Bumblebeez are shit but actually quite shit- and I do love them. They're yo list lists every band the glossies spunk over. Which is either a fantastic conceptual joke or deliberate and so uncool it becomes more than cool. Only an Australian would thank the Strokes and Tori Amos and The Dandy Warhols on the inner sleeve of their first record, oh yeh and Basquiat, and because of that I dig 'em the most!

The Pastels soundtrack to that film. Fucking magic. The song with Jarvis Cocker is most amusing and sordid: "I drank deep of her sweet and heady nectar and she opened beneath my hand like a flower." John McEntire producing, oh it's a happening, solid gone, too damn pretty soul explosion of "gentle creativity"-'you don't need darkness to do what you think is right" to quote Sly Stone from "Everybody is a Star"- which is also covered on the album. "Gentle creativity", I like that- destroy the straight world with a falling leaf, a blown kiss, a sigh... He's off again. I hope your night out was bare nang- I'm going to go and nod out to this Pastels album...

Don Knotts Yeh, Don Knotts... rumoured to have a foot and a half long schlong. When Gwyneth weeps she's thinking of her night with the Don... Film Credits include: "The Incredible Mr Limpet"; "The Shakiest Gun in the West"; "Gus", and "Herbie Goes to Monte Carlo"...oh, and "The Apple Dumpling Gang" and "The Apple Dumpling Gang Rides Again". Yeh, you know Don Knotts now, right? He looks like Steve Buscemi's creepy uncle, has big goggy eyes and for some reason Disney put him in movies for kids throughout the sixties and seventies. I seem to remember him leering over Arnold in "Different Strokes" too. But I also clearly remember Godzilla versus Dracula and that never happened.

The Legend! Always remember the exclamation mark.

Then I see an ad for Lapdance Island- coming soon on E4- and feel homicidal. Pass the machine gun. Fat and skinny Mums off council estates are ok by me, so leave 'em alone, dissing media- it's the kind of terrible cunt that goes to lapdancing clubs that I fucking hate- every thick necked, aftershave soaked, hairgel wearing last cunt of them- those thick, fucking pigs- line 'em up and shoot the fuckers- those timewasting, know nothing, deathly tiresome, blokey, cokey, smalltown, paid-too-much, flatheaded, I'm-one-of-the-chaps, crap suited, boss-eyed, brown-nosed, tory-loving, yessir no-sir three-bags-full-sir, follow the herd, WKD-drinking, dumbass, mulefaced, turd-breathed winkie-pinching pricks can fucking go to Lapdance bleeding Island and then fucking die in a hail of fiery pebbly shit spewing with violent neverending ferocity from Satan's bleeding, pus bubbly Arsehole- for all I care, the bastards. And then shoot them. With bullets made of the ebola virus and shards of broken glass. Then we'll see who thinks it's only a bit of a laugh.


It was the best of Tom, it was the worst of Tom. Some choice epigrams from yr e-mails. You will print these, you will. Although IÕll allow you the opportunity to delete two of yours for the one of mine (the lapdance island one).


A Hatful of 'head

"this week i'm all about hateful metal/electro crossovers: a.r.e. weapons v funny. new wire album sort of right in places sort of wrong in others. its not pink flag. have rediscovered the last trans-am album too.

...its a Bag shop (Dream Bags) and a shoe shop (jaguar shoes) with the wall knocked down in between tuning it into a kindergarten for all of the over indulged art-students of shoreditch. ANYWAY the place has been done out by an illustration outfit called insect ( under the theme "The hills have eyes" and their work is terrifyingly good.

musically its all about buck 65, british sea power + bob logg 3 right now.. i love cd burners and mp3's.

currently trying to excise my surrender impulse. you know that moment when the lion digs its teeth in and the antelope just goes "fuck it" and looks well calm? well you've gotta watch out for that. its in the dna of all social mammals. a fly or a fish will just flapping until it runs out of life. anyway enough henry rollins.

I'm busy preparing esperanto t-shirts: neniu koni mi nino amantina= nobody knows i am a lesbian mi interrilati kun stulta= i'm with stupid

goddamn just made a damn good salad nicoise. i love salad nicoise. I love salad nicoise because i love any food that can only be made properly out of tinned not fresh tuna. I also like the idea of being really rich and going into expensive restaurants and just ordering it, or say a club sandwich. something which i know EXACTLY how it should taste as oppossed to my middle class have something reeeaaalllly exotic because its a special occassion thing. sorry am reading Donna Tartts The Secret History and feeling real sense of injustice that i'm not a nineteen year old american greek scholar living off errant parents millions

Pharrell... if i could be any man in the world for a year or two...

We are renaissance men. Men of words and art and insurance and baby magazines."


Rodney Dangerfield For the essence of Rodney do an image search on Google, if a man's face ever summed up his very essence it's gotta' be Rodney's. (And Don Knotts) In Back to School, oh boy, I'm laughing just thinking about it, he plays this big tasteless millionaire slob who goes "back to school" to make sure his kid passes his grades- with hilarious results, because, get this, Rodney's a party animal and he's got the Dean in his pocket- so, hey! Whaddyasay? Let's Party! Rent it, buy it, live it!

I got the newish Sea and Cake CD and accompanying EP the other day- the are very much a horse of a different stripe to the usual earache I listen to but I've always been entertained by them. Kind of the lighter end of Warp or like Melodic or Geographic or the prettier Domino stuff. And Sam Prekop sounds like some Beat folky crooner... from outer space... on acid. ha ha- I said it.

The Coral Nothing against the Coral really, like their jauntier numbers but they can come across a bit too "historia de la rock" for me- nowt wrong with that, I dig the Teenage Fanclub after all... but do the Coral need to be quite so reverential for ones so young? Now Gorkys on the other hand- mixing t'Fall with the Incredible String Band- that's gumption! Are any of my musical references less than 5 years old?

would recommend to you the Boredom's smash "JB Tin Turner Pussy Bad Smell" off Shimmy Disc LP "Soul Discharge"- that's a winner for the kids right there, plus the Happy Flowers (they were a jolly duo, one of them was called Mr Horribly Charred Infant, they sang angry protest songs but from the perspective of a malignantly disturbed 8-year old with adenoid probs- Rock n' Roll) and hey, Karp on K were kinda kool too- man, I'm talking all old stuff- saw Ikara Colt in Brighton, I liked them, they looked sharp and sounded angular and mclusky like a good swear and so do I- good.

And I don't normally like Neil Young, Tom, but "On The Beach" is delicious (it's 1974, Neil's locked in the studio with his fabulous long hair getting vitamin B12 injections like a bitch and consuming "honey slides"- fried pot and honey- and he makes this stoned, stoned punk blues folk album- the music's so pretty and lowdown they should've called the album "honey slides" but it's got a nasty serrated edge to the lyrics- at the time all his fans- bloody hippies- hated it, it sort of sounds like Will Oldham maybe or maybe not- on some songs he sounds like Lou Reed- he sings about the Manson murders and Nasty Oil Companies and getting divorced- like Abs should be doing on his songs- the squirty little pussy ants in his pants foo')

Fire Engines, see if you can find any of them music download things- 'Candyskin' was the one, they also done a version of 'We don't need this fascist groove thing' which is painful- but it's angular, and if yr into yr angles that's the shit right there The Ron Johnson records comp that came out years ago is called 'The First after epiphany'- a good place to start if you can find a cheap 2nd hand copy or better still a free one-for that singularly eighties agitated angular tinny funk phenomena- and Age of Chance who did a version of 'Kiss' before Tom Jones did- the farting old grandma- but then if memory serves turned into a sort of Pop will eat itself wrongun' they did however do two great singles first before they went shit: 'motorcity' and another one with a smart title i can't remember- their version of Kiss were alright and actually they were never as shit as Pop will eat itself- they were from Leeds but sounded like Germans in Detroit and wore cycling gear- they sort of had the funk- somebody somewhere did a record called 'loudhailer songs' which sums all that sound up-loudhailer concrete boots disco spastic carcrash music Blast First- dig that stuff up- Big Stick and Big Black- that's what you need You know Big Black, I know, but Big Stick- hunt that sucker down, I'll tell you nothing else about them, suffice to say it's genius- fetch! (*don't tell've got all their records, I'm a patronising old git!)

Pirates of the Carribean: ThatÕs the shit right there: Johnny Depp; Geoffery Rush; Orlando Bloom; Fighting skellingtons; Fighting skellingtons walking on the bottom of the ocean; Keira KnightleyÕs eyebrows; Gareth from The Office; Right Baggy Faced Boss Eyed bastard-looking Pirate Sods... Can it get any better?


td1.Oh and buy Toah Dynamic's "Cop's Hate our Love"- it would be glib to say it sounds like a sheffield hip-hop medley of beefheart, calvin johnston, leafcutter john, the streets and the happy mondays but IT DOES! IT REALLY DOES!

td2.STILL hooked on Toah Dynamic. Imagine if Dizzee Rascal was forced to do community service teaching remedials to play medieval folk. or if prefuse 73 changed all the constenants in his FGKKKKTSKKKCHKCHKCHKFLGFLGFLGKZKZKZ noises to vowels.

td3.i'm listening to the first toah dynamic album which blow me is even better than the first. all random honks and bangs fed through a laptop.

watched "The believer" last night great story about a jewish scholar who becomes a neonazi. Now could someone please make a decent film of it please? It was weak, man. all didactic symbolism and black and white flashbacks. Just like one of those tv movies you watch in spite of the crappy production because you're interested in the subject matter. ontologically speaking just like it in fact.

you should have seen "the legend" v.funny. everett true talking about wanting to fuck vincent gallo and singing snatches of neenaah simone with no-wave ectomorph companion churning out sonic youth waves of feedback and doing handstands.(2nd opinion. don't know why but it sticks- it really does- sorry about the dismissive bracketting- to all other viewers- sorry about the syncophantic parenthesising) gin palace are the uk yeah yeah yeah's (yah yah yah's?) a plummy english gal seemingly backed by leftover members of rocket from the crypt. shit hotter than that sounds though. the playwrights were cerebral, angular, tight and obviously monied. I quite liked them although thought that they probably had more drums then any and should need. catherine said they sounded like they needed sex. go figure.

this week i'm fucking loving the Pink Grease ep. on horseglue (barry N to X) produced by one of the fat truckers and sounds a bit like the eighties matchbox... (who I know you just loooove) tackling Roxy music.

listening to winnebego deal's "man hunt." it goes HUNTED HUNTED DAAAN GEDTHATSONOFABITCHAATATANNN! HUNTED HUNTED DAAAN GEDTHATSONOFABITCHAATATANNN! It is a thing of almost immeasurable beauty. not smug enough to be metal? see also Todd and Part Chimp. Its all trucker Cap and stripy tee music really but not as awful as all that. now listening to "Take it" by Mommy and Daddy it goes AERK AERK AERK AERK AERK AERK AERK AERK AERK AERK and is also very good.


this is where my next scrawl is going I think- pure delirium madness: little werebaby up all night biting ankles; Frankenstein vs the Wolfman; Draculady sucking all the vitality and essence out of a chap; fruity hunchback assistants; sweet young thang vs rocket robotzilla; hairy pudding; astronauts with deadly mutant space virus go cannibal; remote control cocks; backward hillbilly bastards; guts dangling on the end of a pitchfork; makeout cupid carhops; Uschi Digart; Laura Gemser; bug-eyed lugs; dribbling fuckfaced loons; brain hungry hippie zombies on LSD; honeys in blue bob cut wigs from the future in bacofoil jumpsuits and silver pointy hi-heels fromTop Shop with ray guns asking "what is this thing you hu-man's call kissing?"; Rodney Dangerfield and Don Knotts... more, more! Tell me that ain't no coming in your pants attraction. Yabba Dabba Dipshit! It's there in a purple vest from 1976 with a big stars and stripes V for victory logo on it. And the kid wearing that same shirt has spots on his chin and a greasy smear of a moustache on his top lip. And he has his headphones on, and the needles stuck in the run out groove and he's listening to "chk...chk...chk...chzk" forever. It's there in your favourite movies: The Pigkeeper's Daughter; Frankenstein's castle of Freaks; Switchblade Sisters; Soul Vengeance, and, The Manhandlers. It's there in the 70's disco hit "Soul Dracula" by Hot Blood. It's there when you make out with your lady super freaky style to "In Dulce Jubillo" by your boy, Mike Oldfield. It's there in "Theatre of Blood" with Vincent Price and Diana Rigg. It's me rambling on and on forever and ever, amen