Following on from the depths of last month’s concrete blue, we rise in November to the battleship grey of furnace in the chest, death games, treachery and reaching, stranded, for the rocks. It’s the pit of the year, November, particularly on the blighted rock we call the British Isles, but there is always, if you face the pissing rain and diesel, a kind of truth that can be found in it.
- Ode To Street Hassle Spacemen 3
- Für Kati Kosmischer Läufer
- Dance of Maria Elias Rahbani
- Can You Get To That Funkadelic
- Reel Ten The Plugz
- Cumbia de Sal Cumbia en Moog
- Smoke And Mirrors The Magnetic Fields
- Cracked Up Dietrich Screaming Tea Party
- Shoplifters of the World Unite The Smiths
- He Will Come He Will Come Elpida
- Lume, Lume Fanfare Ciocărlia
- Brandenburg Beirut
A word on Morrissey, seeing as he’s here. Some of his opinions are quite mad (e.g. on Israel), his apparent support for English nationalism is kinda bats (Farage!?) and his lack of warmth occasionally borders on the inhuman (but then so does mine sometimes). Thing is, I still have the feeling that, when he gets to the Pearly Gates, St. Peter is going to say ‘well, you’re a nob Steven, your books are naff and so has most of your music been since the Smiths, but seeing as it’s you… g’wan, in you go.’ Check this out. Who else would claim being on the dole as a kind of victory? Watch Chiles and Bleakly peer in confusion. What? Not wanting to work? What sorcery is this?