Friday Farce: Hurt

Today's Friday Farce takes on a little bit of a twist from the usual FF formula of "some gimp makes terrible version of great song by beloved artist"; it's more along the lines of "beloved artist makes unnecessary version of song by some wretched gimp". Now normally I wouldn't bother, y'dig, but this one is special.

I was frankly horrified when I learnt that Johnny Cash had covered perennial angst-bucket and dork Trent Reznor's Nine Inch Nails song Hurt on his American IV album. I can't speak highly enough of Johnny Cash, and my love for him and his music; conversely no insult, no offense is too harsh for Reznor and his music. He's the godfather of emo, the great high-priest of screamo, the progenitor of most in popular music that I can think of that is horrid and loathsome. And Johnny had to go and cover his song.

Johnny Cash - Hurt (3.34 MB mp3: right-click and Save As to download)

This isn't just random spewing of bile, either. I'm affeared that this will give credibility to Reznor, that people (sheep?) will feel able to feel like "if it's good enough for J.C., it's good enough for me". Nooooooooo people, don't do it! Don't give creedence to the self-pitying fucktard. Don't validate him.

My last, best hope for humankind is that they -- like me -- and even the NIN fans -- will listen to this tune with new ears and realise -- like me -- what a goddawful piece-o'-shit songwriter and lyricist Reznor is.

I hurt myself today
to see if I still feel
I focus on the pain
the only thing that's real

*puke*

the needle tears a hole
the old familiar sting
try to kill it all away
but I remember everything

*gag*

what have I become?
my sweetest friend
everyone I know
goes away in the end

*retch*

you could have it all
my empire of dirt
I will let you down
I will make you hurt

*yawn*

I wear my crown of thorns
on my liar's chair
full of broken thoughts
I cannot repair

*looks at watch*

beneath the stain of time
the feeling disappears
you are someone else
I am still right here

*slap* *punch* etc.

And on and on and on and on it goes. Fuck man, what are you -- a fourteen year-old girl? (Apologies to fourteen year-old girls everywhere.)

(lyrics reproduced without permission)

Watch music vid for Johnny Cash's version:




Watch footage Reznor performing same in concert:

The tootling of the own-horns

A wee while ago my record label Palindrone released an LP by my band The Stumps. It's round, 30.5 cm across and pressed on black vinyl. It's called Split Fleet Dodge. (And to complete this orgy of self-referentialism, I commissioned myself to provide myself with the art for the jacket.)

I been collecting some property-prop-props for the rekkid, including big ones from FUNcrazy ol' Thurston Moore and Byron Coley:

"Cool New Zealand trio antics from Antony Milton and pals. From winsome electro-dribble, through into full-blown avant-rock splooie, this LP includes some splashy guest organ work by Campbell Kneale and great wobble-vibes galore."

"Great lurching psych/noise rock." - Apex-online 'Boa Melody Bar' website

"Burning" - Mimaroglu music


But most excitingly the album was placed #18 on Thurston Moore and Byron Coley's Bull Tongue Top 80 of 2006 list, in Forced Exposure (in an article originally intended for Vol. 1, No. 26 [March 2007] of the defunct Arthur magazine).

Ok, that's enough outta me. Follow this link if yr real keano and you wanna read some other reviews of the LP; givuz some email lurve if ya wanna get hands on same. Or go see dem boys at Smoke.

It's getting cold

Just over the brow of midwinter and the days are getting coooooooold. And it was bloody cold on Saturday night, when I was roaming around Mt Victoria trying to find a friend's place to which I had only been once before, and in quite a state.

Earlier at Happy, whilst sound-checking with Black Boned Angel, Sunken and The Bad Statistics, I found evidence of a Serious Artist in the gents':

Fueled by gin, tequila and beer, we made quite a night of it watching sport and telling tall tales. Go Rodders! Make that 50m break which leads to the try which is the turning point in the match. Go!

And even later, in town, it was a delight to discover a bar from whence one can still obtain a nice beer or two at the relatively late-ish hour of 0430.

Sunday was spent in the embrace of sleep, delicious sleep.

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Speaking of Black Boned Angel (Myspace), Philip Matthews has written an interesting feature on metal in this week's NZ Listener, including an interview with Black Boned Angel's founder, my mate Campbell Kneale.

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At the railway station this morning, a deputation of sparrows was dispatched to inquire about the availability of muffin crumbs:

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NP: Anthony Braxton - - Dortmund (Quartet) 1976 (Church number 9)

most of you will probably have it already. those who don't: get it now!! this would be my first choice for an introduction to braxton, especially for those who are sceptical - who think ab's music is too cerebral, too dry, too humourless etc etc - it annihilates all those objections (braxton and george lewis even blow each other kisses with their mouthpieces at one point!). the all-round playing is fantastic, and as for the horn solos... hey, no less an authority than graham lock regards this album as a highpoint in braxton's recording career, the only question is therefore WHY it has been allowed ONCE AGAIN to lapse out of print... but the comedy prices being quoted by the few retailers who still have it make it clear that's the case.

Thanks..

Stealing all my burbpz

Thanks, Pete...

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(with a view to padding out this post) Recently I reviewed an interesting release by equally interesting NZ doom metal outfit Devoid Of All Mercy, for Foxy Digitalis:

Devoid Of All Mercy Your Children Left With The Stranger (Battlecruiser)

Um, how many different ways can I find to write that "Devoid Of All Mercy" is the perfect name for this band; there is no possible band name more appropriate, more fitting, more apt, than that. It's ruthless. It's fucking pitiless. It is without qualm or conscience. It's.. devoid of all mercy. It's the new CD reissue of the Battlecruiser 3" cdr of a couple of years back. It's Bob Dylan's wretched, evil twin, with a real bad phlegm problem, gently strumming at his guitar, fingering the shapes of the Diablo En Musica, singing about abduction, torture, rape, cannibalism, desolation, ruin. It's fucking horrible. And so, so good. 9/10 -- Stephen Clover (19 June, 2007)


Interesting because extreme music like "doom" "metal" is possibly not well-knowned for holding up a mirror to its own community and turning the spotlight on some of its more bleak socio-pathological ailments, albeit through the lens of a horror/slasher/gore/cannibal exploitation narrative.

Stealing all mai dataz

In a move which demonstrates greater-than-typical stupidity, as well as complete ignorance of how the internet works, French government officials have been ordered not to use handheld Blackberry devices amid fears that foreigners could spy on them (BBC).

Workers in the French president's and prime minister's office have been told their e-mails risk falling into foreign hands, Le Monde newspaper reports.

France's SGDN security service is worried because Blackberries use US- and UK-based servers.

Needless to say, the makers of the Blackberry -- Canadian firm Research In Motion -- have pointed out that Blackberry's encryption system was "the most secure wireless data solution available", and that it had been approved for the transmission of sensitive data by the governments of the US, UK, Australia, New Zealand, Austria and Canada, and by Nato, and that even the US's National Security Agency were not able to snoop on them.

Late yesterday representatives of the SGDN released a statement to the media:

You don't frighten us, English pig-dogs! Go and boil your bottom, sons of a silly person. I blow my nose at you, so-called Arthur King, you and all your silly English k-nnnnniggets. Thpppppt! Thppt! Thppt!

etc.

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NP: Lots of live Miles Davis (Roots and Traces: Spurensicherung)

Cheezburgaz shortage continues to be a world-wide problem

... and Harry continues to be hungry, more often than not:

Link: ICANHASCHEEZBURGER?

Alien landscape

Up Ngaio Gorge this morning, the fog was refusing to lift:

Someone said we could be on Venus.

Cameo Appearance

New exhibition Cameo Appearance at Mary Newton Gallery -- featuring work by personal faves David Cauchi and Gary Freemantle -- opens on Tuesday night. (Wellingtonista)

A webcomic of romance, sarcasm, math and language

If you're not already into the XKCD webcomic, you might consider becoming so at your earliest convenience.

Your brain and your laff-bones will thank you, lemme tell you now.

RSS feed is here.

Friday farce: a farcical flake-out

Look I'm sorry, ok, but I just don't have any Friday farce material right at the moment -- all I have are GOOD cover versions of songs. Hard to believe, but its true.

So I might just point you at Manic Pop Thrills again.

Sorry.

Double J & Twice the T 45 x 2

You should probably look quite closely into buying these:

.. being, as they are, absolute freakin' classic artefacts of New Zealand pop culture.

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NP: Ornette Coleman and Pat Metheny - Song X (Allmusic): Don't believe everything you read. It's SERIOUSLY underrated and actually a damn good album; I'd go so far as to say it's a unheralded classic of modern jazz. I recently picked up a near-pristine LP copy on TradeMe for a criminally-low price -- I still pee myself a little when I consider what a bargain I got. And as for Metheny -- the "big-haired king of airbrushed jazz-lite" (Peter Marsh, bbc.co.uk) -- why, it's the only thing of his I'll have in the house.

Song X was re-ished a couple of years ago with a pile of other unreleased material from the same sessions -- and to good reviews. (Actually it appears to have undergone the full revisionist treatment: Nils Jacobson, John Kelman, John Fordham, Robert Christgau, E. "Doc" Smith.)

The philosophy of love

Kim Pieters' new exhibition at Bowen Galleries in Ghuznee Street is quite seductive:





(click images for larger versions)

Sorry about the delay -- the fucking DNS has gone tits-up again, and it's taken ages for the site to come back alive. So this is several days worth of posts all at once, in a kinda-digest mode...

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Somewhat enchantingly, the construction workers building the Vogel Annexe have begun to decorate the work-in-progress with pink stuff:

Ok so it looked better to the eye, whaddya gonna do?

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Saturday night was footy-night and it was freezing out but luckily I was well-equipped with a flask of Scotch. In Bodega, with the big screen and the small crowd, it was not too unpleasant either. And as a general rule I don't tend to enjoy drinking beer when I'm cold but I'm telling you -- five or six Cooper's Stouts will wrap you up in a thermal blanket and get you where you're going; and in plenty of time, too.

Then it was off -- via a stopover for an iskender and more beer in John's studio -- to Happy for the Postmoderncore release gig of Unknown Rockstar's new albums "Deep Earplug Music" and "Pickle" (if you follow the link you can actually download and listen to the music). It was lovely and the Unknown Rockstar played a blinder.

Al drunkenly convinced me to blag him onto the bill at the last minute (left).

After we pretty much got thrown out of Happy we wandered with some friends from out of town down Tory Street, hoping to find somewhere to wind up the evening. Town was generally nuts -- wanna queue to get into Motel? Wanna queue to get into Hawthorn Lounge? Me either. We ended up in a dark corner of Dragon's (the Welsh bar), sprawled on the colossal leather couches. Not having been there before, it was thoroughly relaxing and I have to recommend it.

A late-evening drive-by of the Iranian Embassy was called for and duly delivered (for context: there was much braggadocio and laying-of-wagers regarding if and when a military assault on Iran would take place) and fresh loaves of bread were obtained from Hataitai Bread Shop (open 22 hours a day, dontcha know) before retiring to our respective abodes.

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Sunday morning found me legging it first up to Brooklyn for a brunching appointment, then back down to Aro Valley again via Ohiro Road and its spectacularly tall pines. Then it was all we could do to retire to the Botanic Gardens for a picnic. Highlights: the duckpond, Druid's Hill, Andrew Drummond's Listening and Viewing Device on top of Druid's Hill, and quaffing champagne, whiskey, tequila and absinthe beneath same.

At some point Harry returned home again from his travels:

Ever tried to stop a cat from roaming? Your suggestions are welcomed.

THE DURUTTI COLUMN - The Return of .. - LP

You should buy this. Go on, you know you want to.... it's only $19.00, and it rules. It really, really does. It's a thing of beauty, an absolute classic.

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NP: the last hour or so's playlist:

Manic Street Preachers - Take the Skinheads Bowling
Camper Van Beethoven - Take the Skinheads Bowling
Riz Ortolani - Do It To Me
Manic Street Preachers - We're All Bourgeoise Now
The Teardrop Explodes - Traison (C'est Juste Une Histoire)
Primal Scream - Shoot Speed/Kill Light
Jazzfinger - Fateful Brass Orb
ESG - The Beat
David Bowie - We Are The Dead
Can - Mother Upduff
The Jesus and Mary Chain - April Skies
Idlewild - Idea Track
The Delgadoes - No Danger
De Rosa - Cathkin Braes
Scars - David
Arab Strap - Don't Ask Me To Dance

(mostly all courtesy Manic Pop Thrills)

Also Alex Cobb's new all-Flying Saucer Attack podcast on Foxy Digitalis: Maximum Nodout: A Flying Saucer Attack Special.

Friday farce: "guest" edition

Sorry to do this to ya, but I'm too busy for a Friday Farce this week.

Check out this abomination at Manic Pop Thrills, though.

Logo

My cricket team Falconhawk is in the process of designing a new team emblem. A rough impression of my best and most favoured logo (so far) is pictured; your comments are welcomed.

Three-thirty burstitus

Can there really be said to be anything wrong with the world when there are cupcakes (click images for larger view)

..and a great hulking brute like Jerry Collins (pictured)

can come up with a wonderful metaphor like this (from today's Dom Post):

"Last week they were like a bloke in a lion's cage who is blindfolded and has a plastic baton. This time he has a gun and knows what the lion looks like."

in relation to this.

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Re: cupcakes -- Ms. K has really outdone herself with these, this time, I feel. FYI she takes orders. (I mean, she accepts requests vis-a-vis the exchange of currency for baked goods; not, she allows herself to be bossed around. That she most certainly does not.)

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It's not even remotely cool to actually celebrate anyone's death, but obstetrician and prominent anti-abortion campaigner Diana Mason has died, aged 84.

In the universe where I am god, this would of course mean that the Society for the Protection of the Unborn Child, and the pro-life lobby in general, will be struck a mortal blow from which it will never recover.

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Wondering what burstitis is? Wonder no more...

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NP: the sound of the phone, not ringing. Sweet, blessed relief (helluva day, don't ask).

More ginga bullshit

As an interesting footnote to my recent anti-'gingerism' post, a workmate forwarded me this link. "Is gingerism as bad as racism?" asks BBC News.


The reader comments are entertaining, opinions ranging from "get over it!" to "it's made my life hell". My favourite, however, posits a theory for the possible origin of this curious cultural phenomenon:

Redheads are feared because they are believed in folklore to be the devil's children and have red hair because they were conceived during their mother's menstruation.A welsh proverb says "os bydd goch, fe fydd gythreulig" or "if he's redhaired then he is of the devil". Yesterday's superstition has become today's teasing.

Wikipedia appears to bear this out, at least partially.

This will be the last time

Look, I don't want to bang on about it, or anything, but David Cauchi has published the text of his address on Sci-Fi and art, on his blog, here.

He has also linked to a recording on Radio NZ of his radio interview with Lynn Freeman the following morning.

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NP: Celer - pretty much everything I can get my hands on (Last.fm)

listen to a track called 2 Bereft Oversight

Five Great Novels - Philip K Dick

You should buy this. Go on, you know you want to.... it's only 15 quid, and it rules.

Good god..

+ The Three Stigmata of Palmer Eldritch
+ Martian Time-slip
+ Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep
+ Ubik
and A Scanner Darkly

How do you imagine that you might ever go wrong?

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Woot, woot.. Pop Levi tomorrow night.

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NP: John Cale -- Vintage Violence (Allmusic): His first post-Velvet Underground solo album is easily one of his best. Excellent cover art, too.

Hamish McKay Gallery reopens

... my post on the Wellingtonista.

Petone is also full of aliens

Petone is well known for being full of jelly; yesterday, wandering around the foreshore, I found evidence of aliens.

I also found a jetty which seemed to stretch all the way to Oriental Bay (nice idea, though, eh) and some oystercatchers. We asked them to catch us a quick half-dozen for dinner, but they politely declined.

Queer by William Burroughs: A Legendary Novel

You should buy this. Go on, you know you want to.... it's only $9.50, and it rules.

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David's talk on Saturday afternoon was really good and quite funny. I got a surprise part-way through when a reproduction of one of my own works appeared on the big screen, to illustrate some point or other.



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NP: Billy Preston -- A whole new thing (Allmusic): Mahalia Jackson, Little Richard and The Beatles' keyboards go-to guy goes... disco. With surprisingly endearing results.

Tim Buckley -- Greetings From L.A.

You should buy this. Go on, you know you want to....



It's only 8 bucks. And it rules.