Postscript.

Bugger.

That didn't bloody work then,

England's Dreaming

Every time you think that English football has reached its absolute nadir, the team conspires to demonstrate an unfailing ability to plumb ever deeper lows.

As our footballers (some of whom are paid as little as £80,000 per week) dream up fresh ways to sink the country (avg salary £26,000 per annum) into a pit of despair, fear not, for I think I have the answer...

Yes, while your thoughts were turned to 4-4-2 or 4-5-1, player/manager relationships, to WAG to not-to WAG, roast or not-to roast, I believe I have found the source of the despair.

And I can exclusively reveal that IT'S ALL MY FAULT !!

Or more accurately, it's the fault of my Hackett World Cup 2002 shirt. 

I bought this before the World Cup in Japan in 2002, because I liked it and more importantly, because those replica football shirts are, well, not really made for the man with the "fuller" figure, shall we say.

No such probs with Hackett though, outfitters to the stout Yeomanry of England.

I remember the 2002 finals as a period of abject despair until England went out, and then a period of abject boredom. Frankly, it hasn't got any better in the intervening years, what with an appalling display in Germany 2006, a completely unforgettable Euro 2004 and a couldn't-even-be-bothered-to-qualify Euro 2008.

And all the while, brooding with red malevolence, the source of England's despair, it's demon, its mole in the camp, its saboteur, my shirt...

So it's time to say goodbye to that shirt. Not just to throw it in the wardrobe and never wear it again, no... its evil is to strong for that. It must be BURNT, I tell you, BURNT until it's essence is just vapour and gas in the sky, offered as a sacrifice to whatever supreme being has the inside track on footy.

It needs to happen before Wednesday. Stay tuned for the ceremony...

Quickie

Howdy.

Playlist updates on the RHS. Should you feel the urge, follow the links to find out more.

Just a word on the The Philadelphia Experiment. An awesomely awesome piece of musical grandstanding, done with a huge splash of humour and definitely no Mellotrons. This is what Prog can be, in the hands of the genuinely hugely talented. I urge, nay INSIST that you buy this record from here (Shoppe) where my good friend Nelliebot will fulfil your every Frost* related desire.

Let me be clear. This is amongst the best live albums I have ever heard, and it comes with a DVD too for the uninitiated to immerse yourself in the bonkers world of Frost* and Jem Godfrey. Why, the intro alone is worth the price.

As the Times once said "Sheer Bloody Genius". If there were any kind of justice in this world, this would be huge. Here's the trailer for the gig for the album.

A Talented Mouse

In the post below, there is a video from a band called Tinyfish (and I promise the next one of these I write will be nothing to do with Tinyfish, or music). It features a young gentleman who goes by the name of Mouse.

Mouse is a rarity in these circles, being young (like REALLY young) and into his Prog. Mouse is a student, studying Music Production etc, and has a musical mind as open and rapacious as any I have met.

I like Mouse; I have met him many times and I enjoy speaking to him about music and his studying and what he's leading up to. He is enthusiastic and open minded and willing to listen to anyone, including old timers like me,  who might point him to new stuff (or indeed, old stuff) or the stories that lay behind the music, gigs that we have attended,  or just to chinwag about "rawk" in all its forms.

I am also sneakily jealous of Mouse, because he's doing what I always wanted to do. And even if I had, I would STILL be jealous because of the range of tools and techniques and t'Internet and all he has at his disposal today.

Mouse doesn't have a lot of money, being a student, but he does have a lot of time, for the same reason. When he's not studying (and, actually, when he is), he inhabits various band fora, and writes a blog, to which there is a link on the RHS of this one. .

And it is to this , Dear Reader, that I draw your attention. Whilst I know that our Mouse was doing this stuff, I didn't really know how good he actually was. Rather marvellously, through the power of the internet, he has posted a treatment of a Tinyfish (you knew it would get round to them again eventually) tune and put it up on a site called Bandcamp.

Even rather more marvelously, it's really rather fucking good. He clearly has a good ear and a lovely taste in symphonic arrangement that, it seems to me, belies his tender years. A career in movie soundtracks awaits, I think.

And here it is, for your delectation.



PS - I've been asked to point out that, apropos my last blog and the £50 bet on the winner of the election, that I jibbed on actually coughing up the cash.
PPS - On the subject of coughing up, one has been labouring with a chest infection for a couple of weeks. Unpleasant, but it has had the the silver lining of meaning I've kicked the fags... again...

Until next time then, cheerio and "C'mon England !"