Kings of Convenience – Declaration of Dependence

Um. Okay. This is one of two reviews I wrote for an online magazine, which for some reason I never bothered investigating, never got published. Probably because my no-nonsense, all truth, all the time writing style was too close to the bone for them, maaan. What squares. So instead, I shall publish it here. Read on!

Around 5am on Comedy Central (née Paramount Comedy), they sometimes show “comedy” “shorts”. Most of these are as awful as you’d expect, usually amounting to nothing more than Gina Yashere miraculously managing to be less funny in a sketch than in her awful stand-up. One set of sketches, however, always manages to keep me amused: “Bridge Over Memory Lane with Simon & Garfunkel”. It’s not that it has any particularly funny lines, but it’s fantastic at conveying the passive-aggressive hatred that stews between Paul and Art. And passive-aggressive hatred is always funny – just ask my family!

Radio Bile: “Korg don’t make those kinds of organs.”

I don’t mean to complain, or make excuses for the complete lack of posts here, but seriously: I did not expect to get this many hours in my job. Admittedly, it’s hardly the hardest job in the world – I’m putting kids’ clothes on hangers, and hangers on rails, but still, you’re lucky to even get this Radio Bile out of me.

They say “familiarity breeds contempt”, but the more I hear that phrase, the more I dislike it. And not just because I’m a pathetic, desperate contrarian idiot – the phrase is wrong.

Wrong.

Familiarity doesn’t breed contempt. It breeds comfort, warmth, and eventually nostalgia. New things are awful, and potentially dangerous, and sometimes have questionable odours. Shun new things. Avoid them. Instead, you should wrap yourself in the comfortable blanket of the safe and familiar, and softly hum yourself into a dreamless sleep every night for the rest of your life.

And that’s your lot, until I find the time and energy to write about Mass Effect, Shadow of the Colossus, and whatever else I’ve forgotten to write about.

Radio Bile: “Let’s cut to the chase: I made a crap band cry.”

Left it a little late to link to Radio Bile this week. Put it down to laziness and/or… Um… It’s probably just laziness. Still, the thingy looks like this:

Two music matters that I was forced to care about this week: my review of Sweethead’s album, which went up yesterday, and the power of my words. I know that sounds horribly self-deluded, but come on, I’m a music critic: it’s fair to say that as a group, music critics are 45% ego, 45% English degree, and 10% hair. And anyway, I was made to consider the negative power of my words, so it was actually quite a harrowing experience, thank you very much. Let’s cut to the chase: I made a crap band cry. With a review on this very website.

So that’ll do for now. Go read that, and then come back later, when I’ll have thought of something to say about something.

Sweethead – “Sweethead”

I’ve reviewed these guys before. I liked them. I really liked them. But they don’t like me – no, instead they released a fairly staid album, possibly containing one song repeated one… two… twelve times! Luckily, it’s a good enough song, but it’s still pretty underwhelming. Disappointed, I begin this new review like this:

I sure hope the record company suit who decided it’d be a good idea to release Sweethead’s debut album in early November is picking bullet fragments out of his own navicular bone right now. Sweethead, if you didn’t know, are the side project of Queens of the Stone Age’s multi-purpose axeman, Troy Van Leeuwen. The very same Troy Van Leeuwen whose QOTSA cohort, Josh Homme, chose to release his side project (a little-known group called Them Crooked Vultures – look ‘em up, and remember, you heard it here first, yes sir) in early November. There’s no way Sweethead are getting any of the QOTSA-side-project attention. It’s a little bit like if John The Baptist had come back from the dead the same week as Jesus, or All Saints reforming the same week as Sleater-Kinney, or a street magician doing his best trick while another guy moons a constable. Everyone’s looking the other way, guys.

So you should already be reading the full thing, right? Go on, click the quote. Dooooo it.

Radio Bile: “Unendingly, gruesomely stupid, like a lobotomised, shaved badger”

Eagle-eyed Twitter users can play a fun game with this week’s Radio Bile: note all the jokes I came up with last night, and ended up using again in this article. I didn’t say it was a fun game. Also, please try not to take the first bit too personally, even though I wrote it with you in mind. You.

People are stupid. Unendingly, gruesomely stupid, like a lobotomised, shaved badger – every last one of us a fetid, gormless lump of uselessness.

I apologise for the crass generalisation there, but really, it needed to be said. And really, I should have said it in big bold letters: a collection of blithe, oblivious pixels, squatted thoughtlessly right there on your screen, taunting the entire laughable idea of your pointless existence. A person is just a massive stockpile of meat and sweat, given two arms and an ugly face, granted the ability to totter around meaninglessly by the aimless dalliances of evolution, and cursed to be forever incapable of anything resembling intelligent thought in large groups. People are stupid. Stupid stupid stupid.

YOU.

Ham Sandwich – Whelan’s, Dublin (7/11/09)

Ham Sandwich once more rocked my socks right out of my shoes last night. According to the Laws of Sock Rocking Beats, I documented it for ZME. It starts with words resembling the following:

And to think that some people are still deluded enough to believe that U2 are Ireland’s premier live band.

I don’t know if it’s sheer media saturation that’s perpetuated that myth, or just widespread ignorance, but it needs to be stamped out post-haste. Bono can take his impossibly huge stage monstrosities and stick them where the streets have no name; Ham Sandwich have claimed the crown so wrongly placed on Hewson’s overinflated noggin, and painted it neon. Let me make myself perfectly clear: a Ham Sandwich gig is a splendid thing to witness.

I may come across as less of an objective reviewer, and more of a preening fanboy with a dictionary. In reality, both are true.

Radio Bile: “The EMAs should have gone bigger. Better. Bummier.”

Another week, another Radio Bile. This time music awards shows are in the crosshairs, as I lambast them for being boring and stupid. And suggest some ideas on how they could liven them up. You might not want to read this with anyone judgmental around.

So, apparently, the 16th MTV European Music Awards “went down” on Thursday. Did you notice? I didn’t – I was preoccupied with more relevant, pressing matters, like noticing that ooh, it’s getting quite cold this time of year, and hey, I need a shave. Of course, the fact that these two realisations came in quick succession meant that my addled brain became quite confused, and I ended up shaving my woolly fleece. Live and learn, I guess.

Anyway, at time of writing (3pm on Friday afternoon, thanks for asking), the biggest story to emerge from the EMAs is the complete lack of interesting stories. The biggest controversy was some nonsense about MTV building a “wall” in “Berlin” to cordon off some space for a U2 performance. Oh wow. I’ve had more interesting comas (NOTE: a lie). When – well, I suppose if – we get televised footage of Bono and Jay-Z goose-stepping back and forth across the wall, let me know, then I’ll summon up a grudging interest.

Now go leave a comment, my lovelies.

Bon Jovi: The Circle

Yeah, I’m a pretty big Bon Jovi fan. Wanna fight about it? I don’t. But I did want to review their new album, The Circle. So I did. It looks a little bit like this.

There are two possible scenarios that come to mind when I try to picture a Bon Jovi songwriting session. Obviously, Jon Bon Jovi and Richie Sambora are there. They’re probably joined by their co-writer of choice – say, Desmond Child or Billy Falcone or whoever – and they’re brainstorming ideas for a spanking new set of songs. Scenario one features Richie holding a guitar (idly playing some blues runs that will never, ever make it onto another Bon Jovi album) as Jon’s face slowly erupts into a blinding grin: he has an idea. And it’s a good ‘un. “Hey guys: how about we pick a subset of middle America to patronise?” Last time around, it was country music fans. This time, it’s the working class and the newly-unemployed.

Scenario two is that these songs are Bon Jovi’s genuine attempt to connect with the average Working Joe. I’m not sure which scenario is more depressing.

I enjoy imagining things.

Radio Bile: “Some Ridiculously Ill-Formed Notion of Thought Policing”

Look, I’m sorry. I’ll have something about Broken Sword written this week, I promise. Possibly. In the meantime, here’s the latest Radio Bile column.

Spending too much time thinking about anything in particular is dangerous. So dangerous, it should quite possibly be illegal. Giving any amount of extended thought to anything rarely leads to a good outcome. Imagine if Hitler hadn’t been allowed enough “thought-space” to write Mein Kampf – wouldn’t that be wonderful? Hitler’s awful, demented thought process, brutally cut off before it could develop into an insane quest for Lebensraum, all because of some ridiculously ill-formed notion of thought policing. Also, imagine if Nick Griffin’s parents hadn’t been allowed contemplate conceiving for long enough to “make” Nicky.

Overthinking things can have effects on a scale less far-reaching than horrible racist political thingies, too. Reviewing, for example, is a dangerous game to get too involved in. Spend too much time evaluating anything, be it music, cars, hippos, or webcomics, and soon enough, you won’t be able to look at a hippo without thinking “Hmmm, that’s more of a 6/10.”

Wordythinks: Episode 3 – Musical Musings

Another podcast for you, my luvverlies. This time, myself and the goodly David “Coyote Trax” Kirk eschew the fabulous, mystical lands of the webcomics, foregoing the opportunity to capitalise on his new WordPress website, and instead focus our steely gazes on the dripping, soggy carcass of the music biz. Under our critical eye this time:

• Pearl Jam’s Backspacer, and why we demand better from the bands we take for granted
• Soulsavers’ Broken, and why Greg Dulli was probably right to have a hissy fit
• My swish new Radio Bile columns over at ZME
• Rum. We love rum

It’s a circuitous, depressing listen, certainly. Anyway, take a gander at the RSS feed, the iTunes feed, or the straight MP3 feed, and feast on it to your heart’s content. And please do tell your family and friends how excellent and informative the podcast was, even if you’re lying.