Starting with the pinacle let down. Andrew Bird at London Scala June 7th. He didn't seem arsed. I couldn't see from any place in the venue. And I'd spent and travelled a long fucking way to stand at a gig receiving messages about how brilliant the Simian Mobile Disco gig was in my hometown. I'm still bitter.
NME. Continually degenerating.
The third of people who downloaded the Radiohead album In Rainbows who didn't pay anything for it.
Mercury Music Prize.
Jo Whiley seems to have become ever more self-important and, even worse, mainstream followers seem to reaffirm the belief that she is important.
Seeing one of the Klaxons in an Erol Alkan t-shirt. I've not worn mine since.
Falling in love with Death From Above 1979... just about 2 years too late.
The Aliens' live performance at York Fibbers. A drunken slur. But, bloody hell, they didn't half redeem themselves when I saw them at the Stockton Riverside festival. Brilliance!
Bloc Party.
Come on. You know you can probably extend this list ten-fold, as I could go on. Throw out some more... Come on...
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Jo Whiley can just fuck right off. If shameless prostitution of your opinion makes you some kind of modern day messiah, then i'll take the ordinary life any day. Ford Focus, Next, Red Wine, KT Tunstall - it doesn't matter who or what it may be, you pay her enough and she'll love it. Slag.
And the Aliens gig - Oh dear!
Yeah. But they were amaaaaaaaazing the second time. I almost forgot I was surrounded by chavs. I love Stockton, me.
Of course, Jo Whiley is also a celebrity scab who crossed the picket lines when BBC staff were last on strike. If you see her, don't let her forget it!!!
The Patrick Wolf album - massive wankathon.
He's still very good live, however.
I wish I had a constant cloud of glitter surrounding me. Make me look pretty and, from my point of view, make the world look pretty.
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