Ha ha, Loz.

By the way, speaking of/to Loz, I agree with pretty much all the points made here about Live Forever, although my natural tendency towards nostalgia and my fascination with this period mean that I'm willing to defend it as worth watching, just because it's at least "having a go" at scratching beneath the surface of Britpop. I'm also aware that much as I'd like to see it happen, a five-part in-depth documentary about a relatively short-lived and parochical piece of recent pop history is unlikely to be made any time soon. The fascinating nexus of issues involving class, gender, national identity, and the relationship between the mainstream and the underground that is Britpop will not get the close analysis it deserves until I finish writing (I Fought In) The Britpop Wars (For The Likes OF You) - current estimated date of completion = Spring 2027.

But you're completely wrong about the 'Crazy In Love' video - I worry that you may be turning into one of your more aged and puritanical relatives. Exploding car = consumed by fire = metaphor for sexual desire going back to aaaaaaancient times. (Another possible reading would take in Beyonce's "Christian girl" side and see Jay-Z as the devil - she emerges from the flames reborn, Phoenix-like, but as the bad girl in a boa, corrupted rather than purified.) It's also bizarre to say that Jay-Z dominates the video, as he's in it momentarily at the beginning and then for the duration of his guest verse - a quarter of the whole thing, maybe? It all comes back to my feeling that while it's valid and even necessary to apply feminist (and other radical) critiques to pop, it's vital to avoid either failing to recognise that a pop song's primary purpose is often to represent an emotional state (so in this case, 'Crazy In Love' means exactly that - falling so hard for someone that it doesn't occur to you to worry about how this looks politically), or setting oneself up as the judge (particularly the male one) of how a female artist should dress and perform.

New plan to lose weight: I am to be sealed inside a glass box and suspended above the River Thames, just next to Tower Bridge. There I will stay for 44 days and 44 nights, surviving only on water supplied through a thin plastic tube, wearing adult nappies, and having rocks thrown at me by drunkards.

Just booked two tickets for The Rapture at Heaven on 30th September. After missing loads of gigs I planned to see this summer, it's an immense relief to get this sorted first thing on payday (such a simple task, why does it so often escape me?). Needless to say, I'm excited. Who else wants to come? You can book tickets here.

These are mostly for my own reference (I may talk about them in more detail later), but you should have a read as well:

'The Pornography Of Pop' by Taylor Parkes. Otherwise known as the reason why Taylor Parkes doesn't write for Bang magazine anymore - see also, "why Bang magazine went from promising to utter shit in the space of about four issues". I don’t actually agree with the basic premise of this piece, and Parkes’ style is either a little more florid than I remember, or has degenerated… But I would still like to have seen it published.

'The Death Of Pop' by Freaky Trigger's Alex Thomson - this is actually part one of a larger work-in-progress entitled A USER'S GUIDE TO THE CULTURE INDUSTRY, and you can read the introduction here (it'll mean more to you if you've read Adorno, and I'm afraid I haven't).

Last but by no means least: Sasha Frere-Jones on Justin Timberlake, rock critics, and… oh, just read it. Seriously, this article is like a primer for some of my current obsessions involving music and ideology right now. My only complaint is that it could have been longer. I’ll probably end up starting a thread about this on Barbelith in the next few days, but I might decide that those Coil-loving suckers don’t deserve it, and just follow the I Love Music thread instead.

It feels like something’s heating up: can I leave with you?

been gone for a minute, now I'm back with the dance-off

But let us not think of Dido - instead, as the good book advises: "whatever is good, whatever is pure, whatever is noble, whatever is Joycore, whatever featues a gratuitous appearance by Pharell in the video, think upon these things". I had a lovely weekend for all sorts of reasons (it being a day longer than usual helped, oh yes). I was quite surprised that one of those reasons was seeing American Pie: The Wedding, a film which I was more or less dragged to see (I didn't struggle, I've learned that this is wise) by my favourite witchy redhead (not Alysson Hannigan, who would have been a poor substitute). It's not the greatest piece of cinema ever crafted, but it's a good deal better than the second movie and so, like the first, surpassed my admittedly low expectations. There are at least three scenes that justify this film's existence, but the stand out has to be when Stifler, hitherto relegated to the role of obnoxious jock asshole, decides to win the respect of a packed Gay Bar (stop that) by engaging in a dance-off with the aptly named Bear. To a medley of tunes that includes 'The Reflex', no less - that darn song is following me around...

My point is this: dance-offs are the new kareoke. I'm going to have to challenge a few people to dance-offs at the next It Came From The Sea. Which reminds us all - long overdue final part of my write-up of the last one is on its way this week. I know I keep saying that, but... it really is.