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What's new in iJamming!...
Wed, Aug 14, 2002
30 Albums, 10 Songs, 5 books and a handful of movies.
Eight Days in A Week's Music:
Ed Harcourt, Vines, Candy Butchers, Timo Maas, Ashley Casselle & Adam Freeland, Aerial Love Feed, and enough little club nights to shake several sticks at.
Tony's (lengthy) trip down nostalgia lane from his visit home at the end of April. Stop-offs include Death Disco, old Jamming! Magazines, life-long friendships, road trips to Brighton, Damilola Taylor and political frustration, Morrissey-Marr, Zeitgeist, Oasis, Dexys, Primal Scream, the current British music scene and more.
Jack magazine comes out of the starting gate with the banner headline "best new men's mag in years."
Tenuta Mormoraia
2000 Vernaccia Di San Gimignano
'Hard Grind' by LITTLE AXE
Why I re-wrote the book: The introduction to the new edition of my R.E.M. biography, due out this summer through Omnibus.
Chemical Brothers, Neil Young, Van Morrison, Paul Westerberg, Skywalking, Joe Strummer, Radio 4, and Aquatulle.
A weekend with John Mayer, Sugarcult - and Elvis
Michael Greene's Grammy Speech: An Invitation to Download?
Plus: 10 things they forgot to tell you at the Grammys.
What the Hell Is Going On Here?
From the Jamming! Archives:
interviewed in 1978
"A number one single would be a bit scary."
The iJamming! interview:
"'Acid Trax' by Phuture came out and I was just 'Okay, forget all hip hop and all old school rare groove right here, this is it.'"
The Best Of 2001
Tony Fletcher's Top Albums, Concerts, Singles and Books - and comments on the Village Voice Poll
MUSING on The Manhattan 'Edge':
Will the Island Ever Again Be A 'Cultural Ground Zero?'
hostess 'Lee Patrick' recalls her time as Keith Moon's amour
ECHO & THE BUNNYMEN: "Flowers is Echo & The Bunnymen's finest hour since Ocean Rain."
An intrigue of early 90s New York nightlife.
NEW CHAPTER now online
From the Jamming! Archives:
U2 interviewed in 1984.
"It's not U2 that's creating this great art. . .There's something that works through us to create in this way."
iJamming! Wino/Muso:
"New world wines are just too techno for me."
Featured wine region 3:
Featured wine region 4:
iJamming! interview:
Jesse Hartman, aka LAPTOP
"Every New York band knows the meaning of failure"
MIX Albums:
Who, what and why you should bother
"I don't think people realize that life can become so exciting and interesting that it can draw you away for long periods of time from creating music - & why not?"
From the Keith Moon archives:
the JEFF BECK interview .
The iJAMMING! chat:

"If I was asked why Sniffin' Glue was so important, it was the way we conducted ourselves, the style of it, just the attitude. It had attitude in abundance didn't it?"
Forgotten Classics:
THE CHILLS: Brave Words
THE iJAMMING! Book Review:
SNIFFIN' GLUE: The Essential Punk Accessory
From the JAMMING! archives: PAUL WELLER ON POP
Featured wine region 2:
From the JAMMING! archives: ALTERNATIVE TV
interviewed in 1978
Fran Healy explains why "you cannot own a song." (And why Liam Gallagher "is going to turn into a really great songwriter.")
Featured Artist Web Site:
From the JAMMING! archives: The Story That Spawned Creation
Featured vine:
Finally, a worthy rival to Chardonnay.
The iJAMMING! interview:
"Once you've had your go, what-ever it may be, they want you to piss off, and they can't bear it if you come back, they can't bear it."
Featured wine region 1:
The full iJamming! Contents
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Click on the header buttons above, follow the menu at left, or scroll all the way down to find your way round the site....The front page is now being used for (near) daily postings....


Alright, I admit it: I'm homesick. I wish I was in England right now, where a three day Jubilee Celebration week has been reduced to a two-day week as the whole country celebrates England deservedly beating Argentina 1-0 in the World Cup. It's just not the same watching it in New York when the game finishes at 9.30am, a full day's work beckons and basically, nobody on the street gives a damn. Still, I made the most of the long-standing rivalry between the countries and watched the game at a local bar owned by an Argentinean who was an honorary member of Nags Head United, the team we both used to play for in New York. Herman was not only nice enough to open at 7.30 am, lay on a full breakfast for the handful of English who took over his excellent bar, Loki, and show the game on a massive projected screen, but was a gracious loser too. Between the USA beating Portugal and England beating Argentina in just over 48 hours, you couldn't ask for a happier football fan this weekend.

Thursday night, I went out at short notice last night to a preview/benefit gig at the Park Slope venue Southpaw, which is opening almost right around the corner from where I live. Given that Brooklyn's other live music venues are at the other end of the borough, in so-hip-it-hurts Williamsburg (Warsaw, Luxx, North Six and Galapagos), this is big news for our 'hood. Southpaw looks like it could be a winner: it's probably 400-capacity, but sensibly divided between a dance floor in front of the stage and a raised lounge area behind. It's got a well-stocked bar - serving Brooklyn Lager on tap of course, and actually pouring decent wines in real wine glasses, no less! - and a high stage with a clear sound system.

Word has it that a former booker from venerated New Jersey venue Maxwell's will be handling the talent, which should ensure some good names coming through. (Pictured here, on June 6, are Company; also playing were The Damnwells, featuring the venue's co-owner, former Whiskeytown drummer Steven Terry.) We're all still awaiting word of an official opening party, a band of some repute, or even a sign above the iron grating. Still, the arrival of a proper venue in Park Slope is long overdue and undoubtedly good news, so: Good luck to Southpaw.


While watching France fail again to score a goal (how can they have the leading scorers from three European leagues on their team and still not get a World Cup goal in 180 minutes of play?), I was reading some of UK Esquire's Sports (i.e. World Cup) special and simply can't resist reprinting the following two quotes.
1) Esquire's rating of the USA Team: "Watching them struggle at a sport they prefer to ignore because they are not world-beaters is one of the tournament's great pleasures. " To which I can only say that watching them beat the team Esquire tipped for the semi-finals (Portugal) is even better.
2) And what about this delightful quote from Irish manager Mick McCarthy going into the World Cup: "Roy Keane is a major asset in terms of his performances on the field. Off it, he's quite unassuming. . .He'll come to the pictures or whatever. We try and do things together." Yeah, like having blazing arguments that result in sending the captain home. Doubt if they'll be going on too many more double dates in the foreseeable future. . . .
Keith Percival e-mails to say he never thought he'd see the words "emotional" and "John Matthews" in the same sentence....The snail mail brings a new album by Future Sound of London of all people we haven't heard from in years. And tomorrow brings England-Argentina. . .

Wednesday June 5 (again): EVEN BETTER THAN THE REAL THING.

Have just come off the most thrilling two hours of footie in several years. Even knowing the result of the USA-Portugal came couldn't dissipate the excitement of watching such a young team of international unknowns upset one of the World Cup favorites. Yes, the reason there were five goals was because of lax defending at both ends, but the reason we watch in the first place is for goals anyway, right? And quite apart from marveling at the pace of 20-year olds Donovan and Beasley, I was particularly impressed by how the Americans kept their heads after letting in (or rather, scoring) the second Portugese goal. That was a textbook example of how to hold onto a slim lead under extreme pressure in the dying fifteen minutes.
. . .This is probably a more important victory for the States in the World Cup finals than beating England in '50 or Columbia in '94. International football was simply not such a big deal back in 1950 and in 1994, apart from home advantage, there was the feeling that the Colombian own goal (which the player sadly paid for with his life) was a gift to the U.S. that they couldn't have taken on their own. But going 3-0 up against one of the most touted teams of the tournament and then holding on to win the game with such confidence - that's something else entirely. To put the victory into perspective:

The U.S.A had not scored three games in a World Cup game since 1930.
The U.S.A. record since the 1950 tournament has been 1 win, 8 losses, 1 draw.
Portugal were the highest scoring team in European qualifying play.
And to give credit to the much-maligned Major League Soccer in the States, nine of the starting eleven had come through that system; six of those nine currently play in MLS.

. . .Of course it devastates me that there wasn't an impromptu street party round here this morning. Today's copy of Newsday has but ONE page on the World Cup, and it's set, get this, nineteen pages back in the sports section. Having said that, I conducted an impromptu poll over at the Wine Lovers Discussion Group, the only online board I hang out on, and found people who had got up or stayed awake to watch the game in every time zone. For them, and for you, I again recommend this beautiful first person account of an American football and his father. Anyone looking for a good bottle of American wine to open in celebration can choose from these randomly numbered Reviews form my Wine Archives:
1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11

. . . In honor of my two personal teams for the tournament, I'm posting a Featured Album review of the new Little Axe album Hard Grind, a mixture of American blues and English dub. And in honor of the fact that I personally witnessed Italy lose to Ireland 1-0 in their opening game in 1994, then personally watched them another three times as they progressed stubbornly to the Final (proving that anything can happen), I've recommended a Vernaccia Di San Gimignano to accompany. Posted June 5, 6pm.

. . .The only sad aspect about the USA's 3-2 upset over Portugal in their opening World Cup game is just how few Americans will have been watching. This is largely down to the game times, which are resolutely nocturnal for just about all games, but which proved particularly unpleasant for USA-Portugal. A 5 am kick-off on the east coast worked back through 4 am Central, 3 am Mountain, to 2 am on the west coast - core sleeping hours across the entire continent. It wouldn't have been impossible to stay up/get up and watch the country's historic performance, but it was more than I could manage in the middle of the week and know I could still get my work done later in the day. I'll watch the whole game on an ESPN replay this afternoon, and may post comments thereafter. . . .
. . .But this is not to make excuses. In 1994, when the World Cup was played on US soil, then on the day that the USA beat Colombia 2-1 in just as big an upset, I was working on an all-night TV job in New York City. I managed to get through that shift, come back home through rush hour in one of the busiest cities in the world, and turn on my taped recording of the game without ever being in jeopardy of hearing the score. The lack of excitement on the streets cut deeply into my pride for the team, which was personal at the time: I'd done a Passengers TV profile on the US team, focusing on Alexei Lalas, before the squad was even named, and had fallen hard for this group of care-free, ego-less underdogs. Their pathetic showing four years ago - careless and ego-filled - broke many American hearts. . . .
. . . Andrew Sullivan penned an excellent essay in the British Sunday Times last week about how the USA's cultural non-involvement with the world's favourite sport is a perfect metaphor for its political isolation. I hadn't pegged this conservative, openly gay, Oxford-educated Catholic Englishman living in DC, a former policy advisor for Thatcher and editor of the right-wing American magazine the New Republic, for either understanding, or being a fan of the game. Maybe he's not (he did misidentify Clint Mathis as Davis), but I have to credit him for pulling off his opinion piece without upsetting this more avowedly football-crazy expat.
Not being a great reader of 'Inside the Beltway' reporting (i.e. the media commenting on media commentary; I generally prefer living in the real world), I'd read little of Sullivan's until coming across an excellent defence of free downloading and MP3s in the New York Times magazine a year or more ago. His name then came up again, prominently, just a few weeks after September 11 when he wrote a potentially inflammatory but undeniably necessary piece for the same magazine entitled 'Who Says It's Not About Religion?' In a carefully worded look at theological fascism, he was probably the first to present, with facts and history on his side, the viewpoint that "This surely is a religious war - but not of Islam versus Christianity and Judaism. Rather, it is a war of fundamentalism against faiths of all kinds that are at peace with freedom and modernity."
Since then, I've checked in almost daily basis to Sullivan's web site, where he pens opinions at a furious rate, often without thinking them through first. (In defence of his beloved Catholic Church, which denounces homosexuality while protecting priests who sexually molest young boys, he is trying to present as a moral equivalent and similar scandal the fact that sports coaches in high schools are known to prey on teenage girls.) Such shooting-off-at-the-mouth, much of it aimed at what he considers the great left-wing conspiracy of the New York Times, has found him unceremoniously dumped by that paper of record, but the British Sunday Times has doubled his contribution rate as a result. His columns - especially the printed ones, which have the benefit of an editor - are worth reading wherever you live. Sullivan is so conservative that he's recently taken George W Bush to task for not starting the war on Iraq quickly enough, but at the same time he's such a libertarian that he constantly challenges conventional thinking (as a gay conservative Catholic one would say that he has to, just to stay sane) and at a time when so many seem to be retreating into party-line ideology, I appreciate his provocations.
. . . And in case you think I'm slipping, tomorrow I want to cite in more detail another English-born, American-based writer on what would be considered the left-wing except that the person in question is equally unwilling to tow the party line. That's Christopher Hitchens, who has also written some of the most intelligent and vital commentary in recent months. It is surely no coincidence that I gravitate to these English-born writers, not least because they see America through the same immigrant's eyes as my own, as opposed to the jaundiced, cynical, hateful vision of a Robert Fiske, whose incredulity that someone as respected as John Malkovitch could wish him dead shows just how far removed from humanity his ideology (as printed, embarrassingly, by the Independent), continues to be. And in the meantime, I continue to extol the sensible international viewpoint of Thomas Friedman, who writes it right down the middle - as his last two NY Times columns once again prove.

. . .Back to the left-wing and the right-wing and the middle the way we prefer them: Congratulations to Ireland for that incredible last minute Robbie Keane goal that kept their qualifying hopes alive and put Germany in their place. . .(My favorite World Cup experience of 94 was being present at Giants Stadium when Bulgaria beat the Germans.) . . . I had a great time yesterday too taking in the charged atmosphere of the South Korea-Poland game: did anybody except the South Koreans themselves know just how passionate they were about this? . . .Thanks to my Palace-supporting New York friend Kyrie for burning off the Jam at the BBC CDs (I'm not too cheap to buy them, just too lazy!) Much of that music I taped on cassette first time round, but the power of the first two John Peel sessions from early 1977 absolutely astounded me. I'm not entirely sure these versions aren't better than the 'official' releases. . .
. . .Still, you can't help but laugh at Bruce Foxton delivering the it-doesn't-stand-up- to- basic-literary-inspection-line, "the street that was a part of the British monarchy" on 'Carnaby Street'? Luckily for Paul Weller, 'Time For Truth' is absent from the set, preventing me from justly quoting his equally classic, you might-not-think- this-but-I'm-going-to- turn-into-a-famous-Socialist line: "Whatever happened to the great Empire? You bastards have turned it into manure." Don't worry, I sang along to both those songs at the time. . .And they still kill, musically. Have a good one. I couldn't have started my day with much better results. Posted June 5.


First, make sure you're really tired and emotional, due to ongoing lack of sleep and copious wine-drinking the night before. (See notes from yesterday.)
Second, sit down in the evening and watch the taped final episode of what you consider the greatest drama series of recent years: Six Foot Under. . . (JUMP THIS PARAGRAPH IF YOU DON'T WANT TO KNOW WHAT HAPPENED) Grimace as a lonely young man with cancer dies painfully. . . Shudder as his cremation is witnessed only by funeral director (and series star) Nate Fisher and an uncaring young cremation worker. . .Sympathise as Nate discovers his mother, Ruth, has being seeing his own baby daughter, though his ex-girlfriend Lisa (not to be confused with ex-fiancee Brenda, who has finally admitted to her sexual addiction and joined a 12-step now that Nate's broken off with her) has refused him visitation rights. . . Sympathise further when Nate discovers his doctor has been wrongly advising him about his already serious brain infection and that he has to go under the knife immediately for an operation from which he might well not survive...Wince as Nate dictates his own burial instructions to older brother and fellow funeral director David...Smile with relief as David and boyfriend Keith, now an ex-cop after roughing up a wife-beater on duty, settle another of their own domestic arguments with violent sex on the floor. . . Express perverse satisfaction that David and Nate's younger sister Claire, a cynical hard-ass throughout the series, finally breaks down in tears at a college interview talking about her father's death. . .And cry for his survival when the series ends with Nate under anesthesia, dreaming of running a desert road, on which the bus that killed his father (at the start of the first series) pulls up ahead of him, its doors open, no one on board, viewers understanding that if he climbs on, the bus will shuttle him off this mortal coil to join his father. . . (It's just occurred to me that all three children and their mother were shown breaking down in tears in this second series finale. God, how I wish all American TV could be this powerful and emotional, and yet hysterical at times too - and please, someone tell me it's being shown in other countries too; it's easily a match for its HBO partners Sex In The City, the Sopranos and Band of Brothers).
Third, as if all this is not enough provocation to dream about death, follow watching Six Foot Under by finally reading what you've put off for over a week: the excruciatingly detailed four-page report in the New York Times of May 26 (the Times only keeps its features up free online for seven days, sorry), about the people who were trapped in the twin towers on September 11, in the floors above where the planes hit. The Times reports that at least 18 people survived in the south tower by climbing down a damaged stairwell and through the fire, as, going the other way, at least 200 others climbed to the (locked and inaccessible) roof and their eventual deaths. (Almost 2000 of the deaths that day were of people on those top floors.) Through the accounts of those survivors, and the e-mail and telephone messages from those who didn't make it out on both the north and south towers (kindly shared by the deceaseds' loved ones), the Times has reconstructed events in a manner that reads like a savage combination of The Towering Inferno and the Poseidon Adventure - except that, as I've mentioned elsewhere, this wasn't like a disaster movie, it was a disaster, period. . .
And sure enough, you will have nightmares like mine. I wake with a start around six am, just before the hijacked plane I'm myself on board crashes into one of the towers. . .
. . .People who don't live in New York, let alone America, might think I'm dwelling on the events/effects of September 11 more that necessary. But though we continue to live and love our lives here, and though in social situations the subject comes up less and less as we try to move forward, it is physically impossible to put this all behind us even if we want to. Sure I don't have to read the Times' detailed report of the horror for the 2000 people trapped on those floors who died - though personally I think I'm much better off in the long run for doing so. But how do I avoid reading the ads on the subway, like on Sunday night when I take the Q train into Manhattan for dinner? There I find that the whole side of the carriage opposite me has been taken over by the NYC Department of Public Health, which is engaged in an aggressive campaign entitled 'New York Needs Us Strong.' I particularly like the side-slogan 'Even Heroes Need To Talk,' addressed at traditionally macho Firemen and Police who are unaccustomed to opening up and/or breaking down to psychiatrists and counsellors. The ads include quotations from everyday New Yorkers, and I think they're necessary even though they're painful. Try this potent one: "I was born and raised on this soil," Yo Landa, 29 from Brooklyn, is quoted in one ad. "And I stand strong in the knowledge that you can build a lot of new dreams in a whole lot of empty sky." Above another seat I read the following, and as I copy it out now I think of Ruth, the mother on Six Foot Under, whose three grown kids make an unintentionally cruel habit of ignoring her attentions, and everything comes full circle, and makes sense - if only to me. "I've started calling my children more often," this mother writes under the heading 'How I've been coping.' "I want them to know how much I love them." . . .
. . .So sure, it can be a tough city, and the injured feeling can't wear off as quickly as we might wish, but scratch our surface and you'll find out what a bunch of sentimental softies are lurking underneath. And that's part of the contradiction I love about the place.
Never have done, and today's proving particularly challenging. Nothing I didn't bring on myself, getting up at 5 am on Sunday to watch the England game, running 3.5 miles in just over 25 minutes in Prospect Park, and going to a friend's in Manhattan for a superb evening dinner accompanied by far too many fine wines. Now I'm just wishing I was on holiday for the next two days, like the Brits are. . . I met a lovely Argentinean woman at the dinner, and we quickly got to talking about the impending game. To bring the American guests into the conversation (actually there was only one home-born American there, New York being the melting pot as always), I stupidly mention how the football rivalry between the countries would be there even without the Falklands War. "They're the Malvinas," the Argentinean promptly interjects. "Yes, this is a lovely glass of Sancerre, isn't it?" I say, quickly changing the subject. . . But of course, patriotism is at an all-time peak right now, everywhere you look, on the sporting field and off . . . For example, I've just been checking out the BBC News online and have to confess to some emotional pangs watching all the Jubilee footage. Odd, because I'm not a Royalist. Maybe I just like seeing people of different creeds and colours singing 'All You Need Is Love' . . . I doubt if John Lydon is sharing my sentimentality today. Finally got round to reading his interview in the June edition of UK Esquire yesterday, and came across this choice quote about his homeland, which he visits but once a year: "I don't know what's gone wrong in this country. There is total apathy. And it appears to be fashionable. Life is humdrum, dull, tedious. And tomorrow is going to be exactly the same. Man, you're in a coma.". . . Sven-Goran Eriksson, meanwhile, must be seeing some of that apathy himself if he's already appealing to the 'Bulldog'/'Dunkirk' spirit. "Don't give up - you are famous for never giving up," he said in yesterday's post-match, and then promptly changed the pronoun. "So why should we do it after one draw?" Why, indeed? . . .

. . .We could be France right now. Still, the timid 1-1 draw with Sweden didn't exactly inspire confidence for the Battle against Argentina on Friday, did it? I took the mature adult route, set my alarm for 5am, and watched the game at home, which seems to have been the right call: a friend, having worked till 4am in a club, called shortly after to say that Nevada Smiths, the Manhattan location favored by English fans, and one of the only bars in NYC to have a 24-hour license during the World Cup, had a line of hopefuls outside its sold-out doors around 5am some three blocks long. I had been fully anticipating enjoying the Radio 5 Live commentary through my DSL connection, but it was quickly interrupted with the announcement that 'for Legal Reasons,' they couldn't share that broadcast over the Internet. And that was also probably just as well: for those first couple of minutes, it was a full 60 seconds behind the actual game as broadcast on Univision. (And ESPN is showing the games in the States a solid few seconds behind the 'real time' of the Spanish station. Anyone know why?) . . .
. . .Out in the world where political news takes place and our lives are genuinely in the balance, Pakistan and India continue to stare each other down with their million troops at the border and nuclear weapons not that far behind, and try as they might, the rest of the World can't blame the USA for this mess. Something about the collapse of the British Empire, partition and all that?. . .
. . .A photo accompanying a page 3 report in today's New York Times depicts a policeman walking the streets of Manchester cradling a machine gun, the type of ominous weapon as I thought was restricted to British airports. The feature itself reports that "Armed robbery in London nearly doubled from 2000 to 2001," which is even worse than I'd realised. As I should probably have noted in my London Musing column about such matters, I have a pet theory that Britain is generally about ten years behind the States in areas both good and bad: entertainment (satellite/cable TV for instance), crime (see above), drugs (I.e. the current popularity of crack), and very often in manner of social response to all such issues. Joe Klein, author of Primary Colors and well known American political observer, suggests otherwise in a Slate online feature called 'Joe Klein's European Listening Tour'. In his first report, Klein attempts to drum up anti-American fever in France but comes away noting a far stronger anti-European sentiment instead. Most interestingly, he notes the following high up in the dispatch: "Is it possible that Europe really has become just like America, but an America of the recent past - the 1970s, to be precise, a period for which I harbor zero nostalgia." It certainly is possible, given how Klein backs his theory with precise reasoning. In which case, there's hope that Europe will emerge from its current crisis the way the States finally got through the 1970s. . .
. . .One area of course in which the States is entirely behind Europe is in soccer, I mean football, which certainly won't stop me cheering on the USA team later this week when they launch their campaign with a tough match against Portugal. There aren't many saving graces for the sport in the States, but still, this is the first tournament in which the country's star players are home-grown, born-in-the-USA suburban types (e.g. Clint Mathis) as opposed to the former, American-by-association, or children of first-second generation immigrants (e.g. John Harkes). It's a slow build, that's for sure, but then again, you see China moving faster? Actually, don't answer that one. . .
. . .Let me leave on a real positive. We're starved for good World Cup commentary here, which makes this first-person story about a football-mad editor and his equally obsessive dad such a delightful read. . .Posted June 2.
. .Here in New York, and I've spent too much of it working on this site and watching footie that I taped overnight. Still haven't figured out how to watch the England-Sweden game at 5.30 a.m. - the idea of staying up in a bar from before they 'officially' close at 4am may just be too much for these parental genes. Well done Ireland in a tough game against Cameroon. Anyway, the JUNE HITLIST is now up. You'll find 30 Albums, 10 Songs, 5 books and a handful of movies. The iJamming! site gets spidered once a fortnight, which is how you get to use the search engine on the left. It just told me it had spider 209 pages last week. I have 209 pages up on this site? Jesus, I'm taking it a bit serious. Before the sun sets I'm off to enjoy the party in our community garden across the street. Good luck to your football nations....
Posted Saturday June 1.
Click here for my daily posts from late May - which is when I finally started doing the diary entries.
"All journeys home to the Mother Land - anyone's journey, anyone's Mother Land - are bound to be emotional. My ten-day return to south London at the end of April was one of my most stirring since moving to New York in the late 1980s." . . .Click here for Tony's (lengthy) trip down nostalgia lane. Stop-offs on the two-page London Musing special include Death Disco, old Jamming! Magazines, life-long friendships, road trips to Brighton, Damilola Taylor and political frustration, Morrissey-Marr, Zeitgeist, Oasis, Dexys, Primal Scream, the current British music scene and much more. Posted May 21
My first, overly long (so what else is new?) attempt to post regular diaries here. Please follow the link to read about everything from the Chemical Brothers to Neil Young, Van Morrison to Paul Westerberg, Skywalking to Garageland, Joe Strummer to Aquatulle. And please post comments on the forum if you feel so inspired.

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