Death From Above 1979

Err, so, yeah.

I suppose I should try and formulate words that represent the emotional state I have found myself in with the recent announcement of Death From Above 1979 reformation. Elation. Terrifying joy. Ecstasy.

You have to have the full story.

I considered selling anything and everything to get to Coachella. Which is in America. And I don't do leaving the country. I'm not sure in the use of my passport. But I seriously considered it. But the fact it would have cost oh-so-very-much money stopped the far-fetched dream before it had begun. But at least they were back together. I had a serious conversation with The Boy in which I laid my intentions bare and told him if they came to the UK I would ensure categorically that we would be going.

And then! They only went and announced dates in bloody London! LONDON! Hyperventilation was inevitable. I calmed myself and spread the word.

Ticket sale day meant I was up and ready to get tickets. Which I did. I was lucky. As that stupid, idiotic, bastarding SeeTickets is a useless website and they tell lies. Within half an hour I had spent my months wages on tickets, travel and accommodation. I was poor. But poorer than normal. I had £34 to last me two and a half weeks and I spent £20 a week just on travel! But I have never been happier to be poor.

So that is it. I'm going to see Death From A-fucking-bove 1979. And it means that one of the bands I never got to see, have reunited and I will get to see. Just one biggy remains. Can you guess?

We're fucked..

Picture caption: "Look at the mess you've made!"

Yes, it is time to cry, despair, cash the pennies for the rainy day, repent your sins, watch the unfolding of the redressing of class power structures and throw up. I have done the last on that list. My tummy couldn't take the news. Throwing myself around the room and furniture. Writhing about on the floor. Postulating. Shouting. Conjecture and imaginings.

Sexual intercourse. I propose that fucking is the best way to proceed. Lose yourself in someone else. Exploit someone else to achieve ecstasy.

And do it do Death From Above 1979. It is amazing. That song.. Make Love And Listen To... bollocks.. it's a cliche for a reason, my friends.

Here is the sexiest. Hand picked not for love-making. For fucking. And to forget that we are politically fucked.

Death From Above 1979 - Pull Out [via YouSendIt for 7 days]

A very strange day...

I'm still poorly. Nervous and anxious. Desperate for anything to take my mind off what is happening. Listening to either Belle and Sebastian or Death From Above 1979. Immersing myself in the LCD Soundsystem album and attempting to formulate something exciting to say about it. I have a presentation next week. I'm not concerned, but I should be. My ears are ringing, my throat is sore, my eyes are puffy. I look bedraggled. I feel bedraggled.

At moments where I can no longer bare the world and the ongoings around me I have a deeply personal ritual.

I watch Yellow Submarine.

Yellow Submarine from alta2009 on Vimeo.

New term, new era of stress

Its feels like an unnatural amount of stress has washed over me.

And as I am feeling emotional I felt this was rather suitable to let the tears flow.

Sébastien Tellier - La Ritournelle

Later I am sure I'll be telling myself to toughen up and will probably be listening to this.

Death From Above 1979 - Romantic Rights

It'll all be okay, won't it?