The football debate in the sports pages this week is predictably dominated with talk of the England football team. The usual questions. Does the fact that they can dispose of a poor Welsh side demonstrate their potential against stronger opposition? Are the right players being played in the right places? Can player A play with player B? Blah, blah, blah.
Around the time of a competitive England match at any point in the last decade, you could pick out different newspaper articles, and it's more than likely you would find the same tired issues dominating.
The most painfully dull debate is that of the saga that surrounds the captaincy of doe-eyed Chelsea defender, John Terry. It's hard to imagine why anyone would even feign a shrug of interest about the personal life of 'JT'. The very fact that the issue of this monotoned, sad faced man's infidelity creates such a media storm is testament to the country's glorification of celebrity mishap, which undeniably has a detrimental effect. Terry, despite his 'charmless man' qualities, is probably befitting of the role of England captain. To have his captaincy stripped away in a world cup where England were dumped out earlier than anyone thought in the realms of possibility, demonstrates just how damaging the media frenzy really is to anyone who actually cares whether they succeed or not.
This is why I'm past caring. Surely the England football team, who undoubtedly have some very talented players, despite the majority of them having about the same amount of personality as a park bench, have got the best chance of succeeding if everyone just shuts up and leaves them to it. Every day there's another story on the BBC sports page about what John Terry or Rio Ferdinand said. Why are we constantly subjected to listening to the inane comments of these illiterate, yawn inducing men.
I was reading somewhere about Rio Ferdinand 'tweeting' Lily Allen about her mother's recipe for Shepherd's Pie. The very fact that I know this piece of information severely undermines my resolve to care about the fortunes of the national football team.
Tuesday 29 March 2011
Thursday 24 March 2011
Spring Scepticism
On Saturday morning I was awoken by a text message from a friend, with an over excited instruction - 'Quick! Look at the sunshine!' The overdue return of the ball of fiery light had taken on some strange phenomenon. A rare experience, not to be missed! Prefixed by a panicked desire to enjoy every fleeting second of it.
"Right then, get in the garden! Stare at it before it disappears! Oh shit, is it going behind that cloud? Is that an ice cream truck I can hear in the distance? I'm sure my shorts were in this draw. Oh, here they are..Wait, are these even mine? Arrhh!"
You get the picture.
On the streets, many are still dressed with a very obvious degree of distrust. Coats and scarves remain adorned. Damn those suspicious folk and their half done up zips and buttons. I bet you'd still find gloves in lady's handbags too. (One would imagine, I'm not in the habit of rummaging through...)
I'm horribly aware that my first post on this blog is about the weather. How delightfully mundane and typically English! But as it's all anyone can talk about this week, it seemed a reasonable place to start. Plus, it's obviously a lot more pressing than a country in the midst of Civil War, and the west's subsequent intervention. Or, for that matter, a country on the brink of nuclear devastation... but I'll save those trivial matters for a rainy day!
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IcG4NUJAs6Q
"Right then, get in the garden! Stare at it before it disappears! Oh shit, is it going behind that cloud? Is that an ice cream truck I can hear in the distance? I'm sure my shorts were in this draw. Oh, here they are..Wait, are these even mine? Arrhh!"
You get the picture.
On the streets, many are still dressed with a very obvious degree of distrust. Coats and scarves remain adorned. Damn those suspicious folk and their half done up zips and buttons. I bet you'd still find gloves in lady's handbags too. (One would imagine, I'm not in the habit of rummaging through...)
I'm horribly aware that my first post on this blog is about the weather. How delightfully mundane and typically English! But as it's all anyone can talk about this week, it seemed a reasonable place to start. Plus, it's obviously a lot more pressing than a country in the midst of Civil War, and the west's subsequent intervention. Or, for that matter, a country on the brink of nuclear devastation... but I'll save those trivial matters for a rainy day!
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IcG4NUJAs6Q
Wednesday 23 March 2011
Glasser - XOYO - 22/02/2011
Glasser Live Review 22/02/11
Glasser are a four piece band from Los Angeles, whose confident and immaculately produced debut album, ‘Ringer,’ has been spreading whispers amongst attentive indie fans since its release towards the back end of last year.
London’s XOYO is the venue, an intimate basement club on the edge of trendy Shoreditch. Over-priced, suspiciously watered-down lager out of plastic cups is customary here, and XOYO Bar Staff seem rather apologetic to the raised eyebrows given to the cost of beer.
Glasser’s sound is carried by the impressive vocal aptitude of Cameron Mesirow, which gives great warmth to the percussive electronics and absorbing synths that support her. At its best, the music is mesmeric, and is well illustrated on a stripped down, near a-cappella version of album highlight ‘T,’ which reduces the audience to near silence, as Mesirow’s salient, gliding melody absorbs the room. Allegedly, the band took their name from “a midnight vision of a figure hanging over the water,” and this imagery is never more befitting than here.
Elsewhere, ‘Plain Temps’ strangely invokes Enya, with a vocal chorus of nonsensical syllables over a dreamlike synth. ‘Tremel,’ and its tribal drumming, encourages the first signs of head-nodding from the rather stoic crowd, and ‘Home’ has a playful keyboard refrain, which gives ample opportunity for Mesirow to boast her finest twitchy dance. It’s easy to draw comparisons with Bjork in both her choice of outlandish outfit, and eccentric behaviour on stage. Comedy occurs when her peculiar 1920’s milkmaid style dress, held together with safety pins, begins to unravel. “I feel like Janet Jackson at the Superbowl,” she claims, to submissive sniggers.
After playing the album in its entirety, Mesirow returns to deliver another stunning unaccompanied piece, which demonstrates that Glasser’s great advantage over their peers is the fact they have a vastly talented vocalist. In addition, it perfectly fits the sunny and ethereal quality of the music, which altogether makes them a very promising prospect
Glasser are a four piece band from Los Angeles, whose confident and immaculately produced debut album, ‘Ringer,’ has been spreading whispers amongst attentive indie fans since its release towards the back end of last year.
London’s XOYO is the venue, an intimate basement club on the edge of trendy Shoreditch. Over-priced, suspiciously watered-down lager out of plastic cups is customary here, and XOYO Bar Staff seem rather apologetic to the raised eyebrows given to the cost of beer.
Glasser’s sound is carried by the impressive vocal aptitude of Cameron Mesirow, which gives great warmth to the percussive electronics and absorbing synths that support her. At its best, the music is mesmeric, and is well illustrated on a stripped down, near a-cappella version of album highlight ‘T,’ which reduces the audience to near silence, as Mesirow’s salient, gliding melody absorbs the room. Allegedly, the band took their name from “a midnight vision of a figure hanging over the water,” and this imagery is never more befitting than here.
Elsewhere, ‘Plain Temps’ strangely invokes Enya, with a vocal chorus of nonsensical syllables over a dreamlike synth. ‘Tremel,’ and its tribal drumming, encourages the first signs of head-nodding from the rather stoic crowd, and ‘Home’ has a playful keyboard refrain, which gives ample opportunity for Mesirow to boast her finest twitchy dance. It’s easy to draw comparisons with Bjork in both her choice of outlandish outfit, and eccentric behaviour on stage. Comedy occurs when her peculiar 1920’s milkmaid style dress, held together with safety pins, begins to unravel. “I feel like Janet Jackson at the Superbowl,” she claims, to submissive sniggers.
After playing the album in its entirety, Mesirow returns to deliver another stunning unaccompanied piece, which demonstrates that Glasser’s great advantage over their peers is the fact they have a vastly talented vocalist. In addition, it perfectly fits the sunny and ethereal quality of the music, which altogether makes them a very promising prospect
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