I get the idea that JC had a lot more to do with N Sync’s dirrrty pop than Justin ever did.
I should move to New York and change the world with Todd, maybe.
Sunburned arms of Nick
Must’ve covered half a dozen miles today, in deceptively hot sunshine. First east to Dawlish Warren, then back west to Teignmouth, stopping at home for a sandwich on the way (and to top up the iPod with more new tunes, SLSK burbling away in the background all day, acquiring dancehall, Madvillain, Superpitcher, Prodigy Experience; God bless wireless broadband). 80 tunes and a million grains of sand in my shoes (I must get some sandals; OK there I said it) later I realised my arms and neck were burnt to shit. Plus I slipped on a seaweed-covered slope, cracked my head on the weathered concrete, soaked my ass, covered myself in lime-green slime, knocked my headphones and watch off (both still work, thank fuck) and generally could have brained myself. I was being double careful to take extra sensible, small steps too, such was the precariousness of the slope. Five years ago that part of the slope wouldn’t have been exposed anyway; I’m sure tidal drift has shifted sand so that a good two-feet more of seawall is exposed than was when I was a kid. Teignmouth beach was packed, much busier than either Dawlish or the Warren. Groups of schoolkids beaching it together on a Sunday, early teenage hormones fizzing so much in the atmosphere that you could practically see them; I felt old. And also untattooed. (Not that the schoolkids were tattooed.) Right out to the Point at Teignmouth, around the beach huts and along the back-beach, the tables outside the Ship Inn crowded (half-a-dozen faces recognisable, Adam something [Maude?] and some girls from the year below us - year below us?! we finished school 7/9 years ago [delete as appropriate depending where you did A Levels - years so do not count anymore]), and then back through town to the train station. Train back to Dawlish; I used to do it every day, I haven’t done it for years. Five tunnels, all still there. A considerably shorter journey than the one I make every day now.
5/24/2004 12:00:00 am