Bleerch, bleurgh…Â I feel completely disgusting. I had a really good sleep last night, but that translated into a day spent wasting my time fannying about and just lolling in that way that seems like a good idea at the time, but invariably ends up making you feel completely disgusting by the end.
Also, to make matters worse, we ordered pizza, which is something we hardly ever do and something which we absolutely always regret. So here we sit on a Friday evening feeling bloated and slightly soiled and wondering whether at this time of the night there’s any point really trying to redeem the day, and perhaps it’s best just to forget it and wait for tomorrow. Bleuch.
01. Joanna Gruesome – Madison (00.27)
02. The Mutton Birds – Anchor Me (06.36)
03. Monster Island – Pilot Whales (14.42)
04. Former Bullies – It Might Be Okay (17.36)
05. Video Thrills – Our Plush Selection (21.05)
06. The Jesus & Mary Chain – Some Candy Talking (Peel Session) (25.16)
07. Bottle of Evil – I Can See Your Face (31.20)
08. The Black Tambourines – White Album (39.37)
09. Dolfinz – Teenage Doom (42.47)
10. The Ramones – Psycho Therapy (48.50)
11. Samoan Punks – Everyday (51.42)
12. Waiters – Black Stuff (59.27)
 The Dreichcast is so called because yesterday was fucking dreich. Dreich is another one of those wonderful Scots words which I, with my vague sort of RP/BBC/public school accent can’t really pronounce properly, but I wish I could.
Nevertheless it worked out pretty nicely actually, and despite the drizzle and general unpleasantness, Mrs. Toad and I went out for a wander, had some lunch, bought some immensely smelly cheese, and then went and got utterly scooshed at the Emily Scott album launch, and then on to Papi Falso at Henry’s Cellar Bar.
I really like Papi Falso actually. The music is weird, but still upbeat, and far, far better than the doosh-doosh garbage or excruciating cheese you would hear at most other clubs. And also, being Henry’s, there is space to sit and shoot the breeze, rather than having to scream in one another’s ears from half an inch away.
01. Only the Sea Slugs – She Said (00.09)
02. Wilco – Art of Almost (06.23)
03. Pet – Love Buzz (16.40)
04. Nirvana – In Bloom (21.37)
05. Benjamin Shaw – The Birds Chirp and the Sun Shines (29.15)
06. We Can’t Enjoy Ourselves – Your Darkest Thoughts Will Shine (34.40)
07. The Jesus & Mary Chain – Taste the Floor (39.47)
08. Toto & the Bad Eggs – Little Naked (45.17)
09. Whirling Pig Dervish – A Question of Sport (48.17)
10. Tom Waits – Burma Shave (57.49)
 I’ll confess, the fact that Sparrow and the Workshop have twice insisted to me that John Knox Sex Club are the best live band in Scotland played a significant part in me asking them to play at Henry’s on Saturday. Then I heard their version of Katie Cruel on the Sways Records Mixtape, and thought it was incredible. And then I heard their new album Raise Ravens, and that was that. So I am really looking forward to tomorrow, I don’t know about you.
As for today, it really is unseasonably warm at the moment – almost creepily so. I half expect Jeff Goldblum to come rushing in the door brandishing unfairly discredited research and demanding I help him get in touch with the president to explain how aliens are invading, or the dinosaurs are coming back, or a comet is about to collide with the planet or something like that. It’s usually Jeff Goldblum who delivers that kind of news isn’t it?
I other news, the Eastern Promise even is taking place in Glasgow (well, Easterhouse actually, but that’s almost Glasgow) this weekend. You can get the bus from Mono if you like, and tonight will see the appearance of the amazing Animal Magic Tricks, who was fucking great in Edinburgh a couple of weeks ago, and tomorrow the return of the Scottish Independent Record Fair, where you can purchase assorted tat from the independent record labels of Scotland, amongst which we number our good selves. You’ll be able to tell our stall, because it will be the one with all the best stuff on it. Bwah-ha!
Actually, I’ll be there to set up, but will have to get back through to Edinburgh pretty sharpish for obvious enough reasons. In my absence, the stall will be manned by Wee Matthew, who has helped us out with all sorts of things, from filming to PR to screen-printing of album covers, over the last few years.
And so, before I even begin to try and get my head around another busy weekend, let’s just kick back and relax a bit, and spend the afternoon fannying about on the internet. My Fresh Air Show, incidentally, is likely to be on a Friday afternoon this year. Along with yon Brian from Trapped Mice/Loch Awe/Last Battle/etc etc etc… and possibly one other victim. So erm, yes, even more wastage to Friday afternoons than usual!
1. Name a band who sound nothing like their name.
2. Era you romanticise the most.
3. Of all the people saving the world in disaster movies, who would you most want on the case if you had the choice.
4. Has there actually been a good ‘ZOMG it’s the end of teh wurld!!1!’ film that you can think of?
5. Kids’ movie you actually like.
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Well thirty-four seems little different to thirty-three, apart from the fact that it seems to involve a severe headache and an aversion to bright lights. What I need is a lunch and the King’s Wark and a couple of pints and I’ll be right as rain. Hopefully.
You’ll be blindly indifferent to know that after my back injury (yes, months ago) I am now finally feeling brave enough to go back to playing some gentle 5-a-side football again. It’s weird with backs – I’ve done some running, and it feels fine, but because I’m not all that confident it’s all still a bit stiff because it’s tough to actually let all the muscles in the base of your spine relax when you’re still a bit nervous that your spine might turn to jelly if you do.
Anyway, we’ll see. I won’t be pushing it that hard, that’s for sure, but it’s about time I got my lardy arse moving again and at least attempted to wheeze my way through an hour of physical punishment. Let’s face it, after thirty an hour’s worth of de-fitnetising takes weeks to claw back, so best not let it all get too out of control before I try and get back out there again.
So if I can brave the Scottish Winter in a pair of shorts, you can brave making your first comment. Why the fuck not, it’s Friday anyway, and everyone else will be talking total nonsense anyway, so why not take advantage of the de-lurking amnesty and get stuck in with a comment. It doesn’t have to be witty – mine won’t be – so there’s no pressure.
1. Which age was your favourite so far.
2. Which age did you fear most as a kid?
3. How old are you compared to how old your folks were when they had you?
4. What do you fear most about ageing?
5. And what are you looking forward to the most?
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Bleerch, bleurgh…Â I feel completely disgusting. I had a really good sleep last night, but that translated into a day spent wasting my time fannying about and just lolling in that way that seems like a good idea at the time, but invariably ends up making you feel completely disgusting by the end.
Well thirty-four seems little different to thirty-three, apart from the fact that it seems to involve a severe headache and an aversion to bright lights. What I need is a lunch and the King’s Wark and a couple of pints and I’ll be right as rain. Hopefully.
