Learning all over again

Today on the walk home through the beautiful sunshine in London- Manor House to be precise- I almost collided with a group of young guys- think Turkish in origin- doing what I can only describe as another twisted version of Hip Hop all acapella and I think it was just to blow off steam rather than a serious thing but it was heavy. Nothing truly out of the ordinary but another surprising layer of this ridiculous city and although my brain is a bit vaccant after heat exposure I'm now on the hunt to find out if this is a movement or just a group of bored kids hanging and just messing about. Also will check out Turkish Hip Hop in general in case I'm just a few steps behind. More soon and comments, suggestions, warnings welcome. Peace and loves. Nana

Hate crimes at the Brits and The Times

1. Reading The Times wannabe inciteful article about GRIME and its influence on the UK music scene...bah you buggers leave it alone its santised enough without now telling parents that now there is no need to be scared anymore Dahlings. You see not only we have we covered it in safeville therefore cleansing it so now have a real look at that Tinchy Stryder he's actually a really lovely boy with a reasonably priced clothing line and that Lady Sovereign aah she's a real sweetie...grrrrr don't you know its the menace that made it so great....When you hear the sirens coming drop down dickheads.
2. I wish Dizzee Rascal would stop letting Johnathan Ross drop his name at any given cool point moment, I mean Mr Ross what the hell were playing at during the Brits? What, what, what? You just make all those guys sound like idiots and as for yourself well....So Dizzee I blame you without reserve. Can't you look into some kind of restraining order or maybe just pay someone to follow him around and anticipate the drop then that chosen person just puts an enormous hand over his mouth when necessary? Please Dizzee please fix it.
3. Courtney Love, does she still command love and respect? Please somebody school me.
4. That was one of the most boring Brit Awards ever, ever, ever, please bring Jarvis Cocker, Brandon Bloc, Russell Brand, les enfants Gallagher and any other gaffe prone personalites- bar Johnathan Ross-back.

Nana

Pixies October 2009

I am firm believer (whether right or wrong) that idolatry is bad for our health. Idolising something to the point of insanity always struck me as rather short sighted and this was reinforced by one Mr Mark Radcliffe whose book 'Thank you for the days'- incidentally should be a must read for any open minded music fan- learned me that way. Anyway what Mr Radcliffe manages to artciculate far better is that idolising or hero worship means that you accept with reserve therefore suspending your critical opinion well along those lines- I would definitley read the book for the original and better outline. Well sorry Monsieur Radcliffe but I'm breaking that rule entirely I love adore, adore, adore and idolise Pixies.Yes, yes, yes I do . No confusion I adore and idolise them for all the above reasons and a roundabout explanation follows.

I only know the legends post their break up(s) so guess you could that I used to be an 'in theory fan' but I was initiated one Thursday 8th October 2009 in the hallowed halls of Brixton Academy, South London. One again THANKYOU JOHN whose spare ticketbrought all this into being sorry if this is totally overwhelming but I PRETTY MUCH LOVE YOU UNCONDITIONALLY FOR LIFE. I have bought cds listened to each one, incessantly learned words, cried on my own when post adolescent angst reared its oily head and collided head on with 'Where is my mind?' fantasised and laughed as Kim Deal made me feel 'Gigantic' fought non-believers of all sorts as 'Vamos', 'Into the white' or 'Gouge away' fuelled my fire. So think its fair to conclude my dedication is kosher and what I continue to love about them is their implosion. It just strikes me as so tragically human that fuelled it all resulting in the ability to create something so special yet with the other hand almost destroy it all but then later pick it up again. Then not only make it sound fantastic but add something new to it, although it may sound boring, a calmness and playfulness flowed throughout that made the experience so awesome.

The mixture of old and new fans (sorry but can only be described by being age specific) made for pretty fun watching too from late teens to early-mid forties they belted out every word, hurled themselves around and cooed every time the graphics flickered from the surreal 1920s esque movie clips to maginificent-video landscapes to montages to the band staring out of comedy lineups mocking their onstage selves. Amazing. I worshipped at the altar of Pixies without reserve- whoops idolatry.

Contradictory maybe but takes nothing away from the gig, its definitely in the top ten gigs in my lifetime so far (in joint place with The Mars Volta at the Roundhouse) and I know I'll find it incredibly difficult to top it- its either something to aim for or will bring me crashing down when trying to create that original high. So for anyone who might have been there the first time round do I speak anywhere close to that? Do I need explain myself anymore? You know what to do?
So that aside the Doolittle theme was pretty much the map for the gig, following the tracklisting of a dark, off-beat and sometimes comic album with a few other big hitters thrown in to keep the animals happy. Two of my favourites in the encore pretty much finished me off 'Into the white' and 'Gigantic' and inside at the back was a little voice quietly chanting for 'Where is my mind?' but the universe was out watching Pixies too so was I on my own but no matter I was overflowing with emotion and grattitude.

Only thing left to say is THANKS PIXIES, NICE ONE. Nana

A late response to Charis Bury and Leanne's ?s about my 'gutted pleasures' selection...sorry Charis not very eloquent but I think AHA Shake is a bit weak and pedestrian they pretty much lost it (for me) after Youth and Manhood (which wasn't my most favourite in the first place) its the worst type of santised blues meets blue grass via a rock translator. Leanne I love REM and I'll stand by it for all to see but even REM hate Shiny Happy People...I'm sure it was their devil at the crossroads moment. Peace, love and musicals X

Musical hate crimes cont...

Mika's come back, that stupid little pop puppet. This is another instalment to the Leanne Adams musical hate crime list, an on going project/list of my worst crimes to the ear drums. So Mika's back, that colourful clown of a man with the singing voice of a ten year old boy with un-descended tessers. He's so camp that he makes Freddie Mercury look like Dirty ol' Bastard. It sounds like High School Musical and IT'S SO BLOODY CATCHY. That's the bit I'm most angry about, how bastard catchy it is. I'm sure it's some kind of sinister ploy to subdue the masses through subliminal messages sent by Mika because when ever I hear it I'm paralysed to the spot, my jaw goes slack, I start to hum and sway uncontrollably and I forget that I'm supposed to be scornful of it. Like a musical Parkinsons and Alzheimer's all rolled into one. So it's only a matter of time before the Scissor Sisters star jump back onto the scene and then you'll all be sorry you didn't just nip it in the bud now, with Mika.

Leanne xx

my guilty pleasures...

In response to Nana's list of those guitty, guilty bedroom dancing songs, here are five of my own...

1. Kula Shaker - 303 (There was no going back from the 'flaming swastika' NME comments of 1997 but this song is STILL awesome when driving down the A303 on a balmy summers day, safe in the knowlege you're heading back home.)

2. Cliff Richard - We Don't Talk Anymore (Cliff. Always. And forever xx)

3. Sweet - Wig Wam Bam (Errrr two words, 'dancefloor immediately')

4. Kiss - Rock n Roll All Night (Gene Simmons, you make me sick, but my GOD I wanna rock n roll all night & party every day...)

5. Barry Manilow - Can't Smile Without You (I'm a sucker for the tear jerker...)

Leanne xx

Musical hate crimes...

Picture it, there you are on the 29 bus after a long day at work, you're quietly reading the London Lite, but then your quiet end of day reverie is broken by some sort of massive shitcunt who's got on the bus and thinks their ipod play list is so phenomenal that they should share it with the whole of London. Armies of these little pricks roam the streets of the UK, enlightening the masses, shouting the good news from the rooftops if you will. And the good news is that apparently that it's okay to listen to insipid, boring, same old same old R&B. Some dappy talent less cow singing airily and lifelessly in many octaves about her man being no good. WHY DO YOU THINK THIS NEEDS TO BE SHARED WITH THE GOOD HONEST WORKING PEOPLE OF THE 29 BUS? I happen to think my play list is the most edifying, wonderful slice of pop too but I'm not going to treat the other people on my bus to it's pleasures. No, I'm not going to share the Television Personalities with them, selfish I know, but maybe JUST maybe they don't want to hear Dan Treacy warbling on about not having a girlfriend, especially after a long day at their desks. So listening to your ipods out loud on public transport is number one on my ongoing list of musical crimes. The bastards.

Leanne