keresaspa: (Cartman)
Hell, even I think I've been away too often recently. The joys of growing up in a warzone, I suppose. And let it be known too that the following load of old rambling nonsense should have been published yesterday but my internet provider decided to give me a day of no service just to remind me who the boss is. Thanks as ever Virgin Media, I would denounce you as vermin but recent events have drawn me closer to that class of creature. Intrigued? Didn't think so but read on anyway, it's good for chilblains.

Read more... )
keresaspa: (Nina looking a tad pertubed)
Nothing quite like this time of year to bring the vermin out is there, be it the drunken scum littering the streets from the early afternoon or the filthy politicians rewarding their cronies with their plastic "honours". Pah, they can stuff this particular arbitrary date in the calendar where the sun doesn't shine as far as I'm concerned. But I've established my own tradition for this specific date and I must keep it going regardless so:

Keresaspa's top 100 artists of the year )

Paris

Aug. 29th, 2015 11:07 pm
keresaspa: (Seagull)
Hello you *waves*. Yeah, just back from Paris and that, which, of course, means I have to go on at length about the last week. Apologies in advance if this gets a bit incoherent but you should all be used to that by now.

Lundi )

Mardi )

Mercredi )

Jeudi )

Vendredi )
keresaspa: (Foster and Allen)
Apparently they've only gone and made Esther Rantzen a Dame. So is that for service to cover-ups, services to rank hypocrisy or services to the cosmetic dentistry sector? God, I know those awards are a load of pap but are they seriously reduced to giving damehoods to the likes of Rancid these days? Like she's not bloody insufferable enough as it is.

Still, who cares, it's the final day of the year and so, to the interest of nobody whatsoever, I must do this.

Top 100 artists listened to this year )
keresaspa: (Albert Gladstone Trotter)
2013, eh? What a year! All this new stuff happened, a bunch of old stuff stopped happening and a load of other stuff continued happening. Crazy! There'll never be another year the same, although every year will probably be a bit like it in that there'll be earthquakes and chaffinches and carbon dioxide and outbreaks of drizzle and quarks and all that other stuff that every year is packed with. You know, fifty years from now if somebody comes up to me and says "remember 2013?" I'll say, well nothing as I'll be in the cold, cold ground by then. Mind you, were my corpse able to talk I'm sure it would say "piss off. What's the meaning of coming to my grave just to ask about indiscriminate years? Bloody nuisance!"

Still, New Year's Eve! Just think, this time a year ago the earth had completed one less transit of the sun but, now as if by magic, it is back in the same arbitrary place in space as it was then, give or take the bit we have to make up with leap years. Momentous isn't the word for it. It's been a whole 2,014 years since somebody started a new calendar based on a miscalculation about the birth of our Jesus so obviously the only answer is to go mad, drink your own bodyweight in alcohol and join hands with strangers in an unusual manner whilst singing a Robert Burns poem whose lyrics you don't quite know. Those who had a bad time in 2013 can look forward to 365 days of unmitigated bliss in the coming year, because as we all know that's how life works, plus we get to make new year's resolutions as January 1 is officially the only day you can decide to stop eating so many biccy-wicks. My resolution is to be the first man to climb Mount Everest. I'm sure I'll manage it before those pesky Norwegians get there first.

So a guid new year to ae and aw. It's been probably the single most important year in history containing the numbers 2, 0, 1 and 3 (in that order) and we'll never ever forget it, barring the onset of Alzheimer's disease.

And now, because I demanded it, I will keep up my annual tradition by recording for posterity the 100 musical artists whose works I listened to most in this twelvemonth. Read it and weep. Though leave the weeping to the end as it will interfere badly with your vision.

Here it is )

It's over

Dec. 31st, 2012 08:54 pm
keresaspa: (Fletch)
Another random date in a calendar, therefore another apparent occasion. Had I been born a Jew, a Muslim, a Hindu, an Iranian or a Chinese man today would have little significance. When you think about it doesn't have any particular significance even in the Christian calendar as 2012 and 2013 are two fairly unimportant run of the mill years. 2012 had its up and downs but I'll sure as hell be glad not to hear the word Titanic or the phrases "our time, our place", "Diamond Jubilee" or "London Olympics" ever again. Still, I suppose tradition dictates that I must wish a happy new year to my millions and millions of fans out there in internetland.

And now in a further tradition that I started last year (and purely for my own amusement so you can slip out now) I shall record the top 100 musical artists that I listened to this year.

Fun, if you like that sort of thing! )
keresaspa: (James Connolly)
The early evening after the night before brings a sort of sluggishness, not helped by the fact that I am confined to barracks by the morons in sashes tramping up and down and by the unrelated fact that I have been nursing a general pain in my whole belly area for the last few days. As such I am unable to take advantage of the great new state of affairs that sees the Orange Order allowing shops to open for a few hours whilst they are at the field (apparently I missed the meeting where control of this dump was handed over to them) although I doubt that I would have anyway as my lack of a car combined with the nonexistence of public transport today means that I cannot imagine a way in which I could have got there and back without getting my head kicked in by the English Defence League, Combat 18 or some other squad of mouth breathers attracted by "Orangefest". I could go off on a grand missive about it but that noggling pain has removed my will to care and I have instead resolved to register my displeasure by listening to Wolfe Tones songs and frowning a lot. Dead hard me!

Anyway, I'll move on to the recent meme doing the rounds that I posted a few weeks back but which I shall now return to with the letter 's' courtesy of [livejournal.com profile] clytemenstra. You know the score about asking for letters by now so I'll crack on.

Sturnin Bread by Lulu's Marble: Wonderful piece of Japanese nonsense featuring that "mammy's little baby loves strawberry jam" refrain over a basic garage rock riff with lots of screaming. The band are long defunct following the untimely death of their singer but this remains an absolute classic, albeit one that I can find nowhere on the internet. So if you know where I can get it do let me know as there is a wumpeechoo for whoever can find it.

Siege of Yaddlethorpe by Amazing Blondel: Crumhorn-heavy noodling from the prog folk greats who really should have had more of an impact than they did. Not unlike Gryphon, this is how mediaeval and Renaissance revival music should be done.

Sunny Came Home by Shawn Colvin: I was going to say that Shawn is perhaps a bit outside my normal taste but given my previous statements regarding Dar Williams that is maybe not the case after all. Rather like Ms. Williams "As Cool As I Am" this song oddly reminds me of my early to mid teens when it was frequently on Radio 2 in my house. Still a fine piece of work to this day, dealing with somebody going nuts and torching the house.

Somebody Save Me by Krypteria: Sometimes you just can't beat a slice of female-fronted symphonic metal and this is a fine example from the German outfit (perhaps the only genre of music the Germans do consistently well). And it has honestly nothing to do with the fact that they have a drool-worthy Korean singer ;)

She was Poor But She was Honest by Billy Bennett: "Almost a Gentleman" was one of the grand old men of the music halls and this was his finest hour in which he launches into the injustices of wealth inequality. OK I'm reading a little more into it than is actually present but it is still a grand old music hall song and there is still an anti-rich message in there so I salute my comrade.

I really should have picked "Sash, the" as one of my choices, shouldn't I? In a pig's eye I should've!
keresaspa: (Salma Hayek)
Despite the weather Dublin proved a nice little break. Managed to get down without any trouble, although the sky was threatening snow from the word go and sure enough it finally broke loose by the time I was in Grafton Street. This was an unfortunate occurrence as I was staying at the far end of O'Connell Street, although the close at hand location of the International Bar solved the problem. In spite of this a good day spending money I don't have was had nonetheless. The music shops in particular proved more productive than I had remembered and it was a pleasant surprise to see that Tower Records had a prog section. Put it this way, you would wait a long time before turning up one of Ange, Banco del Mutuo Soccorso, Shiva's Headband and Steamhammer in all of Belfast, let alone in one shop. Add in a collection of obscure of French prog from the same shop and albums by Ivor Cutler, the Exploited, the Anti-Nowhere League, Conflict, a Wolfe Tones best of that includes their rebel songs (impossible to get in Belfast from anybody except Sinn Fein) and a Trojan box set for a couple of nicker from various other places and I was quite the happy bunny. Some fine panatelas were also obtained, which is always nice. I was eventually able to make it back in between breaks in the weather and stopping off in boozers (where I had to negotiate the tricky proposition of trying to understand a west of Ireland accent after I got talking to a Nottingham Forest-supporting Galway man in the smoking section of the Temple Bar) but that was me hemmed in for the night as sleet was falling from then on. Got home no problem as yesterday was actually quite a pleasant day weather-wise although the same can hardly be said of today. So far Belfast had avoided all but the most cursory flecks of snow but today a sustained fall has been endured, leaving a blanket of the white stuff behind it. Not a good situation at all as what little enthusiasm I ever had for snow (and even as a child I was no big fan) has long disappeared and I now see it as merely a terrible inconvenience that forces you to stay at home whether you want to or not. Not for me the home-made sledge or that ghastly Americanism that is the "snow angel". Nope, snow is cold and painful and hateful and the sooner it goes the better!
keresaspa: (Foster and Allen)
You can't beat a bit of Turko-Tatar crossover. I mention this only because I have recently laid my hands on an album featuring the talents of Burhan Öçal and Enver Izmailov (doesn't he look dinky in his dickey?!) and I feel the need to share it with a discerning bunch of men (and women) about town such as your good selves. My passion for world music continues to increase with age, even if I accept that Azerbaijani squeezebox music is an acquired taste. Good fun all round and amazing what you can pick up if you look hard enough. An original copy of the Wolfe Tones' "Let the People Sing" (featuring some of the weirdest facial hair known to man)* just adds to the joy.

Anyway, I'll leave with one thought: I have no particular opinion of Richard Hammond (unlike that pompous git Clarkson and his toady James May) but, like Steve Irwin before him, if you take the risks eventually you're going to come a cropper.

*It's not too easy to see in that photo but the porn star in the sun glasses does have a long straggle of hair hanging down from each side of his chin and nothing whatsoever in between. The Wolfe Tones - comrades one and all but still the band that taste forgot!

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