iJamming.net

Rockin’
Walk The Line: Joaquin Phoenix puts up the strongest music biopic performance since Kevin Spacey in Beyond The Sea
Shockin’
We watch all our movies at home these days

Rockin’
Vegan lunch at Zen Palate in Hell’s Kitchen
Shockin’
The neighboring table is anything but Zen – in fact they’re hell. And there’s me trying to conduct an interview.

Rockin’
Campbell’s grade has just started ‘Health’ classes. It was the girls on Monday, the boys on Thursday, and today, Friday, it’s ‘Co-Ed.’
Shockin’
‘It’s scary,’ says he. ‘Boys. And girls. In a room together. Talking about sex.’

Rockin’
‘Health’ classes in 5th Grade.
Shockin’
We didn’t get them until we were 16.

Rockin’
Bauhaus opening for NIN on tour
Shockin’
The goth equivalent of Bo Diddley opening for The Clash?

Rockin’
Get offered a ticket to see Billy Bragg in New York on a Friday night
Shockin’
Don’t take it because it’s on a Friday and I don’t want to drive in to the city

Rockin’
Get offered a free ticket to The New York Dolls’ first ever show at CBGB’s.
Shockin’
I hand it back day of event because I’m too damn busy to take advantage

Rockin’
Patti Labelle has the decency to break down and apologize in the middle of “the worst show I’ve ever done in my life.”
Shockin’
She says she will understand if the audience walks out – and they do.

Rockin’
The cat on my lap late at night
Shockin’
Not enough room for the cat on my lap plus a laptop

Rockin’
Giving Noel my original Powerbook laptop to amuse himself with
Shockin’
He decides that a bulky 1994 120MB HD with b/w screen is not as much fun as my shiny new color iBook and insists on playing with mine instead.

Rockin’
From The Velvets to The Voidoids by Clinton Heylin, finally republished: a superior read to Please Kill Me
Shockin’
He spends too much time in his new postscript telling us as much

Rockin’
Dave Van Ronk’s autobiography, The Mayor Of MacDougal Street
Shockin’
He died before he could finish it

Rock’n'Roll reading

Rockin’
John Peel’s autobiography, Margrave of the Marshes
Shockin’
He died before he could finish it

Rockin’
John Peel’s 1975 hand-written personal diary printed on the inside cover
Shockin’
I used the exact same diary, the exact same year, and filled my pages too. And I still have it somewhere.

Rockin’
Getting a Playstation
Shockin’
Not enough time to play on it

Rockin’
The way that Noel completes the family – but only because Campbell’s already there
Shockin’
Never anticipated how this interaction would round things out.

Rockin’
Playing as Crystal Palace on the Playstation
Shockin’
And I still can’t string two passes together

Rockin’
The New York Press places Bruce Ratner top of its new 50 Most Loathsome New Yorkers list
Shockin’
It probably won’t make a difference to the Atlantic Yards project

There’s a rat in my Brooklyn, what am I gonna do?

Rockin’
New members in the iJamming! Pub
Shockin’
They’re not diehard mods!

Rockin’
The wit and wisdom of Richard Lloyd
Shockin’
How anyone can have such a perfect long term memory despite the drugs

Rockin’
Spring is here
Shockin’
And the early dawn has me up at six every morning

Rockin’
Spring morning pancakes at Sweet Sue’s.
Shockin’
Looks like the summer crowds are here already.

Rockin’
Meeting another NYC expat for lunch in Phoenicia
Shockin’
That we don’t do this kind of thing more often

Rockin’
Bob Garfield on ‘On The Media’ saying “I’d like to talk to you about bullshit”
Shockin’
He’s interviewing an FCC Comisssioner

Rockin’
The first 50 pages of Bret Easton Ellis’ Lunar Park
Shockin’
The rest of the book

Rockin’
South Londoner Naomi Campbell on the cover of the Post and the News the same New York morning…
Shockin’
…for “allegedly bashing a crystal-encrusted Blackberry against the head of her housekeeper.” (Hang on, is that really shocking?)

Rockin’
Posie is finally going on holiday.
Shockin’
She chose Florida after all.

Rockin’
Going on holiday with Campbell for ‘spring break.’ (Alright, for ‘Easter.’)
Shockin’
The idea that I might not post at iJamming! for a week.

It’s hard to put into words just how beautiful it is up here today and, as I’ve found in the past, it’s almost impossible to put into pictures. So you’ll just have to believe me when I say that the way the sun interacts with the mountains, throwing shadows and presenting several different scales of light on a warm spring day is something worth waking up for. I could do without waking up at 6 every morning, as has been the case this last couple of weeks for some reason that may have to do with the gradually earlier dawns; I’m looking forward to the clocks changing and that 6 becoming 7. But if I do have to wake early, sooner this view than the streets of New York City.

BUZZCOCKS: FLAT PACK PHILOSOPHY (Cooking Vinyl)

WHO: Original punk-pop pioneers Pete Shelley and Steve Diggle, with now long-time rhythm section of Tony Barber and Philip Parker, deliver 4th album since mid-90s reformation.
WHAT: Briefly, 14 songs in just 36 minutes. And thankfully, after the uninspired effort that was its eponymous 2003 predecessor, Flat Pack Philosophy finds the ‘Cocks in fine voice and familiar fettle: melodies and harmonies a go-go from Shelley’s compositions, power chords and driving hard rock from Diggles’. The lyrics are somewhat unpoetic given their pedigree, and the formula will never sound revolutionary again like it did in 1978, but Flat Pack Philosophy still power drills gaping holes in their imitators’ repertoires.
WHY: “Like Steve Diggle, I’m a conscientious objector when it comes to proper work. Trying to imagine myself working in an office, it’s like trying to imagine myself as a horse.” (Pete Shelley, Uncut March 2006)

Buzzcocks Flat Pack Philosophy: available from amazon.com and amazon.co.uk

WINNERS: Shelley’s effortless knack with tunes and his well-preserved voice are perfectly evidenced on ‘I Don’t Exist,’ ‘Dreamin’’ and ‘Wish I Never Loved You.’ Diggle’s songs are aimed more at the permanent punks than the power-poppers, but ‘Sound Of A Gun’ covers both camps.
WORDS: “Latin lovers can be temperamental, you have to be careful what you say.” (‘God, What Have I Done’)
WEB: Listen to the album’s first single ‘Wish I Never Loved You’ on the group’s myspace page and ask yourelf if it’s not still 1979.
WINE: This group of hardened party people celebrates each completed concert with a bottle or two of decent Champagne. (On the rider, of course.) The Jean Lallement Champagne Brut NV hits the spot.

Campbell and I finally got the PS2 FIFA Soccer 2006 game up and running on Sunday afternoon. Naturally I was determined to play as Crystal Palace and, for the fun of it, I asked Campbell to play as Brighton, Palace’s long-term rivals. Of course, being beginners as we were, our first game ended in a dreadful 0-0 draw, with more balls being kicked out for a throw-in that ever made it down the field. It takes a while to get the knack of these controls, doesn’t it?

The next best thing to being there?

For the second game, Campbell asked to switch: Palace, being the better team in real life (as we all know), had a pre-match advantage, and Campbell rightly thought he might have a better chance of beating me if he were Andy Johnson rather than whatever loser Brighton currently pays to try and score goals.

Reluctantly, I switched sides. And gradually got into the swing of things. I even got the occasional dribble together. But because we were each having trouble keeping our shots at anything approaching head height, this game also finished 0-0. Figuring it as a Cup Replay, we opted to play extra time and, in the very last minute, I seized the ball and, rather than shooting or passing, and with the clock ticking down, just ran straight at goal.

Score! Able though he may be in the flesh, Palace keeper Kiraly could not keep me out as I stormed right through him and I ran laps round the house in celebration of the first ever Fletcher household Playstation goal.

Only when Posie played referee and sent me back to the TV did I realize what I’d done. The full-time score: Palace 0, Brighton 1. A sore victory indeed.

It’s Monday following the spring solstice and there’s a definite seasonal swing in the air. The mountain tops still have a coating of white powder from last week’s occasional snow showers, but the ski slopes are rapidly melting down, while the brilliant density of the azure sky insists that it’s carrying a spring, rather than winter, sun across its horizons. Meantime, the cat asks, instead of being forced, to go outside, a blue jay warbles in the fir tree, and down in Phoenicia, birds swarm around in packs as they move back in from the warmer climes down south. Typically, spring in these parts is known as ‘mud season,’ the inevitable byproduct of snowpacks melting down, but the precipitation this year was so low that we might just bypass it and go straight to summer.

For my part, after a crap final day on the slopes, skiing through slush, I celebrate the spring weather – and the promise of a full week or more of same – by running in shorts. After the initial chill, it feels good; I come home with a proper sweat on my brow. I’ve taken the camera with me to try and capture the perfect glisten of sun upon water, the playful interplay of mountains and trees, the gentle appearance of green foliage. But cameras – especially cheap modern digital ones – rarely do nature justice, and I succumb instead to the beat of the iPod and the refreshing thought of being able to stretch down out on the grass rather than inside in the heat. Best of all, before delivering myself to another week of work, I capture on camera the pressure of Monday morning rush hour in the Catskills: no pressure at all.

A spring Monday morning rush hour in the Hills: the snow on the distant mountaintops is on its way out, the summer crowds are not yet here.