Thursday, 3 November 2011

02:59 - A thousand voices - Track Review - Paper Sailors by BLOOD BLOOD

BLOOD BLOOD is solo moniker of Glasgow based low-fi artist David Gywnne. A prolific fellow who specialises in conducting DIY symphonies using battered organs, decrepit synths, broken guitars and skittery malfunctioning cha-cha drum patterns to create mini multilayered vocal universes .

Paper Sailors is his latest little world brought to life. A lovely song that ebbs and flows like a tide with warm dreamlike synths, fragile vocals and an ever present hint of sadness. Enjoy.

Paper Sailors (better mix) by BLOOD BLOOD

Monday, 24 October 2011

15:42 - The horror, the horror, the horror.... Preview - BEEF PRESENT HUORATRON

Friday 28 October - Chambre69 Glasgow

This Friday marks the return of Glasgow's techno gruesome twosome in the shape of B*E*E*F presents HUORATRON@ CHAMBRE69

Befitting the tone of an All-hallows Eve weekend, intrepid techno-naughts IAMBLIP and Ross "The Kid" have sought out Finnish electro-sadist HUORATRON to headline a night of hard, heavy-handed splatter horror for all the family.

Playing his first ever Scottish headline slot, described as "That fucking beardy, bald maniac" and building a sonic assault from the tortured squeals of mutilated 8-bit circuitry, The New Judas Collective's favourite son will aim to decimate your hearing with an ear splitting live set that rewards and punishes in equal measures.

Backed by residents at large IAMBLIP and THE KID chucking out the sort of techno that would make grown men weep, it may be advisable to save yourself time and preemptively smash your face in with a claw-hammer before attending...

BEEF Facebook event page

Friday 28th October, Chambre69
11pm - 3am
£10 (Bring Your Own Claw Hammer)

Monday, 10 October 2011

Cup of Coffee in the big time.

This is Macho Man Randy Savage circa 1987 - Quite clearly completely oot of his box on Columbian dandruff and giving to my mind, the single greatest sports interview of all time.

In any sport.


1987 - The days when a man could be a drug addled lunatic and a champion.

12:37 The Importance of Being Incredulous.

Friday 7th October 2011 - The Importance of Being Ernest, East Kilbride Arts Centre

• John (Jack) Worthing- David Kirkwood
• Algernon Moncrieff- Conor Meechan
• Lady Bracknell- Vikki England
• Cecily Cardew- Claire Marshall
• Gwendolen Fairfax- Joanne Cochrane
• Miss Prism- Mags White
• Lane- Matthew Quinn
• Merriman- Daniel Cropp

Last weekend at the invitation of a friend, your humble narrator braved the grim surroundings and weather of his (un)beloved home(new)town to take in a night of breaking legs and treading boards. A common Friday night pastime in East Kilbride one would imagine, there is however more than meets the eye.  A trivial comedy for serious people to be exact in shape of Oscar Wilde's "The Importance of Being Ernest" staged at the East Kilbride Arts Centre by local theatre group Studio 32.

Before I continue - a confession.
As much as I am aware of the delightful Mr Wilde's tale of confused identities, salacious Victorian satire, cucumber sandwiches and incredulous "handbag line" deliveries I have never actually read the play all the way through. I had watched the 1952 film however many eons ago, and remember it being as dry and fun as eating a bucket of sand.  Friday night's performance however, sparkled with an energy and a rapport between the young cast that brought the rapid and at times hilariously funny dialogue to life.
David Kirkwood and Connor Meechan excelled as the caddish men about town Jack "Ernest" Worthington and Algernon "Ernest" Moncrieff who use grand deception and buffoonery in an attempt to not only butter their crumpets, but eat them also. All the while having to negotiate mistaken identity, battleaxe mother in laws, petulant fiancées, phantom siblings, handbag related child abandonment issues and a distinct failure in the art of "Bunbury-ing" to achieve their goals and find true love.
Never missing a beat, even in the face of prop malfunctions (a flying plate of cucumber sandwiches to be exact - "WELL I'M NOT GOING TO EAT THEM NOW"), the cast played up this trivial satire of Victorian society perfectly and with gusto.

Sharp, witty, funny and not for a moment taking themselves seriously.
Wilde would approve.

Wednesday, 21 September 2011

12:02 - One of the boys.

US President Barack Obama will urge his Palestinian counterpart Mahmoud Abbas to drop a bid for UN recognition of statehood later on Wednesday

Mr. Obama's transformation from super-fly hip-hop generation darling/liberal-ish thinking (for the U.S. at least) Demi-god  to just another one of "the boys" is almost complete.
Why did I think he'd be any different?

Let's be honest Mr President fucked it at the outset by promising to close Guantanamo  Bay and then erm... not (at time of writing.) while also signing an executive order that set into law the already existing practice on Guantánamo of holding detainees indefinitely without charge.  Hunting down and summarly executing Osama Bin Laden without trial compounded the fact that like everyone before he'll forgo his ideals to keep himself in power.

I couldnae gie a fuck if he's good at basketball and best pals with JAY-Z.

So much for integrity.

Tuesday, 20 September 2011

22:59 Scunnered

"Let us toast to animal pleasures, to escapism, to rain on the roof and instant coffee, to unemployment insurance and library cards, to absinthe and good-hearted landlords, to music and warm bodies and contraceptives... and to the ‘good life,’ whatever it is and wherever it happens to be." ~ Hunter S. Thompson

Saturday, 17 September 2011

13:57 The People's Democratic Republic of Zuckerberg

Here's a wee revelation for a Saturday - Facebook is a telescreen.

Sorry to break it to you but it is.


Not even a wee bit of a fact - One of those huge stonewallers like "stepping in front of a high speed train will result the messy and instant cessation of life" (and a rather large and unpleasant cleaning job for the poor bloke with the pressure washer back at the station).

It's a fact that a ridiculously large and growing number of people seem to paper over while they gleefully post every single facet of their life in GLORIOUS Technicolour for everyone else to pour over like a creepy voyeur.  

Likes, Dislikes, Work, information, sexual preferences, religious beliefs,  films you like, music, sports, where you are, what you're doing, who you're with, pictures, videos, what you think, what you thought yesterday, what you'll be thinking tomorrow.... all constant. 

A big stream of information spreading out on a web to everyone you've ever known. We give this information up freely to the big Telescreen for scrutiny. Orwell would be fucking astounded. 

Remember back in the day when you could leave school/a job/the country and not have to see people you didn't want to see any more? GONE. People now add you on Facebook because you went to school in the same year as you and remember your name. Even if didn't speak to them. Or like them. Or knew that they existed. 

You have a friend request from that auld dear that served you a stake bake in Greggs on Union Street that one time back in March. You feel obliged to accept -why?

Now you know every single facet of every person you have ever interacted with's life played out in real time right down to the frequency, constancy, colour and size of their bowel movements.

Call me old fashioned but this has taken the magic out of human interaction a wee bit. 

Like when that wee tit with the mask went round spoiling all of magic's greatest illusions by showing the viewer every step in minute detail.

What people mostly post on Facebook is not actually reality anyway. It's a bizarre augmented reality. A game of oneupmanship played out to show everybody else on your we how great your life is/will be, how cool you are, how great your friends/partner/dog is. 

We all guilty of this posting guff up.

I am as guilty as anyone else though, I have a Facebook and use it regularly. I fully understand it's akin to wanking in front of a mirror  while making a conference call to everyone you know and describing every last detail. Yet I don't stop. Nobody does.

I love blogging though. I feel like i'm more likely to post stuff that matters to me on this wee blog, be more honest and generally have something to say. Plus it's not instantly connected to an ultranet of everyone i ever have met for dissemination and dissection.  There's so many millions of blogs out there that my presence here is teeny.

It's like shouting out my window at the top of my voice - someone randomly walking by might hear it, look and wonder what the fuck I'm up to, perhaps a couple of close pals will hear but that's aboot it. Unless i want people to know. 

And I kinda like that.