By “next week” I meant of course “next next week”

Wednesday 27 February 2008

I’ve finally moved properly into the new house, found my computer, found the computer’s power cable, gotten back online, gotten cut off, remembered to pay the broadband bill, and gotten back online again. Mind you, I also slipped out of town for a long weekend in Barcelona, so it’s not like I’ve been working. Barcelona’s a great city, but it has a dark side. Most particularly, every now and then I would come across a poster advertising an upcoming masterclass. By Craig David.
If life were an early ’70s sci-fi movie, you could destroy the evil supercomputer that had taken over the world by going up to it, showing this poster and saying “Craig David Masterclass”, then running for cover while it shouted “Er-ror! Er-ror! Does Not Com-Pute!” and self-destructed in an enormous, sparkly explosion. I figured this must be some mistake in translation, so I just googled for it:

The main purpose of the Masterclass in Space Movistar is getting artist and audience closer than ever, not only for fitness but also spiritually, as Craig David will answer questions from fans and explain what have been the sources of inspiration his best-known songs as “Walking Away” or his new single “Hot Stuff.”

I expect the source of inspiration for that first song was something to do with him walking away, yeah oh, to find a better day. Here’s hoping he does a masterclass in a country where the audience speaks English as its first language.

The mummified corpse of Jeremy Bentham reads inter-office emails.

Wednesday 27 February 2008

Ciao bella hguglaglhrgahuguggglblblb

Countdown to Eurovision starts a little early this year

Sunday 10 February 2008

Will no-one save the hallowed Eurovision Song Contest from encroaching irony and smirking self-awareness? In a move that combines Lithuania’s 2006 tribute to the power of positive thinking with the perennial favourite “My Lovely Horse“, one of the songs on the shortlist for Ireland’s entry for this year’s contest is “Irlande, Douze Points” by Dustin the Turkey. I’m not sure if having a turkey represent Ireland counts as a Fine Cotton or not.
The Telegraph had the news item which turned up first on Google:

Dustin’s song sung in a North Dublin accent urges the contest judges to “give douze points to Ireland.”

Which sounds like a wasted effort, given that it’s all decided by telephone voting now. Rather wonderfully, a subeditor pads out the slim news article in time-honoured style:

Should Dustin be chosen as the Republic of Ireland’s entrant, it will be the first time that a turkey in the form of a glove puppet has represented a nation.

I wonder how long it took them to fact-check that sentence. Also included is a YouTube link to Dustin “doing Riverdance”.

Filler By Proxy LX: So it’s come to this again (brought to you by Roomba)

Saturday 9 February 2008

I’m moving house again, so when I get a rare chance to go online I’m less inclined to write a new post than just quietly surf around and think deep thoughts.

Overheard on the DLR (Heron Quays Station)

Wednesday 6 February 2008

“So she’s not coming in today either. She called in sick yesterday then went shopping and broke her leg falling out of a taxi.”

The mummified corpse of Jeremy Bentham reads inter-office emails.

Tuesday 5 February 2008

On closer inspection, the deer has dented the car after all.

Filler By Proxy LIX: Pli Selon Pli

Saturday 2 February 2008

Boulez, according to all known biographies, did not have a childhood. Not in the Michael Jackson sense of “He never got a chance to play with little boys because he was recording ‘Ben'”, but quite literally: Boulez actually materialized one day in Messiaen’s class at the Paris Conservatoire. Some say that he walked out of a forest in the Rhône one day wearing white dress shirt and black tie. (I believe Peyser’s book adds that he was trailed by a pack of wolves over whom he had a sort of psychic power.) …
Needless to say, he was already balding.
For peace of mind, I will assume that I’m not alone in being willing to overlook the most egregious failings in my heroes. Let’s see, there’s Ezra Pound’s anti-semitism, John Cage’s flirtation with Maoism, Cornelius Cardew’s wholehearted embrace of same, William Burroughs shooting his wife in the head (accidentally! so that’s not so bad, is it?). And then, of course, there’s Pierre Boulez’s combover, which I like to pretend simply isn’t there whenever I see a photograph of him. I wonder how easy it is to ignore if you meet him in person?
Tears of a Clownsilly has shaken up my consciousness by offering a history thus far of the great conductor and composer’s relationship with his fast-receding hair, how it has influenced his music, and the strain it has placed on his dealings with fellow musicians.

Dear University of Wales Press,

Monday 28 January 2008

If you really want my permission to use a photo of a statue of Jeremy Bentham in one of your books, don’t ask me to reply to a nonexistent email address. Also, if you really want me to find out what said book is about, don’t direct me to a placeholder web page written in Welsh. Yrs, etc.

The mummified corpse of Jeremy Bentham reads inter-office emails.

Monday 21 January 2008

You've gone porko-sporko!

The mummified corpse of Jeremy Bentham reads inter-office emails.

Thursday 10 January 2008

Brr my NUTS!!  ciao

It is, after all, a time for giving.

Monday 24 December 2007

Congratulations to Kipper, the lucky recipient of the pair of Qantas travel socks once owned by ABC radio personality Julian Day. That should make the harsh, northern winter a little easier to withstand.
This seems like a good time to remind readers that we still have some remaining items from the mid-year Julian Day toiletries auction. In particular, the toothbrush and shaving equipment are still available to the hygiene-conscious Fine Music fan: click here for pictures, descriptions, provenances, and reserves.

Filler by Proxy LVI: Carlos Santana Shreds!

Friday 14 December 2007

Also, Paco de Lucia plays Eugene Chadbourne.
Found via Why, That’s Delightful!

The mummified corpse of Jeremy Bentham reads inter-office emails.

Sunday 14 October 2007

Get a bass drum up ya! BOOM BOOM OW MY BASS

The mummified corpse of Jeremy Bentham reads inter-office emails.

Thursday 27 September 2007

You shall learn to curse softly and fluently in Italian.

I, for one, welcome Blogger’s new German overlords

Thursday 20 September 2007

Seriously, it's been doing this for the past week.