Live performance of Fredo Viola’s Red States from 3 parts of the world: Fredo Viola performing in New York, I Am Your Autopilot in Manchester and Scalde in Lyon.
Gorgeous song, flawless performance, perfect pop, and a lyric that shines a light on my darkness this evening.
Could mebbeez do without seeing Fredo grooving though. Fredo, there’s a light on my darkness, man. Have some respect.
Jessica’s head rested on the car window, and she watched the trees rushing by in a blur of reds and golds. Autumn was her very favourite time of year, and the forest her favourite place. But the pretty colours couldn’t console her, not today.
She sniffled, and wiped her nose on the back of her pink woollen mitten.
“Mummy,” she whined, her feet kicking the back of the driver’s seat, “I love him. I’ll look after him. It’s not fair!”
“He’s not happy with us in our house. You didn’t want to have him put down, did you? Well, did you?” said Jessica’s Mummy, looking in the rear view mirror at her daughter.
“No!” said Jessica.
“No. So… look, at least out here he’ll have a chance, living in the wild.”
“But.. in the wild? But you said he could go and live on a farm. You said…”
“I know what I said, but I just don’t think there are any farms that would take him,” said Mummy, pulling in to the side of the road. “He’ll love it out here. He can eat… I don’t know, rabbits or something.”
Handbrake on, she opened her door, got out, had a quick look round. She stared into the dense woodland for a moment.
“He’ll be happy out here, you’ll see” she said, opening the rear door for her daughter to clamber out. “Come on”
They both walked to the back of the car. Jessica’s mummy opened the boot.
“Come on then. Come on. Out you get,” she cooed.
Gerald, bloodshot eyes wide with terror, leapt out of the boot and half-ran, half-stumbled into the woods without even bothering to try and release his hands from the gaffer tape.
“There look. See how happy he is?” said Mummy. “Now come on, let’s go and find you a new Daddy!”
Jessica sniffed once, and took a final look into the forest, to see Gerald run headlong into a tree and drop like a sack of spanners. She smiled. This Daddy was funny. She sniffed again, then climbed back into the car.
“Can we have one with a moustache this time?” she asked, as the car pulled away. “I like the ones with moustaches”.
******
Every Dog by Harris
more tiny tales
I don’t watch much in the way of US chat shows since Larry Sanders said “you may now flip”, but I find the sounds and images contained in the above video to be sticky like glue. It’s silly and joyful and so damned catchy, visually and musically. I can’t get it out of my head! So, as a problem shared is a problem halved, here is it for you. Squeal with delight as it lodges in your brain like an incurable comedy parasite.
I used to watch Craig Ferguson’s TV series, The Ferguson Theory, on BBC2 many years ago. I remember nothing about it, other than that he wore leather trousers, and that I enjoyed it (the show, not him wearing leather trousers. Although…). Who woulda guessed the act formerly known as “Bing Hitler” would end up hosting his own talk show on American telly?
I like him, and I’ve watched a fair few of his opening monologues on YouTube. It’s this one that I like the most, in which he challenges the audience’s reactions to the then-current “Britney goes bonkers” stories, and he talks candidly about his own battle with addiction. I’ve watched it a lot, and it never fails to move me.
Comedy should be about attacking the powerful… it shouldn’t be about attacking the vulnerable.
I agree. Why? It’s nobody’s business but the turks! Oh, God dammit!
An “endtime ballad” from Crippled Black Phoenix, a collective-style band featuring members of Mogwai and Electric Wizard, amongst others. Their music is hymnal and doomy. And, on their most recent double-album, The Resurrectionists/Night Raider, more than a little Floydy.
You have to be in the mood for this kind of stuff. Tonight I am in the mood for this kind of stuff.
Directed by Alex Kirkland and my bleached-blond Bristol-based coffee-buddy Stephen Scott-Hayward, this film is so deep the dialogue should be sub-sonic, never mind French.
Arthur Lee and Love. You’ve gotta love a mariachi trumpet! You can rack this up into my ever-expanding list of favourite songs.
I could be in love with almost everyone.
I think that people are the greatest fun.
Well, not all of ’em. Actually some of them are quite dull*. But it’s a beautiful sentiment even though I personally couldn’t be in love with almost anyone. Quite the opposite, in fact.
Songs! They don’t half talk some shit sometimes, but I still sing along…
*and they probably think the same about me.
I run various schools drama groups, and today I started a new term at one of my regulars to be greeted by 20 kids saying “Miss!” (they call me Miss, I try not to take offence) “Miss, did we see you on telly?”
Yeah, they did. I took the dirty advertising dollar and can currently be seen during “60 Minute Makeover” pimping ScS sofas.
You can see my shame here, if you’d like.
I can’t justify it, but the money was good and much-needed at the time, and I certainly wouldn’t let commercial interests sully my own work. Oh, and hey, those sofas are really comfy.
What more can I say? (Buy an ScS sofa.)
You said it, Sparklehorse. I like the way this song swaggers, and the chorus kinda speaks to me. The verses… well, I’m not sure what “hairy rust” is but I’m sure it’s very deep.
What a gloriously lush and tender song. It isn’t a hug, but it’s the next best thing: Sore by Annuals.
Unfortunately, the video is definitely not a hug. It’s a calamity. The music will cuddle your ears, while the video pokes you repeatedly in the eyes. Heh. That’s life, innit?
I’ve had this song on a mixtape for years and years, but only this week found out who it was by (I’d occasionally try and google the chorus, but what with it being “hey goodbye” google told me it was probably by Bananarama. I generally trust google, but it did seem like a stylistic departure for Siobhan, Keren and Dobbin).
But finally the mystery was solved*. It’s Hey Goodbye by Macha Loved Bedhead. Whom? Oh, you know. Macha Loved Bedhead. They did Robert De Niro’s Waiting, I think.
*How did I solve it? I asked Russ, who made the tape for me. I’m like Sherlock Holmes I am.
Ramshackle Charm 