Any Road'll Take You There.

Before I get on with tonight's post, I'd like to say a big thanks to everyone who's had a little look at this blog thing so far. Its nice to know one is not talking to oneself.

There's so much to cover in this post that I started writing it then fell asleep drooling on the keyboard. As a result, my z key is now a little sticky and my pride a little wounded. So, what will you blog gourmets be guzzling down today? An entree of Thanksgiving, a few low calorie thoughts about Blink's new tour and a (semi-serious) main course look at the spirituality of the Beatles. No dessert for you, you're getting tubby.

So, that strangest of American holidays is upon us; Thanksgiving. Or as it is better described, 'Turkey Day'. Now, in English schools, they don't teach us diddly-squat about early American history. This is a bit like how an embarrassed parent never tells their dinner guests about how their eldest teenage son went out the night before, drank an entire crate of Lambrini and got "Balls to Authority" tattooed on their balls. I guess we're just a little ashamed. (Disclaimer: The purpose of that last comment was humour alone. Since a large proportion of my readership is from the States, I can't afford to lose you. ) So, all I really know about Thanksgiving is from The Simpsons. Anyway, I hope you all have a fantastic day, eat plenty of yams and get your stomachs prepped for Christmas Dinner, which is also just a few short weeks away. And they wonder why there's an obesity problem over there.

Above: Artists rendition of what we think 'Thanksgiving" may have looked like.

Yup, Blink 182 are touring again. After a couple of years hiatus, and side projects of...well... varying quality, the three foul mouthed pop punks who never grew up are back. Excited? I know lots of people who are. And I really hope that their excitement is warranted. When I saw them before their break up, on the back of the Self Titled Album tour, I was sorely disappointed. I expected an all singing, all dancing, obscenity filled roller coaster of a show. What I got was three middle aged men shuffling around an arena stage about half an hour's drive from where I was sitting, who looked like they couldn't stand the sight of each other. In hindsight, they actually probably couldn't stand the sight of each other... A week or so ago, I reviewed a Less Than Jake show I was at; this was full of the energy and humour I expected from the Blink show all those years before. Here's hoping that we can get back to the days of The Mark, Tom and Travis Show, and not those creepy sermon-like Angels and Airwaves shows we've been treated to in recent years.

Mark and Tom had just broken Travis' arm before the show. The tension was becoming unbearable.

Now, there are some questions that just weren't meant to be answered. How did the dinosaurs die out? Does the Loch Ness Monster really exist? Is Gary Glitter actually a real person, or just someone we made up to scare kids? But all of these pale to insignificance when someone  drops the big one: Who was the best Beatle? I've had pretty strong views on this matter for a while, but now isn't the time to bring all that up. What I will say though, is that I'd never really considered George. Sure, he wrote Here Comes The Sun, and that's pretty nifty, and he had the best cheekbones out of the Fab Four, but admittedly, I didn't really pay him much attention. He wasn't a bassist, (in fact, he was a dreaded lead guitarist) and as the so called 'quiet Beatle' he was often overshadowed by the monkey-shines of the others.  Thanks to the valiant efforts of a friend, however, I thawed a little on the matter and it seems that me and George just might have something in common after all.

So, some of you might know that when I'm not serving circular cheese-topped Italian foodstuffs, I'm a student of theology. My big interest is how religion shapes the culture we live in, especially its relationship to music and to books. Aside from the somewhat over-sentimental  Catholicism of McCartney's Let it Be, spiritual matters don't feature too highly on the Beatles' list of priorities, and that's fine. Not every piece of Pop Culture needs to also contain a brooding meditation on the Beyond. And if we look a little further into our pool of material, one only finds a nihilistic pessimism in the likes of Lennon's solo works God and Imagine. But again, that's fine. It was part of Lennon's worldview to be anti-authoritarian, anti-confessional and at the end of the day, a bit of an arsehole.

But what about George?

I started with some Harrison staples; Got My Mind Set on You, Cheer Down and of course, My Sweet Lord. What surprised me most about the latter was that, although it was obviously a deeply personal song about his faith, it never came off as being uncomfortable, weird or obtrusive. I guess this might have something to do with George's calm, non offensive nature. And its a bloody good tune, too! Which, at the end of the day, might be all that matters. But it got me thinking. In the song, Harrison blends together two, apparently hugely different world religions- Hinduism and Christianity. And he didn't seem to have a problem with it. And isn't that refreshing? Being born in Liverpool, George was Irish Catholic from the word go. But rather than rebel, reject and replace this belief with another, like so many angry adolescents do, he found a way to fuse what worked for him. Just take a look at the cover to the posthumous Brainwashed album- there's a little Harrison signature on the front, complete with a little Christian cross doodle and a Hindu 'Om'. And its not just My Sweet Lord, with its dual refrains of Hare, Hare and Hallelujah that exhibits George's approach to faith. His very style of songwriting often incorporates a sort of Hindu-esque mantra feel, and he employs it to great effect. The eponymous track on Brainwashed is a rallying call to escape the constant material media bombardment we experience day to day for a more thought way of life, whilst one detects a very sensitive, wise philosophy in All Things Must Pass. He's even able to have a good old laugh at some of the sillier Christian beliefs in P2 Vatican Blues.

George with Ravi Shankar

Whilst scholars will argue until they're blue in the face over whether we can truly exist is a religiously plural society, along comes a pop musician with a genuine interest in his spirituality and quietly does what works for him. There's something to learn from all this; tolerance and open mindedness. When he learned of George's conversion, a local Liverpool priest was quoted as saying, "Im so pleased George has found God. Such a pity its the wrong one." A view like that is about as balanced as a fat man on a see saw.

Just to make it clear though, George still isn't my favourite Beatle. Lennon and McCartney still battle on for that particular award. After all, people who choose George as their favourite tend to be pretty maladjusted. Until next time, Internet munchkins!

(Just Like) Starting Over

Imagine, if you will, that this blog is a little like a small child. It constantly requires me, its supposed parent, to feed it, clean up after it, take it out and generally show it love and affection. You might have noticed that I haven't posted much for a few days... if we stick to our charming little analogy, then this is tantamount to negligent parenting, and, gentle readers, I accept full responsibility. Little Blogsworth hasn't been out of the  virtual house in days; his nappy is full to bursting with spam and he is hungry for some fresh posting. But before you so gleefully cast that first stone, esteemed reader, just think. In this sordid tale of blogging for life and not just for Christmas, you are no better than the disinterested next door neighbour who simply stands and watches whilst an innocent blog is left wanting. Really, this is all your fault.

Blogs however, are not sentient. Yet. Until the day when I get my comeuppance with a 2001: A Space Odyssey-style Blog, I'm safe. So shall we just get back to where we were up to? We shall? Oh, I am glad, dearest reader.

Part of the reason for my oh so conspicuous absence is my being retained by employment. Some people (well, one) have asked me why I don't blog more about the day to day minutia that I experience in my fast paced career in the food service industry. Well, let's take the example about the Bible for a second. You know the gospels, right? Ripping good yarns. Imagine if, instead of writing about their friend, teacher, and all around honest to goodness saviour-of-the-world, they filled pages with how their day's went. It just wouldn't have had the same effect. In fact, that's pretty much where the Old Testament went wrong. That's not to say that I see this blog as divine revelation. But. Well. You know.

Actually, now that we've opened that can of worms that is the Bible, shall we stick with a little while? I'm not sure how many of you will be interested in this, but this week, the Pope, Benny XVI himself, shocked a lot of people by seemingly loosening up on the Vatican's stance on the use of condoms. This is pretty huge news for anyone interested in Catholic social teaching; for a while, the total ban on contraception in Catholic dogma has been a source of embarrassment and confusion for many liberal Catholics and a cause for dismay amongst non believers. One has to wonder the motivation that caused the otherwise extremely conservative Benedict to make a remark like this, and where it may take the Church next.

I promise that's the most serious topic I'll deal with for a while. I'll get back to jokes about those Chilean miners if you like.

Just a few more little bits before I sign off for tonight; I've finished recording my latest little foray into songwriting, and will more than likely be posting it over the next few days. Get excited, chums! And from you great unwashed masses, I have a question. Remember a few days ago, I posted you asking you about your favourite books? I still want to know, guys! Lets get these suggestions flooding in.

Until next we meet, (I promise I'll be a better blog parent this time) don't eat the stuff under the sink.

Social Network High School Musical

Not much dedication over the last 48 hours, eh, Blogopians? In fact, I've been up all night (its now six minutes past six) and the only reason I'm posting is because my dog is staring at me as if to say, "We're both up at an ungodly hour. But then, I'm a dog, what's your excuse?"

So, after I wrote by vitriolic, but essentially light hearted take on the Beatle's migration to iTunes, my buddy Jonny wrote a proper, well reasoned one. He's still wrong, of course, but maybe you should check out his blog or whatever. Or dont. Actually, stay here. I've got something for you.

So MySpace and Facebook are finally getting together, eh? I always knew they would; they have so much in common! See, MySpace used to be so popular, a little too popular, some might've said. But then she got lots of famous friends, sort've lost touch with her fanbase, I suppose. Then the new kid Facebook (I think he was a college student) shows up and MySpace can't handle the pressure, loses a lot of her friends, gets kinda fat and goes underground. You know Facebook though, he's pretty easy going, into everything; you can't really stay angry at him for what he did to her. But doesn't it seem like he knows EVERYONE nowadays? And I think he spends too much time on that farm of his. Still, after a rocky few years, things seem to be looking up for MySpace, especially now her and Facebook aren't competing anymore. She's continued on with her music; she was always pretty good at that, finding new and homegrown talent. I think that's what Facebook sees in her, since they're calling their little relationship Mashup. I wish the happy couple all the best of luck. Unlike that creepy kid who's always lurking around in their shadow. Ping, I think his name is? He's got a rich uncle Steve who got us all excited about him coming, but so far, he's just a little bit dull. Always eating an apple too...

It's my friend Mary's birthday today too. She's over in San Francisco right now, struggling to pay the rent. Its pretty Bohemian, so I'm told. Anyway, she has some really cool ideas about Post Colonial Literature, and I hope she writes them down soon so I can share them with you. Until then, we'll just have to wish her happy birthday. As a struggling artist myself, I decided not to buy into the corporate fascist social contract of gift buying; instead, I wrote her a novelty birthday song-  I might even post it on Bloggie later, who knows?!

Right, its getting light outside. That can only mean that my skin will start to sparkle soon, so I'd best get my head down for a few hours. I promise I'll be back again soon though. I'm just no good without you guys!

Oh Apple, you little Piggies...

I was planning on posting a little tribute to Elvis Costello today. But instead, four other spotlight hogging Liverpudlians beat him to it. Sorry dude, I'll see what I can do tomorrow.

I'm guessing all you well educated perusers of my humble Bloggie (pet name. Blog sounds like I'm going to the toilet) are aware of the news that The Beatles are now on iTunes. The weird thing is, I'm not too sure why the world has experienced some kind of delirious high as a result of this news. The even weirder thing is, I'm not too sure if I like it one little bit.

John tries to blow a paper bearing today's news out of Ringo's hand. Ringo simply tries to read. 

Now look; I dont want to spoil the party, but I will. (This entire post is filled with song references- how many can you spot?! Answers in the comments section for fabulous prizes.)

Firstly, no one's reinvented the wheel. We've had digital music for a while, and we've had the Fab Four for a good five decades now. Admittedly, they haven't been seen together in the same room, but why should that have me jumping up wanting to twist and shout? Its not even like they're fixing a hole in the discography, here. In fact, its been getting better for fans in the last year; First we received the (spectacular) Beatles remasters, which did a splendid job of cleaning up the back catalogue, allowing us to hear every one of Ringo's hi-hats, Paul's thumb strikes, George's hammer-ons and John's snarky remarks. Then, around the same time, we also had the Mono Boxset appear, so that all the purists could remember a time before Stereo sound, Betamax and deodorant. The iTunes release hasn't brought with it any fresh material either; we haven't uncovered the missing link between Rubber Soul and Revolver or a 42 minute take of Octopus's Garden. And it certainly isn't coming cheap at £10.99 a pop; the taxman will be rubbing his hands with glee. So unless you want every little thing those Moptops produced on every single platform, you might want to think for yourself for a minute.

My other concern, I admit, is less reasonable; but do I really want my dear Beatles all over the iTunes store, populating iTunes essentials and topping the download charts? Yes, yes I am a terrible music snob, but there's something else to this too. The Beatles aren't just any other band, are they? As those of you that know me can testify, I am a little loopy over them, but I don't think its too much of a stretch to say that we're dealing with something a little special when it comes to Beatlemania. To see them filed away under B in the iTunes database is a little deflating, rather like hanging up a Picasso on your fridge next to your kid's latest artistic abortion. (That's mean. I'm sure he's actually very talented.) Dont get me wrong, there's a place for the Beatles on the interwebs, but is the cold, vast sea of monsters that is the iTunes store really that place? This article here has a few interesting things to say, although it does read a little bit like a Last.fm fanboy's wet dream. My relationship with Apple (Inc, not Corps) is a definitely love-hate (like most of my relationships, really), and whilst I'll rush to their defence in most cases, I find their dedicated mini-site a little weird. Its comforting to know though, Mr Jobs, that after all these years, I can finally listen to the Beatles as they intended themselves to be heard.

Now, I know that this is all incredibly one sided. I havent mentioned the inclusion of iTunes LP sleeve notes (but then, these are most definitely also available in old fashioned so called 'real-life' editions of the albums). And I'm sure that somewhere down the line, some kid who would have otherwise never been exposed to the Beatles (conceived, born and educated on an unmanned space station, perhaps) will experience a very special joy because of today's news. But at the end of the day, Beatles, I'm happy just to dance with you, so I guess you wont see me sticking you in my download queue.

Maybe this is one time you should have just Let it Be. (Oh dear, there's an easy one.)


Lots of text in that post, dear readers, sorry. So here's something else to brighten the mood; looks like John suspected someone would pull something like this all along...



'Till tomorrow, peace and love.

I Me Mine

So I just saw this: Brad Pitt wants to make a film about the Chilean miners' ordeal. The heartwarming gimmick? The miners (may) be given acting roles. Because after all, reliving what must have been a horrific ordeal for the sake of an hour and a half of titillating film goers is definitely top of their priorities.

I can almost imagine the film critics' write ups... "Despite being a moderately enjoyable romp through some of Chile's lesser known industrial shafts, Luis Urzúa's performance in Mine Hard lacks the emotional intensity and raw believability that we saw in earlier roles such as Nine O'Clock News Report."


Wow. 

We Spent The Evening Unpacking Books From Boxes

Morning blogosphere. Its pretty exciting that since our star studded launch last night, I have had a total of five visitors. And the best part is only three of them were me!

I've been thinking, dear readership, about a number of things. First of all, I'm really shocked by just how difficult this blogging habit is. See, in a world of taut Twitter tweets, snappy (s)Facebook status updates and gratuitous alliteration, the empty white space of a new blog post seems like the Russian Steppes after a week hiking around your friend's back garden.

I'll be brief today, since I have to go to my place of employment soon and stand around looking interested. Let's talk books. I've just about finished the Magus by John Fowles, and I have to say, its been a real joy. The Greek myth, the Jungian undertones and a plot with more twists than all six seasons of Lost; well, what's not to like? And that the protagonist is an old Oxonian with fading ambition and narcissistic tendencies is just a further bonus. But then, isn't that the beauty of Fowles' Nicholas, that we all see a little of our ugly selves in his Aegean misadventure? Anyway, I won't spoil it, since to do so would be a crime, but I really recommend giving it a go. It is, like so many good books, bloody long, but I promise you wont even notice the quite substantial beard you'll grow as you remain captivated by its story.

I'll be picking this thread up again soon, but in the meantime, what are your best Epic Reads? By that I mean, books, that, by the time you've finished them, you can safely say you've been on some kind of Odyssey. Of course, this has nothing to do with length, but depth. So, let me know- I'm dying to fall down another rabbit hole.

Johnny Quest Thinks I'm Selling Out...

Oh heck. So, every keyboard jockey eventually abandons the safety of image-recycler Tumblr and strays into the harsh wasteland that is the Blogosphere. Its pretty terrifying here, so bear with me.

Picking yourself up off the floor after a jolly good chuckle at my blog title, you might be thinking just what the hell this is. Well, rather like a child sticking his freshly sucked thumb into an electrical socket, I have no idea what's coming next. I have a feeling its going be at least semi-autobiographical though, since truth is so often stranger than fiction.

So without further groping for a segue-way... Last week I found myself in a Strangeways-esque Camden hostel with some good buddies. Within five minutes of being in the room (a stretch of the term; it had four walls and two wire framed bunk beds), Luke had broken a sink. Well, THE sink actually. Hopefully, the proprietor of said hostel isn't reading this blog; I think we'll be alright though, my accessory to the crime,  seeing as he looked like he probably belonged in the role of Sinister Extra Number Seven in the Saw franchise.

So why was I putting myself through this Purgatorio? To see those Gainsville FLA ska rockers that so characterised my rapidly fleeting youth, of course. Less Than Jake were at Kentish Town, yo! And what a show it was. For the uninitiated, LTJ are probably one of the most popular of the Third Wave Ska bands (Rather like the 3rd Reich, Third Wave Ska is one of the better known waves of Ska, including Mighty Bosstones and Reel Big Fish), and are characterised by melodic lead basslines and skank-licious horn sections. Records like 'Hello Rockview' and 'Losing Streak' pretty much sounded like a how to of contemporary Ska. Sadly, poor old LTJ were more recently the victim of label interference, and leaving the financial instability of Gold records behind of the safety of major label-dom, they released a polished turd of an album in 'In With The Out Crowd'. They really should have left that one out altogether.

Their most recent offering, the delightful 'Gainsville, FLA' marked a return to form as well as a leaving behind of the the big bag monster labels for a DIY release, and man, did it show. Alot of critics detected a live orientation in the album, and they were right- the tracks off it sound brilliant live! In fact, they didn't play a single track off 'In With...', but rather played a host from their extensive back catalogue and from 'Gainsville FLA'. Its been a while since i've seen such energy in a live performance, with so many bands now treating their audiences with Morrisey-like contempt. You see, the real pleasure of the show was that I could have been watching an unsigned local talent; there was so little pretension, and a genuine love of performance buzzing the room, something really commendable from such a big band. And, as with every Ska Punk show, the crowd were just awesome- vicious moshers with hearts of gold.  Except for one member who repeatedly elbowed me in the stomach. Did I mention she was a 16 year old girl with what seemed like a penchant for casual violence? It takes all kinds in the Big Smoke....

Oh, and Zebrahead supported, but lets face it. They have limited appeal.

Right, enough musical gushing, that's today's post done. Before I pop off, I draw your attention to Wikipedia, where esteemed founder/ professional moocher Jimmy Wales is lending his earnest face to another scrounging campaign. Must try harder, Jimmy; nothing in this world is free. Except your website.