I hate music festivals because I love music, and I mean properly love music. Real love is unhealthy, obsessive, consuming. I am outside Music’s house in defiance of a restraining order. I am frightening off Music’s new boyfriend. I am holding Music’s pets to ransom until Music agrees to return my calls.
You just have to wonder how much of ‘popular’ music’s ongoing canon is being written by a very narrow range of music reviewers.
I was quite proud of my performance the other night at The Zoo.
Young Men Dead followed The Thin Kids. Their stage presence is a little awkward, but that is probably due to the lack of a giant cockroach gyrating through the stage.
If a contributor was called something like Darren, Steve or Tim, I assumed they were male.
I was going to focus my article on examining the way language is used to present women in the street press. Until I encountered a problem. There are none!