A new career beckons

I had a phone call left on my voice mail today. Apparently a local pub requires a Leo Sayer impersonator. A very odd call to come home to, especially with the remnants of last night still rattling around my system in a particularly vicious manner. I so hope it's a wrong number, because I'm not tempted. Not even for a second. No.

This is the guy you want. I think.

Looking Back, part 3

25th May 2006. I escape from work, and look forward to a few days off. I don't like to work on my birthday: in fact I never do, but I thought it politic to take some annual leave, rather than doing what I usually do.

I remember thinking that it was an extraordinarily beautiful day: Greenhead Park was full of people playing. Not just children, but people of all ages were out, just goofing off. This was a Thursday, for crying out loud. Something was up, and I liked it.

Then something odd happened. As I stood there, things seemed to morph into my old University campus: days spent blissed out watching the world... change.

They warned me about this kind of thing, but it always happens to other people, doesn't it? I don't scare easily though. So I rushed home and recorded the guitar riff that was now sounding like bells in my head. Soon after I hit this tornado of concentration and had to be hauled out of the studio to eat. By midnight, I'd gone from flashback and one riff to a full song.

Ladies and Gentlemen, I give you: I Fall Through Clouds.

Looking Back, part 2

I can only recall crying with happiness once in my life. That was just after midnight on the night of 22nd July 2006.

The reason?

I was privileged enough to hear an advance mix of a song that crept me out and yet smothered me with a contradictory beauty and delicacy completely at odds with the lyrical content of the song.

Yeah. I blubbed like a baby.
Download You Belong To Me here.

New frontiers in science

What do you get if you administer the largest dose of LSD in history to an elephant?

No, it isn't a joke: and the answer isn't all that surprising, but I won't waste your click by telling you what happened.

Let The Guardian tell you instead.

Picture credit: the quite fantastic oCo

Looking Back, part 1

Funny year, this one. So I'm trying to take stock, TO MAKE SURE IT NEVER HAPPENS AGAIN. I don't think it will, but hey, you can't be sure. As part of this taking stock I've been looking back on "moments" of the year and... well. Suffer, bitches.

Right. Sunday 12th February was freezing, as I remember. Really bitter. So I was quite relieved when, after a false start, I arrived at the Cockpit in Leeds to watch David Ford play to a packed house. The packed house was the bit that shocked me. I remember mentioning that to Dave and Frances afterwards - I mean, specifically, as in "where the hell did all those people come from?" Made me glad and a little sad at the same time. He deserved it, but I felt a little... I dunno.

Anyway, here's an all-too-brief excerpt from that night. And yes, he is playing a manual typewriter.

Goodbye.

Merry Christmas.

iPod Surgery

Yes, my iPod died again the other day. This time I realised it was far enough out of guarantee to make a trip to Sheffield a bit of a gamble, and anyway: Meadowhall should be called Meadowhell this time of year.

And yes, I've tried the "smack it hard" trick. It gave me about 2 months more usage, but dead is dead.

So, I reasoned it's time to stop being such a victim and take matters into my own hands. Knowing full well that 40GB clickwheel iPods were made with duff hard drives (and Apple really should have recalled), I did a bit of research on the internet and managed to order a replacement off eBay. Only I took the plunge and decided to put a different hard drive in.

Here's some notes.

1 The original hard drive was the Toshiba MK4004GAH. This has been discontinued. Damn right. The corresponding replacement is the MK4006GAH. Ambitious types may wish to go up to 60GB. If you like the sound of this, the drive you require is the MK6006GAH.

2 Getting in: DO NOT USE A SCREWDRIVER. You will scratch your iPod to buggery. Buy a specialist tool. You can get them from music shops for about 30p. It's called a 1mm guitar pick. Don't use the flippy nylon ones. They're about as much use as a one-legged man at an arse-kicking party. Rigidity is a good thing here, and you want a balance between rigidity and width. Ooer.

This is where guitarists have a colossal advantage. People who live in Eugene, OR have even more of an advantage, as they can go to McKenzie River Music on West 11th. They keep a goldfish bowl of picks on the counter. They are nice people. I bought my Ovation from them. Perhaps you could buy a Fender Musicmaster from them. It's pricey, but you'll get a handful of free picks, and an excuse to learn the guitar. It's all good.

3 Once you're in, the rest is easy. Take the rubber bumpers off the old drive and fit them to the new one. Use your guitar pick to scrape the foam from the old drive and glue it to the new one. It's a Zero Insertion Force socket, so just put the cable in the right place, seat the drive inside and snap the case back on.

4 It'll probably not work quite yet. If you're using a PC, I can't help you and I don't want to. You're in the majority. Plenty of help out there. On the other hand, if you're using a Mac, you'll get a dialog box telling you that the disk cannot be read. Click "initialize" and Disk Utility will be opened for you.

(Digression: Why do they call them dialog boxes? There's no dialogue going on, just a statement of how it is, with a limited number of options: one of them being effectively, "well, fuck you, then". It's more like a dysfunctional marriage box, if you ask me.)

The iPod will appear in Disk Utility. Click erase, and it will be initialised. The moment this finishes, iTunes leaps into action, just as it did when you first connected the iPod.

Et voilà! It works. One clicking iPod becomes a Frankenstein's monster with 60GB capacity.

My creation lives!!!

Northern Monkey Phones 999 For Santa

A 999 call from a person who asked to speak to Santa was among the most outrageous reasons for ringing Yorkshire's ambulance service.

Right. That's it. I'm considering moving.

When Dry Ice Attacks

There are two types of adult. Those who think they've grown up, and those who know they won't. The former, in my experience, tend to be nasty types, playing a role, prone to think of themselves as "normal" and unable to see the effects of their own, often toxic, behaviour. The latter type tend to be a more self-aware bunch, sometimes prone to feeling lost in the sea of so-called "adults", but much more delightful for it.

In this experiment, we take two people who plainly have come to terms with the fact that they probably never will grow up, and give them a sink of hot water and a box of dry ice. Hilarity and much scientific inaccuracy ensues.



Kids. Try this at home.

Goodbye, Joe Barbera

Animator Joseph Barbera has died, age 95.

There goes my childhood.

A lucky escape...

I was off out on Friday - a daft little outing involving heavy balls and ten pins with Indian nosh for afters. Harmless fun. I nearly had a shave before. Been growing a beard, y'see. So, rather than succumb to the whim, I took a shower while I decided.

Anyway, once I'd scrubbed up I realised I didn't look bad and went out. Saw a few people who hadn't really clapped eyes on me since the release of Fnurgled.

"Jeeze" came the response. "You look like a '70s rock god." Slight hyperbole (ok, major), but appreciation nonetheless.

Then the paper arrived this morning (I still buy newsprint! How quaint!) and the cover story in G2 told how beards have become the New Black for Men.

You can imagine my confidence is getting dangerously close to hubris right now.

Oh, c'mon. I deserve a moment, don't I?

The picture? Oh, just an East Midlander who looked good in a beard...

Whales: A Lesson From History

According to the BBC, a dead sperm whale has been washed up on the beach at Roseisle in Scotland, aka pretty much the middle of nowhere. I notice from the report that "Council officials have ruled out using explosives to destroy the body."

This is a Good Thing.

A similar thing happened at one of my favourite beaches back in 1970. November 1970 to be exact, when a rather large whale carcass washed up on the beach just south of the Siuslaw River at Florence, Oregon - near where I used to fly my Flexifoil. On this occasion, because there were no rendering plants that wanted a whale carcass, they decided to blow it up. That's quite the decision making process, I'm sure you'll agree.

(Apologies to anybody to whom this is old news: I've known about this for about 10 years, but there are plenty that haven't. Be nice. Bear in mind that I work in a place where, out of 91 people, I am the only person who can actually name a Velvet Underground song. There were two people, but the other one got promoted to Head of Service. There's hope in that - or a terrible portent for the future. You decide.)

Here's the KATU channel 2 (Portland, OR) coverage of the event. It's pretty classic, particularly reporter Paul Linnman's alliteration fest. All TV reporters dream of a moment like that, I'm sure. Few achieve alliteration Zen quite like Linnman, though.



For more information on the great Oregon Exploding Whale fiasco of 12 November 1970, in fact for all your Exploding Whale needs, visit TheExplodingWhale.com where, amongst its resources, it has eight columns by Bob Welch. Mr Welch, although a bit schmaltzy at times, is a fantastic columnist who really gets to the heart of the community he serves. I probably learned more about Eugene's heritage from Mr Welch than from all of my friends put together.

(Do you like the way I went all The New York Times Manual of Style and Usage then?)

Wikihow reaches new heights

Quick! Pass me my laptop!

Is this the future? I hope so.

Welcome to the world of Nerdcore - hip-hop for geeks.

I'm liking this, I really am.

Pigeons Produce Comment Frenzy

It seems that the pigeon problem in Kingston-Upon-Thames has got so bad that they are employing a marksman to pick the buggers off

So what?

It's the comments at the bottom that go from good, to better through to damn-near excellent.

Read all about it...

Go on. Be envious.

Our Friends Electric

"Welcome to Milk Float Corner, to the best of my knowledge the only site on the web dedicated to "our friends electric" - the humble milk float. Designed for reliability, durability, and quietness of operation, milk floats are also pollution-free as they glide around during the early hours, and for most people who keep normal hours, the only evidence that they exist at all is the appearance of a pint of milk on the doorstep each morning. But although they may be inconspicuous, they are appealing little vehicles and this page aims to give them a bit more recognition."

Crazy.

Sharon: Please Get In Touch

Well, when I say "get in touch", I don't know how. The silly bugger hasn't left an email.

Still, it makes for diverting, if slightly disturbing reading...

And, for extra value, I give you a picture of a cat being spooky.

EDIT: A WHOIS search on the domain gave the following information:
Domain name:
meltham-missing-person.co.uk

Registrant:
Paul X

Registrant type:
UK Individual

Registrant's address:
The registrant is a non-trading individual who has opted to have their
address omitted from the WHOIS service.

Very odd.

The Fartown Massive

Found this piece of paper fluttering around the drive this morning. Seems we have gangstas in the 'hood.

I thought at first that it might just be a transcript from one of those new-fangled hop-hip records that the yoof listen to where people talk over a beat; but I googled the lyrics and found nothing.

So I can only assume the work is original.

One day they will aspire to the heights of this bunch.


I love Little Fuckin' Kev. Looks like he's going to start crying when he starts rapping. Tell 'em Joe!

EDIT: The Kersal Massive now have their own Wikipedia entry. I, along with my other felllow nobodies (© David Pogue 2006) can only dream of such fame.

Listen to this at work, I implore you.

It's Lust & Death's latest - Thursday Takes Its Toll: and it's a challenging one.

Listen to the song here...

Then download it and sing it to your colleagues all day.

It is, of course, Buy Nothing Day today. This is probably not unconnected.

A Thunderbirds Extravaganza

Woah-oh! It's the titles to Thunderbirds! And - you guessed it - they're in foreign again. This time: Japanese - and they've made up a title song to go with it....



No tune like this would be complete without a lyric sheet: so hit "play" and sing along:

sundah bah-doh, ah-oku hikallu hii-lo-y uchu--eh you-keh kaze wo maite
sundah bah-doh, konoyo-no shiawa-seh no tame-eh ni you-keh umi-eh lliku-ni

ah-o-i sora-wo mida-su mono-wa dah-le-kah
yonn-de-illu ano koeh-wa eh-su o eh-su dah

sundah bah-doh, ah-oku hikallu hii-lo-y uchu--eh you-keh kaze wo maite

And, as a kind of detox to all that I give you one of the finest pieces of comedy the BBC has ever made - Peter Cook and Dudley Moore's classic SuperThunderStingCar sketch. Pure genius.

I wish I'd written this song.

Why? Because it's educational. For starters, I'd never realised that, due to it not being a decent habitat for pandas, Bognor Regis is an excellent place to grow cucumbers - and it just gets better after that spiffing opening.

Click here for all your cucumber educational needs - NOW.

Scary stuff

And so straight from sausages to tattooed genitalia.

Welcome to John's website. John, through the magic of tattooing, has had his willy transformed into Puff the Magic Dragon.

This may put you off a meal. Be warned.

A letter.

To Powys County Council Trading Standards

Dear Sir/Madam,
The other day I bought a pack of Welsh Dragon Sausages, and was pretty damned excited at tasting an extremely rare meat. Imagine my disappointment when...

No, I can't keep this up. Apparently a maker of sausages in Wales has been forced to change the name of their pork products because people might think they contain dragon meat. See this article in The Times for details...

"A spicy sausage known as the Welsh Dragon will have to be renamed after trading standards’ officers warned the manufacturers that they could face prosecution because it does not contain dragon."

I may have just lost the will to live. (Link via BoingBoing)

A musical interlude...

It's about time you heard something new from me. Think of it as a healing thing; a kind of We Shall Overcome for the Prozac generation, if you like.

Find Yourself Again

If you listen to this, light a candle and hug someone lonely. For me.

The best album money can't buy...

I'm in posession of a bit of a rarity - something that arrived in the post the other week; and I've been enamoured with it ever since.

I'm a bit of a fan of quite a few MacIdol artists, but there's one or two that really stand out from the pack. One of the less well-publicised of this leading group is the wonderfully generous owner of the Songalong blog, Slumbering.

A few weeks ago, Slumbs asked me about some technical issues regarding putting together an album. I must confess, at this point I got terribly excited - and then I found out that she was putting it together for her "mama-la" as she calls her (what a softie!) for her birthday.

Anyway, I helped her out with some of the issues in my own ham-fisted way and offered swapsies with my album. Slumby refused because "it wouldn't be fair", but as a "thank you" for helping out she said she'd send me a copy. It arrived the other week, amidst the mayhem of getting a new home in order and, she's right: it wouldn't have been fair.

She'd have been ripped off something rotten.

Where most albums I hear are a collection of songs, albeit carefully ordered, we have here a near-concept album of some vision - one woman's rather individual and innocent/knowing vision - that bristles at times with a mordant sense of humour. If Jan Svankmajer was a reclusive female musician from the San Joaquin valley, he might sound like this. I don't know, I'm guessing. I do know I have a stop motion animation video in my head every time I listen to it.

One of the best aspects of Dark Lullabies is that Slumbering knows when to stop. She doesn't push the concept album envelope to breaking point, and she knows she still has a few tricks up her sleeve: not least two of my favourite songs of the year. So she calls the show to a halt, bounces back on as an indiepop princess and... well. This house is brought down every time.

A gothic vision played out in jerky black and white, followed by the gloriously gaudy colours that all the best pop should be splashed with. It's quite, quite wonderful.

It's my copy; and you can't buy it. In a way, that's a tremendous pity.

OK, I can hear Slumbering's objections - there are flaws in the recording, and I can hear them. But then John Lennon used to routinely keep mic pops, flubbed lyrics and the whole nine yards in Beatles songs - far worse stuff than ever surfaces here. So you'll need another excuse, Slumbering.

Of course, if she simply doesn't want to release it, that's fine and I'm cool with that - but quality control is not an issue here. It's quite the statement as an album.

Of course, until it does get released, I have one of the few copies in the world. And you've no idea how smug that makes me feel.

Find out what all the fuss is about by visiting the collection of songs she keeps online; and if Song for my Mama-la doesn't make you melt, then your heart is made of stone.

Come Together (but not yet)

I'm all for change. For instance, I'm as pleased as anybody about the recent mid-term results, and probably distinctly more chuffed than Donald Rumsfeld. So, any chance to effect more change is OK by me.

Especially if it's fun.

So, ladies and gentlemen (and especially the ladies) may I introduce you to Global Orgasm. Basically it's asking you to have an earth-shaker for peace. It doesn't interfere with any plans I might have, so I'm quite happy to join in.

But what is it they hope to achieve? This is what the site says:

The mission of the Global Orgasm is to effect change in the energy field of the Earth through input of the largest possible surge of human energy. Now that there are two more US fleets heading for the Persian Gulf with anti- submarine equipment that can only be for use against Iran, the time to change Earth’s energy is NOW! Read more about the fleet buildup here.

The intent is that the participants concentrate any thoughts during and after orgasm on peace. The combination of high- energy orgasmic energy combined with mindful intention may have a much greater effect than previous mass meditations and prayers.

The goal is to add so much concentrated and high-energy positive input into the energy field of the Earth that it will reduce the current dangerous levels of aggression and violence throughout the world.

OK. I think I got all that. Then I had a look at the science bit:

The Global Consciousness Project (http://noosphere.princeton.edu), Princeton University, runs a network of Random Event Generators (REGs) around the world, which record changes in randomness during global events. The results show that human consciousness can be measured to have a global effect on matter and energy during widely-watched events such as 9/11 and the Indian Ocean tsunami. There have also been measurable results during mass meditations and prayers.

The Zero Point Field or Quantum Field surrounds and is part of everything in the universe. It can be affected by human consciousness, as can be seen when simple observation of a subatomic particle changes the particle’s state.

We hope that a huge influx of physical, mental and spiritual energy with conscious peaceful intent will not only show up on Princeton’s REGs, but will have profound positive effects that will change the violent state of the human world.

No. You've lost me now.

Still, I intend to join in. And why not? What could possibly go wrong?

I'm back

Well, I've moved house, for the second time in just over 12 months - and I've moved across town. Nice place, decent neighbours, all is good. There's a slight lack of late-night shopping options (apart from a 24-hour supermarket), but that means I have to make an effort to be a bit less absent-minded. That's no bad thing.


In the meantime, here's my latest piece of listening pleasure - a fine morsel of listen called No Promises from the intergalactic wunderkinden Lust & Death. Everything about it is fantastic. You must love this song. (Note to self. Always the ampersand. Always.)

Anyway: you can listen to this song here.

Then because you LOVE it so much, you can download it here.

Don't thank me. I just point these things out.

Sorry, David.

David Pogue has got it so wrong.

Writing about Whistler on My Dream App's voting page, he said:

"Also, I hate to say it, but if anything should have set the world on fire with undiscovered musical talent, it would have been GarageBand. Unfortunately, GarageBand remains the ugly little iLife stepchild, the one that hardly anyone even opens. That doesn’t give me high hopes for Whistler’s adoption curve."

Well, Garageband has set the world alight with undiscovered musical talent.

Here's a random selection, all available at iTunes.
Apologies to anybody left out. No slight intended.

Maggie Osterberg.
B&massa.
The Bananakiller.
Finer.
Bottled.
Me, for f*ck's sake.

And we'll remain "undiscovered" as long as the likes of Pogue and co continue their self-perpetuating ignorance about anything that happens outside of the music industry hype machine.

Garageband revolutionised so many musicians' experience of making music. For me, it was a Brian Wilsonesque sandbox. A plaything that became a serious tool very, very quickly and paved the way to bigger things.

Yes, Apple: that means I eventually "went Pro".

Whistler is a revolution. It takes the one thing that blocks Joe Bloggs out of Garageband - "but I can't play..." and dispenses with it.

"You don’t have to say anything, and you don’t have to do anything. Not a thing. Oh, maybe just whistle. You know how to whistle, don’t you, Steve? You just put your lips together and… blow."

Yup. That's all it needs.

David, you missed the point. Because making music really should be that simple.

I want this.

MyDreamApp is a competition that pits a bunch of ideas against each other with the ultimate prize of being made into a program.

PopIdol for developers, if you like.

Anyway - there's one idea that stands head and shoulders above the rest in my opinion - Richard Whitelock's Whistler. It's really simple - music composition software for the rest of us.

As an idea, it knocks my socks off: whistle, drum a beat, play a kazoo, and it converts the idea into a midi file. It'll pull you into time, or leave your idea as you hear it. It'll comp chords around it, and help anybody turn that musical idea in their head into a reality.

It looks great (lickable!) and it needs to be made, because there's way more that what I've described there. So: visit the Whistler website, take a look - and if you agree with me, go to mydreamapp.com and VOTE.

It's what a computer app should be - a perfect portal between CPU power and the user. Utterly fabulous, Mr Whitelock. I want.

Armor of God PJs

Now, this is a disturbing one.

Apparently these deranged pajamas were designed by a mother to accompany a typical god-bothering bedtime, and now she's decided to put them on sale.

The effect, I believe, is meant to be inspiring - however, it comes across instead as not unlike the Church of England doing a rather camp panto, or a junior, football-supporting version of Howard Brenton's The Romans In Britain, which is a bit scary, to be honest.

I wish I hadn't had that particular thought. Ewww.

One to file under "faintly ridiculous", I feel.

(link courtesy of mydadsstripclub.com)

Sing, David! Sing!

One of the things I miss from last summer (about the only thing, truth be known) is the sheer diversity of live music in Huddersfield. We still have live music, but the ambition amongst promoters doesn't seem to be there right now. Gig of last year? Probably Duke Special/David Ford at the Cornerhouse. A quality lineup that had me spellbound and (does this sound odd?) optimistically heartbroken from start to finish. Since then, David has gone from breaking hearts with a stripped-down set to being way, way too big for a place like ours - yet he's still a relatively unknown quantity. This summer, Dave's been doing the US, more's the pity for us stuck back here- and this is what we've been missing: Don't Tell Me, live at The Living Room in NYC. Gorgeous. It brings back memories: some more embarrassing than others...

The Owl And The Pussycat

Woah!

Paul Brazier and Slumbering (two artists I admire greatly) have collaborated on a little something called The Owl And The Pussycat. It's a wappy, elliptical song and I utterly, wholeheartedly recommend it.

The Owl And The Pussycat
FREE! GRAB IT!

my little nazi dolls

Craigslist has some funny people on it. Not least this guy who collects Nazi dolls - sorry, action figures.

"i have to hide them when my family comes to visit, or else they'll think i am retarded."

Well, it's lucky you didn't put them on the internet then, isn't it?

How'd Ya Like Them Apples?

CCC. I've mentioned him before - internet prankster (the Monkey Man of Tonbridge Wells, anyone?), and mashup artist extraordinaire. Well, he's got a "best of" album put together, made up of his best mashes: and it's free.

Get it. It's good. Really good. I mean it.

Download Sweetest Apples here

Then download the cover art and make a proper album.

He's so good to us.

Man City's gay recruitment drive

When I lived in the USA, my support for Manchester City brought about the odd misunderstanding. Not least because of my habit of abbreviating it - frankly, people thought it was a gay bar. So, to avoid crossed wires, I decided not to press for the vanity plate I wanted for the Subaru.

Now, you can imagine, when I read this, I did a bit of a double-take. Not least because of the Lardbucket Moyles's perjorative misappropriation of the word. But no: Manchester City have announced, during Manchester Pride, that they are the first professional football club to join Stonewall's Diversity Champions scheme.

About time too. I've long been embarrassed by the way that my fellow supporters resort to homophobic abuse at the drop of a hat, and I hope that this commitment to diversity will make supporting City a less toe-curling experience.

That's two results in a weekend I'm chuffed about.

elvischrist

Everything makes sense at elvischrist.

I feel honoured. Blessed. Praise be to Elvis.

The World's Gone Mad

The World's Gone Mad, part the first:

About a year ago, in a fit of the giggles, I recorded a version of Oasis's Don't Look Back In Anger. It's rough in places: I'd just batted off a hangover after a few too many post-performance beers the night before, but I enjoyed doing it.

Anyway: it has been a bit inexplicably popular on the web. At one time, I kept track of it through the stats on my website: but too much obsession with that leads to control-freakery and stuff like that. So I just laid it to rest and got on with my life. Until this morning, that is, when I fired up my web host's control panel and saw this:



Jebus. There's some odd people out there. That's just for August 2006, by the way.

The World's Gone Mad, part the second:

I am now quoted as a source on Wikipedia. WTF?

New Music. At last...

It's been a while, hasn't it? I mean, it's not as if I've been doing nothing... It's just.. Well...

I've been on a secret mission. Abroad. Anyway, here's something new.

Friends Reunited
FREE MUSIC!

It's a wryly angry little number. Don't download it if you don't like swearwords. Mind you, if you don't like swearwords, don't come to my house. I'm prone to the... vernacular, shall we say?

As usual, enjoy.

Perfectly Reasonable

Yes. A Philipino judge has been consulting mystic dwarves.

Symantec cripple the Church of England

Oh, dear, oh, dear. Oh, dear.

Apparently there's been a screw-up at Virus-Busting Central.

Vicars are angry.

Grasp the mouse, peasant: read on.

Inconvenienced are the overly cautious: for they shall cancel all their credit cards. (Book of Quin, 1:2)

Free drugs!

That got your attention. I got your number.

OK, not quite, as this is pharma-free, but it's a bit wild. Just click on the link, and follow the instructions.

Trippy, man.

Speed Join-The-Dots

Poupée De Cire, Poupée De Son

It's 1965. Luxembourg's entry for Eurovision is written by the legendary Serge Gainsbourg. It's sung by the gorgeous France Gall - who was only 17 at the time of the contest - in a enchanting, quasi-naive way that even now has the power to get one all a-quiver.

No wonder it won.

Everything about this is quite fantastic: the '60s fuzziness of the clip, the way that FG concentrates in the bridge, the orchestral arrangement, the happy accident of the backdrop framing her head...

Lovely, lovely, lovely.

*coughs*

When I see a giant tortoise, I reach for my beer

I was hanging around Quin Parker's intergaff today, and I saw a very interesting link - which I hope to bring to a narrower audience.

It's a man using a giant tortoise as a bottle opener.

You'll still want to go, but trust me: that's all it is.

I love the internet.

Jolly Japes in Berlin

What a hoot. Someone's been having fun while the World Cup's on. Which is more than you can say for us England fans.

I won't spoil the surprise.

Deutsche Lautsprecher klicken hier für den ursprünglichen Artikel.
English speakers can make do with what Google translates.

Dear God, I Think I'm Going To Die

I've been losing the will to live recently. I've got one of those awful summer colds that render you lethargic, half-deaf and wracked with coughing spasms.

Hang on, that's Bubonic Plague, isn't it? Whatever.

Anyway, I was just beginning to feel better when along came The 50 Worst Video Game Names Of All Time, and the last vestiges of persistence left me.

Did people really buy this stuff?

Daddy, What Have You Done To My Teddy Bear?

I've just made it into a USB flash drive.

Why are you crying?

Fnurgled - Album of the year

Imagine an artist with no label backing, not even an indie label, creating an Abbey Road, a Wish You Were Here or a True. Imagine an artist sitting squarely in a pop sensibility, yet transcending that with pure poetry and challenging subjects. Imagine The Beatles jamming with Spandau Ballet in Brian Eno's studio while Sir George Martin sometimes sits back, mouth agape, amazed at the raw nerve of humanity touched by the music and the lyrics. That could well be Sp3ccylad.

Let's face it, Bedroom Producer is a term were going to hear a lot in the next year or two. We're going to hear it so much it'll get on everybody's pip, and Sp3ccylad is well worthy of a label so much less trite - worthy simply because this is potentially life-changing music, poetic, simple, at times dark, yet always beautiful. I prefer to call him a free agent or a truly independent artist, because if there's any justice in this world, he won't be recording in his bedroom for long, he'll be touring and performing globally.

Sp3ccylad's debut album, Fnurgled, is an amazingly accessible look into a hopeful yet dark heart. It's pleasant to listen to, it has a groove and a zing any good pop album should have. From the rockabilly lo fi of Everything Has A Price, to the big, bold and brassy Hey You, there's music for the neck down, a party in every tune.

Then there's the sparse and gentle Rain In The Summertime and Spun Out, both reflective and indicative a of a deep-thinking, self-aware lyricist. These tracks especially showing that Spandau Ballet influence. The melody is eminently hummable, yet think about what he's singing about and you'll feel his humanity I'm sure.

Meanwhile all this is balanced out by the cheeky pisstake of tracks like Guilty, which sets us up to expect another deep, reflective ballad, then dashes us on the rocks of, Hey! where'd that song go? All one minute and three seconds of it drip with expectation of something big, yet challenge us into realising the big stuff, the truly important stuff, can be said in so few words. Please don't read this as a spoiler, I've heard this one several times now, and in the overall mix, it surprises me every time. You wont see it coming, even knowing it is.

In his turn of phrase, his choice of sounds, his occassionally deliberately lo fi vocal, Sp3ccylad takes us on a journey to not only to his soul, but the soul of all human experience - love, life, loss and hope. And in writing of hope, I think of the sweet gentle scatting vocal on Song For The Lost, an uplifting melodic melange of happy bass and drum lines, lilting child-like vocals, colour, depth and ever present, irrepressible ambition of people to find happiness even in the darkest hour of their lives.

Buy Fnurgled if there's the slightest spirit of the dreaming child left in you. Listen to Fnurgled daily if you want to keep your hopes and dreams alive. Embrace Fnurgled everytime you feel daily life getting a stranglehold on you and let the music lift the air pressure under your wings and push you towards the sky. This is an Abbey Road, a Wish You Were Here or a True, and it comes from the artist's bedroom and his heart.

From B&Massa's Filthy Noises.

Fnurgled - on iTunes!

It's official - the global release is underway: you can now buy Fnurgled on iTunes! So - those of you waiting (and I know of a few!) can get in there and buy something I'm inordinately proud of.

You know it makes sense.

Journalistic Cliche Debunked

One of my favourite comedy skits, from This Morning With Richard, Not Judy, by the god-like Stewart Lee and Richard Herring.

Ever get irritated with the sad journo's cliche of "X is like Y on Z", where X is a new phenomenon, Y is an established act, and Z is some sort of drug? Well, it's untrue. Especially where X is Lee Evans, Y is Norman Wisdom and Z is acid.

Hurrah for the empirical scientific method, and respect to Vulga for posting it to YouTube in the first place.

A Darkened Room

Oh, yeah - now you're talking.

B&Massa has squeezed out a marvellous, bluesily acoustic song that he envisages being part of a new album slated to be finished in September. It's an utterly great little piece, and if you don't listen to it, you're crackers.

Stream A Darkened Room here.

Bit of a construction zone here

Just tweaking things as you can see - I'm a bit of a lazy bugger, so it's on an "as and when I can be bothered to iron out the glitches" basis.

Jeeze, and I used to love web design. These days it's all I can do to arse about with templates.

Ah, the transforming power of music.

I Fall Through Clouds

I Fall Through Clouds
FREE MUSIC! LUCKY PEOPLE!

Welcome to my world - a mad psychedelic world of dripping rain and sheer sensuality. That's the world of I Fall Through Clouds, my latest magnum opus.

Oh, and once you've downloaded it, feel free to wish me a happy birthday in the comments.

It's memetime!

I'm not a great one for memes, but I'm in a playful mood right now. So - courtesy of mediawench.com - let's play the great iPod personality test! Woo.

How does it work. Simplicity itself. Put the iPod on shuffle. 15 songs, 15 questions. No skipping the lame, cheating verboten. Answer. Show the world.

Deep breath. Here goes.

1. How does the world see you?
Wesley Willis- "Fuck You"
Ooh, what a start. How do they see me? As a babbling savant, I suppose. How apposite. Oddly, I have a feeling people also see me as someone with a chip on my shoulder, which puzzles me. Hopefully, this happy message will dispel any misconceptions on that front.

2. Will I have a happy life?
The Colourfield- "Things Could Be Beautiful"
OK, Terry: I get the point. I could. It's in my hands. Wasn't it always?

3. What do my friends think of me?
The Wedding Present- "I'm Not Always So Stupid"
I'd like to think the title is indicative, but it probably isn't. Do they see me as someone with regrets, someone who burns his bridges? I wouldn't have thought so. Let's consult a lyric. What's Gedgey got to say that I can dowse a meaning out of? "Every time a car drives past I think it's you/Every time somebody laughs I think it's you" No: they see me as someone who needs new glasses and a hearing aid, evidently.

4. Do people secretly lust after me?
Boards of Canada- "Open The Light"
Well, if they do, they hide messages about it in rambling instrumentals with lots of panning and la-la-la-I'm-not-listening-stoppit-stoppit-stoppit. Stop it! Back to the tinfoil hat, I suppose.

5. How can I make myself happy?
New Order- "Round & Round"
Simple. Don't take shit from people. Ever. Remember the bad times for motivation and infuriate those who would spread misery by manufacturing your own good times. On the other hand, one could spin furiously until one collapses giggling and vomits copiously. Either works in my book. I should know. I've done both.

6. What should I do with my life?
Stevie Wonder- "For Once in My Life"
Wear sunglasses. Play killer harmonica. Recognise those who would make me happy and keep them close. And crucially: don't let sorrow hurt me - not like it hurt me before.

7. Will I ever have children?
Bob Dylan- "Lay, Lady, Lay"
Look, luv. I've got a big brass bed. Just hold still a moment. Shouldn't take long.

8. What is some good advice for me?
Badly Drawn Boy- "Dead Duck"
Feed people bitesized chunks. Don't throw the whole loaf. It hurts.

9. How will I be remembered?
Hard-Fi- "Hard to Beat"
And not just because I recognise danger and run accordingly - I'd like to be remembered as someone who "went for" things. Someone who left people gasping. Metaphorically speaking, I couldn't be a pedestrian.

10. What's my signature dance song?
Blur- "Battery In Your Leg"
"This is a ballad for the good times
So put a battery in your leg
Put a rock beat on the record
And get it stuck there in your head"

It's been stuck there for years. The beat, that is. Not a dance anthem, this though, is it? Next question!

11. What's my current theme song?
Syd Barrett- "No Man's Land"
"You would hold your head up high/You even try" Yes. I do. Thanks for recognising that, Syd. Now - back in the linen cupboard with you, you babbling fool.

12. What do others think my current theme song is?
ABBA- "Fernando"
"Others" are a funny bunch of people, me thinks. I'm glad a piece of pop like this should be seen as my theme song, but the reasoning is so beyond me it's untrue. Do they see me as a freedom fighter? Old? The Sp3ccylad mind, such as it is, boggles at this point.

13. What shall they play at my funeral?
The Teardrop Explodes- "Kilimanjaro"
Oh, now you're talking. Trippy genius Cope puts together a "strange and beautiful piece that sounded like it was recorded in a volcano on a Pacific atoll." If I thought that a funeral was a rite of passage in a journey, then this would be great. As it is. I'd play it just to freak people out, and it'd be great. Better still, drop the lights and then play it, then hire an actor to burst out of my coffin. Su-perb.

14. What type of men do I like?
Chumbawamba- "How To Get Your Band On Television"
Sorry, but I'm changing the gender of the question here. I'll use women instead. So sue me. Anyway, where were we? The type that fully grasps the meaning of the maxim "optimism of the will, pessimism of the intellect" and - crucially - acts upon it. Someone who can confront the sacred cows of received wisdom and still make me laugh helplessly: much like this marvellous song that takes me back to having green hair and dossing in an old miner's cottage near Woolley Colliery back in 1987. The women I shared the place with could all be described in that way - some of the most fabulous people I ever shared part of my life with.

Anne Ryan, where are you now?

15. How's my love life?
Ivor Cutler- "Not Big Enough"
I am instructing my lawyer to sue my iPod.

Right. I'm now meant to pass this on - so I'm trying to think of someone who cares about his music. B&Massa - the floor is yours, such that it is.

When I hear the word "work" I reach for some culture

Having It Both Ways
Originally uploaded by sp3ccylad.

Welcome to an occasional look into my life.

You don't want to know what I do for a job. Really, you don't. And when it all gets too much for me, I faff about making art. Stupid drawings, and blu-tack sculptures, mainly. I now have a sculpture garden on my work PC, and I'm really quite proud of it. I'll pop a sculpture up here now and again.

There. It's got to be better than that bloody racket I keep on making, hasn't it?

Love Theme for the Deputy Prime Minister

Love Theme for the Deputy Prime Minister
Free Music!

Every love story needs a theme, even one that involves that fuckwit.

I feel this music perfectly fits the bill.

Download.

Listen.

Enjoy.

A cool, and idiotically simple game

Asterisks fall from the sky synced to a soundtrack seemingly transported from early 80's Minneapolis.

You are a lightbulb. You dodge the asterisks, for they are death.

Your mouse button is magic - it makes the asterisks flee. There is a finite supply of magic.

You have but one life. Make the most of it.

Play Short Circuit here.

We win

The Register-Guard (Eugene, OR) gets worried about the nation's well-being:

"Another sharp blow to the self-esteem of the Best of All Possible Nations: Working-class Brits, with their bad teeth and pasty white skin, are much healthier than upscale, nipped and tucked, golden-tanned, full-orthodontured Caucasian Americans."

Hey, less of the personal jibes, man - and get your healthcare system sorted!

Let's move to Lincoln...

...and set up home in this charming end terrace with a lovely... Jeeze! No!

Forget I said that. Actually, that sort of behaviour seems to be a Browning Drive thing. So let's just step away from the whole affair. Mind you, it's nice to know it's not all gorgeous architecture, great pubs and decent sausages back in the old place.

"Lincoln: steeped in history, brimming with life and overflowing with rubbish."

Loads of Stairways To Heaven (will the torture never end?)

Stairway to Heaven. Bleurgh.

I should explain. When I was in bands in my youth, and we used to look for new guitarists, I had a "No Stairway" rule. It was a bit like The Gong Show, I suppose. I'd ask guitarists what they could show me, and if they played that terrible song, I'd shout "Next!" and throw a hissy fit. I did that a lot.

So you can imagine what I thought when I came across this particular brand of living hell - a page with thirty-nine fifty-six sixty-four sixty-five one hundred-and-one versions of... I'm sorry. I can't bring myself to type it, let alone italicise it.

Personal favourite? The Hard-Ons' version. Why? It could be me playing it. Enjoy!

Fnurgled is here.

Well, I can now go ahead and make the announcement that has probably been chinese whispers for some time: Fnurgled, my first collection of songs, is in pre-release, aka available at CafePress.

Boasting a gestation period that would make the vet in the elephants' enclosure at London Zoo more than a tad concerned, it's what I consider to be the highlights of the last year's output.

"So," you might say: "I've heard it all before. What's new here?"

On one level, nothing. Yes, all the tracks are tracks that I inflicted on you at one point or another.

On another level, plenty.

Some of the tracks have been remixed - others have had the vocals retouched or even redone; and they've all been mastered for CD. Beautifully, I might add - and it's the first time since started making music that I've dared to relinquish creative control.

A word about that mastering: it's pulled together a disparate collection of sounds into songs that have become finished objects of a quality I couldn't have dreamed of, and done the same for the album as a whole.

You know how you can get a bit sick of the sound of your own songs sometimes? Perhaps not? Well, I certainly do. But this collection, lushly mastered as it is, is a non-stop on my iPod - listened to at times with a "is this really me?" proud disbelief.

So - the track listing:

i wish i was a theremin
Lucky You
Camoflage
Wait For Me
The Same Way Too
Rain In The Summertime
Everything Has A Price
Guilty
Hey, You!
Take Me Away
Song For The Lost
Spun Out
Waiting
Morning After

Availability? Right now, like I said, at CafePress. It's also available in my artist store for the comforting, round-number price of ten English pounds: I shall be getting stock in soon for personal delivery!

Later? CD Baby. After that, iTunes, etc. Then, the world shall be mine.

Watch this space. And, er... don't forget the rest of the merchandise.

China releases panda to the wild

They what? I mean... The... I...

Jeeze!

No. Hang on.They gave him a GPS device. And training.

It's cool.

The one-eyed stare of fear...

The one-eyed stare of fear...
Originally uploaded by sp3ccylad.

The view at the point my heart starts racing. Half the time I have nothing but a sketchy idea of a melody and some scratched-out scrawl on a piece of paper. Most times it works, sometimes it doesn't. Then there's the times the harmonies just flow and time flies. I barely remember those times. It's like something's working me. Something I don't pretend to understand. Something I've no desire to understand.

Dress your Ferret

And why not? If it mauls your finger in the style of the late great Richard Whiteley, then all the better - because you probably deserve it.

Painfully funny, and all the better for it being real.

Surely

Verily, the lad's at it again.

Surely

FREE MUSIC!

Surely is the first song in ages that I actually sat down with a guitar and wrote in the popularly understood way - and you can tell. A supernatural tale of domestic invisibility, it sits somewhere Ben Jonson's Volpone and Anthony Minghella's film Truly, Madly, Deeply in lyrical content - and, even though I say so myself, it's poptastic.

Go on: download it before I start actually selling my stuff.

And on that subject: iTunes users can now buy a Sp3ccylad song. No, really. I'm Talking About You has been released as part of a compilation album linked to a radio show out in the Carolinas that I get played on, called The Great American Music Hour, Vol. 2 that is out on Lost Cat Records. If you wish to buy it (or just check out my story!) I've popped in the iTunes music store link above.

Pimp My Snack

Us Brits love our sweeties. I believe we eat more of them than any other nationality, including those lovable cuckoo-clock peddlars the Swiss. So - what could be better than big fat snacks. And when I say, big and fat, I mean BIG. And FAT.

That's the rationale behind Pimp My Snack, a laudable attempt to make colossal versions of all your favourite chocolate bars. It seems to be an ongoing project, so I shall be going back for more.

Choco-tastic.

Battling the tapioca tube - or How We Used To Live

I was fiddling with the Wayback Machine last night (actually looking for a 9-year-old photo of me in Bridlington, of all places) and while I was doing so, a friend in California pointed me in the direction of a fantastic piece of stuff.

Whilst looking at the links off it, I found a page I'd almost forgotten about - The Random Masturbation Synonym Generator. Hit the button and you get a synonym for masturbation (although most of them fit more properly into the category of euphemisms if you want to get picky).

I was playing with it (eep!) and I suddenly realised "Hey! This is how I used to amuse myself when Bill Clinton was President!" Suddenly, it all seems such a long, long time ago...

Not safe for work unless you work in a masturbation synonym factory.

More Pieces Than People

More music from the newly productive House of Sp3ccylad:

More Pieces Than People
FREE MUSIC, DAMMIT!

A bit different for me, this. Mostly acapella, it counterpoints a growing discontent with the shape of things in the wider world with the knowledge that, however good we try to be, events will conspire to make our personal lives appear no better than the events we try to transcend - that trying to do absolute good will always be tempered by somoeone else's personal perspective.

So: do you live vicariously and look good? Or do you do what you need and watch people play wounded (with undoubtable sincerity) while the world wags its collective finger?

And can you stand the pain it causes: even if it is more self-inflicted than the "victim" claims?

The Same Way Too, revisited

Well, I've remade an old song and stripped it back to basics - and here it is:

The Same Way Too
FREE MUSIC!

It catches me in sombre mood, taking the song away from its pop roots and back to the despair I felt when I wrote it. I'd say "enjoy!", but that's not quite right.

Appreciate.

Belgian farting pig cartoon

I can't ask any more from life than this.

This borders on the perfect, I tell ya.

Aw, bless!

When I was young, I had a knitted digestive system, made by my mother. She also made me a heterosexual. Anyway, I never thought I'd see one again - until today. Ladies and gentlemen - a knitted digestive system.*


*The factuality of this post may be at odds with the written content.

Piiiiiiiiigs iiiiiiiin Spaaaaaaaaace!

Well, this is the prototype version. Want to know whether mammals can take extreme G-forces? Well this Flickr photoset shows how the Soviets went about it - and it's simple.

Just get a pig drunk.

Put it in a cannon.

Boom!

Pig comes back on parachute.

That's it. The pig lives.

Look at all the lovely flying pig photos here.

Product Endorsement Hell

While we're hanging at YouTube, here's a bit of an oddity.

The Rolling Stones - they'll do anything for money! Here, the supposed "bad boys of pop" troop into a studio and record a jingle for Kellogg's Rice Krispies.

To be fair, the result isn't all that bad: but really.

And what was the budget for this, pray?

Woah. Rupert Murdoch may well be union-breaking scum, but he knows how to calm me down with magic.

For our transatlantic cousins, a word of explanation. Over here, we have Sky TV. It's our satellite service. Yes. Our only satellite service. We had two, but one was hounded to its premature death by Rupert Murdoch.

Rupe's formula for getting viewers (especially principled scum like me) is simple. Chuck bucketloads of money at it. Either

a) buy the rights to it (anything with a ball or anything cool…)
or
b) give it a budget roughly similar to Switzerland's GNP

This is a bit of both. Sky have the rights to The Simpsons, and to advertise the new season (yeah, like you need to have The Simpsons advertised) they remade the title sequence in live action. It's pretty amazing.

Look for the detail. It's there.

Bad Taste Alert!!!

I don't like Bohemian Rhapsody. A song that takes that long just to tell me "nothing really matters..." can't be good. Oh, no.

On the other hand, a similar song with lyrics by the semilegendary DogHorse called Bulimian Rhapsody is pure genius. It has kazoos, too. Lots of them.

Kazoos are good. You know that. I've told you so.

The lyrics can be accessed here. Read them and sing along. Tell your friends some bloke on the internet said it was OK.

Hey, You! Remember this?

Hey, You! (revisited)
FREE MUSIC!

Yes - Hey, You! is getting its debut radio play later today on WRIR-FM's The Great American Music Hour! Never mind the fact that I'm not a Great American, let's just celebrate the fact that it's being played.

Even if I keep on being called "Special Lad".

Ah, who cares. Be pleased for me! Follow the link, listen to the podcast or even go for the giddy thrill of hearing me being played on the spot. The programme starts at 11pm EST. That's a work-destroying 4am over here. Eep.

You know, I think I'll do the podcast.

UUUHHHGGG-rrrr!

With a title like that, it can only be Chewbacca's blog. I'm not a Star Bores geek, but I wish I'd thought this one up.

It's the sheer persistence of the joke that I love - as anybody subjected to my running jokes will attest.

Thunderbirds! (But not as I knew it)

Ah, Thunderbirds. It scared me as a pre-school tot. Sensitive, y'see. Then I got into it as a junior school kid. Loved it. Later, in my early teens, I watched it with ironic detachment; gleefully counting the number of puppets dashed to matchwood whilst shaking my head and commenting on how violent television had become.

I was an odd child, I suppose.

Anyway, this is the title sequence. Only it's in Spanish. Did my head in a bit, truth be told. Notice Spanish kids have to have an announcer tell them who the cast members are. Jeeze: can't they read English?

Ah. S'pose not.

As an aside, I once very fleetingly (I was 16) went out with a girl (that's not the end of the anecdote, by the way - that kind of thing has happened quite frequently since, he adds slightly too hastily) and her dad was, and still is, a film editor. He told me that he once had the mind-numbing task of slicing the ad-breaks into Thunderbirds. Drove him near barmy finding the right cliff-hanger point in each episode in which to do it (can you even imagine the torture?), but he could do a perfect Scott Tracy head-wobble as a result. And believe me, it was good.

yeahyeahyeahyeahyeahyeah!

New music time, people. And about time too.

So what I have done? It's a big mish-mash of all sorts, this one. And I love it.

Lucky You: 2.8 MB download
FREE MUSIC!!!

Let's let someone I really respect do the talking. Take it away, Boris:

"you realize that is going to be "shivering on the tip of my tongue" for the next three days?
this was just such a knockout smack that it demanded to be listened to again. and seriously, again! very unexpected and very smartly fit.

'what have you done?' well, you've successfully lifted Beatle elements and made them into your own. from the Taxmanish bass line, to the "yeah, yeah, yeah's," this easily puts a walrus in any Beatle fan's pocket without ever saying "i'm trying to be a beatles song."

there's a couple of specifics worth mentioning: your voice is just great here. i love the pacing, clarity, and charm. well presented! the word "girlfriend" is just brilliantly placed.

also, the way the piece moves is very sexy. it's got a swagger about it that exudes unforgiving attitude. it's got a "2bad, 2sad" vibe going on, while still being a quartful of fun.

great song art, as well. is there anything bad i can say about this? well, i'm not a horns fan. i tend to steer away from them (hmm, joke in there? horns, steer, bull?) but they are the charm and lure of the song and work very well in doing their job.

this was just a lot of fun and very well performed! thank you!! the more i play this one, the better it gets! another inspiring piece to chew on like good jerky."

Phew. I think he likes it.

Best. 12". Single. Ever.

Yeah, yeah. Blue Monday. What else? And in an "it had to happen" kinda way, I bring you the Blue Monday Owners Club, where the proud owners of FAC 73 get to show off their gorgeous possessions, courtesy of artist Spencer Graham.

It's a seamlessly pointless affair. I love it.

Garfield isn't funny

We all know that.

Mind you, it is funny if you remove all Garfield's thought bubbles...

Incidentally, this was the 666th post to Abroad At Home. Make of that what you will.

Polish Poster Designers:Mad as a Bag of Badgers

Over at Retrocrush, there's the most wonderful thing.

"While most movie posters in the United States pretty much showcase the standard corporate style imagery to hawk the film, the fine folks in Poland have a brilliant dramatic license when marketing Hollywood's finest in their country, resulting in some of the most brilliantly surreal and amazing pieces of movie artwork ever created. Some of them are obvious, some seem to be crazy nonsequiters that have nothing to do with the original picture, while others seem to change the focus of the movie altogether. Weekend At Bernies now looks more like a horror film, and Polish poster for The Terror of Mechagodzilla looks as if it was animated by the folks that made Yellow Submarine."

Get your Polish movie posters here.

"Spit on the purists. They're there to be trodden on..."

Ooh, what have I here? Welcome to the dark underbelly of my musical life. This is the video for one of my favourite songs.

Quick back-story time. It's 1982, and Soft Cell are on their way to becoming the most successful act in Britain in terms of singles chart weeks. What does a sane person do? Make the most of your main project. On the other hand, what does Marc Almond do? Form another band. Crackers, I know, but the result is gold dust.

Marc & The Mambas were formed around the nucleus of Marc Almond and Annie Hogan (keys) and had an ever-changing band roster that included variously David Ball, Matt "The The" Johnson, Peter Ashworth (as in the photographer immortalised in Mari Wilson's kitsch classic Just What I Always Wanted, and Zeke Manyika from Orange Juice.

Sleaze was originally a Cellmates-only single and it electrified this young lad from Lincolnshire. So much so that I'd never be out of mascara by the end of the year. So much so that I ripped off (sorry, paid homage to) the minor to major electric piano riff in one of my songs.

Don't let the fact that Sleaze was recorded in Heckmondwike (Heck-mond-wike? Uh?) put you off.

Change at Crux For Disco for Lob Horn and Sap Lust

I like the London Underground map. Anagrams are fun, too. So imagine my joy when I saw the two combined.

It's a surrealist's paradise.

A vintage computer; in LEGO, for crying out loud!

How odd is this? Andy Carol has built a Babbage Difference Engine from LEGO.

Imagine, girls - you meet a bloke, go back to his place and you see that. You'd be on the blower for a cab in seconds.

Bless him though - it's quite the feat.

Matthew Parris Talks Utter Sense

The world is fighting a losing battle against dogma.

I'm not a great fan of The Times. I'm more a Guardian man myself; but The Times has one ace up its sleeve in their columns that goes by the name of Matthew Parris - a columnist I have immense respect for. In today's Times, Matthew Parris strikes a blow for self-expression in the face of those who would scare us into silence.

Read his stellar column here.

A Revolutionary Use of New Technology

It seems that iFingers, the founder of Macidol (the lovely site where I keep all my music) has found a project that could take all the hard work out of the creativity required to make great music. And it involves hamsters as a MIDI controller.

Should I? Would the hamsters need a writing credit?

Incidentally - have a look around Macidol. It's a fabulous place. Some truly great music, and all from unsigned types like me.

A podcast...

Welcome to Maggie Osterberg's International Underground - a podcast featuring independent artists in their own words.

Enhanced AAC - MP3
Put this link in your podcast thingy to subscribe

This edition:

"The music, wit and wisdom of Sp3ccylad.

From the wilds of Huddersfield, UK comes avant-pop savant Sp3ccylad ("speccy-lad"), who talks about his approach to making music, living life and being "The Hendrix of The Kazoo."

Don't miss his masterclass on how to record kazoo with GarageBand!"

Who? Oh, just listen. It's good.

Old song? New song!

I went back to one of my old songs today - a song that I have a lot of affection for, but was never pleased with the final outcome. I'm quite chuffed with it now.

Hey, You! (revisited)

It's a funny old song - tips a hat to vintage soul, and in the original had a slight sound of Len Barry's 1-2-3. It now sounds more like Instant Karma!, and it's all the better for it. Enjoy!

STOP PRESS!

Radio play (proper radio, with transmitters and all!) coming up for this song soon! I'll tip a wink as it gets closer.

STOP PRESS! AGAIN!

The reviews are in:

"Time well spent! Nice work!"

"Excellent stuff! This is a fantastic, well-crafted song with a great hook and feeling to it. Especially liked the backing vocals."

"Poptastic sp3ccylad. Very well put together, great layering. I love the horn section, your vocals are most excellent and those girls sure know what to do!"

"I'm just going to go listen to this perfect noughat nugget of pop again."

"sp3ccymania!"

"What a great throwback while simultaneously remaining remarkably "today". I'll just round up what everyone else has said and second it: great hook, great lead vocal, great backing vocals, great arrangement."

Phew.

William Shatner reaches new heights of irony

Where, in a laudable attempt to raise some money for a well-worthwhile cause, he flogs a kidney stone.

It's an odd world.

The real irony is that I'm blogging about a renal disorder while sitting in a bar drinking a pint of Schneider Weisse.

Dirty, dirty Sp3ccylad

Find out how much of a slut I am: here.*


*Not much, actually.

Invisible Chinese Bloke Puzzle

Here's an odd one. Some bloke goes to a police station, tries to get an ID photo... and can't. Read more here. It's like some bizarre comedy sketch. Or he's a vampire. Or something.

What goes around comes around: or "It's like Germaine Greer never happened"

Boys will be boys, I suppose: and if you ever wanted proof this is it: a pair of Rover badges, advertised toplessly by a seller from London.

Needless to say, it ain't safe for work: although it's hardly pornographic. I leave the last word to the seller:

"HAVE MANY OTHER INTERESTING PARTS FOR SALE NOW, SEE MY OTHER ITEMS LISTED."

I bet.

He shall have music whenever he goes....

With this handy iPod dock and toilet roll holder.

Sheesh.

Quick Vibrating Lockpick

Oh, what have I done now? Yes, I've posted a link to an online guide to making a Vibrating Lockpick out of an electric flosser.

Next - Sp3ccylad gets burgled.

An insight into my evenings...

Or, more to the point, my musical evenings. I'm an enthusiatic consumer of live music, as well as a sporadic provider. To this end, you reader(s) may well remember me mentioning The Scaramanga Six. They're an odd bunch, with a performance style once described by this very writer as "like being harangued by a bunch of psychotic English teachers".

That's a genuine compliment, by the way. Sp3ccylad REALLY likes The Scaramanga Six.

So you can surmise that I was dead pleased to read that a blog in Albuqueque, NM carried an interview with one of the Morricone brothers (the one that definitely reminds me of an English teacher).

Ah, Albuquerque. Never been there, but I've been to New Mexico. Biggest bats I've ever seen outside a zoo: which kind of suits The Six, I suppose.

Read the interview with Paul Morricone here.

I hereby doff my cap to The Great Beyond.

How to hypnotise rabbits

Look, don't anyone ever tell you that this blog doesn't give you the odd useful lifestyle tip. So next time you feel the need to entrance a bunny remember who tipped you the wink.

Look, there's a Paypal button on this page! Show some gratitude, dammit!

The Google Images Storyteller

This has done my head in. So, in turn, I submit it to you.

You know how oddly random Google Images can be, yeah? So: imagine putting a story in and having Google Images turn it into an illustrated story. The effect is rather like being trapped in David Byrne's head about 20 years ago, or having a slideshow brought to you by Jenny Holzer.

The odd image it pulls up is Not really all that Safe For Work, but if you can deal with that, the utter aleatory* nature of it all is quite beguiling.

If you have no material to input, it loads with a bit of Lewis Carroll. Recommendation: it adds a whole new level to Charles Dickens.

Take it for a spin...

*Ooh, get me!

I'm that kind.

What Kind of Drunk Are You?