Shape the way you play

January 17, 2009

No words need to be added to the thousands expunged on the new Animal Collective album.

But one more thing if you’ll allow me.

Thanks.

I never ever thought I’d get into them for their lyrics.

Ever since i saw them supporting Four Tet at the old Medicine Bar, Avey and Panda yelped into their mics, jumped on chairs, wore masks and were as far out as it gets.

Through all of their albums, their lyrics have never moved me, mainly because I could barely figure them out. Banshee Beat on Feels was the firstĀ  AC song that I really felt. Can’t make out the lyrics. Doesn’t matter. Not in the slightest. Their slowed down version at KOKO last week was ace.

And so to the new album. Brother Sport has been around for some time. This video is from July 2007. My brother showed it me ages ago. I didn’t get it intially. That can happen. I have listened to this song more than any other over the last year and a half. I can still only pick out a few lyrics. The reviews have been alluding to the lyrical content which has left me baffled. I didn’t expect to find the full lyrics on this here net but see these two links for the album’s two highlights, My Girls and Brother Sport. They are apparently Panda Bear songs. The first is about his girls and the second is about his brother’s reaction to his father’s death. According to the reviews. Incredibly moving. People, read Animal Collective lyrics

My Girls

Brother Sport


Of Cabbages & Kings

December 14, 2008

My friend Chris Edmonds is displaying his work in Stoke Newington until the new year. They’re being shown at an astonishingly tiny boutique-esque shop called Of Cabbages & Kings.

He kindly donated a beautiful and abstract shot of NYC for my wall a few years back so go and buy his very reasonably priced photos until I get enough money to reward him. I went on Saturday after going here and the shop provided a perfect shelter from the storm.

venice-cavelletto

Event here


I’m the guy that developed Gore-Tex

December 14, 2008

IĀ ‘m not really.

But Anziz Ansari did.

The food-and-M.I.A-obsessed comedian is good. Dead good.


Mother Agent and other comedy titles i’m working on…

December 7, 2008

Differently Abled

Juiced

The First Foundation Fighting Corps

Hospice

Saint Comedy

The Place Where People Go to Die

Over Yonder

The Focus Group

Speaking of comedy, David Mitchell’s Observer article is well worth a read.

The regular letter I get from Cancer Research thanking me for my monthly donation of x pounds, and humbly requesting whether I could make it 2x, is clearly generated by a computer that cannot feel gratitude and will never get cancer….It will mine the seam of what I like to think of as generosity, but is actually guilt, as relentlessly as a tungsten carbide drill. The system they’re using clearly has no sense of whether or not I’m already ‘doing my bit’. I know I’m not, but the fact that they don’t makes me think I can be cross with them…But that doesn’t hold argumentative water (and if you’ve ever tried to hold argumentative water, you’ll know that it’s just as slippy as the normal kind and it disagrees with your fingers)


Carcetti For Mayor Tees

December 5, 2008

carcetti

Get em at Busted Tees


Free School

December 5, 2008

Free School is music.
Free School is lamb.
Free School is free.
Free School is here.
Free School is 4eva.
Free School is.
Free School.
Free.

Free School is also Free School WordPress


And Miles To Go Before I Sleep

December 5, 2008

Stopping By Woods On A Snowy Evening

Whose woods these are I think I know.
His house is in the village though;
He will not see me stopping here
To watch his woods fill up with snow.

My little horse must think it queer
To stop without a farmhouse near
Between the woods and frozen lake
The darkest evening of the year.

He gives his harness bells a shake
To ask if there is some mistake.
The only other sound’s the sweep
Of easy wind and downy flake.

The woods are lovely, dark and deep.
But I have promises to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep,
And miles to go before I sleep.

Robert Frost, 1922 – go buy here