Song, by Toad

On Sunday I make my DJ debut at the Flying Duck in Glasgow, where I have rather foolishly agreed to play records after a Men Diamler, Animal Magic Tricks, Withered Hand and Meursault gig.  That’s some lineup, but I will probably spend most of it convinced that the simple task of playing one record after another will for some reason prove to be beyond me.  Lets face it, DJs are fucking idiots, so if they can do it then surely to fucking god I can do it.  Presumably you have to do something clever every once in a while just to prove that you are somehow better than the shuffle function on a discerningly stocked iPod, but I doubt I’ll bother.

Mrs. Toad is around this weekend for a little while, before buggering off to Australia for ten days, which is crap (the buggering off, not the being around).  Still, it should help me get the Pictish Trail Toad Session finished, which would be fun.  We’re going out for a meal tonight in a half-hearted attempt to spend some time together before she vanishes again, so there should be a late, drunken podcast and plenty of swearing by lunch time tomorrow.

On the subject of tomorrow, we will be collecting our beloved old Volvo (and by old I mean 1971, so yes, old) and putting her on sale and also checking on the state of repair of the Toad van – our fucking ludicrous Toad Mobile.  I don’t know if I’m just excited or if I think we as big a pair of fucking idiots as you probably do.  I think we’ll call her Charlene.

This week I have spent a lot of time in the workshop here at Proper Job, listening to the radio.  A lot of it has centred around the state of the banks in the UK and particluarly the spectacular chutzpah of Fred Goodwin, who had the gall to run one of the world’s largest banks into the ground, and then resign on a £650k per year pension.  It’s a bit like being caught shagging someone’s wife and asking for a cup of tea and a biscuit before they throw you out.  The problem really is that for all the discussion about all this bollocks, the whole debate really boils down to this:

Why did it happen?  Because the decisions are made by blinkered, avaricious cunts with no regard for anything other than enriching themselves in a spectacular fashion.  Why aren’t you doing anything about it?  Because they still have all the fucking money – what’s left of it anyway – so there’s really fuck all we can do because the whores still have us by the short and curlies.  End. Of.  Story.

So, on that perky little note, this is the weekly opportunity for random participation and nonsense.  Please don’t feel you have to be a comedy genius, or contribute all that much, but do take this opportunity to de-lurk and say hello, particularly if it’s for the first time.

1. Favourite excuse for the credit crunch made by some snivelling financial type.
2. Worst ‘poor meal’ you ever had.
3. Something you’re going to spend money on this weekend which you really shouldn’t.
4. Canny saving trick you recently discovered, making you all pleased with yourself.
5. Cheapest thing you’ve ever bought which should be really expensive.

Dan Bern & the IJBC – Crow (IJBC stands for International Jewish Banking Conspiracy, so it is slightly fitting!)

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Hawksley Workman – Bankrobber

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REM – What if We Give it Away

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Richmond Fontaine  – $87 and a Guilty Consience That Gets Worse the Longer I Go

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The Welcome Wagon – Sold! To the Nice Rich Man

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Hrrgh.  I left a gig early last night because I was so tired from constant late nights this week, editing Samamidon session videos (3am every night, and one early morning meeting at Proper Job thrown in for good measure).  The plan was to head home and get some sleep, but it didn’t work.

What are your plans this weekend then, Toadlings?  Since the session our house has gone to hell, because I have been too focussed on the videos to do things like clean or tidy, and Mrs. Toad does fuck all unless I particpate.  And, frankly, who can blame her.  We need a wife.  Then on Sunday there will be football and some music plotting with a couple of friends of mine.  Not very exciting, I have to admit.  There probably won’t even be much drinking because, honestly, I’m too tired.

I am currently listening to the new albums by Antony & the Johnsons, Animal Collective and Andrew Bird, all which are no better than okay.  I’ve not listened to them all that carefully yet, nor, crucially, in the right order.  My phone is old and has a bizarre quirk of only playing songs in alphabetical order, which can be good for albums, but often just messes with the artist’s intent.  So I am not writing them off just yet, and will almost certainly review them once I’ve given them a proper chance.

So, please de-lurk and chip in with your Friday Five, and if you want to suggest next week’s five email me at the address on the contact page.

1. Best work hangover coping strategy.
2. When you give your house a ‘mother-in-law clean’, just how clean does it get?  If there’s no mother in law, who is your closest approximation?
3. Most trendy/haircutty band you actually like.
4. Most famous/stadiumy band you actually like.
5. Most annoying word people add ‘y’ to because they can’t be arsed thinking up a suitably adjective.

These all come from my time living on a fantastically cool Humber Keel Barge on the Thames, during my wild youth.  They look a bit like this, but without the mast and are deceptively large on the inside.  It was very, very cool.  This is a compilation I made of albums I wasn’t all that into, but which had some very good songs nevertheless.  I like that kind of mix – they make you remember an album quite fondly when otherwise you might never play it again.

Preston School of Industry – Straits of Magellan

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Obi – Incredible Jack

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Dan Bern & the IJBC – Crow (IJBC apparently stands for International Jewish Banking Conspiracy – the card)

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Lucinda Williams – Ventura

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Day One – Ordinary Man

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And, just to send you off into your weekend with a snigger, try this little snippet on for size. Barack Obama might be cooler than I thought – the dirty little pervert: