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To the tune of: The Durutti Column – Trust The Art Not The Artist
Fuck provenance. The joy of many modern critics seems to lie in the attribution of intention to the auteur, or at least cause to the auteur, focusing on the backstory more than the object of study; the importance of something is thus pushed back, the homunculus raised to the point of key importance, and credit or blame ascribed to this new creation instead of the creator or the piece, and so on, ad infinitum. The homunculus is to blame, no it’s the sense of ego, no [more...]
To the tune of: Stevie Wonder – Happy Birthday . It was my eleventy-first birthday on Monday. Here’s what I did.
Timestamp: 12.30 a.m. OH, what a night! A quiet drink with several friends ended with me dropping my switch card somewhere and Quintin dunking my phone in his Gulden Draak. The phone didn’t die immediately – but as the heady liquor permeated its innards it gradually flickered out of life before passing away sometime during the night – which meant my alarm didn’t go off, and hence I was late for my dental appointment, so there [more...]
To the tune of: Vivian Stanshall – Sir Henry At Rawlinson End
The story so far.
The hapless and unusual Hubert, having unhappily chanced upon Sir Henry reliving the bombing of Dresden, has received a terrific thrashing and a crippling kick in the fork. He is now in disgrace condemned to his room.
The body of Doris Hazard’s pekinese, unwittingly asphyxiated under her husband’s bottom, after a ritual two weeks in the Rawlinson refrigerator, has been given over to Old Scrotum for indecent burial under a giant marrow. This marrow is Sir Henry’s pride and on his instructions the vegetable is [more...]
There was a meme travelling my friend’s pages a couple of months ago, infecting time-rich and socially-starved brains as it went, and it was a music meme. I don’t have the musical erudition like Mister Gillen to write my life story into every song, but here’s a selection of my musical gems, shoehorned into this damn trope.
To the tune of: That Song Meme
day 01 – your favorite song Ewan MacColl – Dirty Old Town I heard it covered on the Pogues guts-sodden album Rum, Sodomy and the Lash. Ewan MacColl wasn’t his real name, and there’s a suprising [more...]
To the tune of: Kroke – Earth (Behusher Chosid)
Not Quite a Khazar
I dreamt of a musical instrument last night. I was on a train stuck between cities, heading for the engine and the drivers, and I passed a family of khazars, entertaining themselves by taking turns on it. I had to push past a shtarker in traditional dream dress, a white archaic tunic with red piping, his small flat red cap pinned to the side of his head, focussed on a lugubrious old man playing. The instrument was a like a clockwork squeezebox a cubit long with [more...]
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