Just back from the Rhythm Festival.
But how to describe it?
- It’s where I go to feel young and clean shaven (compared to the rest of the crowd).
- It’s where you look at the stage and say: “I thought he was dead ages ago.”
- It’s where a blues band announces that the bass player has had a stroke, lost the power of speech except for swearing, but will sing the next number anyway. (Not good.)
- It’s a lot better than I’m making it sound so far.
- And it’s where you find out if past greats still have it… Or not. (And you meet the next wave too.)
S0 – Who has still got it? Continue reading
1. Do You Feel Free?? It was going to be the title of this post – but Kissing the Gator elbowed it aside. (You can find out why further down.)
How does this graffiti make you feel? Puzzled? Reflective? Called to action? Annoyed (especially if it’s your garage door)?
I saw it the other day behind some shops. It makes me think smugness. The person who sprayed it is smug.
What about this next one? A step or two too far? Continue reading
Death in the North is different. We don’t like to acknowledge the event. Down South they’re weeping and wailing and partying round the coffin.
But up North we don’t like to talk about it.
We come up with euphemisms instead.
He’s tatey bread Continue reading
But enough about me.
The young Bob Dylan looking curdled over there is a clever thing. Continue reading
This is something you should never do. But hey, we’re all adults here. And we can shoulder responsibilities and still be experimental and creative at the same time, can’t we. More after the washing machine destruction. It gets particularly destructive at 55″ in. (Thanks ColtMonday.)
Getting back to the pram. Cyril Connolly said this:
“There is no more sombre enemy of good art than the pram in the hallway.”
A bloke would say it I suppose. A woman would just Continue reading