Thinking Aloud

If Blur retire right now (or after the two Hyde Park knees-ups unless they somehow manage to blow those) they stand a good chance of being canonized. Mostly for lack of really exciting new mainstream acts than due to sounding better than they did ten or fifteen years ago. Talk about publicity and good timing.
Good as the lads are and always have been , it would be extremely sad to see this particular band overpraised a la Radiohead. Wouldn't suit them at all. Especially seeing as they might actually have at least one more decent record in them.
It's funny how people (and, more embarrassingly still, media people) 'suddenly' realise the most obvious of things, i.e. that Springsteen can be quite cheesy and naff. Or that Albarn can't really sing - at least he's not dropping those h's in 'happen', which used to be really, really, really annoying.
And, as a sidenote, Glasvegas are even more rubbish live than they are on record (which is a bit of a feat) and seem to be getting progressively more mind-numbingly dreary at that. Perhaps they should consider retiring rather than Blur, possibly together with O... all right, I'll spare you that one.

Some underrated and/or underexposed artists are so blatantly good they tend to inspire a feeling of monumental injustice that come free with living on planet Earth. In a perfect world White Rabbits should be making the likes of Vampire Weekend, not to mention the host of exponentially less talented landfill-indie scenesters, overdose on Prozac or drink themselves to death on Red Bull in a bout of impotent envy. In the real world, most people seem content to be snapping up the latest offerings by U2, Oasis and, in particularly severe (but, sadly, apparently not terminal) cases, the Pigeon Detectives.
For this reason I faintly suspect White Rabbits could do with a bit of introduction. ( More rabbiting on about their brilliance )
Speaking of XL, The Golden Silvers' debut, the True Romance LP is exhilaratingly accomplished and showcases that smart & lush strain of indie which has, strangely, not yet been dubbed 'Damonpop' by the media and is essentially (though hardly surprisingly) the antithesis of what has long been dubbed Noelrock in critical parlance (Kasabian and The Enemy being its chief current exponents).
As their name suggests, The Golden Silvers are gloriously exuberant, facetious just enough to be charming and good enough to take the odd comparison to Spandau Ballet as an insult, for their shifting retro-ish sound is too wittily knowing to be nostalgia-inducing and succeeds in borrowing the more appealing elements from each era the boys choose to plunder. They manage to tread the fine line between disco and cheesy, work camp as high trash not high art and do Britpop with a flourish that doesn't make you start looking out cautiously for Phil Daniels. That the eponymous lead single from The Golden Silvers' album sounds in places remarkably like their labelmates The Magistrates' Make It Work is not going to work in the latter's favour upon the release of their debut long-player but with a mentor like theirs they are already next to infallible by association in the eyes of music journos. A compulsory slagging-off from the Gallagher brothers should complete their rite of passage as an aspiring English pop group.

P.S. Perhaps I should consider resurrecting (or should that be disinterring?) weekly_hunt. Of course, it's not my wish alone that matters. OK, that was a broad enough hint.

Hmm-m-m-madness. As if in answer to my previous blog post Madness have been announced as headliners of the Mag-which-is-not-to-be-named open-air party in August.
Now, in most known universes Madness are not generally considered to be Britain's greatest gift to music but then Moscow is not renowned for the greatest outdoor music fests, in galaxies known or unknown. The Camden lads may no longer be exactly lads but neither are The Specials whom I actually prefer and it's not my fault the two have been cited together for twenty-odd years as the 'poppy and 'cool' faces of English ska repectively hopefully they have some more years to go until the official retirement age for pop/rock performers (not that they will retire once they actually hit it, not in the credit crunch times).
The above rant may sound like defeatist autosuggestion but I honestly do think Madness are a fun band with a good melodic sensibility and a thing for houses (not of the 'very big' and 'in the country' variety, though).
For this reason, Is anyone else up for this? (You'll have plenty of time to change your mind there and back later.)

P.S. On a purely self-indulgent note, Madness's forthcoming gig has also provided for a subject line that serves as a perfect companion piece to this one. I wonder how many of you can tell which (older) film it's taken from (it happens to be a closing line as well). I mean, if you can't name the first one I'm off to Vietnamese swamps for the rest of my life.

So many godawful bands have announced their Moscow gigs over the past few days it feels like we're the world's dumping ground for scrap nu-metal (well, not exclusively that but nu-metal is just about the ultimate lame excuse for releasing records).
How about some half-decent acts for a change, eh? Early Noughites are not the sort of memories to be gladly relived, musically or otherwise. Someone apparently forgot to tell that to Eminem.

I must confess that over the past week or so I've been listening - in a totally non-obsessive way, mind you - to The Horrors' second LP effort, Primary Colours. Whether the album has been proverbially difficult remains a moot (and largely irrelevant) point.
Much less dubitable is the fact that the British music press hasn't been so collectively agitated about a band's sonic makeover since Blur went supposedly lo-fi (i.e. duly ditched the oompahs and adopted a dodgy American accent), or since Blur went supposedly experimental (i.e. recruited William Orbit and a gospel choir), or since Blur said they didn't actually mind Oasis existing on the same planet as them...well, you get the idea. The main difference is that at the time of said metamorphoses Blur were really massive and didn't suck nearly as much as The Horrors did circa their debut (that is not to say that Blur's own first record wasn't proper rubbish, which it was).
To The Horrors' credit, they won most of the accolades for Primary Colours before divulging that Damon Albarn (aka 'Blur? What Blur? Ah, you mean that Blur...yeah, they were not bad, innit?') had a secret cameo on one of the tracks, which is the surest way of boosting your artistic cred with Pavlov-trained critics who start drooling at the mere mention of the indie demigod (in the hope of securing an 'exclusive' interview, no doubt).
While I generally know better than rave about every act Damon likes - and he clearly has a penchant for his labelmates, The Horrors being case in point - the mysterious non-vocal cameo is partly what made me give Primary Colours more than a perfunctory listen (the enigma is yet to be solved though it's fairly safe to say it's not him responsible for that beautiful bassline on Sea Within A Sea ). Therefore I can claim with some authority that the album is a grower, makes for a good crepuscular soundtrack and it gets progressively less infuriating once you've resigned yourself to the idea that arduously paying tribute (or blatantly ripping off, if you prefer) Can, Neu! and just about every other krautrock band as well as Joy Division (a de rigueur influence for aspiring 'serious' indie outfits) is as good as mainstream psychedelia is going to get this year, possibly this decade. Too bad I've never been tempted to worship Ian Curtis and co (in fact, I rather favour the co) because I feel I'd like The Horrors a lot more with less sepulchral vocals (and even Albarn - not the greatest singer by any means - could tell the frontman there's no shame in trying to keep in tune).
Another interesting fact I couldn't help but observe is that the third album and not the second is proving to be the 'difficult' one for an increasing number of bands. Franz, Razorlight and the Chiefs (crucify me but the latter two did have some smashing tunes so it's them over the Enemy, White Lies or even the Artic Monkeys for me, please) have all in the recent months released lacklustre to spectacularly vapid (in Razorlight's case) third LPs. Which does not exactly buck the lasting trend best (if ill-advisedly) summed up by the Kaisers . Kind of horrifying, indeed.

If you've been browsing Livejournal lately, and since you're reading this I presume you guilty as charged, you might be vaguely aware that Kula Shaker are playing Moscow tomorrow night (or tonight, to be technically precise).
Now let me ask you this: who in this country - and I'm talking about Russia - would subject themselves to two hours of sonic assault by Kula Shaker? Kula freaking Shaker? To put an even more urgent question: how many people east of the British Isles suspect Kula Shaker can be anything other than a naff ready-to-drink cocktail?
If you're not in that knowledgeable minority, Kula Shaker were a rather embarrassing sideshow to the not-so-spectacular demise of the Britpop scene, who managed to shift a shitload of records of their debut album K before landing themselves waist-deep in the shit with a string of eye-opening remarks on the Hindu philosophy and Hitler's sartorial taste. (Therein lies a lesson to all popstar wannabes: publicly wishing death upon rival musicians (particularly if they belong to a higher social class than you) is okay, joking about the swastika - be it of the Hindu or the Nazi variety - is not.)
Alleged Nazi sympathising, however, was the least of Kula Shaker's crimes (Madness, Morrissey anyone?). No amount of sitar noodling and mangled Sanskrit could hide the mind-boggling atrociousness of their songs that made Oasis sound like the band they so desperately wanted to be mistaken for (in case you're not sure which one, its name does in fact start with a 'b').
Granted, abysmal quality of the music has never stopped artists from enjoying a ridiculously large following. This is especially true of today's recession-fuelled nostalgia when lots of the more cloth-eared punters are ready and all too willing to fork out their loaned cash on a gig of a newly reunited band which features none of the original members - or on that Queen+Paul Rogers extravaganza. In this light, the whole Britpop revival business looks like reasonable camp-and-nostalgia value for money.
What's genuinely baffling is that I find it incredibly to believe that Kula Shaker's Moscow gig could conceivably bring back anyone's teenage memories - mostly because they never made much of an impact the first time around (and that's being really generous). My guess is we should soon be - well, not exactly expecting, more like resigning ourselves to the thought of - visits from Menswe@r and Shed Seven. Considering that a couple of years back  The Bluetones apparently filled a medium-sized venue over here, my tongue is more behind the gritted teeth than deeply in cheek.
Nostalgia for things we never had is becoming an increasingly attractive proposition now that we can party like it's whatever year you like.
While we're on the subject of reunions, let's for a second move on to the major leagues. Whereas I never cared much for the Roses, I do hope to God Morrissey and Marr will further retain their dignity and presence of mind in refusing to exhume the corpse of The Smiths. I wouldn't mind Pavement getting back together, though - they could very well still be up, if not quite mad, for it.

I've been wondering for quite a while: just how overweening must I come across as in my blog posts? Perhaps obnoxiously so, which is not strictly true of my real character (as I 'objectively' judge it, at least) - and probably snobbish to boot, which I am emphatically not.
Talking about conceit - does anyone know which twee indie song goes 'I love my arrogance'', presumably in the verses? Heard it once in a shop, been looking for it ever since, mostly because the lyrics.Our mutual best friend returns no hits of any relevance whatsoever so if you happen to have clue what this might be, help is much appreciated.

A certain British paper thinks Russia should export the bulk of its classic theatre heritage to Albion. Not the worst of ideas, to be honest, but barely do Brits realise their luck of being denied the dubious pleasure of seeing the collected works of Ostrovsky transferred to the stage - or even being made aware of their existence.
That said, I (rather understandably) haven't had occasion - or the desire - to read his plays in English, though I highly doubt it's the language that makes them particularly unwatchable. Still, even Ostrovsky is infinitely preferable to contemporary Russian artists - or contemporary British artists (as in YBAs aka MBAs), for that matter. More on this subject some other time.

(Yet another) Note to self: Never read the lists of personal favourites in other people's profiles - few things are more depressing than this. A very strong argument for loathing social networking it is, too.
Not to mention the blatant stereotyping it inevitably involves since few people care to explain whether they are displaying defiant aesthetic rejection, blissfully profound ignorance or some kind of inverted snobbery in shamelessly flaunting their collection of Michael Bolton/Linkin Park/Oasis/Fergie/you-name-it records and unabashedly professing their undying love for the likes of The Notebook and Titanic and unreservedly worshipping Fight Club.
I'd be better off not knowing but the sad fact is, I do know. Not that I'm the least bit shocked, of course. But I'm certainly not happy, either. Even though it's hardly my problem...or is it?

Looks like I'll have to remember how to operate the remote - provided I find the bloody thing, that is. Nothing to be proud of, incidentally.
Oh, and in the unlikely case someone's been wondering: I haven't forgotten how to speak Russian. Apparently not how to write in it, though.