iJAMMING! is a music and lifestyle web site hosted by
author, journalist and dee jay Tony Fletcher.
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Tony Fletcher's Next DJ appearances/Readings:

STEP ON at The Royale,
A monthly trip back to Madchester with baggy grooves, indie rock, northern soul and Hacienda House. 506 Fifth Avenue, Park Slope, Brooklyn, between 12th/13th Street. (718 840 0089.) Come early: at 9pm Tony and JD will be hosting a multi-media reading from HEDONISM. Admission free.

Tony will be reading from HEDONISM at 10pm. At 11pm, the long-standing underground dance night Mondaze will take over with DJ sets by New York legends Frankie Bones and Heather Heart. The Sapphire Lounge is at 249 Eldridge Street, between Houston and Stanton, Manhattan. (212.777.5153) Admission free before 11pm.



I'll be running past this poster just after I run past my street this morning, hopefully by 11.30am. My goal is 3hrs, 45 mins, but in honesty, anything that beats last year's 3hrs, 59 mins is a victory - especially in warm weather. Anyone cares to check in on how I'm doing, you can do so at the Marathon's mind-bogglingly sophisticated web site in real time, hopefully linked from this page. My number is 19934. Last of the insane explorers Sir Ranolph Fiennes is 33122; his exploits make my effort look like a home-town jog.



Been a bundle of nervous energy the last few days. Pounding up on the carbs and the protein, the vitamins and the sodium, my body not sure whether I'm telling it to prepare for a Marathon or prepare for Hibernation: i.e., one minute I'm eager to take on the world, the next I'm ready for a nap! Apparently, this is normal. Glad to hear the weather won't be as warm as we feared: today, Saturday, is the hot one, and we should be in more runner-friendly conditions - peaking out around 64F/15C - tomorrow. So all's good. So far, at least.

Last year our son turned into a Bionicle for Halloween. This year, it was the Pumpkin's turn.

An eager Darth Vader does battle with a rather half-hearted Luke Skywalker somewhere in the distant galaxy of Brooklyn.

Campbell dressed as Darth Vader last night (a little easier on the costume than last year's Bionicle), and though I didn't join him on his travels, the wife did get a picture of the galactic battle fought when he came across Luke Skywalker on his treak-or-treating rounds. Only in New York, folks... That was nothing compared to watching the Halloween Parade through Greenwich Village on television, and seeing - get this - two white horses pulling a white carriage, steered by a white-clad Prince with his Cinderella inside. How do people organise this kind of thing? It seemed like the carriage at least could have been converted from those that take tourists round Central Park but the all-white horses looked far too beautiful and contented to have been drawn from that sorry stock. I felt a little disappointed not to be out on the rare occasion that Halloween falls on a Friday, but it would have been a stupid move if I still wanted to do well tomorrow. Next year's a leap year which means Halloween will jump to a Sunday - and the Marathon, always the first Sunday in November, will jump to being a full week behind. If I'm still in New York, still running, still got a crazy wife who thinks that dressing up as a witch once a week year is the best fun you can have with your clothes on, I'm sure I'll be back out enjoying the occasion.

Some good news. Thanks to Anna over at absolutely-vile.com - the first of many plugs coming her way - the iJamming! Forum is back. Almost. It's there, but I want to give it a personalised look and set the preferences before I hand it over to you all to start posting again. The new Forum will require registration - it's sadly the only way to avoid the Spam disease - but that'll be a one-shot deal and I won't ask you to give up more about yourselves than the bare minimum. Thanks for bearing with me during its absence - and a special thanks to those who've written to say how they've missed it.



I just heard that last year, more than 9 billion pieces of candy corn - the traditional Halloween little orange sugar pyramid shown at right - were produced in America. Laid end to end, a task even the most hyped-up of trick-or-treating kids would eventually find tiresome, this would be enough to circle the moon four times. That's sick.

Our little one appears to have grown out of the local Halloween Parade (which has always been more of a kids' dress-up occasion than one for the adults, who routinely go to Greenwich Village instead). And with the Marathon coming up this Sunday, I don't think I need to go out on my feet and watch it without him. I may join our own Darth Vader on some local trick-or-treating; we'll see. But if overseas/out-of-town surfers want to get an idea of how seriously the kids round here take Halloween, click here for pictures from last year.

That candy corn figure really is ridiculous. Puts the mere 618,000 cups of Gatorade that will be poured through the Marathon into perspective, doesn't it? Except that by my maths, that means the 30,000 runners will be consuming 20 cups of Gatorade each. Which seems just a little excessive. Then again, with the temperature predicted to head into the 70s, we might just need them all!



Unless you live in Los Angeles and associate with the Hollywood set, you don't often see your friends' movies up on the silver screen, so it was with great pleasure that I watched Alex Steyermark's debut feature Prey For Rock and Roll at the Loews Cinema in midtown last week. Alex and I go back to the days of Three Colors, the Boston band that had much to do with my move to the States; it was he who took me out for my first meal in New York City, at the venerable El Sombrero/Hat, the Lower East Side Mexican institution that's made a couple of appearances in this column of late. Prey For Rock and Roll – no, I don't love the title either – is adapted from Cheri Lovedog's successful play about her own experiences as a 40-something band leader, which is how we come to find Gina Gershon playing Clam Daddy's front woman Jacki and questioning her supposed 'career'. Is she still driven by the increasingly futile search for fame and fortune? Or does she persist simply because she can't – and won't - do anything else?

Offtage: Faith (Lori Petty), Jacki (Gina Gershon) and Traci (Drea de Matteo).

On its own, this simple storyline would make a better essay than a movie, especially as it's Lovedog's own songwriting (already proven to be unsuccessful) that dominates the soundtrack. Fortunately, two subplots arrive center-stage to keep the music as a supporting character. The first entangles Clam Daddy's wasted bassist Traci (played by Sopranos pin-up Drea de Matteo), her drug-addled boyfriend Nick (Ivan Martin), the group's drummer Sally (pint-sized powerhouse Shelly Cole), her newly-paroled brother Animal (Marc Blucas) and, of course, Jacki herself. The second sub-plot involves Sally and her girlfriend, lead guitarist Faith (Lori Petty). Each has a violent conclusion leading to the inevitable soul-searching - though it's the first of these stories that is by far the more gripping.

Conventional themes from the rock'n'roll world weave through the rest of the movie: the quest for a record deal is realized in an insulting contract offer by a faux-Brit indie A&R guy, one which Jacki pisses all over, literally. But the movie offsets the clichés through its wry humor: I was surprised how often the snappy ripostes drew laughs in the cinema. Its dark underbelly, meanwhile, maintains an uncomfortable grip on the viewer.

Onstage: Faith and Jacki persist into middle age...

It may be coincidence, but Lovedog's music, as realized offscreen by Gershon and former female members of Hole, Lunachicks and the B-52's, improves as the story progresses. At the culmination of the first subplot, we share Gershon's pain as she writes the movie's most emotional song, 'Every 6 Minutes'. And for the finale, in which Clam Daddy opens for X, the band that inspired Jacki to pick up the guitar in the first place, the group delivers two particular upbeat rockers ('Punk Rock Girl' and 'Post Nuclear Celebration Party Song'), each of which would have made a decent single in the hands of an L7, Babes In Toyland or Seven Year Bitch. And if you're tempted to remind me that the riot grrrl movement came and went many a years ago, don't worry, the same comment comes up in the movie. "Well, at least we're in time for the riot woman movement," reflects the newly-40 Jacki, who with her eyeliner and bangs recalls that real life middle aged female rock icon, Chrissie Hynde.

Naturally, Prey for Rock and Roll has its limitations; all music movies do. (24 Hour Party People was a rare exception.) But the film's appeal is that it understands that these limitations are part of such an inherently ephemeral art form; it artfully, craftily portrays the sense of time slipping through one's fingers, fame remaining distant, fortune but a forgotten dream. Ultimately, it's not just about a search for stardom, it's about what drives people to be musicians in the first place. Highly recommended.



Martin Amis's new novel Yellow Dog was slammed in the UK press. Of itself this is no surprise: for some reason, Amis invites animosity, and nowhere more so than among the London literary set. But I'm not sure I've read a review of a major author's new novel quite so damning as that by Michiko Kakutani which appeared in yesterday's New York Times. How's this for an opening paragraph of no uncertain terms?

"Martin Amis's new novel reads like a sendup of a Martin Amis novel written by someone intent on sabotaging his reputation. It bears as much resemblance to Mr. Amis's best fiction as a bad karaoke singer does to Frank Sinatra, as a kitchen magnet of Munch's "Scream" does to the real painting."

In the middle of this lengthy review, we're informed that "Amis does a clumsy, mechanical job of dovetailing…characters' stories…Instead there is a rote retailing of the sort of adolescent-minded obsession with bodily functions that surfaced in his earliest fiction, and inane, pointless wordplay that seems like a parody of his much-vaunted fascination with language."

And in closing, "Were Mr. Amis's name not emblazoned on this book, it seems unlikely to have found a publisher. It reads not as a satire or dark parable of modern life, not even, really, as a fully fashioned novel, but as a bunch of unsavory outtakes from an abandoned project: nasty bits and pieces best left on the cutting room floor."

Wow. Does the old adage that "there's no such thing as bad publicity" hold true in such circumstances? I'm not sure, though as a frequently infuriated Amis fan (in as much he frequently fills me – and simultaneously - with both writer's envy and reader's confusion) I now realize I have no choice but to get the book and decide for myself. I wonder for one thing whether Amis might quite deliberately be sending up his own style? And when I see the adjective 'nasty', my antennas tune in: I think fiction has an occasional duty to be nasty. And I'm certain that fiction has a duty to provoke, in which case Yellow Dog is aleady a success.

Last Sunday, in the more widely read Book Review supplement, the Times' former Executive Editor Max Frankel showed some politeness in his put-down of the former four-star General and current Democratic Presidential Candidate Wesley Clark's perfectly-timed book, Winning Modern Wars. Frankel genially noted that Clark readily offers up a shopping list of ideals without any indication of how to pay for them. Standard politicians' bullshit, essentially: long on promises, short on solutions. You may have noticed I'm cynical about Clark's commitment to the Democratic cause, and more so, by the hurried manner in which well-meaning 'liberals' have adopted him as one of their own. (Clark, it's worth remembering, voted for both Nixon and Reagan.) On the book jacket, notes Frankel, Clark says that the timing of this book is coincidental to his Presidential Candidacy: 'his only aim, he insists, is to give voice to the soldiers, "far from home, in an uncertain mission," because they "cannot and should not speak for themselves."'

Cannot? In the short term, possibly: it's understood that the Army and Administration alike want only good news to flow back from the Iraqi front, nebulous though that old-fashioned term may be in the present situation. (Though Frankel rightly observes that soldiers do have the right to vote.) But should not? Soldiers should not speak for themselves? Either those are the words of the patronizing politician who believes he and he alone knows what's best for his electorate, or they're the words of a domineering general, who believes his soldiers should, in effect, shut up and follow orders. (Rather than speak for themselves.) Neither way are they the words of a man who believes in true democracy – one in which everyone has an equal voice.



Last year, CMJ's Music Marathon took place the exact same week as New York City's running marathon; given that I was doing the 26.2 mile road race for the first time in my life, I sat out half the city's annual indie music shindig. This year, the two Marathons have been separated by a full week, but still, for various reasons I got to barely a fraction of the CMJ gigs I could or should have done. That said, I managed to take in ten bands, several of which were well worth waiting up for. From the Kills to Killing Joke, here's the lowdown:


Over the weekend, a friend who's given up gig going asked me, who represents the current trend? I started on about the Rapture and then stopped myself, because the band that best reflects the indie zeitgeist is surely the Kills. Consider their qualifications. Duo? Check. Equal parts American and British? Check. One male, one female? Check. Siblings and/or lovers? Check the latter. Do they mutate the blues? Check. Do they include taped drums and other recorded sounds? Check. Does at least one of them smoke incessantly on stage? Check. Do they swear like troopers? Check. And finally, the clincher for indie rock credibility: Are they on Rough Trade? Oh yes.

Closing out Rough Trade's 25th Anniversary CMJ showcase Thursday night at Bowery Ballroom, the Kills were every bit as good as I'd hoped they would be. Alison 'VV' Mosshart and Jamie 'Hotel' Hince took to the midnight stage like duelers at dawn, frequently turning their mikes sideways to sing into each other's eyes. No doubt they do this every night, and the show I caught may have been no more or less expressive than any other Kills gig, but still, the intensity of their performance – which presumably reflects the intensity of their relationship - was as riveting as anything I've seen of late.

The Kills' Hotel and VV get close.

Hince played guitar like the last busker on earth, his thrusting power chords interspersed by parries of fuzzed-out riffs, while the chain-smoking Mosshart swung around the mike stand spitting out lyrics of life and lust with the sensual venom of a younger Debbie Harry, Patti Smith or Chrissie Hynde. The highlights on stage were very much the same as on the album Keep On Your Mean Side (reviewed here) – the coiled 'Cat Claw' ("you got it, I want it"), the Delta swamp 'Pull A U' ("your black magic and your two dollar luck"), the ballad 'Monkey 23' ("there's a monkey on my back makes me walk like that"), 'Kissy Kissy' (the two of them duetting, "I'm going to stab your kissy kissy mouth, it's been a long time coming,"), 'Black Rooster' ("you want to fuck and fight?") and what I find to be the curiously optimistic 'Fuck The People.'

The duel reached climax when the couple kissed like they were trying to kill. Maybe that's how they got their name. Who knows? What I do know is that while I don't necessarily want to be around their Gypsy Hill kitchen when the dishes start flying, as it seems certain they occasionally must, but for as long as they make music for therapy, I'll readily place myself in their line of fire.


Talking of fire, the opening act on the Rough Trade bill was the born again label's latest critical darlings, The Fiery Furnaces. But though the Chicago-by-way-of-Brooklyn group have several of the currently credible requisites – the male/female sibling axis, and the Caucasian's fascination with the blues – in many respects they were a quaint throwback to the 1970s. And odd though it may seem, I noticed this less because of Eleanor Friedberger's Karen Carpenter hairdo, her Abba-esque white shirt and matching trousers, or even her deliberate lack of make-up than by her curly guitar lead, as minor yet pointed a 1970s fashion statement as you could imagine. To her right, a newly acquired bass player sported a surely ironic sweatshirt emblazoned 'Army' and played the world's worst keyboards, Radio Shack's Realistic brand. Behind her, a newly-acquired drummer demonstrated a jazz maestro's sense of rhythm that earned a jazz maestro's round of applause, and to her left, brother Matthew Friedberger played guitar and keyboards with a boyish enthusiasm and a sibling's pride.

Musically, the Furnaces frequently stitch several rhythms and melodies into one song, but when they gel – as on the gentle 'Tropical Ice-Land', the poetic 'Crystal Clear' and the melodic 'South Is Only A Home' – they're clearly something special. On stage, the group's sound became more interesting when reduced to two keyboards, guitar and drums, then yet more so when Eleanor withdrew guitar from the equation too to render the chorus 'I Wish I Was Single Again' as a mutated folk song. Fascinating.


I was curious to see whether, in playing the CMJ Hilton Hotel day stage, DC's Carlsonics could match the excitement they generated a few months ago at the Manhattan Ballroom, after which I raved about them so enthusiastically that the record company stickered my quote on the band's eponymous debut album. The band duly delivered the goods despite the time of day and the incongruous performance space. Afterwards, I nervously introduced myself to singer Aaron Carlson and his merry band, uncertain what they themselves had thought of my quote and its appearance on their album. They appear to have taken it all in reasonable humor. They showed me their own shrink-wrapped copies of the CD, whereby the sticker has been censored with a Sharpie like a classified government document to read "The Carlsonics sound like ---------, move like ------------- and rock like ----------," thereby at least creating some mystery from what was an overly obvious – and barely thought out - set of comparisons. I still maintain they're better caught in the flesh than on their rough and ready record. But their enthusiasm is contagious either way.


Long hailed in New York circles for their apparently Pink Floyd-esque psychedelia, I finally saw Secret Machines at a Shout! sponsored night over at the Coral Room in Chelsea. The act has the same predominantly instrumental drums-keyboards-guitar line-up as both Emerson, Lake and Palmer and the barely less tedious jam house band the New Deal, but proof that Secret Machines are not your older brother's prog rock was immediately evidenced by the sight of girls lining the front rows. Pretty girls at that, and all of them dancing. Considering there's only three people in Secret Machines, the usual chauvinistic explanation for the female following – that it must be the band's loyal girlfriends – can't apply. Maybe it's the group's aural likeness to Ride, those hazy psychedelic grooves and those mysterious hymnal harmonies. No wonder the Shout! boys love them. Further proof that if the current New York City scene is moving forward by looking back, at least it's searching out some interesting historical perspectives in the process.

The Fiery Furnaces' Eleanor and Matthew Friedberger: when did you last see a curly guitar lead on stage?

British Sea Power: When did you last see a man in a tin hat march a drum around the stage?


Viewing the artsy UK quintet on the Later With Jools Holland show last weekend had proven a strangely distanced affair: their sound seemed obscured by foliage. But at the Bowery, as yet another part of the Rough Trade night, British Sea Power lived up to acclaim. Yes, there's something patently ridiculous about bass players wearing shrubbery on their heads, and the thousand-yard wiled-eyed stares become wearing in their own way quickly enough. But the intricate musicianship more than made up for the attention seeking. So while Yan's voice frequently recalled that of Richard Butler, and I heard a little of the Bunnymen in there and a lot of the Teardrop Explodes, ultimately I found coming back to Akron's finest, Devo, as the prime reference point.

Melodies and choruses are not BSP's strong point, which means that those which even hint at such conventions - 'Clarion', 'Blackout' and 'Remember Me' - were the obvious highlights. For me the show was marked less by any individual songs than by lead guitarist Noble's exceptional fret work, and the sight of tin-hatted, seemingly shell-shocked Eamon squatted over a rudimentary keyboard - that when he wasn't stomping across the stage or trough the audience banging a tom tom like he was marching off to war. So yes, it was a spectacle, but at least the noise was for real. And for one brief moment, the band even let down its British reserve; when someone in the front rows proclaimed, in that most American of manners, "You guys are fucking awesome," Yan redirected his gaze so that it looked pacifying rather than threatening and muttered a sincere "thank you."


Even the most fanatical of Rough Trade anoraks has been known to stop short his support of the label when it comes to Adam Green. In solo guise, the former male half of the Moldy Peaches takes self-conscious lyrical meaningless to new heights – or new lows, depending on your perspective. Onstage, he's awarded himself the most extravagant of Beck-like accoutrements, which on Thursday at the Bowery meant a full-on string quartet as well as bass, guitars, drums and keyboards. And he just about gets away with it by virtue of his shameless chutzpah. At least, dressed up to the nines like this, the live show is a more entertaining proposition than his latest silly album Friends of Mine. But still, even a song like 'Jessica,' named for the Christian pin up pop star Jessica Simpson, falls short of shock and ends up in pointless sentimentality: "you need a vacation to wake up the cavemen to take them to Mexico." It is, I suppose, part of Rough Trade's charm that, like the equally endearing and endearing John Peel, they can occasionally swim so far off course. Unless it's just a matter of vanity.


Talking of which, Jeffrey Lewis' four-page cartoon history of Rough Trade, as distributed for free at the Bowery gig, made for initially disturbing propaganda. Were we really to believe that Rough Trade's success story was solely down to Geoff Travis' golden ears and business acumen – and that the label's frequent financial catastrophes could be written off in a single panel? Fortunately, when Lewis came on stage to sing a specially composed song in which he illustrated the self-same story by flicking through the original drawings in 'Subterranean Homesick Blues' rapid-fire style, the humility – and the humor – came across.


I could put it down to tiredness, but having stuck out four hours at the Bowery Ballroom, I was mildly disappointed by Leaves, who were playing to a half-filled room at the Mercury Lounge. The epic scope of the group's excellent debut Breathe (reviewed here) was lacking in the live format, where the Icelandic quartet was revealed instead as just another rock band – albeit one with grandiose pretensions. I stuck around long enough to hear the title track performed with that most over-used but applicable of adverbs, passion, and would doubtlessly have been impressed had I not had my expectations so highly raised by the album. But either Leaves fell short or I'd seen too much music for one night.


If The Kills represent the moment, The Joggers represent the continuum, the sound that never goes out of fashion despite its apparent repetition. After all, to quote the usually reliable allmusic.com's review of their debut album Solid Guild, "you can never have too much angular-yet-catchy, post-punk-inspired indie rock." Which means that if you like songs that never quite reach their destination, arrangements that never quite fulfill potential, and a line-up that simply won't stand still, the Joggers are for you. Think the Strokes, Blur, the Fall and Pavement, and you'll understand why they drew a hefty crowd at the Hilton Hotel day stage. At least when their drummer left his kit behind to circle the stage during the song 'Same To ou', it was apparent that here, just for once, was an aptly named band.

Killing Joke's Jaz dresses up early for Halloween.


I've been trying to avoid reunions and comebacks of late, for all the Bill Drummond reasons as well as simple issues of time – if I continued going to see every band that ever meant something to me over the years I'd never get to see a new act, let alone have time to write. But Killing Joke's appearance at CMJ's opening night Webster Hall concert last Wednesday fitted comfortably into the schedule, and it was pleasant – if that's the right word – surprise. For while some would consider the band anachronistic, when manic vocalist Jaz introduced 'Wardance', it was with the knowledge that Joke songs have never been more relevant. Indeed, the Iraq war and the British/American relationship appears to have given the reformed quartet a refreshed lease of life on their new album, titled, like their 1981? debut, simply Killing Joke. Songs such as 'Blood On Your Hands' and 'Seeing Red' ("kiss the arse of Uncle Sam/oh to be an Englishman") manage to balance melody and energy while providing plenty space for Jaz's increasingly gruff voice. At Webster Hall, the crowd was much as you'd expect (leather-jacketed punks working up a mosh-pit); the light show was better than I'd hoped; Geordie's guitar work remains a welcome sound in any environment; and the opening notes of 'Requiem' served to remind just how influential the band has been. A comeback that could well have been an embarrassment seems anything but.



This poster fills the side of a city block just a couple hundred yards from my house. Talk about motivation!


OCT 20-26: Television Personalities, defending New York rockers, Bill Drummond Is Read
OCT 6-19: LCD Soundsystem live, Renewable Brooklyn review, Blind Acceptance is a sign...
SEP29-OCT 5: New York w(h)ines parts 1 and 2, Bruce Springsteen at Shea Stadium.
SEP 22-28: Atlantic Antic, Pacifists for War: General Wesley Clark and the Democratic Debate, Danny Tenaglia, Running Wild, Steppenwolf
SEP 15-21: Radio 4/DJ Vadim live, Manhattan Mondaze, Circle of Light, Renewable Brooklyn
SEP 8-14: Central Park Film Festival, Roger (Daltrey) and me, September 11 Revisited, The Raveonettes/Stellastarr* live, Recording Idiots of America,
SEP1-7: Film Festivities, Party Monster, Keith Moon RIP
AUG 25-31: Punk Planet, Carlsonics, Copyright Protection, Cline Zinfandel, BRMC
AUG 18-24: Black Out Blame Game, John Shuttleworth, British Music mags, Greg Palast, The Thrills live.
AUG 11-17: The New York blackout, Restaurant reviews, The Media as Watchdog, What I Bought On My Holidays
AUG 4-10: Step On again, Shaun W. Ryder, Jack magazine, the BBC, the Weather, Detroit Cobras, football and Rock'n'Roll
JULY 28-AUG 3: De La Guarda, The Rapture, Radio 4, Stellastarr*, Jodie Marsh, A Tale of Two Lions, Hedonism launch photos,
JULY 14-27: Manchester Move Memories, Hedonism is Here, Holiday postcard
JULY 7-13: Chuck Jackson live, Step On, Beverley Beat, British Way of Life
JUNE30-JULY6: David Beckham, Geoffrey Armes, Happy Mondays, Step On at Royale
JUNE 23-29: Ceasars/The Realistics live, weddings and anniversaries, Cabaret laws.
JUNE 9-23: Hell W10, The Clash, Big Audio Dynamite, Nada Surf live, Field Day debacle
JUNE 2-8: Six Feet Under - Over, Field Day, Siren Fest, Crouching Tigher Hidden Cigarette
MAY 19-JUNE 1: Ian McCulloch live, New York's financial woes, Six Feet Under, Hedonism, Tommy Guerrero.
MAY 5-18: Live reviews of The Rapture, De La Soul, Carlsonics, Laptop, The Libertines, Echoboy, The Greenhornes; observations on Chris Coco/The Blue Room, The Apple Music Store, Alan Freed, Phil Spector, The Matrix Reloaded, Rare Earth, Tinnitus and Royale!
APRIL 28-MAY 4: Flaming Lips, Madonna, Bill Maher, The Dixie Chicks, the war
APRIL 21-27: Rotary Connection, War(n) Out, Cocaine Talk
APRIL 14-20: Belated London Musings on Death Disco and CPFC.
APRIL 7-13: London Musings: Madness, Inspiral Carpets, the Affair, the Palace, the Jam
MARCH 31-APRIL 6: Music be the spice of life, London Calling: Ten Observations from the Old Country
MARCH 24-30: Six Foot Under, Peaches/Elefant live, MP Frees and Busted Boy Bands
MARCH 17-23: Röyksopp live, Transmission, Worn-Out War Talk
MARCH 10-16: Live reviews: Stratford 4, Flaming Sideburns, Joe Jackson Band, Linkin Park. Why I Oppose The War (For Now).
MARCH 3-9: The Pursuit of Happiness, Weekend Players, U.S. Bombs, Al Farooq, A New Pessimism, Brooklyn Half Marathon
FEBRUARY 24-MARCH2: Orange Park, Ali G-Saddam Hussein-Dan Rather-Bill Maher-Jon Stewart TV reviews, Stellastarr*, James Murphy, The Station nightclub fire, the Grammys
FEBRUARY 17-23: Village Voice Poll, Singles Club, Smoke and Fire
FEBRUARY 3-16: Snug, The Face, Pink, Supergrass live, Keith Moon, Phil Spector, Gore Vidal
JANUARY 27-FEBRUARY 2: Communist Chic, Spiritland, Daddy You're A Hero, Keith Moon, State of the Union, CPFC and more on Iraq
JANUARY 20-26: Divisions of Laura Lee, Burning Brides, Words On War, Child Abuse of a Different Kind, Losing My Edge
JANUARY 13-19: Pete Townshend, Pee Wee Herman, South Park and more Pete Townshend
JANUARY 6-12: Interpol in concert, Tony Fletcher's Top 10 Albums and Singles of 2002, More on Joe Strummer and The Clash, Fever Pitch and Bend It Like Beckham.
DECEMBER 31 2002 -JAN 5 2003: A tribute to Joe Strummer, Radio 4 live on New Year's Eve
DECEMBER 16-24:Metro Area, Breakbeat Science, Sting makes Wine, New York Downtown redesigns, Keith Moon anecdotes, Campbell's jokes.
DECEMBER 9-15:Tiswas, pledge drives, The View from Up North
DECEMBER 2-8 MUSINGS CLICK HERE (includes Weekend Players and Snow Lit Piano Bars)
FOR NOVEMBER 25-29 MUSINGS CLICK HERE (includes Joe Hurley, Thanksgiving, Sven Väth, Richie Hawtin)
FOR NOVEMBER 16-24 MUSINGS CLICK HERE (includes Longwave, The Pleased, Get Your War On, Powder, Radio 4, Supreme Beings Of Leisure, Ben Neill, Baldwin Brothers, Thievery Corporation)
FOR NOVEMBER 9-15 MUSINGS CLICK HERE (includes CMJ report including Datsuns, von Bondies and My Favorite, and political Eagles)
FOR NOVEMBER 2-8 MUSINGS CLICK HERE (includes Halloween, the New York Marathon, and British Cuisine)
FOR OCTOBER 26-NOV 1 MUSINGS CLICK HERE (includes live reviews of The Streets, Mooney Suzuki, Sahara Hotnights, Flaming Sideburns, Stellastarr*; Jam Master Jay; Halloween)
FOR OCTOBER 19-25 MUSINGS CLICK HERE (includes Underworld live, Atlantic Avenue antics, Girls and Boys night)
FOR OCTOBER 12-18 MUSINGS CLICK HERE (includes Bali Bombing and stupid editorials, the Electro-Clash festival, VHS Or Beta, Ballboy, Mindless Self Indulgence, 2 Many DJs, Tom Petty, The Streets, pointless stop-the-war e-mails)
FOR OCTOBER 5-11 MUSINGS CLICK HERE (includes Steve Earle and John Walker's Blues, Dreaming Of Britney, Girls Against Boys and Radio 4)
FOR SEPTEMBER 28-OCT 4 MUSINGS CLICK HERE (includes White Stripes live, Morel live, My Generation re-issue)
FOR SEPTEMBER 21-27 MUSINGS CLICK HERE (includes The Creation live, Village Voice, Wine not Whine and more)
FOR SEPTEMBER 14-20 MUSINGS CLICK HERE (includes Firefighter Andre Fletcher, Untamed, Uncut, and more September 11 Musings)
FOR SEPTEMBER 7-13 MUSINGS CLICK HERE (includes Sep 11 memorials, Did Bin Laden Win?, Scissor Sisters and Electro-clash)
FOR AUGUST 31-SEPTEMBER 6 MUSINGS CLICK HERE (includes The Strokes live, The Rising, Saint Etienne, Team USA, a.i., Tahiti 80, Dot Allison)
FOR AUGUST 17-30 DAILY MUSINGS CLICK HERE (includes holiday musings, wine reviews, Luna at Southpaw, and more)
FOR AUGUST 10-16 DAILY MUSINGS CLICK HERE (includes lengthy Who live review)
FOR JULY 27-AUG 9 DAILY MUSINGS CLICK HERE (includes Area 2, 24 Hour Party People Party, Hootenanny Tour, 2 Many DJs and more.
FOR JULY 20-26 DAILY MUSINGS CLICK HERE (includes Wilson Pickett, John Entwistle, rebuilding downtown NYC)
FOR JULY 13-19 DAILY MUSINGS CLICK HERE (includes Love Parade, Teany, RenewNYC, Femi Kuti, NRA, Londonisation of New York, Britishification of Global Rock)
FOR JULY 6-12 DAILY MUSINGS CLICK HERE (includes Mike Meyers as Keith Moon, the RAVE Act, John Entwistle, Michael Jackson, Southpaw, Moby Online, Layo & Bushwacka!,
(accidentally deleted)
FOR JUNE 29-JULY 5 DAILY MUSINGS CLICK HERE (includes World Cup Final, John Entwistle's legacy, The Who's decision to carry on, the meaning of July 4)
FOR JUNE 22-28 DAILY MUSINGS CLICK HERE (includes World Cup diary, Dr. John, Doves, Mermaid Parade, John Entwistle's death, Timothy White's death, Clinic Firewater and Radio 4 live, The Who's decision to carry on)
FOR JUNE 15-21 DAILY MUSINGS CLICK HERE (includes World Cup diary, Liars live, GiantFingers, the Big Takeover)
FOR JUNE 8 -14 DAILY MUSINGS CLICK HERE (includes World Cup diary, StellaStarr*, Jose Padilla, Dee Dee Ramone, suicide bombings)
FOR JUNE 1-7 DAILY MUSINGS, CLICK HERE (includes World Cup diary, Southpaw, Six Foot Under, Andrew Sullivan)

iJamming! Site Copyright Tony Fletcher 2003

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This page last updated
Thu, Jan 20, 2005 12:45 pm)

The biggest night out that you'll ever have in." Jockey Slut
"Hedonism will have you gripped from start to finish, guaranteed." International DJ

Tony Fletcher's debut novel HEDONISM is out now in the UK. For more information and to read excerpts, click here.

Mail Order available through amazon.co.uk and Musicroom.com


Albums from UK, USA, Canada, Australia, Iceland, Denmark, New York and New Jersey.

The Good, the Bad and the Ugly

Bruce Springsteen at Shea Stadium

'Echoes' by The Rapture, 'Stellastarr*' by Stellastarr*.


What I bought on my Holidays (CDs, 12"s, books and magazines from the UK)

What, Where, How and Why...

A report from a proper Field Day Festival (includes R.E.M., The Charlatans, Inspiral Carpets, and Badly Drawn Boy)




2 CD's & MP3's

live at the Brixton Academy

The iJamming! Interview:
"We bypassed the record company and the industry - we just did this thing and it went off."

From the Jamming! Archives:
interviewed in 1981

as of March 11

20 ALBUMS, 5 EPs


Ten Major Memories and a number of lists

INTERPOL in concert



the iJamming! Book Review
by Alan Dershowitz

The 'Other' Cabernet Grape Takes Root In New York
Part 1: The Basics/Regions
Part 2: New York Wines
Part 3: Loire Wines
Part 4: Conclusions

30 Albums 10 Songs

Tips for the marathon virgin.

From the Jamming! Archives:
Interviewed in 1979

The iJamming! Interview: UNDERWORLD

Coming and Going
Chapter 3: THE PALACE

The iJamming! Interview

From the Jamming! Archives:
Interviewed in 1978

Available Now!
The introduction to the new edition of my R.E.M. biography is here.

A Decade In Dance
10 Years (Apiece)

The iJamming! Wine Round Up October 2002, including:
Sauvignon Blanc
Pinot Noir
Rhône Rangers
Southern France

The whole 1990s catalogue

From the Jamming! Archives:
interviewed in 1978

The iJamming! interview:

GOLDEN SHOT hostess 'Lee Patrick' recalls her time as Keith Moon's amour

From the Jamming! Archives:
U2 interviewed in 1984.

iJamming! Wino/Muso:

The iJAMMING! interview:

From the Keith Moon archives:
the JEFF BECK interview .

The iJAMMING! chat:

Fran Healy explains why "you cannot own a song."

From the JAMMING! archives: The Story That Spawned Creation

The iJAMMING! interview:

The full iJamming! Contents