I had a good intro here. A fucking good one, too. But then it vanished. So fuck it. The title says it all, anyway. ET asked, and so I answered: 1. Because, quite frankly, everyone’s still catching up to the Bastards of Fate. 2. Because their Stone Roses cover album [link] actually DID trump the […]
I’m not Neil Young. There are many reasons for this, not the least of which is that when I sing I don’t sound like a cranky Kermit the Frog. Also, I can’t fucking play electric guitar or manipulate feedback to save a noisy miner. But whatever. If I was Neil Young – and I so […]
As we all know, I’m just a hack when it comes to music criticism. Not one of those professional, illustrious NME editors at all. However, I can say that I know a thing or two more about sample selection and “science” than the self-righteous blokes ($10 wager that they’re ALL blokes) who compiled this so-called […]
It’s that time of year again, when all those editors that plaster their magazines and websites with adverts and suspiciously sounding advertorials but who can’t afford to pay their contributors, head off for a nice jolly in Austin, Texas. Either that or they get flown there courtesy of major record labels. Just to be on […]
Blank Realm – Back To The Flood Two landmark events have happened this week: Brisbane’s Blank Realm released their fourth album, Grassed Inn Australian ‘youth’ radio station triple j played a Blank Realm song last night for the first time since 11 November 2010. While the band has been signing with overseas record labels (in […]
Would I take drugs with Sky Ferreira? Of course I fucking would.
Night Time, My Time is fantastic. A lifetime of bad ideas that turns into good ideas in the context of music. I like the new M.I.A. album. I respect the new Laurel Halo album. I’m falling in love with the new Sky Ferreira album.
Nothing matters more than the all-conquering Top 10.
Right! I’ve thought long and hard about this, agonised and whittled down to final ten but here, at last, I think I’ve burned down to a list of solid gold excellence.
It’s Dylan at his dandiest, the least earthy version of Dylans, the one least covered in dirt, self-applied or otherwise.