Tuesday, December 30, 2008

STORM by Tim Minchin, 2008.

In a North London top floor flat,
All white walls, white carpet, white cat.
Rice paper partition, Modern art And Ambition

The host's a physician,
Lovely bloke,
Has his own practice,
His girlfriend's an actress -
An old mate of ours from home,
And they're always great fun,
So to dinner we've come -

The fifth guest is an unknown,
The hosts have just thrown us
together for a favour.
The girl's just arrived from Australia,
And she's moved to North London,
And she's a sister of someone.
Or has - some connection.

As we make introductions,
I'm struck by her beauty,
She's irrefutably fair,
With dark eyes and dark hair.
But as she sits, I admit:
I'm a little bit wary,
As I notice the tip,
Of the wing of a fairy,
Tattooed on that popular area,
Just above the derrière,
And when she says "I'm Sagittarius!"

I confess, a pigeonhole starts to form,
And is immediately filled with pigeon,
When she says her name is *Storm*

Conversation is initially bright and light-hearted,
But it's not long before Storm gets started.

"You can't know anything.
Knowledge is merely opinion."

She opines over her Cabernet Sauvignon
Some unhappily empirical comment made by me.
Not a good start I think,
We're only on pre-dinner drinks,
And across the room my wife widens her eyes,
Silently begging me "Be nice!"

A matrimonial warning,
Not worth ignoring.

I resist the urge to ask Storm,
Whether knowledge is so loose weave,
Of a morning, when deciding whether to leave,
Her apartment by the front door,
Or the window on the second floor.

The food is delicious,
And Storm whilst avoiding all meat,
Happily sits and eats,
As the good doctor slightly pissedly holds court on some anachronistic aspect of medical history.

When Storm suddenly insists:
"But the human body is a mystery
Science just falls in a hole
When it tries to explain the nature of the soul."

My hostess throws me a glance,
She, like my wife, knows there's a chance,
I'll be off on one of my rare, but fun, rants.
But I shan't, My lips are sealed,
I just want to enjoy the meal.

And although Storm is starting to get my goat,
I have no intention of rocking the boat,
Although it's becoming a bit of a wrestle,
Because, like her meteorological namesake,
Storm has no such concerns for our vessel.

Pharmaceutical companies are an enemy,
They promote drug dependency,
At the cost of the natural remedies,
That are all our bodies need,
They're immoral and driven by greed,
Why take drugs when herbs can solve it?
Why do chemicals when
Homeopathic solvents can resolve it?
I think it's time we all return to live,
With natural medical alternatives.

And try as I like,
A small crack appears in my diplomacy dyke.

By definition, (I begin)
Alternative medicine, (I continue)
Has either not been proved to work,
Or been proved, not to work.
Do you know what they call
'Alternative Medicine'
That's been proved to work?

-- Medicine

So you don't believe in any natural remedies?
On the contrary, Storm, actually,
Before we came to tea,
I took a natural remedy,
Derived from the bark of a willow tree.
It's a painkiller, virtually side-effect free.
It's got a, a weird name,
Darling, what was it again?
Baspirin? Oh, yeah -
Which I paid about a buck for,
Down at the local drugstore.

The debate briefly abates,
As my hosts collect plates.
But as they return with dessert,
Storm pertly asserts,
Shakespeare said it first:
There are more things in
Heaven and Earth,
Than exist in your philosophy
Science is just how we're trained, to look at reality,
It doesn't explain, Love or spirituality.
How does Science explain
Psychics, auras, the afterlife,
The power of prayer?

I'm becoming aware,
That I'm staring,
I'm like a rabbit suddenly trapped,
In the blinding headlights of vacuous crap.
Maybe it's the Hamlet,
She just misquothed,
Or the fifth glass of wine I just quaffed.
But my diplomacy dyke groans,
And the arsehole held back by its stones
Could be held back no more.

Look up, Storm, So I don't need to bore ya,
But there's no such thing as an aura,
Reading auras is like reading minds,
Or tea leaves, or star-signs,
Or meridian lines.
These people aren't plying a skill,
They're either lying, or mentally ill.
Same goes for people who claim
To hear God's demands,
Spiritual healers who think
They've got magic hands.
By the way, why do we think it's okay,
For people to pretend they can talk to the dead?
Isn't that totally fucked in the head?
Lying to some crying woman whose child has died,
And telling me you're in touch with the other side?
I think that's fundamentally sick.
Do I need to clarify here,
That there's no such thing as a psychic?

What are we - fucking two?
Do we actually think that
Horton heard a Who?
Do we still believe that Santa brings us gifts,
That Michael Jackson didn't have facelifts?
Or are you still so stunned
by circus tricks,
That we think the dead would
Wanna talk to pricks like John Edward?

Storm, to her credit,
Despite my derision
Keeps firing off cliches
With startling precision
Like a sniper using
Bollocks for ammunition.

You're so sure of your position,
But you're just close-minded,
I think you'll find tat
Your FAITH in science and tests,
Is just as blind as the
faith of any fundamentalists,

Wow, that's a good point,
Let me think for a bit.
Oh wait, my mistake,
That's absolute bullshit.
Science adjusts its views
Based on what's observed.
Faith is the denial of observation,
so that belief can be preserved.

If you show me that, say,
Homeopathy works,
I will change my mind,
I will spin on a fucking dime.
I'll be as embarassed as hell,
Yet I will run through the streets yelling,
Take physics and bin it!
Water has memory!
And whilst its memory
Of a long lost drop of onion juice is infinite,
It somehow forgets all the poo it's had in it.

You show me that it works,
And how it works,
and when I've recovered,
from the shock,
I will take a compass and carve
'Fancy That',
On the side of my cock.

Everyone's just staring now,
But I'm pretty pissed and I've dug this far down.
So I figure.. In for a penny, in for a pound!

Life is full of mystery, yeah,
there are answers out there.
And they won't be found,
By people sitting around,
Looking serious,
And saying: Isn't life mysterious,
Let's sit here and hope,
Let's call up the fucking Pope,
Let's go on Oprah,
And Interview Deepak Chopra.

If you must watch telly,
you should watch Scooby-Doo,
That show was so cool!
Because every time
There was a church with a ghoul,
Or a ghost in a school,
They looked beneath the mask.
And what was inside?
The fucking janitor,
or the dude who ran the water slide!
throughout history,
every mystery
ever solved,
Has turned out to be -
Not Magic!

Does the idea that
there might be knowledge frighten you?
Does the idea that
one afternoon on Wiki-fucking-pedia
Might enlighten you,
Frighten you?
Does the notion that there might not be a supernatural,
so blow your hippy noodle,
that you'd rather just stand in the fog of your
Inability to google?

Isn't this enough?
this world?

Just this
Wonderfully Unfathomable,
Natural World?

How does it so fail to hold our attention
That we have to diminish it
with the invention
of cheap man-made
myths and monsters?
If you're so into your Shakespeare,
Lend me your ear
To gild refined gold,
To paint the lily,
To throw perfume on the violet,
Is just fucking silly
Or something like that.
Or what about Satchmo?
I see trees of green,
Red roses too...

And fine, if you wish to,
Glorify Krishna and Vishnu,
In a post-colonial,
kind of way,
Whatever, That's okay.

But, here's what gives me a hard-on,
I'm a tiny, insignificant
Ignorant bit of carbon.
I have one life,
And it is short and unimportant,
But thanks to recent scientific advances...

I get to live twice as long,
As my great-great-great-great
uncleses and auntses.

Twice as long!
To live this life of mine,
Twice as long,
To love this wife of mine.
Twice as many years,
Of friends, of wine,
Of sharing curries and getting shitty,
At good looking hippies,
With fairies on their spines,
And butterflies on their titties.

And if perchance, I have offended,
Think but this, and all is mended,

We'd as well be ten minutes back in time
For all the chance you'll change your mind.

Monday, December 15, 2008

This Month I Will Mostly Be Listening To...

Download it here (scroll down to the blue Download button)

Vol. 30 December 2008

…featuring the usual recent favourites plus some hitherto missed gems from 2008

1 The Asteroids Galaxy Tour – Around the Bend
2 AC/DC – Rock n Roll Train
3 The Ting Tings – Shut Up and Let Me Go
4 The Cure – The Only One
5 MGMT – Electric Feel
6 Chemical Brothers – Keep My Composure
7 Fleet Foxes – White Winter Hymnal
8 Santogold – Les Artistes
9 Midnight Juggernauts – Into the Galaxy
10 Kings of Leon - Crawl
11 The Pretenders – Boots of Chinese Plastic
12 Simian Mobile Disco – Sport Music
13 Ida Marie – I Like You So Much Better When You’re Naked
14 Cut Off Your Hands – Happy As Can Be
15 TV On the Radio – Golden Age
16 Portugal. The Man – Lay Me Back Down
17 Glasvegas - Geraldine
18 The Fireman – Sing the Changes
19 The Futureheads – The Beginning of the Twist
20 Jeff Scott Soto & friends – We Wish You A Metal Xmas

Tuesday, November 25, 2008

Sinterklaas explained

by David Sedaris:
In France and Germany, gifts are exchanged on Christmas Eve, while
in Holland the children receive presents on December 5, in
celebration of Saint Nicholas Day. It sounded sort of quaint until
I spoke to a man named Oscar, who filled me in on a few of the
details as we walked from my hotel to the Amsterdam train station.

Unlike the jolly, obese American Santa, Saint Nicholas is painfully
thin and dresses not unlike the pope, topping his robes with a tall
hat resembling an embroidered tea cozy. The outfit, I was told, is
a carryover from his former career, when he served as a bishop in

One doesn't want to be too much of a cultural chauvinist, but this
seemed completely wrong to me. For starters, Santa didn't use to
do anything. He's not retired, and, more important, he has
nothing to do with Turkey. The climate's all wrong, and people
wouldn't appreciate him. When asked how he got from Turkey to the
North Pole, Oscar told me with complete conviction that Saint
Nicholas currently resides in Spain, which again is simply not
true. While he could probably live wherever he wanted, Santa chose
the North Pole specifically because it is harsh and isolated. No
one can spy on him, and he doesn't have to worry about people
coming to the door. Anyone can come to the door in Spain, and in
that outfit, he'd most certainly be recognized. On top of that,
aside from a few pleasantries, Santa doesn't speak Spanish. He
knows enough to get by, but he's not fluent, and he certainly
doesn't eat tapas.

While our Santa flies on a sled, Saint Nicholas arrives by boat
and then transfers to a white horse. The event is televised, and
great crowds gather at the waterfront to greet him. I'm not sure
if there's a set date, but he generally docks in late November and
spends a few weeks hanging out and asking people what they want.

"Is it just him alone?" I asked. "Or does he come with backup?"

Oscar's English was close to perfect, but he seemed thrown by a
term normally reserved for police reinforcement.

"Helpers," I said. "Does he have any elves?"

Maybe I'm just overly sensitive, but I couldn't help but feel
personally insulted when Oscar denounced the very idea as grotesque
and unrealistic. "Elves," he said. "They're just so silly."

The words silly and unrealistic were redefined when I learned that
Saint Nicholas travels with what was consistently described as "six
to eight black men." I asked several Dutch people to narrow it
down, but none of them could give me an exact number. It was always
"six to eight," which seems strange, seeing as they've had hundreds
of years to get a decent count.

The six to eight black men were characterized as personal slaves
until the mid-fifties, when the political climate changed and it
was decided that instead of being slaves they were just good
friends. I think history has proven that something usually comes
between slavery and friendship, a period of time marked not by
cookies and quiet times beside the fire but by bloodshed and
mutual hostility. They have such violence in Holland, but rather
than duking it out among themselves, Santa and his former slaves
decided to take it out on the public. In the early years, if a
child was naughty, Saint Nicholas and the six to eight black men
would beat him with what Oscar described as "the small branch of
a tree."

"A switch?"

"Yes," he said. "That's it. They'd kick him and beat him with a
switch. Then, if the youngster was really bad, they'd put him in
a sack and take him back to Spain."

"Saint Nicholas would kick you?"

"Well, not anymore," Oscar said. "Now he just pretends to kick

"And the six to eight black men?"

"Them, too."

He considered this to be progressive, but in a way I think it's
almost more perverse than the original punishment. "I'm going to
hurt you, but not really." How many times have we fallen for that
line? The fake slap invariably makes contact, adding the elements
of shock and betrayal to what had previously been plain, old-
fashioned fear. What kind of Santa spends his time pretending to
kick people before stuffing them into a canvas sack? Then, of
course, you've got the six to eight former slaves who could
potentially go off at any moment. This, I think, is the greatest
difference between us and the Dutch. While a certain segment of
our population might be perfectly happy with the arrangement, if
you told the average white American that six to eight nameless
black men would be sneaking into his house in the middle of the
night, he would barricade the doors and arm himself with whatever
he could get his hands on.

"Six to eight, did you say?"

In the years before central heating, Dutch children would leave
their shoes by the fireplace, the promise being that unless they
planned to beat you, kick you, or stuff you into a sack, Saint
Nicholas and the six to eight black men would fill your clogs
with presents. Aside from the threats of violence and kidnapping,
it's not much different from hanging your stockings from the
mantel. Now that so few people have a working fireplace, Dutch
children are instructed to leave their shoes beside the radiator,
furnace, or space heater. Saint Nicholas and the six to eight black
men arrive on horses, which jump from the yard onto the roof. At
this point, I guess, they either jump back down and use the door,
or they stay put and vaporize through the pipes and electrical
wires. Oscar wasn't too clear about the particulars, but, really,
who can blame him? We have the same problem with our Santa. He's
supposed to use the chimney, but if you don't have one, he still
manages to come through. It's best not to think about it too hard.

While eight flying reindeer are a hard pill to swallow, our
Christmas story remains relatively simple. Santa lives with his
wife in a remote polar village and spends one night a year
traveling around the world. If you're bad, he leaves you coal. If
you're good and live in America, he'll give you just about anything
you want. We tell our children to be good and send them off to bed,
where they lie awake, anticipating their great bounty. A Dutch
parent has a decidedly hairier story to relate, telling his
children, "Listen, you might want to pack a few of your things
together before you go to bed. The former bishop from Turkey will
be coming along with six to eight black men. They might put some
candy in your shoes, they might stuff you in a sack and take you
to Spain, or they might just pretend to kick you. We don't know
for sure, but we want you to be prepared."

This is the reward for living in Holland. As a child you get to
hear this story, and as an adult you get to turn around and repeat
it. As an added bonus, the government has thrown in legalized drugs
and prostitution-so what's not to love about being Dutch?

Oscar finished his story just as we arrived at the station. He was
a polite and interesting guy-very good company-but when he offered
to wait until my train arrived, I begged off, saying I had some
calls to make. Sitting alone in the vast terminal, surrounded by
other polite, seemingly interesting Dutch people, I couldn't help
but feel second-rate. Yes, it was a small country, but it had six
to eight black men and a really good bedtime story. Being a fairly
competitive person, I felt jealous, then bitter, and was edging
toward hostile when I remembered the blind hunter tramping off
into the Michigan forest. He might bag a deer, or he might happily
shoot his sighted companion in the stomach. He may find his way
back to the car, or he may wander around for a week or two before
stumbling through your front door. We don't know for sure, but in
pinning that license to his chest, he inspires the sort of
narrative that ultimately makes me proud to be an American.

Monday, November 24, 2008

The History of Christmas by Tim Minchin

The History of Christmas by Tim Minchin

Christmas to me means writing a column about Christmas. The only time I ever get asked to write columns is at this time of year. An editor of a music magazine somewhere says, Who are we going to get to write a column about Christmas? We need someone moderately well-known, musical and preferably comic. And some spotty intern says, How about moderately-well-known musical comedian Tim Minchin? And the editor says… well the editor says, Yes.

I do understand my task here. I understand that I am expected to produce some amusing whimsy about turkey with in-laws and drunken blowjobs at office parties and why no one ever gives Myrrh and more. What ever happened to Myrrh?, I might write, and you might think, Good point, C-grade celebrity Tim Minchin, good point. What did ever happen to Myrrh? And that would be nice. Because we would have achieved empathy.

But instead I am going to write a short History of Christmas. Note: everything I write is true.


Christmas was originally a Roman pagan festival of lawlessness called Saturnalia. For a week, no one could get arrested for wrecking shit or going nuts. There was lots of singing in the nude (a practice recommended by Tim), plenty of shagging (also recommended by Tim), some rape (not recommended by Tim, but you can watch heaps of it on CSI SVU – I heart modern morality), and some eating of human-shaped biscuits (Tim impartial). It was fun for everyone. Well… nearly everyone. See, at the beginning of the week they’d find a dude who they didn’t like (could be a chick, whatever, lay off) and they’d feed him loads of food and make him shag and party and stuff and then at the end of Saturnalia they’d kill him. Totally kill him dead. Kill the living fuck out of him. Ostensibly in order to ward off evil forces and enemies of Rome.

Saturnalia was – understandably – pretty popular. Completely amoral behaviour (not immoral – who am I to judge?) and a wee bit of human sacrifice. If they’d had cameras, it would have made perfect reality TV. (But they didn’t have cameras, not for many many years yet. In fact not until Joseph Nicéphore Niépce squeezed out his first image over an 8 hour period in 1827. Eight hours! Bet he didn’t delete that fucker, even if it made him look fat or whatever.) So when the homies who were running the increasingly pop cult of Christianity wanted to get more members, they decided they’d just tell everyone that Jesus (or whatever his name was) was born on the final day of the festival, which was… wait for it… December 25th. (Actually, the most likely date of the big J’s b’day is thought to be September 11th. How fucking weird is that? Someone make a documentary.) In this way, the Christian leaders back then were very similar to the leaders of the Pentecostal churches of today: to increase membership, you just change the frickin rules dude. Reinterpret the story. Like reinterpreting the Lord of the Rings to make it about lanky people with hairless feet on a journey to get rid of a necklace. Don’t fucking start me.

So Jesus was introduced and the hitherto pagan Romans just shrugged their shoulders and went with it. They didn’t really care about the justification for getting nude and singing and rooting and eating person-biscuits, as long as they still got the week off. Of course, even back then the Christian church was pretty into their moral directives and all, and they weren’t really sure how the traditions of Saturnalia fitted in with said directives, but they really wanted to get their numbers up, so they just started calling it Christmas and let the Romie Homie’s get on with the raping and the eating of the gingerbread men (or women, whatever, lay off).

To reiterate: the church put Jesus’s name to a festival of sexual abuse and human sacrifice in order to increase income. Oh, and here’s a cool thing: you know how Jews are always banging on about how their people have been so mistreated through the ages? Blah blah blah. Well in 1460ish, Pope Paul the Twoth revived some of the old Saturnalia ways for the amusement of the Roman people by force-feeding a whole lot of Jews food and booze and then making them race naked through the streets while all the good Catholics laughed at them. I think it’s a hilarious idea, and I don’t know why Jews are so sensitive. Maybe ol’ Pope Benedict should revive the tradition, but use gays instead of Jews. It’d be just as funny I reckon.

I know what you’re thinking: “But where does Tim Allen come into this?”. I’m getting there, alright?

Nicking bits of other cults was the bit of business development strategy that made Christianity what it is today. Another example: the church encouraged decorating Christmas trees when they were trying (successfully) to pinch the members of the pagan hippy mob, the Asheira cult. Oh and I assume you know about Santa? He was a Turkish bishop called Nicholas who was the dude who first called Jewish people the “children of the devil”. Bless him. He was idolised by these sailor dudes who took his bones to Italy where he usurped the stocking-filling attributes of a local lady-deity known as The Grandmother. The cult spread to the Germans and the Celts where Nick got mixed up with Woden (big white beard, rode a flying horse), then the Christians took him on board to try to… wait for it… increase membership. Time passes, Coca Cola hires a Swedish artist to make a Santa who drinks coke, and now here we are, 5 years old in Myer Perth city, sitting on the knee of a fat man in a red suit who is touching our thigh and asking us what we want for Christmas and the answer is: to get away from you, you obese, sweaty, antisemitic paedo fuck.

Hold on, hold on, I’ve skipped a bit. Roughly one thousand nine hundred and fifty three years after the birth of Joshua (or whatever his name was) and twenty-two years after the birth of Santa Cola, a boychild was born in Denver, Colorado to Gerald and Martha Dick. His name was Timothy Dick. Timothy Allen Dick.

Tim Dick’s dad died in a car accident when he was eleven, and his mum married an Episcopalian deacon two years later. When Tim was twenty-five he was arrested on drug (dunno which type) charges and spent two years in gaol, after which he changed his name to Tim Allen and made the hit ABC comedy series Home Improvement before bringing us the cinematic joy of The Santa Clause 1, The Santa Clause 2 and The Santa Clause 3: The Escape Clause.

A clause can be defined as an article, stipulation or proviso in a treaty, bill or contract. In the case of Allen’s seminal trilogy, it is a pun.

In the case of the above sentence, the word seminal is a pun.

Have a spoofy Christmas.

(Thanks and apologies to Mr Minchin for nicking this)

Sunday, October 05, 2008

This Month I Will Mostly Be Listening To...

Vol. 29 October 2008

To download, click here and scroll down to the blue Download button.

.7z is a zip format, you can unzip it with Winzip, Winrar or 7-zip

1 The Verve – Love is Noise
2 Metallica – The Day that Never Comes
3 Julian Cope – These Things I Know
4 TV On the Radio – Dancing Choose
5 Fujiya and Miyagi - Uh
6 Portugal. The Man – And I
7 Friendly Fires - Paris
8 Those Dancing Days - Hitten
9 Justice – Planisphère part 2
10 Justice – Planisphère part 3
11 Kings of Leon – Closer
12 Deerhoof – The Tears and Music of Love
13 The Last Shadow Puppets – My Mistakes Were Made For You
14 The Faint – The Geeks Were Right
15 Coldplay - Lost
16 Tricky - Slow
17 MGMT – Kids (Soulwax Remix)
18 The Raconteurs – Many Shades of Black
19 UNKLE – Open Up Your Eyes (featuring Abel Ferrara)

Thursday, August 21, 2008

This Month I Will Mostly Be Listening To....

Vol. 28 September 2008

Download it here

1 Bloc Party – Mercury
2 The Vines – Get Out
3 Kings of Leon – Sex on Fire
4 Ra Ra Riot – Ghosts Under Rocks
5 The Chemical Brothers – Midnight Madness
6 The Rascals – Rascalize
7 Beck – Gamma Ray
8 Air France – June Evenings
9 Late of the Pier - Broken
10 Van She – Cat & The Eye Alright
11 The Subways -
12 Metronomy – Radio Ladio
13 Noah and the Whale – Shape of My Heart
14 The Automatic – Accessories
15 Does It Offend You, Yeah? – Dawn of the Dead
16 The Dandy Warhols – Wasp in the Lotus
17 Coldplay – Lovers in Japan / Reign of Love
18 Black Kids – I'm Not Gonna Teach Your Boyfriend How to Dance with You
19 UNKLE - Chemical
20 The Prodigy – Ghost Town
21 XX Teens – Darlin'

Tuesday, June 24, 2008

This Month I Will Mostly Be Listening To….

Vol 27 July 2008. Download it here.

Comments appreciated!

1 O Fracas – And So a Scratch Runs Down A Wall
2 Wolf Parade – Language City
3 Death Cab for Cutie – Bixby Canyon Bridge
4 We Are the Physics – Bulimia Sisters
5 The Shortwave Set – Harmonia
6 These New Puritans – Swords of Truth
7 Hot Club de Paris – Hey Housebrick
8 Late of the Pier – Space and the Woods
9 Elle Milano - Carousels
10 Sky Larkin - Molten
11 Radiohead - Bodysnatchers
12 Paul Weller & Noel Gallagher – Echoes Round the Sun
13 Infadels – Free Things for Poor People
14 Shy Child – The Volume
15 Morrissey – All You Need is Me
16 The Whip - Blackout
17 The Dandy Warhols – Mission Control
18 CSS – Left Behind
19 Tricky – Puppy Toy
20 We Smoke Fags – Canape of Love
21 The Fratellis – Mistress Mabel
22 Asian Dub Foundation - Superpower

Tuesday, April 29, 2008

This Month I Will Mostly Be Listening To….

Vol. 26 May 2008

Download it here
Comments appreciated!

1 The Last Shadow Puppets – The Age of the Understatement
2 Dan le Sac VS Scroobius Pip – The Beat that My Heart Skipped
3 dEUS – The Architect
4 Was (Not Was) – Semi-Interesting Week
5 The Courteeners – Not Nineteen Forever
6 REM – Living Well is the Best Revenge
7 Elle Milano – Laughing all the Way to the Plank
8 Does It Offend You, Yeah – Doomed Now
9 The Long Blondes - Guilt
10 Cajun Dance Party – The Race
11 LCD Soundsystem – Big Ideas
12 Operator Please – Yes Yes
13 The Young Knives – Turn Tail
14 Simian Mobile Disco - Simple
15 The Raconteurs – Consoler of the Lonely
16 The Kooks – Do You Wanna
17 Ladytron – Ghosts
18 We Barbarians – In the Doldrums
19 Asian Dub Foundation – Awake / Asleep

Thursday, April 03, 2008

This Month I Will Mostly Be Listening To….

Vol. 25 - April 2008

Download it here

Comments appreciated!

1 R.E.M. – Man-Sized Wreath
2 Mystery Jets – Half in Love with Elizabeth
3 Moby – Live For Tomorrow
4 The Young Knives – Up All Night
5 The Kills – Getting Down
6 Tokyo Police Club - Tessellate
7 Duels – The Furies
8 Neon Neon – I Lust U
9 The Raconteurs – Top Yourself
10 Hot Chip – Bendable Posable
11 The Kooks –Always Where I Need to Be
12 We Are Scientists – Let's See It
13 Foals – Red Socks Pugie
14 The Gutter Twins – Each to Each
15 Elle Milano – Meanwhile in Hollywood…
16 Ghostland Observatory – Club Soda
17 The Eye The Ear and the Arm – Sell This
18 Portishead – Magic Doors
19 Hercules & Love Affair - Blind
20 Tapes n Tapes – Hang Them All
21 Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds – Dig, Lazarus, Dig

Friday, February 15, 2008

This Month I Will Mostly Be Listening To….

Vol. 26 February 2008

Anyone wanting a copy please leave a comment

Comments appreciated!

1 Hot Chip – Ready for the Floor
2 Supergrass – Diamond Hoo Ha Man
3 Infadels – Play Blind
4 Envelopes – Freejazz
5 Voicst – High as an Amsterdam Tourist
6 Robots in Disguise – We're in the Music Biz
7 Torpedo – From Russia With Love
8 Vampire Weekend – Cape Cod Kwassa Kwassa
9 Crystal Castles – Untrust Us
10 School of Language – Extended Holiday
11 Taken By Cars – Uh Oh
12 Cut Copy - Lights and Music
13 Morrissey – That's How People Grow Up
14 Holy Fuck – The Pulse
15 The Epochs – Thunder & Lightning
16 Correcto - Inuit
17 David Gilmour Girls – Tar and Feather
18 Bauhaus - Undone
19 The Eye The Ear and the Arm – All Claws and Teeth
20 Alter Bridge – Buried Alive
21 Does It Offend You, Yeah – Let's Make Out

Thursday, January 10, 2008

This Month I Will Mostly Be Listening To….

Vol 23. January 2008

Ones to Watch in 2008

Anyone wanting a copy, please leave a comment

Comments appreciated!

1 I Am Kloot - One Man Brawl
2 Kill Casino - Underwater
3 Marah – Old Time Ticking Away
4 Ladyhawk – I Don't Always Know What You're Saying
5 Crystal Castles - Crimewave
6 Let's Wrestle – I Won't Lie to You
7 Los Campesinos – Death to Los Campesinos
8 Friendly Fires – On Board
9 Vampire Weekend – Mansard Roof
10 Black Mountain – Stormy High
11 The Ting Tings – That's Not My Name
12 The Do – On My Shoulders
13 Sons & Daughters – The Nest
14 Does It Offend You, Yeah? – Weird Science
15 Blood Red Shoes – Try Harder
16 Black Kids – Hit the Heartbrakes
17 Foals – Balloons
18 School of Language – Rockist Pt. 1
19 Say Hi – The Twenty-Second Century
20 Pete & The Pirates – Come on Feet
21 These New Puritans - Numbers
22 Bombay Bicycle Club - Ghost

Wednesday, January 09, 2008

This Year I Have Mostly Been Listening To....

My best of 2007 2CD mixtape - download it here (CD1) and here (CD2)

Comments appreciated!

1 Gogol Bordello - Ultimate
2 Klaxons - Golden Skans
3 The Maccabees - About Your Dress
4 Digitalism - Idealistic
5 Cold War Kids - Hang Me Up to Dry
6 Siouxsie – Into a Swan
7 Arctic Monkeys - Brianstorm
8 The Whip - Trash
9 Manic Street Preachers - Your Love Alone is Not Enough
10 Calvin Harris - Acceptable in the 80s
11 We Are the Physics - This is Vanity
12 Dan le Sac vs Scroobius Pip - Thou Shalt Always Kill
13 Yeasayer - 2080
14 Art Brut - Pump Up The Volume
15 LCD Soundsystem - North American Scum
16 The Cribs - Our Bovine Public
17 Modest Mouse - Dashboard
18 MSTRKRFT - Work On You
19 Good Shoes - The Photos on My Wall
20 Queens of the Stone Age – Into the Hollow

1 Justice - D.A.N.C.E.
2 Biffy Clyro – Living Is a Problem Because Everything Dies
3 The Orb - Mother Nature
4 Interpol - Mammoth
5 Younger Brother - I Am a Freak
6 Menomena - The Pelican
7 UNKLE - Burn My Shadow
8 Holy Fuck – Lovely Allen
9 Yeah Yeah Yeahs - 10 x 10
10 Chemical Brothers - Do It Again
11 Ian Brown - Illegal Attacks
12 Radiohead - Nude
13 Les Savy Fav – What Would Wolves Do?
14 Simian Mobile Disco - Hustler
15 MGMT - Time to Pretend
16 The Duke Spirit - A Wild Hope
17 Architecture in Helsinki - Heart It Races
18 The Cult - Born Into This