Well I haven't found any Club Nouveau to compare it to, but I'm still not sure that Big Audio Dynamite's No. 10, Upping St. would sound anything like the "Sacramento-based dance disco group" even if I had. (Read Monday's post first if this is confusing you.) The second B.A.D. album is no classic and because it was making relatively early use of samples, some of it seems especially primitive but the singles 'V.13' and 'C'mon Every Beatbox' still hold up well, as does the dub dance track 'B.A.D. Rock City' and 'Limbo The Law.'
Fact, I always thought it somewhat ironic that Mick Jones was kicked out of the Clash for becoming the clichéd rock star only for Joe Strummer (R.I.P.)and Paul Simonon to truly live out the cliché by taking the Clash into cartoon punk territory with the post-Jones Cut The Crap album and tour, while the exiled guitarist went back to Notting Hill, cleared out his closet (literally and metaphorically) and hooked up with the Clash' former DJ and video director Don Letts to form the forward-thinking Big Audio Dynamite. Joe Strummer must have recognized his mistake: not only did he finally call the Clash a day, but he attempted to make amends by co-producing No. 10, Upping St. Jones always told it that Strummer simply showed up in the studio and wouldn't leave; they must have genuinely missed each other.
So yeah, the costumes and the poses look rather stupid in retrospect, and Jones' voice always struggled to hold attention across an entire album, but Big Audio Dynamite were a genuinely great ground-breaking group in just about every respect. (And anyway, rather than hold up No. 10 Upping St. to retrospective examination, I'd be more likely to cite the first album This Is Big Audio Dynamite, Tighten Up. Vol. 88, or 1991's B.A.D. II's The Globe, with its hit single 'Rush'.)
If you really want a good-natured laugh at Mick Jones' expense, you'll need to pick up The Essential Clash DVD where you can watch for the first time, unless you were involved in making it - the silent movie Hell, W10. Written and directed by Joe Strummer in the summer of 1983, when the Clash were meant to be taking a holiday, this black and white gangster-comedy parody features Jones as the local dressed-to-the-nines gang leader, Socrates, and Paul Simenon as his nemesis, the gun-slinging Jimmy Cliff-like street tough Earl. Various Clash roadies, mates and girlfriends play the extras; the band's management office, their Notting Hill basement flats, Ladbroke Grove pubs, the Portobello Road and, surprise surprise, The Westway, are used for locations. Legend has it or at least the sleeve notes do - that "the project was put on ice (and eventually lost) when the band went back to tour in America, but fortunately, nearly 20 years later, a very rough copy was found by a pair of fans at a car boot sale." This sounds a little too much like the classic Clash myth-making of old to be entirely plausible, but either way, it's a fantastic discovery.
Sadly, what could have been a witty and intriguing short movie was dragged into full feature length by Strummer (this was Sandanista! period Clash after all, remember, when more was meant to mean better). I started watching Hell, W10 over some dinner the other night and thought it would beat me to the dishwasher; I think it was still playing by the time I went to bed several hours later!
HELL, W10: Mick Jones as gang leader Socrates...
...And Paul Simonon as his nemesis,
Jimmy Cliff Earl.
The novelty of watching Jones berate his gangster underlings inaudibly and Simonon walk around robbing, beating and shooting people (rather convincingly, it should be added!) wore off rapidly, but the soundtrack, added purely for the purpose of the DVD, made up for the gradual boredom of the film. Alongside 'The Equaliser,' 'Police On My Back' and 'Wrong 'Em Boyo' are instrumentals of 'First Night Back In London', 'Know Your Rights,' 'Ghetto Defendant' 'Junco Partner' and half a dozen others from Sandanista! or thereabouts. They all sound like rough demos and several of them should have been left in that state: there's a relaxed rehearsal mood to them that makes far more sense than the barely completed versions that made it on to their triple album. Some of you may have come across these instrumental/dubs along the way, but for me, they're well worth the price of admission; I can play Hell, W10 primarily as a great west London soundtrack and occasionally check in on the DVD player for visual amusement.
Elsewhere on the The Essential Clash DVD, you've got all the promo videos, as you'd expect; some live footage, as you'd also anticipate (some of which is also on the briliant From Westway to the World documentary); and an amusing interview with Janet Street Porter from the London Weekend Show in 1976, an early "yoof TV" attempt to understand punk, during which Simonon rocks back and forth like a bored schoolboy. Sample dogmatic exchange:
JSP: "If they [your fans] weren't on the dole, would they still be your fans?"
Joe Strummer: "Well if there were jobs, they wouldn't be on the dole."
Better late than never, I've posted a June hitlist, with 15 new albums, 10 old ones, and 5 films I got through in the last month. The featured album is Richard Thompson's refreshingly energetic 25th solo effort, The Old Kit Bag. And to go with this most English of singer-songwriters, and the long-overdue arrival of something approaching summer, we have "World Class Wine From England," as it says ambitiously on the bottle: Horizon from Chapel Down in Sussex. You can drink it for free, too - as long as you fly British Airways across the Atlantic that is. Enjoy.
Following on from my post on Thursday, I finished reading the Madchester NME special over the weekend (for those who haven't seen it, it's essentially all the old NME stories and reviews from the era packaged into one scrapbook style special) and was quite depressed by the end of it. I don't know which of the two major band's downfalls was more painful: the Happy Mondays' slow but predictable slide from gleeful drug hedonism to glum drug dependency, or the Stone Roses' tragic apathy in following up their classic debut album, culminating in the dreadfully disappointing Second Coming and the member-by-member evacuation of the sinking ship. (Drugs played a part with the Roses' decline too, though it would seem to have been less the cause than the effect.)
Bez in better times: Stop twisting my melons, man.
Just as painful to read, however, was the ludicrous fuss made over a Steven Wells interview with the Mondays around the time of the disappointing Yes, Please album, in which Bez revealed himself as something of a homophobe. Yes, Bez, the wide-eyed, permanently on-one dancing maniac in the Mondays, whose opinion on anything except directions to the latest dealer you'd be unwise to ask for in the first place. Swells' out-dated politically correct rhetoric was matched for its shamelessness only by the readership's apparent shock! horror! that a band with such genuinely back-street roots should turn out to have the occasional back-street attitude. Quite happy to live vicariously through the Mondays for as long as the music was up to snuff, the audience (or at least that part of it that read the NME) may have been better off adopting a Don't Ask, Don't Tell policy if it didn't want to be offended.
At least both bands left us some brilliant music. Which leads nicely into the fact that Pitchforkmedia, possibly the most amusing and informative of American music web sites, today posts its 'Top 20 Worst Post Break-up Debacles.' Post-Mondays Ryder/Bez collaboration Black Grape is not included (perhaps 'cause they made one genuinely great album before they too, went pear-shaped), but ex-Roses guitarist John Squire's band The Seahorses comes in at number seven, with the qualifying back-handed write-off that it would have been "one of the worst musical crimes of the last twenty years" only "if Second Coming weren't so telling a precursor."
Now you want to know what break-up debacles are considered yet more offensive, don't you? The Talking-less Heads at number three? Fair enough. Collaborations of former Sex Pistols, Blondie, Iggy Pop's band, and Go-Gos? Can't argue, I've never heard the apparent horrors of either Chequered Past or The Graces. I could argue with the Pitchfork choice of chart-toppers, though: Electronic, Revenge, The Other Two and Monaco, i.e. all the New Order spin-offs. Patchy though several of these side-projects have been, their justification for the award seems a little uncertain, being damned only with the words that these "projects haven't affected New Order's standing...a testament to the powers of selective promotion, sleek packaging, and most of all, calculated anonymity."
Spot the difference?
Let's hope so...
My real challenge to the list is number 6: Big Audio Dynamite, Mick Jones' post-Clash band whose amalgamation of dance and rock, samples and dub, surely influenced the Mondays and Roses alike. (And who put in many a great live performance along the way.) But Pitchfork author Chris Ott has already beaten me to the group's defense with the following pre-emptive insult: "die-hard Anglophile club kids still swear by 1986's No. 10, Upping St., (but) fifteen years later even they have to admit it sounds like Club Nouveau." Do we? I'm not sure (because I don't own any Club Nouveau and Upping Street wasn't my top BAD album anyway) but I'd better dust off my copy and see how it really does sound in the present day. That the Essential Clash DVD just showed up in the mail may make the re-appraisal a little bit more challenging.
I found this rather instructive paragraph hidden in a NY Times mid-Metro section report on the crowd at 'Field Day', and how they felt about having their festival moved from a camping weekend in Long Island to an all-dayer at Giants Stadium.
"They kept streaming in, paying $15 to park, surrendering their umbrellas to security guards, submitting to a frisking to make sure they were not carrying weapons or liquor, and paying $5 for a plastic poncho. (The recording industry, it should be noted here, says that online music piracy is to blame for the sorry state of the modern music business.)"
The editorializing in brackets, it should be noted here, is the work of the Times journalist. Good man.
...Reading a couple of tribute magazines that, by rights, should not readily date, I also came across this, from the introduction to the NME's Madchester retrospective, written by Happy Mondays' Bez:
"To be honest, I can't remember much about anything to do with the Mondays, but that's because it was all too memorable! The secret to the Mondays was that we were no-hopers with a bit of a hope."
(A no-hoper with enough hope to make a career out of it, Bez published a brilliant autobiography, Freaky Dancing, a few years ago. When, during promotion for the book, it was observed that he wrote a lot more articulately than he conversed, he immediately announced that he hadn't actually penned a word of it: his wife had done it for him!)
...And then from Arthur, a free broadsheet that commemorated Joe Strummer's passing by reprinting a lengthy and warm-hearted interview from 2001, this joyous little home truth from the man himself:
"There's no way to eliminate the most terrifying reality - that we all have to die - but at least the sun shines, and we've got a bit of time, so it's not all sniveling."
Curiously, this last quote, which I had been planning on printing for a while, dovetails nicely with something I just read by Christopher Hitchens, in his March column for Vanity Fair. (Like vintage wine, older magazines take on a more distinctive hue with a bit of age.) A confirmed boozer, he's gleefully (and with martini olives firmly in cheek) championing the latest reports that alcohol consumption is good for the health.
"We are born into a losing struggle, and nobody can hope to come out a winer, and much of the intervening time is crushingly tedious in any case. Those who see this keenly, or who register the blues intently, are not to be simplistically written off as "dysfunctional" cynics or lushes. Winston Churchill put it very squarely when he defined the issue as, essentially, a wager. He was a lifelong sufferer from the depression that he nicknamed his "black dog," but he could rouse himself to action and commitment and inspiration, and the brandy bottle was often a crucial prop. I have taken more out of alcohol, he said simply, that it has taken out of me. His chief antagonist, Adolf Hitler, was, I hardly need add, a fanatical teetotaler (though with a shorter and less wholesome life span). The most lethal and fascistic of our enemies, the purist murderers of the Islamic jihad, despise our society for, among other things, its tolerance of alcohol. We should perhaps do more to earn this hatred and contempt, and less to emulate it."
He may, in that last sentence, be referring obliquely to our President, a reformed Alcoholic who side-stepped the 12-step self-help program by embracing God, instead. As I've said before, it's Bush's combination of puritanism and born-again evangelicism that I find most worrying about the man, because it fuels his entire agenda. (Once an addict, always an addict, they say, and in Bush's case, it would appear he merely swapped his enslavement to alcohol for an enslavement to Christianity.) And I can't answer for the fact that Saddam Hussein drinks (drank?) the appalling Mateus Rose or that President Kim Jong of North Korea has been known to stockpile the most expensive of vintage Bordeaux while his people are left to eat tree bark.
That's the trouble with theories, isn't it? They so rarely hold up. But I can say I'm halfway through the late Stuart Browne's novel Dangerous Parking, written from the perspective of a former mod, former alcoholic, sexually addicted drug fiend film maker dying of cancer. Any of these descriptives would make for a promising story: that Browne dances consistently between my home cities of New York and London, and sometimes with such insane humor that I've had to put the book down just to laugh out loud for a few joyous minutes, makes it all the more pertinent. Sadly, Browne, who studied at Cambridge and Yale, was a professor at New York University but ultimately lived in Sussex, died just before the book was published. To what extent the narrator's nightmares were the author's own we may never know.
This most mundane of clichés held true metaphorically as well as literally last week, the New York gig circuit overflowing with home-grown and far flung talent. In particular, Thursday night presented a quandary of riches for any confirmed concert fan, with Radiohead playing the Beacon Theater, Arthur Lee and Love (yes, the recently released-from-jail Arthur Lee) performing Forever Changes with an orchestra at the Town Hall, and The Rapture and LCD Soundsystem continuing the promotion for the Yes New York album (with token Norwegian Erland Øye) at Irving Plaza.
And that was barely the half of it. At the club level, Long Island female rap trio Northern State were celebrating the release of their highly-touted debut album at the Bowery Ballroom; Brooklyn's Mink Lungs celebrating the release of their new album at the Mercury Lounge; while over at Brooklyn's Southpaw, New Jersey's Nada Surf were continuing the relentless touring by which they've maintained a viable career under extremely challenging circumstances. Given that a) Southpaw is up the road from me, b) Nada Surf's most recent album Let Go is in firm contention for my Top 10 2003 list (read my review here), and c) that I've only seen the band perform once before, and that some three years ago, I went with the walk round the block rather than a journey into Manhattan.
Support was supplied by Perth, Western Australia's The Sleepy Jackson, who like many Antipodean bands especially those removed from trendy metropolises such as Sydney and Melbourne wear their influences on their sleeves without any sense of irony. This means that in the space of but a few songs, I heard echoes of Led Zeppelin drums, Who bass lines, Buffalo Springfield guitar picking, and Sonic Youth feedback. (And I arrived too late to hear the Beach Boys a capella introduction for which they are apparently semi-famous.) While there's something quite endearing about a band that's so all-embracing, and front man Luke Steele performs with panache, such an earnest approach to rock'n'roll legacy is also limiting. I was easily entertained, but I was not actively engaged. Next time perhaps - when I've had a greater chance to digest their recordings.
Nada Surf at Southpaw. Matthew Caws at right, Daniel Lorca in center, attentive audience at left.
I've had plenty of time to digest Nada Surf's recordings, which have grown consistently stronger since 1998's debut album, High/Low, and its novelty hit, 'Popular'. Encouraged at the time by their label, Elektra, to produce more of the same, the trio instead delivered the altogether more subtle follow-up The Proximity Effect. Elektra rejected the album, demanding more 'hit singles'; the band told them to take it or leave it. Elektra opted for the latter, dropping the band but refusing to let them release the album themselves. (They insisted they would sell it only to another major that could reimburse them for the full recording costs.)
What followed was a battle of wills and a lesson in obstinacy: Nada Surf knew they were done with the major label experience, but also knew they had a record worth hearing if they could get it out independently and as it was released on other labels in Europe and garnered acclaim, they had every reason to feel their confidence was justified. By refusing to give up, as so many other bands would, they finally obtained the master tapes and released The Proximity Effect independently in 2000. The positive response it generated enabled their third album, the superb Let Go, with its aspirations to epic Coldplay-like ballads and seemingly effortless Lightning Seeds-like pop songs, to see initial release on ultra-cool Heavenly in the UK, which in turn subsequently assured it some proper attention upon recent American release.
On Thursday night, in front of an ardently loyal, and largely female crowd, Nada Surf played up to their strengths, while revealing a few weaknesses that may prevent them ever moving into the big leagues. The band's strengths are simple: classic songwriting, heartfelt singing, rock-solid playing. Guitar player and prime author Matthew Caws (at right) has one of those constantly yearning voices that effortlessly tug on the heart-strings; bassist Daniel Lorca offers perfect harmonies and a fine soft occasional lead voice of his own; drummer Ira Elliot keeps it precise; a fourth member, keyboardist Louis Nemo, seemed a little incongruous in his central onstage positioning but helped flesh out the sound.
Commenting on a group's "best" songs often seems like an exercise in subjectivity, but that makes it all the more interesting when the band itself seems to agree. Nada Surf played so many of my personal favorites up front Let Go's opener, 'Blizzard Of '77', its fine penultimate track 'Treading Water', the new single 'Inside Of Love' and the last one 'Hi-Speed Soul', along with The Proximity Effect's stand-out 'Amateur' that I was convinced they'd prematurely shot their load. An hour and a half later, when they encored with the superlative ballad 'Blonde On Blonde', the uptempo 'The Way You Wear Your Head', and The Proximity Effect's lead track 'Hyperspace', it was apparent that the band has excavated a deeper mine of material over its last two albums than most groups could aspire to in a lifetime.
The appeal of these songs lie in their emotional frailty - their full-frontal honesty. A new number early in the set contained the chorus line, "Bury me in joy, cover me in sorrow"; another unfamiliar track offered the lyric, "To find someone you love, you gotta be someone you love." It was perhaps no surprise then that a mid-set song morphed into 'Love Will Tear Us Apart', and that for an encore dedicated to the group's recently deceased van, they took on 'There Is A Light That Will Never Go Out.' Superb songs both, but overly obvious each; like The Sleepy Jackson, Nada Surf wear their influences a little tightly for comfort.
The band's lyrical inferiority complex, while making for wondrous home, lone listening, also plays into an onstage fear of commitment: that so many of Nada Surf's songs are ballads or mid-tempo pop anthems should not prevent them from periodically exploding. 'The Way You Wear Your Head' is a rare exception, its relentlessly repetitive rhythmic arrangement perpetuating the song's sense of urgency as Caws sings "I want to want you/I need to need you/I'd love to love you." But otherwise, on the occasions that Ira Elliot segued into some furious Moon-like drum rolls, one got the sense he was feeling frustration with the group's niceties, and as the set dragged beyond the comfortable one-hour length, I shared that concern with him.
What was most sorely lacking from Nada Surf's unquestionably impassioned performance was the sense of dynamics that would have propelled any one of these superb songs into, dare I say it, the power ballad or stadium rock territory. As such, I couldn't help but feel that, future hit singles notwithstanding, Nada Surf have found their level. They're songwriters almost without parallel at the moment. But until they can find an extra gear to shift into onstage, they'll remain club rockers.
That most mundane of clichés has never seemed truer than over the past week in New York, during which time we've had 50% more rain in the first seven days of the month that we can usually expect for the whole of June. Driving out towards Giants Stadium Saturday lunchtime in what seemed like a biblical downpour, I recalled how, precisely nine years ago, I'd made the same journey for the Ireland-Italy World Cup game, which was played in a near 100-degree heatwave. As such, I couldnt help but lament how, ironically, the Field Day promoters had gotten the British style festival they'd planned after all that is, a complete wash-out.
I stopped trying to bring the family to rock festivals since suffering similar weather at V98 or 99, when we felt like we were doing Campbell (our son) a disservice by having him watch James (the band) for the second time already in his then very short life. And neither myself nor the wife had ever felt like attending Field Day on our own. So we drove right by Giants, continuing our own pre-structured weekend plans, and wished anyone who was heading for the stadium good luck at making the best of an appalling set of circumstances.
No dance tents or camping tents in which to stay dry: hardly the 'Field Day' originally intended...
It seems like they did. Press accounts credit Radiohead, Blur, the Beastie Boys, and especially, Underworld for giving it their all. (That the latter band, casually labeled a techno/electronica act by those who know no better, could conquer a wet festival crowd, will come as no surprise to anyone who's ever seen them in the flesh or even just their live DVD, Everything Everything.) Beck was forced to cancel after falling over backstage. Rumors that he did so dancing to Underworld turn out to have been just those; he was in fact knocked to the ground by stage hands.
Finally, Jon Pareles in the Times rightly points out one small saving grace that came with switching the venue to the artifical turf of Giants: "On Long Island an open field would probably have turned into a mudhole."
The smoking ban in New York bars continues to attract its critics, but it's spawned at least one potentially positive sub-culture: the pick-up circuit. Step outside any buzzing Big Apple bar, whether or not you crave a cigarette (and whether or not it's raining), and you'll notice an entire scene taking place on the doorstep: total strangers bonding over their mutual love of nicotine, getting into all kinds of casual conversations, and frequently heading back indoors together. How many of these new acquaintances also go home together has yet to be stastistically compiled, but I'd wager there's a higher instance than there used to be. Smokers well, single smokers have something to thank Bloomberg for after all.
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 25-30: NO POSTINGS: ON VACATION
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)
FOR LATE MAY DAILY MUSINGS, CLICK HERE
FOR MAY'S EIGHT DAYS IN A WEEK'S MUSINGS, CLICK HERE
FOR LATE APRIL LONDON MUSINGS, CLICK HERE
FOR EARLY APRIL MUSINGS, CLICK HERE