Posted in Music, Downloads at Sat 16 Sep 2006 by Stavros
I’ve been home nearly a week now. Arleston’s nowt like the Via Gioberti. The only night-noise being the occasional twocked car tear-arsing it around the estate. No life. Sedantry commuter open-prison that it is. Anyway I bought one of these little beauties the other week to put all me music on, as my ancient laptop was getting full like the greedy lad at an all-you-can-eat buffet. So I suppose it’s about time I shared what I’m currently listening to.
Voxtrot are a five-piece from Austin, Texas that wear Belle & Sebastian influences pretty clearly. The singer’s voice can be delicate without really being overcome by fey-ness that Stuart Murdoch is sometimes prone. The whole of Mothers, Sisters, Daughters & Wives, their second EP, is really very good. I especially like the piano in this track Soft & Warm.
Evangelicals (yeah, I’m not too sure of the name either) are a pretty soulful bunch of indie-poppers from Oklahoma. I’ve managed to obtain just four tracks and I’m trying to get the CD, So Gone, as we speak. They sound a bit like Flaming Lips’ calmer stuff, they sound like they suit scruffy beards, and I reckon they sound fucking tops. This is Hello Jenn, I’m a Mess, possibly the cheeriest song about mental instability I’ve heard all year. You can get a couple more tracks from their record label website.
So, enough of this American stuff I hear you cry, what’s big on the Danish indie-scene you ask. And I’m bloody glad you did. I can keep Figurines to myself no longer. This is The Wonder from their infectious album Skeletons. It’s pretty much all 80mph catchy hooks and odd choruses, a great summery album to listen to as you catch the last of the warm sun for another year. I listened to this album on the aeroplane back from Rome and it made me forget about my untimely demise for 45 minutes. Praise doesn’t often come higher than that.
Don’t say I never give you nowt.
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Posted in Fulla, Holiday at Tue 12 Sep 2006 by Stavros
Well I did it. I flew. In an aeroplane. In the sky. A long way up. In a flimsy tin cannister with wobbly wings. And apart from thinking of my death approximately every three minutes it wasn’t too bad. I did have a “very bad feeling about it” when as we were taking off at East Midlands, Fulla asked to look at my book on Italian football I was reading and opened it on the Superga Tragedy chapter. That’s the disaster that killed the entire championship-winning Torino FC team. In a plane crash. With accompanying picture of wreckage. In another example of an omen, at the small utilatarian Ciampino airport as we waited to board to come home, I thought I saw Mary on a cross. Now, I’m not religious, and I’ve only ever skim read bits of the bible, but I’m pretty sure the Holy Virgin was never crucified. It was actually a post holding up a fire extinguisher. Apropos of Holy visions, my contact lenses are still on the old prescription.
Was it worth it? Well when we arrived in the Eternal city at midnight, my intial reactions were not. Walking past graffiti stained walls and sleeping homeless outside the train station. Past the African prostitutes and up four tall flights of stairs to our modest hotel. Even three cans of Peroni didn’t make me feel much better about things. What did make me feel better was the walk to the Colloseum the morning after. It was already hot, a perfect blue sky framing the famous arches of the ruin. Blimey it is huge. Seriously impressive. After the tour guide showed us around we hung around in the shade for an hour or so waiting for the tour around the Forum. The tour guide was a British historian type, a fellow “buff” according to Fulla. Through him we saw all the sights. Including the elaborate Trevi fountain, the Spanish Steps, Capitoline Hill and a couple of nice boozers. One of which we ended an evening tour in to watch the France-Italy Euro 08 qualifier. It was in there where Cassanova Fulla tried and failed to chat up a knackered posh Kiwi girl, generously offering her generously proportioned Aussie mate to me. But she only wanted to borrow a lighter anyway.
After that exhausting day, Thursday was a day for relaxing having already sorted out Friday’s trip to the Pope’s gaff. Fulla dragged me around a museum to look at hundreds of busts (not the good fleshy kind neither). Although there was a nice statue of Augustus, a big Minerva and quite a pretty American girl in there to look at. Then it was off to The Old Marconi. For a couple of beers, and then a couple more etc etc. They were playing some great late-nineties britpop (Mansun, Supernaturals, Ash and the like). We caught a taxi to a piazza we’d walked through the night before to an over-the-top art deco bar. Fulla got on the cocktails and very quicly got pissed. This included falling over a stool, buying drinks for two mature American women, actually requesting two buskers to play and then trying to convince me they were great. Not just good, but great. We followed that up with some sobering food at a restaurant run by Egyptians (I had lovely veal wrapped in bacon).
Friday consisted of sleeping off the hangover (I even forwent the sticky croissant and dried toast). Then in the afternoon it was off to the Vatican on the metro. I wasn’t quite prepared for the sheer quantity of riches on show there. It really was incredible, ancient artefacts like Nero’s red marble bath and fancy sarcophagii to the famous renaissance frescoes. The Sistine Chapel really was worth seeing, Michaelanglo’s ceiling was incredible as was his Last Judgement on the alter wall below. It was standing room only mind, like the front of the Mogwai gig a few month’s ago. For me though, it was all overshadowed by the domed St Peter’s basillica. This was huge. A church with a capacity the same as Arsenal’s new stadium! The statues in there were even more impressive. Although the wooden box on the wall asking for “offerings” amongst these surroundings seemed extremely ironic to this agnostic! We ended the day in the same bar we visited for the football match. The lasagne was just about perfect and the five or six beers were pretty good too. Saturday was coming home day. As such we only really had time to drink coffee in the piazza (as I tried to read La Gazzetta dello Sport), and eat and drink back at the Old Marconi.
All in all, it was a great holiday and definitely worth the papping over the flight. Fulla should hopefully have some pictures here soon.
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Posted in Crown, Fella, Films, Holiday at Sun 3 Sep 2006 by Stavros
I’ve had a bit of a game getting my passport, but I’ve got it now. And the first place I’m wielding it’s mighty power is Rome (well Nottingham first - then Rome, you’ve gotta get there first). I’m flying on Tuesday (first flight + with Fulla the bad flyer = nerves). I’m looking forward to seeing the sights, the Colosseum, the Forum, the Sistine Chapel, the sultry brunettes on Vespas in tight jeans, the leather-skinned old men sipping treacle-like coffee through browning teeth, the moody looking handsome Lazio Ultras landing kicks into a passing rival fan. I’ll let you know how many points I get as I fill in my Eye-Spy Book of Lazy Roman Stereotypes!
On Friday I went to The Crown. Sunk a few. Went back to Fella’s with some wine to watch Family Guy with Fulla and Walt. Ate some Swedish food. The other two rather wisely left. We watched Godfather Part Two. It got late… it got early. The taxi driver kept calling it “the morning” and “Saturday”. I couldn’t argue with him. Well I tried. We were in different timezones. I got home but I hadn’t got a key. I wanted to get in, but I didn’t want to wake anyone up. It was by this stage fairly light. It was about half-six. I rang the doorbell, but nothing was doing. The cat stopped miaowing at me, I was no use to her I couldn’t let her in. She deserted me. I lay on the front door step. I closed my eyes. The milk float woke me up. We don’t get our milk delivered, so I was spared that embarrassment. I decided to sit in the back garden instead though. I was getting cold so I zipped my jacket up and closed my eyes again. Some time later the rain woke me up. It wasn’t my morning. I had to try the door again. This time I knocked the door aswell as rang the bell and finally awoke my slumbering family. One cup of tea later I went to bed. Nine o’clock and the source of much amusement. I think I might put a tent up in the back garden for next time.
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