Roughly 120 pages into Pattern Recognition and all I can say is: waaaaah gurgle fucking FUCKING brilliant. I will have more to say later, but all I'll say for now is: anyone who's ever felt like an internet discussion forum or message board is part of their life needs to read it - and feel the hairs on the back of their neck stand up.

Release the electrobats!



Picked up Danse Macabre by The Faint t'other day, on the recommendation of various people of taste. It's pretty much exactly the kind of stuff I'm into at the moment - a genre of music I hope will come to be called nihilist disco (see below - and hey, it's better than e******c**sh, right?). Essentially, The Faint sound like Ladytron's pissed-off, more aggressive big brother. If they were a person, they'd be a boy in black jeans and a skinny-fit black-t-shirt, with floppy black fringe, lots of eyeliner, a scowl and a battered Camus paperback tucked under one arm. But in a good way - that boy could dance as well.

I have a feeling that this is what I hoped Interpol would sound like when I first read positive reviews of their stuff (which in practice bores me). Bit of a Joy Division influence, sure (I can hardly believe they're from Nebraska in places, the sound is so suggestive of rainy, most probably Northern British towns), but that's tempered by the twin influences of more upbeat, flamoboyant 80s synth groups (yes, there really is a Duran Duran influence) and the way the arrangement/production means that most of it actually makes you want to dance. This also compensates from the moments when the band teeter on the edge of ridiculousness - when the endless misanthropy and melodramatics become Too Goth, rather than Exactly Goth Enough. Eg, all that 'THE DRONES WORK HARD BEFORE THEY DIE' stuff on 'Agenda Suicide' would possibly be a bit too much if it wasn't such a storming, stomping tune...

Strange, though: I have this weird half-memory someone once told me, quite convincingly, that The Faint were rubbish posers long before I heard their stuff - was it you, and if so, why?

Early notes towards a soundtrack mix-tape:

side one: next stop nowhere (nihilist disco)

Suicide - 'Ghost Rider'
Public Image Ltd - 'Flowers Of Romance'
Yeah Yeah Yeahs - 'Rich'
The Rapture - 'House Of Jealous Lovers'
The Slits - ?
Nick Cave - 'Thirsty Dog' OR 'John Finn's Wife'
Wire - 'I Don't Understand'

side two: here, there and everywhere

Latryx - 'Storm Warning'
Royal Trux - 'Juicy Juicy Juice'
Cornershop
Comet Gain
Wu-Tang Clan - 'The Jump Off'
Le Tigre

Normally of course I abhor these online quiz things, but... Oh, who am I kidding. When they're about subjects I like, I love 'em.

And I just got possibly my favourite result from one of these ever:


What Farscape Character are you?

You frelling know it.

(I promise to post something more sub-sub-sub-sub-substantial soon...)

You're the Hipster Intellecticus. Call yourself
what you will (beatnik, philosophy major,
liberal arts student), you're still hip and you
still dig Kerouac.


What Kind of Hipster Are You?
brought to you by Quizilla

(Via achren.)

Chomsky fan? Why... yes. Yes, indeed. As Jack likes to say: ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha cool.

This result was achieved by giving lots of multiple answers because none of them really satisfied me on their own (typical online quiz problem). Not sure whether to be annoyed that I failed to get 'Consummate Hipster' (you didn't ask about Don DeLillo, foolish quiz!) or relieved that I didn't get the far more predictable 'Geek Chic' either. Actually, no, I think I'll just be smug. Even though I haven't read Kerouac or had an all-black wardrobe in years...

salvage

So it's not that bad, and I was being a bit melodramatic. As I've said before: I hate angst-blogging. It will stop. I need to find something else to fill up space, though.

How about a picture of Royal Trux?



I'm going to listen to 'Map Of The City', and wonder if the bit where Jennifer sings "I rolled out from the engine, and I saw her standing there" isn't one of the 10 greatest rock'n'roll lyrical moments ever. And then I'm going to bed.

I may well have just fucked up the best thing to happen in my life in a long, long time. I seem to have an unerring ability to fuck things up just when they're at their best. Is it deliberate, sub-consciously? That's one for the therapists. Suffice to say: I'm sorry.