Monday, September 29, 2008
More music
I've rerecorded Back in Black, as I had a few gripes with the way it came out last time. This time, I have less gripes. Ziggy Stardust is also on there, and the original take of Back in Black. It's all on the music page.
Thursday, September 25, 2008
Polite post
I saw a sign on a back road near Tottenham Court Road station a couple of days ago. It said "Polite Notice: Please leave quietly as this is a residential area".
There was a director of the BBC, News I think, who once banned his staff from describing anyone as "famous". The word was either unnecessary or incorrect, he reasoned.
I think the notice falls into the same bracket. We do not need telling that something is a polite notice. If it read "Presumptuous notice: Please leave..." I would be quite happy.
Perhaps I'll change it with a permanent marker on my way home.
Monday, September 22, 2008
Sneaky new tune
It's clear I need to keep working on lots of things, both my recording technique and my singing, not to mention bum notes from the guitar and some tuning issues with my kazoo. That said, I hope that you'll enjoy my latest musical offering. One track. The first recording I've made completely independently (and it shows Jim, your expertise will definitely be needed in the future). Please check out the Music Page for my version of the AC/DC classic Back in Black.
And yes, I do know they're touring soon. And yes, please, please tell me as soon as you know where and when in Europe.
And yes, I do know they're touring soon. And yes, please, please tell me as soon as you know where and when in Europe.
Friday, September 19, 2008
Metallica at the O2
Paul's stag weekend was not blog material. There's some sort of rule about what goes on tour staying on tour, which I've already broken extensively, and plan to break some more, but not on the internet.
However, when the dust settled and we made it back to work on Monday, I'd got a Metallica gig lined up for the Monday night. It was a fanclub gig, and I'd had to join a mailing list to get into it. Elissa had joined up too, and picked up a couple of tickets, and was up in the top tier with an Aussie friend who liked her rock. She texted me her location and we managed to spot each other across a few hundred metres and a crowd of 17,000. Anyway, the gig.
This review sums it up nicely. The band didn't play "Nothing Else Matters" or "Enter Sandman". But it doesn't matter, because they've got a ton of other songs that benefit from 17,000 people singing (is that the right term?) the words. The band are very obviously becoming middle aged, and James is a little bit chubbier than he should be. But it doesn't matter. They're back at ease with themselves after the cringeworthy Some Kind of Monster and, to be fair, the equally cringeworthy "St Anger". That was referenced during the show, in fact. James said "This song is from our much-loved album, St Anger" and the crowd made a noise that was a third cheer, a third jeer and a third chuckle. "Say what you want, this song still fucking rocks." And Frantic, as the song turned out to be, did fucking rock. Particularly Kirk Hammett's dirty vocals. Everything fucking rocked between 8.45pm and 10.45pm.
I got very excited about Master of Puppets. Of Wolf and Man was pretty good too. I knew all the words to Until it Sleeps, which surprised me. I can still hear James saying "For whom the bell tolls - Oh, time marches on... Your turn!", then the crowd chanting "FOR WHOM THE BELL TO_OOLLS!" and a cheeky "Yer DAAMN right!" from the frontman.
Metallica aren't terribly subtle. They're not going to change the world of music. They're probably not going to have another album as successful, and certainly not as memorable, as either the Black Album or Master of Puppets. But they're still going to pump out a show that rocks, for at least another decade. A fiver well spent, I think.
Click on the Hetfield for a few snaps that are much better than any I could have taken.
Click here for an obligatory link to the people hosting this image, because bloody bloggers bloody image upload is bloody broken.
However, when the dust settled and we made it back to work on Monday, I'd got a Metallica gig lined up for the Monday night. It was a fanclub gig, and I'd had to join a mailing list to get into it. Elissa had joined up too, and picked up a couple of tickets, and was up in the top tier with an Aussie friend who liked her rock. She texted me her location and we managed to spot each other across a few hundred metres and a crowd of 17,000. Anyway, the gig.
This review sums it up nicely. The band didn't play "Nothing Else Matters" or "Enter Sandman". But it doesn't matter, because they've got a ton of other songs that benefit from 17,000 people singing (is that the right term?) the words. The band are very obviously becoming middle aged, and James is a little bit chubbier than he should be. But it doesn't matter. They're back at ease with themselves after the cringeworthy Some Kind of Monster and, to be fair, the equally cringeworthy "St Anger". That was referenced during the show, in fact. James said "This song is from our much-loved album, St Anger" and the crowd made a noise that was a third cheer, a third jeer and a third chuckle. "Say what you want, this song still fucking rocks." And Frantic, as the song turned out to be, did fucking rock. Particularly Kirk Hammett's dirty vocals. Everything fucking rocked between 8.45pm and 10.45pm.
I got very excited about Master of Puppets. Of Wolf and Man was pretty good too. I knew all the words to Until it Sleeps, which surprised me. I can still hear James saying "For whom the bell tolls - Oh, time marches on... Your turn!", then the crowd chanting "FOR WHOM THE BELL TO_OOLLS!" and a cheeky "Yer DAAMN right!" from the frontman.
Metallica aren't terribly subtle. They're not going to change the world of music. They're probably not going to have another album as successful, and certainly not as memorable, as either the Black Album or Master of Puppets. But they're still going to pump out a show that rocks, for at least another decade. A fiver well spent, I think.
Click on the Hetfield for a few snaps that are much better than any I could have taken.
Click here for an obligatory link to the people hosting this image, because bloody bloggers bloody image upload is bloody broken.
Monday, September 08, 2008
Cheese, wine and Mitterand's waiter
On Friday evening Elissa and I popped into Tesco, picked up sandwiches, some smoothie, a couscous salad and a couple of cream slices, and headed to St Pancras to catch our train. Our train to Paris, where we'd be spending what we had down as a very relaxing weekend.
Arriving at Gare Du Nord we headed to the Metro and got off just across the bridge from Notre Dame. Our hotel was a short walk away, and our room was comfortable and quiet. The boulangerie down the road provided a delicious breakfast. Then we set off. We walked from our hotel to the Eiffel Tower, via Notre Dame, the Louvre, Tuileries, The Champs Elysees, the Arc de Triomphe and the Trocadero.
View Larger Map
At the Eiffel Tower we hopped onto a boat and took a tour back up the river to Notre Dame and beyond, and then we hopped onto the Metro and headed to Sacre Coeur and Montmartre. By this time it was about 5pm, and the light was softening slightly. Sacre Couer looked much darker than I ever remember it being. Elissa was delighted to see nuns inside the church. We wandered round the square in Montmartre, watching people having their portraits done, and popped into another boulangerie for a snack and a coffee.
Later, back at the hotel, we had a short nap, and complained about the pain in our legs. We both staggered around the streets (no, not a drop, I swear!) and eventually found ourselves outside a restaurant. A drunk local came and spoke to us, in French. I missed what he had said and explained we were English (sorry Elissa, it's easier to bundle us together...) and he explained that Francois Mitterand used to eat in the restaurant, and lived just round the corner. "If it's good enough for the President, it's good enough for us" I said. And it was. Their couscous was particularly good.
Sunday morning we rose late, and went to the Musee D'Orsay. It was really busy, but as we got to the end of the queue we saw why. The museum is open for free on the first Sunday of each month. So we had a very pleasant couple of hours in there, and felt very pleased at getting a bit of a bargain. I was hard pushed to choose between something by Van Gogh and a big stone polar bear, as my favourite bits.
We headed out of the centre a little, trying to find a flea market, but we failed. In the end we made for the Centre Commercial at Gare Montparnasse. Of course, it was Sunday so everything was closed. We grabbed a bite to eat and rushed back to the hotel where the man behind the desk pointed out two supermarkets that would be open, and we managed to find our obligatory cheese and wine haul for the trip home. At Gare Du Nord, an Australian tourist gratefully received our day travelcards, and we checked in. Our train pulled back in to London at about 7pm, just enough time left in the day to try the cheeses and have a glass of wine!
Arriving at Gare Du Nord we headed to the Metro and got off just across the bridge from Notre Dame. Our hotel was a short walk away, and our room was comfortable and quiet. The boulangerie down the road provided a delicious breakfast. Then we set off. We walked from our hotel to the Eiffel Tower, via Notre Dame, the Louvre, Tuileries, The Champs Elysees, the Arc de Triomphe and the Trocadero.
View Larger Map
At the Eiffel Tower we hopped onto a boat and took a tour back up the river to Notre Dame and beyond, and then we hopped onto the Metro and headed to Sacre Coeur and Montmartre. By this time it was about 5pm, and the light was softening slightly. Sacre Couer looked much darker than I ever remember it being. Elissa was delighted to see nuns inside the church. We wandered round the square in Montmartre, watching people having their portraits done, and popped into another boulangerie for a snack and a coffee.
Later, back at the hotel, we had a short nap, and complained about the pain in our legs. We both staggered around the streets (no, not a drop, I swear!) and eventually found ourselves outside a restaurant. A drunk local came and spoke to us, in French. I missed what he had said and explained we were English (sorry Elissa, it's easier to bundle us together...) and he explained that Francois Mitterand used to eat in the restaurant, and lived just round the corner. "If it's good enough for the President, it's good enough for us" I said. And it was. Their couscous was particularly good.
Sunday morning we rose late, and went to the Musee D'Orsay. It was really busy, but as we got to the end of the queue we saw why. The museum is open for free on the first Sunday of each month. So we had a very pleasant couple of hours in there, and felt very pleased at getting a bit of a bargain. I was hard pushed to choose between something by Van Gogh and a big stone polar bear, as my favourite bits.
We headed out of the centre a little, trying to find a flea market, but we failed. In the end we made for the Centre Commercial at Gare Montparnasse. Of course, it was Sunday so everything was closed. We grabbed a bite to eat and rushed back to the hotel where the man behind the desk pointed out two supermarkets that would be open, and we managed to find our obligatory cheese and wine haul for the trip home. At Gare Du Nord, an Australian tourist gratefully received our day travelcards, and we checked in. Our train pulled back in to London at about 7pm, just enough time left in the day to try the cheeses and have a glass of wine!
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