What are the odds?

About three months ago a friend of mine invited me to an Ian Brown gig in October. Cool, I thought: I don't own any of Brown's solo material but I have liked what I've heard. I agreed to go and my chum booked me a ticket.

Fast forward a couple of months and I discover that Underworld, one of my all time favourite techno outfits and an awesome live act, were playing on the same night. I like Ian Brown but I adore Underworld so I had to tell my friend, sorry, but I wouldn't be going to the Brown gig and, um, if he can't offload my ticket then I'll pay him back anyway, sorry, sorry.

Damn it: the only night I can go and see one of my favourite bands play live turned out to be on the one and only night of the year I was already booked up to go to another gig. Sod's Law. Gotta' laugh.

Doesn't end there, though. I have subsequently discovered that my favourite new band of this year, Von Südenfed, are doing one and only one gig in London in the coming months... on the same night as Underworld. Typical. But it doesn't stop there either: one of my other favourite acts, Prefuse 73, is performing one of only two UK dates on that night as well... right on my doorstep in Oxford. 365 in the year and four bands I would like to see live decide to schedule gigs on the same fucking night?

The universe really takes the piss sometimes.

[On a more positive note, I am going to have the chance to see Amon Tobin in November, so that's OK]

Never mind the puppies - just buy the damn books

Two books for your consideration:

The Cusp Of Something by Jai Clare (released 1 November 2007).

From Elastic Press: Jai Clare’s stories are filled with the disaffected, those who kick against their everyday lives, who crave the mystic when seeking their spirituality, and who are desperate to be alone as much as they are desperate to be with someone. Whether in North Africa, Greece, or Britain her characters’ concerns remain the same. To find meaning in the universal and the personal, through transient sex or emotional depth. All told with a fluid intensity of prose that cuts to the heart of them, lays them bare to misfortune and fortune, and stands them waiting on the brink of discovery.

Two Tall Tales And One Short Novel by Heidi James, Kay Sexton & Lucy Fry (out now).

From Apis Books: Two Tall Tales and One Short Novel, is a collection of stories by three of the UK's brightest new writing talents: The Mesmerist's Daughter by Heidi James, Smokin' the Queen by Kay Sexton, and In the Clear by Lucy Fry. Together the stories transport the reader into the minds of three very different characters.

It just so happens that both Jai Clare and Kay Sexton are close and personal friends of mine and not only are they fantastic writers but also lovely, beautiful people. So if you don't buy these books then you are effectively pissing on my grave. You wouldn't piss on my grave, would you? I thought not. To make things easier for you, here are some clicky things you can use to buy these great books (because you are going to buy them, aren't you, rather than piss on somebody's grave, namely mine).

Pre-order The Cusp of Something from Amazon UK
Buy Two Tall Tales and One Short Novel: Anthology of Shorter Fiction from Amazon UK

OK, I'm done pimping my friends. Time for coffee and cookies.

Because there is never enough...

Social software, my arse.

Eclecticism is da bomb

Listening to Mark E. Smith mumbling and yelping on the wonderful Von Sudenfed album "Tromatic Reflexxions" reminded me that I somehow never got round to buying any Fall albums. Most remiss of me considering that I have bought a couple of Pavement albums in the last year, a band clearly influenced by The Fall.

But where to start? The Fall have released over 30 studio and live albums since 1979. Should you just start at the beginning or pick a few random records from throughout their career? Fortunately, I found a bargain in the shape of "The Complete Peel Sessions", a six-disc boxset containing all 24 of The Fall's sessions recorded for John Peel's BBC Radio 1 show between 1978 and 2004; a mere snip at £20 and a fine overview of their back catalogue. Absolutely bloody fantastic stuff.

Getting into The Fall's ouevre has given me a bit of a taste for post-punk. The sound of post-punk has been resurrected with great success over the last few years by the likes of Franz Ferdinand, Interpol, Futureheads and Bloc Party but I wanted to go back to the source. So I picked up "Entertainment!" by Gang Of Four, "Pink Flag" by Wire and "Marquee Moon" by Television, all released in the late 70s, and it is brilliant stuff. Gang Of Four in particular tickle my fancy as their bass-heavy funk-tinged stylings remind me a little of Primus.

Curiously, I've also been buying and listening to Debussy, Stravinsky and Bartók as well. Talk about musical mood swings.

Put these in front of your eyes

Just how cool are these clocks? And look at these wonderful creations. I particularly love the piece entitled Copper Snake; reminiscent of Philip Guston, I thought, only in 3-D. And I've never been especially interested in jigsaw puzzles until I saw these creations. And you might as well take in some of these fantastic photographs while you are at it.

Marvellous stuff, isn't it? There's something beautiful about scrap metal - the textures, discolouration, the rust, as prone to the ravages of time as any living organic material.

All this marvellous art is the work of Paula the Self Taught Artist who is not only very talented but who also leaves nice comments at this 'ere humble blog o' mine and in my inbox. So go look at her work and maybe leave a nice comment on her blog. It's only polite.

Ulysses: my incoherrent analysis

Right, I won't pretend for a second that I can give you a comprehensive or, indeed, accurate interpretation of what Joyce's novel is about. I must also apologise that I completely failed to articulate my feelings towards the novel in a coherrent and grammatically conventional manner. Here then I present my uneducated thoughts on Ulysses in the manner of Molly Bloom's internal monologue:

Language its all about language the history of language the evolution of language but also the failure of language people say that Ulysses was a book written to endear itself to the lords of academia and maybe it was to a degree but Joyce also hated "bookish" types the elite the custodians of the literary canon so he wrote a novel full of base human behaviour nose picking pissing shitting wanking fucking which at the same time made grandiose allusions to classic literature of all periods politics religion in the most prosiac prose imaginable Joyce having a laugh revelling in words creating puzzles to be puzzled over for years and yes so much of it went over my head and so many words phrases sentences I struggled to unravel but maybe that too was Joyce's point that so many words are often used to say so little or to conceal the truth language that deceives or fails to communicate and yet the energy of it was infectious and drew me in and how proud I was when I understood something it didn't matter how baffled I was for the most part because I could feel the cogs in my brain moving exercise for the mind excited me with possibilities of art I haven't felt since David Lynch's INLAND EMPIRE

Remarkable also the depth of characterisation Leopold Bloom is no stereotype a genuinely complicated and real character with strengths and weaknesses intelligent but pedantic compassionate yet distant a common man yet aloof decent yet tosses off at the sight of a young girl from behind a rock courageous in the face of anti-semitism but fearful of intimacy due to the suicide of his father and death of his eleven day old son Molly Bloom too could have so easily been depicted as a shallow adulteress but in the space of the final sixty pages of unpunctuated monologue Joyce shows her to be loving sensual bitter jealous sad frustrated angry guilty nostalgic resentful of her husband still in love with her husband so despite all high-falutin games the complex alusions the complex structure the impenetrable prose Joyce ultimately presents the reader with a poignant and compassionate portrait of common people in all their complexity and ambiguity

Fucking masterpiece