A few months ago, a friend of mine remarked that space rock is credible again.
Immediately, I had to correct him: Space rock has never been credible. It’s always been incredible.
But the point is, he only used the term “space rock” because he didn’t want to use the term “psychedelic rock”. I asked him why, and his reply was straight out of Sean of the Dead:
“Because it’s ridiculous”.
Why ridiculous? Perhaps because, now that all genres have been bent and shattered by net-born eclecticism, the term is essentially meaningless.
Nonetheless, those that must pigeonhole everything continue to strive for a solid definition.
I buy a lot of things second hand.
One of the best things about buying second hand objects is that, sometimes, you find something unexpected on the inside.
I’m not talking about rat kings, dead crows, or strange glowing homunculi. I’m talking about things that have been slipped inside other things and forgotten.
Actually, you won’t have the slightest bit of trouble believing what’s on this mysterious video I found at Glastonbury.
The problem is, nothing gets read these days that doesn’t have a shameless click-baity title. I fully acknowledge that I’m part of the problem. By way of recompense, let me take this opportunity to make you aware of a wonderful Twitter account entitled Saved You A Click. Everyday, they work tirelessly in the war against clickbait, and they deserve every ounce of your love, your support, and your fear.
I found the above three hour TDK VHS at Glastonbury.
Did I mention I went to Glastonbury? I’m not sure I did.
It was in a basket full of free stuff in the beatific depths of The Green Fields. Handwritten on the box, and repeated on the cassette itself, was the word “Babaji”. At the time, I was told that this was an affectionate Indian term for a grandfather.
I’ve finally had a chance to watch the video.
What was on it? The answer will SHOCK YOU.
Except it won’t. Why would it? You’re not so easily shocked.
Oh look! There’s a new tab at the top of this website!
Let’s see, what is it…music. It’s music!
Yes, I make music. And now I have a place to archive it!
There you’ll find my entire discography to date, plus links to my Bandcamp page, where you can download things.
Actually, that’s not my entire discography. Missing is an album I put out last year as The Filing Cabinets. It was the same note repeated endlessly over the course of a five disc boxset.
I’m proud of it, because it’s the first album in history that takes longer to listen to than it did to record. It’s not much fun, though. But if anyone really wants to hear it, just let me know, and I’ll send it to you.
Maybe it will one day be reissued as a lavish vinyl package, complete with unreleased tracks and remixes from such big names as Robin Tertuttle, Pernice Chyce, Pulse Wrist, Dirk Brick and Cassandra “Seismic” Lifestone.
In October, Pink Floyd are releasing their first new material in 20 years.
I have been aware of the music of Pink Floyd for as long as I can remember. It’s no exaggeration to say that they soundtrack some of my earliest memories.
I have never not liked their music. It’s always held something of a mythical quality for me, beautifully evocative of higher planes and blissful, otherworldly states of being. Sometimes the mere mention of their name is all that’s needed to transport me a little.
Since this news was announced, I’ve made a point of avoiding any and all online discussion concerning the new Pink Floyd album (which will be called The Endless River).
I’ve done this because I know how much people love to moan, and I know exactly what they’re going to be moaning about in this case. Beyond all those hopelessly tedious types who’ll wade into a discussion in the mistaken belief that people are interested in just how much they dislike a band, I anticipate that much of the discussion concerning The Endless River will centre around the idea that this isn’t a “real” Pink Floyd album.
Roger Waters isn’t involved. They’re not actually writing new songs. It’s just off-cuts from The Division Bell sessions.
Yeah yeah. The thing is, as far as I’m concerned, a new Pink Floyd album is, without question, a very good thing.
Why? Read on to find out. If you can be bothered.
UPDATE!!! UPDATE!!! UPDATE!!!
Yesterday, I posted a list of my five favourite things at Glastonbury 2014.
Item number five in that list was a moving tribute triptych of Rik Mayall.
I was brazen enough to talk about this tribute without including a single photo. That’s how little I respect my readership.
But UPDATE!!! UPDATE!!! UPDATE!!!
Now I have a photo! Along with a bonus photo of a bonus Glastonbury Rik Mayall Tribute Mural!
Earlier this week I got back from my sixth Glastonbury Festival.
The annual Glastonbury Festival of Contemporary Performing Arts is a big deal for me. As I explain over on FCK LDN, I love the darn thing so much that I’ve started to feel strangely Christmassy about the whole ruddy ordeal.
Now, I’ve already done the emotional gushing over there, so I’ll use this space to list the five best things I saw at Glastonbury 2014.
With the benefit of hindsight, I should perhaps have used my own personal blog to share the above personal ruminations, instead writing this here “review” for FCK LDN. But this gloomy place has been dormant for months now, and it could do with a bit of cheering up.
So here we go. Live on Lord Gloom, a list of the five best things at Glastonbury 2014. They’re in ascending order! I think.
God, but this week’s been depressing.
The fledgling summer has died. All the Beach Boys, High Llamas, Gorky’s Zygotic Mynci and Grateful Dead is already looking quite silly and out of place on my MP3 player.
This apocalyptic weather is, of course, a portent of doom. The shit-eating moronic ukip drones have gloated so hard at their statistically-underwhelming “victory” that the heavens have opened. A vengeful god in which I certainly no longer believe is expressing his displeasure at our apathetic nation.
You can almost hear him: “Oh, so you’re willing to invite buggery by evil through your apathy, are you? Then surely you won’t mind a little RAIN.”
It makes me long for even this time next week; when there was still possible to believe that the majority of people are inherently good; when there remained the very real possibility that Farage might die in his sleep the very night before his horrifying excuse for a party was drowned in a tide of reactionary “not on my watch” votes for the lesser of two evils.
This time last week, the world didn’t seem nearly so horrible as it seems now. After all, I had just seen Prince.
Read the full dispatch from what already feels like a more innocent time here.
After a deliciously bleak morning spent staring at the sea, we went on to explore Whitby in considerable depth.
What we found will shock you.
It won’t. It won’t shock you. But those Buzzfeed/Upworthy titles really work, and how else am I going to convince you to read on?