In early 2012 a song came into heavy rotation on 6 music, and almost every play came with an attached quote, or endorsement if you will, from Justin Vernon of Bon Iver fame. He had declared the then-little known Poliça ‘the best band I’ve ever heard’. Quite the soundbite.
It helped that the song itself, Lay Your Cards Out, was brilliant and distinctly different sounding, as was the entirety of their debut album, Give You The Ghost. Layers of ghostly, autotuned vocals. Duelling drummers. It was an electronic cacophony, a storm of noise and ideas.
And last night, with a storm raging outside, they brought it to Birmingham.
Ambling on stage and casually launching into Dark Star wasn’t a stormy beginning, but it was an appropriate starting point as the whole gig is casually dark - from the music to the lighting - but also punctured with energetic and bright moments.
With two drummers on stage the gig is heavily focused on the percussive, and this is a performance that makes more of an impression sonically than it does lyrically. With soaring sounds, aggressive drumming and a frontwoman throwing shapes, the crowd duly responded in movement rather than vocally.
Channy Leaneagh is a schizophrenic frontwoman, flitting between introverted synth operator, to grooving disco queen, to arm throwing hip-hop assaulter. She occupies the stage in front of the twin drummers and bass player, delivering and layering her distinctive vocals with aggression, apomb and autonomy.
She only talks to utter an apology for the weather outside. But she delivers Leading To Death, The Maker, and Amongster like her life depends on it. And the aforementioned Lay Your Cards Out sees the crowd raise their hands and shift spasmodically throughout.
A compact performance sees most of the album played, with the encore only comprising a vocal solo and a brief new song. The crowd wanted more, but oh well, they’ll be back.
Over a year on from that infamous soundbite, Poliça have come a long way, maybe not enough for everyone to agree with Justin, but enough to justify themselves as a truly exciting band.
Saturday, 23 March 2013
Thursday, 21 March 2013
Wild Nothing
For a Wednesday night out in the ‘burbs of the second city, this sure was a treat.
And, at less than a tenner, it was a steal, as three bands delivered sets as they should be - loud and fast sure, but just as intricate and precise.
Opening the show at Kings Heath’s Hare & Hounds were Birmingham natives Wide Eyed, whose grunge-tinged shoegaze blew away all the midweek cobwebs. Their wall-of-noise set was no doubt ear-catching, their sound recalling early Smashing Pumpkins or more recently Toy. Yet another Birmingham band to keep an eye on.
Hot on their heels were Londoners Omi Palone, who, despite a few drum-falling-over issues, picked up the pace and ripped through an energising set of lo-fi indie pop at their first ever Birmingham gig.
And after the loud, the fuzz and the fast came the bliss of Wild Nothing. Assembling on stage and launching into Shadow from 2012’s brilliant Nocturne with minimal fuss, Jack Tatum and his live band gave off an air of complete calm.
As did the tunes, with their washed out, uplifting tones infectiously spreading around the venue, inspiring an entire room to mindlessly drift and sway around to the intricate guitar lines and soaring synths.
Playing a tight hour set largely made up of songs from the aforementioned Nocturne, as well as a couple from their debut Gemini and a cover of The Go-Between’s Head Full of Steam, highlights included Only Heather, Paradise, Counting Days, The Blue Dress, and rousing closer Summer Holiday.
A perfectly short and sweet performance from the band, who made it all look so effortless that they could have done it in their sleep.
Kudos to This is TMRW for spoling us rotten with another evening of great live music. Let’s do it again sometime.
And, at less than a tenner, it was a steal, as three bands delivered sets as they should be - loud and fast sure, but just as intricate and precise.
Opening the show at Kings Heath’s Hare & Hounds were Birmingham natives Wide Eyed, whose grunge-tinged shoegaze blew away all the midweek cobwebs. Their wall-of-noise set was no doubt ear-catching, their sound recalling early Smashing Pumpkins or more recently Toy. Yet another Birmingham band to keep an eye on.
Hot on their heels were Londoners Omi Palone, who, despite a few drum-falling-over issues, picked up the pace and ripped through an energising set of lo-fi indie pop at their first ever Birmingham gig.
And after the loud, the fuzz and the fast came the bliss of Wild Nothing. Assembling on stage and launching into Shadow from 2012’s brilliant Nocturne with minimal fuss, Jack Tatum and his live band gave off an air of complete calm.
As did the tunes, with their washed out, uplifting tones infectiously spreading around the venue, inspiring an entire room to mindlessly drift and sway around to the intricate guitar lines and soaring synths.
Playing a tight hour set largely made up of songs from the aforementioned Nocturne, as well as a couple from their debut Gemini and a cover of The Go-Between’s Head Full of Steam, highlights included Only Heather, Paradise, Counting Days, The Blue Dress, and rousing closer Summer Holiday.
A perfectly short and sweet performance from the band, who made it all look so effortless that they could have done it in their sleep.
Kudos to This is TMRW for spoling us rotten with another evening of great live music. Let’s do it again sometime.
Thursday, 14 February 2013
Johnny Marr - The Messenger
As an amateur at this music writing lark, it’s not often I get a CD in advance of its release. I do have some friends though, and joyfully accepted a copy of Johnny Marr’s debut solo album The Messenger when it was offered to me this week.
Having read a few reviews of the record already, I don’t want to spend my piece talking about The Smiths and Morrissey, but it’s hard to start anywhere else, or to fail to note the differing trajectories they have been on since they parted ways in 1987.
They were always different, with Marr’s jangly guitars taking the edge off Morrissey’s bitter acidity, providing their trademark ‘sweet and sour’ sound and bringing the balance that the group's success was founded on.
Morrissey dived straight into solo work and has had varying levels of success ever since, but he is perhaps more infamous than famous these days, with constant tour cancellations and spewing a river of bile to the press seemingly his main activities.
Meanwhile, Marr’s reputation has been in the ascendancy, steadily growing over a number of years thanks to session work for a variety of artists (Paul McCartney, Oasis, Talking Heads) and time spent as a full member in several more (The Pretenders, Modest Mouse, The Cribs). And 2013 will see him potentially eclipse his former bandmate, with his upcoming Godlike Genius Award from NME, and the release of this record.
It’s fair to say his reputation didn’t really need any work, but neither did Noel Gallagher or Jack White’s previously, and as Jack would surely agree, successful solo artist is a better tag than journeyman guitarist.
And this album is a success. His guitar prowess was never in doubt, but his vocals are also impressive and flexible, often bringing to mind Echo & The Bunnymen’s Ian McCulloch. His lyrics are also solid, while none stand out as amazing, he does avoid any stinkers, which is easier said than done.
It is the guitars that rightly sit at the centre of the album though and, of course, the trademark jangly sound features, but he isn’t limited to it. Incendiary guitars pepper second track ‘I Want The Heartbeat’, opener ‘The Right Thing Right’ and ‘Lockdown’ are stompers featuring fuller 'big' guitar sounds, and ‘New Town Velocity’ mixes acoustic and electric in the vein of New Order.
Particular high points include the title track, with soft vocals recalling early Ian Brown surrounded by layered guitars and synths, and ‘Say Demesne’, which builds across its five minutes into something the aforementioned Echo would have been proud of in their heyday.
His experience as a producer also shines through. It is a well-rounded album, with a great flow through the faster and slower songs which makes the whole thing fly by.
Overall, it’s a solid, enjoyable album of indie pop/rock. It isn’t The Smiths, but nothing is. I doubt anyone would want to shoot this Messenger.
Having read a few reviews of the record already, I don’t want to spend my piece talking about The Smiths and Morrissey, but it’s hard to start anywhere else, or to fail to note the differing trajectories they have been on since they parted ways in 1987.
They were always different, with Marr’s jangly guitars taking the edge off Morrissey’s bitter acidity, providing their trademark ‘sweet and sour’ sound and bringing the balance that the group's success was founded on.
Morrissey dived straight into solo work and has had varying levels of success ever since, but he is perhaps more infamous than famous these days, with constant tour cancellations and spewing a river of bile to the press seemingly his main activities.
Meanwhile, Marr’s reputation has been in the ascendancy, steadily growing over a number of years thanks to session work for a variety of artists (Paul McCartney, Oasis, Talking Heads) and time spent as a full member in several more (The Pretenders, Modest Mouse, The Cribs). And 2013 will see him potentially eclipse his former bandmate, with his upcoming Godlike Genius Award from NME, and the release of this record.
It’s fair to say his reputation didn’t really need any work, but neither did Noel Gallagher or Jack White’s previously, and as Jack would surely agree, successful solo artist is a better tag than journeyman guitarist.
And this album is a success. His guitar prowess was never in doubt, but his vocals are also impressive and flexible, often bringing to mind Echo & The Bunnymen’s Ian McCulloch. His lyrics are also solid, while none stand out as amazing, he does avoid any stinkers, which is easier said than done.
It is the guitars that rightly sit at the centre of the album though and, of course, the trademark jangly sound features, but he isn’t limited to it. Incendiary guitars pepper second track ‘I Want The Heartbeat’, opener ‘The Right Thing Right’ and ‘Lockdown’ are stompers featuring fuller 'big' guitar sounds, and ‘New Town Velocity’ mixes acoustic and electric in the vein of New Order.
Particular high points include the title track, with soft vocals recalling early Ian Brown surrounded by layered guitars and synths, and ‘Say Demesne’, which builds across its five minutes into something the aforementioned Echo would have been proud of in their heyday.
His experience as a producer also shines through. It is a well-rounded album, with a great flow through the faster and slower songs which makes the whole thing fly by.
Overall, it’s a solid, enjoyable album of indie pop/rock. It isn’t The Smiths, but nothing is. I doubt anyone would want to shoot this Messenger.
Tuesday, 5 February 2013
Drumming songs
We all likes drums, and the people that play them, they're generally the craziest or coolest band members. I've befriended a number of drummers in my life, and they have been fairly similar characters, but not in the way you'd expect. Creative, intelligent, and surprisingly quiet when away from their kit.
While a lot of people fancy the drums as the instrument they'd love to play, most simply want to sit at a kit and bash to their heart's content. But, while power is a credential, to stand out in the drumming world takes much more. When I thought of drums, these were five of the first songs to come to mind – others not available on Spotify (seriously Spotify?!) include Moby Dick by Led Zeppelin, Come Together by The Beatles and Reckoner by Radiohead.
It's by no means a list of my favourite drummers, just five songs with great and memorable beats, from Stephen Morris' originality and Meg White's simple infectiousness, to Dave Grohl's power and Matt Tong's speed. Air drum away!
While a lot of people fancy the drums as the instrument they'd love to play, most simply want to sit at a kit and bash to their heart's content. But, while power is a credential, to stand out in the drumming world takes much more. When I thought of drums, these were five of the first songs to come to mind – others not available on Spotify (seriously Spotify?!) include Moby Dick by Led Zeppelin, Come Together by The Beatles and Reckoner by Radiohead.
It's by no means a list of my favourite drummers, just five songs with great and memorable beats, from Stephen Morris' originality and Meg White's simple infectiousness, to Dave Grohl's power and Matt Tong's speed. Air drum away!
Wednesday, 30 January 2013
Lucy Jones
“Tweet journalists but don't be too pushy.”
This quote is buried in the middle of my interview with Lucy Jones, Deputy Editor of NME.com, but brings a smile to my face. Mainly because I’m intrigued whether this is advice Lucy thinks I need, or that I have already followed.
To explain, October 2012 saw Radiohead play a hotly anticipated three-date only UK tour, and I was lucky enough to be at the first gig in Manchester. Being aware that the majority of the pro music writers out there would be attending the two London dates several days later, I saw an opportunity to get an early review written and out there.
I had it ready the following morning and sent my review to several writers on Twitter, one of whom was Lucy, who deemed it worthy to retweet for her followers.
Cool - Radiohead played You and Whose Army and Planet Telex last night. Good roundup here from @timmarklew goo.gl/V9dnN
— Lucy Jones (@lucyjones) October 7, 2012
I got a bunch of views and even connected with plenty of Radiohead fans in the process. Job done, thanks Lucy! But I didn't stop there, and was cheeky enough to ask her for an interview, which she graciously agreed to. But, the best laid schemes and all that, coupled with a new job at the NME, and it subsequently took me two months to nail her down. Tweeting and emailing enough to remind her, while hopefully staying on the right side of her advice on persistence.
Fortunately, persistence is something Lucy knows a bit about too.
“After school I moved to Honduras for 6 months to work on a newspaper for free,” she tells me of the geographically-unusual start of her route into journalism.
“It was an awesome experience and I got a taste for the exciting side of journalism, I spent my time interviewing gangsters and reviewing 5 star hotels in the Bay Islands. It was insane. Then, after doing a degree in English Lit at UCL, I worked somewhere a little less exotic, the Maidenhead Advertiser.”
And while this move may have lacked the glamour of Central American gangsters, it was a vital step in establishing herself as a serious journalist.
“I loved writing about village life, but I also reviewed albums and films when I was there and realised I was much more interested in that side of things than straight news. After six months the paper sent me to do an NCTJ course. It was helpful to learn media law and shorthand, and it's a good qualification for any journalist to have on their CV.
“After that I started doing evening shifts at the Telegraph on the Comment desk, and a staff job followed a few months later.”
So, varied experience - check, qualifications - check. But what else does Lucy have that sets her apart in the desperately overcrowded music journalism job market?
“Eek. Um. That's a hard question. I'm passionate about music and committed to creating content that's going to entertain and inform. I’ve also studied music and learnt quite a few instruments, so I have quite a lot of knowledge on music theory, genres and instruments, which maybe makes it easier to deconstruct stuff. My skin's pretty tough as well so it doesn't knock me if pitches are rejected or someone writes that I'm a ruby-lipped monkey whore on the internet.”
Lucy preempts a later question by directly addressing the trolls, and the less said about them the better. So, other than being called a ruby-lipped monkey whore, what have been the highlights of Lucy’s career to date? And is the music journalism game all it’s cracked up to be?
“Getting a job at NME was pretty cool. I've also loved covering SXSW in Austin for the last couple of years. Interviewing Bryan Harvey? Just kidding. Tori Amos, E from Eels, Bjork, Bobby Womack and Graham Coxon have all been cool interviewees.
“Interviewing musicians and artists I was in awe of and spending my time listening to music and going to gigs rocks. Also I love the idea of introducing a song or artist to someone that'll flip their wig.”
Despite Lucy’s nonchalant “pretty cool” remark about her move to the NME in 2012, and my previous interviewee and former NME writer Laura Snapes’ branding of it as a “normal place”, the fanboy in me has to ask what the move there was like.
“I try not to think ahead as much as possible, so I'm not sure I had expectations really. I didn't expect to walk in and see Liam and Noel and people shooting up in the stationary cupboard. It's been amazing working with a team who just absolutely love music and are excited about it. It's a really nice vibe, there are a lot of LOLs. It's also nice to write for a massive readership who really care about new music.”
Lucy's favourite song of 2012
So, having made the “pretty cool” move to the NME, what else does someone who tries not to think ahead still want to achieve?
“I'd like to write a book. Maybe fictional, maybe about a band I like. I want to travel and study more too, and possibly move to the States for a bit. And to meet my dream interviewee, Prince.”
For those who haven’t been with this blog from the start, the reason I started interviewing writers whilst still at university was not only to tell their great untold stories, but to get their advice too. Lucy’s advice? Be polite. Be bold. Be yourself.
“Write to everyone you want to work for and send them an article tailored to their style. Stop waffling. Cut your prose down by at least half. Wake up every morning at 6am to write. Read all the books about music you can find. Make notes and keep them. Read other books too. Go to gigs even if you don't know who's playing. Crate-dig. Put your best work on a blog. Tweet journalists but don't be too pushy. Get an NCTJ or masters if you can. Work for a local paper. Look for local papers that offer scholarships for training. And don't be offended if someone says your writing needs a lot of work.”
Tweet but don’t be too pushy. Lucy subsequently assures me that was not an answer tailored for me, but I will now remember it nonetheless. Thanks to Lucy for her time, and for sharing her story. She can be found in the links throughout this blog, and on NME.com.
Tuesday, 15 January 2013
HMV: Love the one you’re with
I wasn’t sure why at first but, like many, I found the news that HMV is going into administration rather disconcerting. Like democracy or public transport, it’s doesn’t always work and sometimes it’s frustrating, but we need it.
I’m not a diehard customer – probably buying from there only a handful of times a year – and have played my part in contributing to its demise by replacing my once frequent purchases with a Spotify account and Amazon. But, as I’ve written this piece, and got caught up in it, the thought of a high street without a single place to buy music or film has become increasingly depressing.
The closure of the four-floor Birmingham store last year is already proof enough for me that the loss of HMV would be keenly felt. While it wasn’t my local store, it was the biggest one nearby, and the best. I spent hundreds of hours in there, buying, searching or just killing time browsing. And I have missed it since.
As great as independent music shops are, for most of the country they are too few and far between to play a big part in the filling the potential void left by HMV. And for film lovers, there are no such shops at all.
Sharing in the nostalgia that many have expressed (via #HMVmemories), HMV played a key part in the early development of my music obsession, and in my teen years as a whole. I have undoubtedly more vivid memories of HMV purchases than of any from other shops. While that may make me rather sad, it is true nonetheless.
Unfortunately, this announcement could be the final step in a trend that has seen Virgin Megastores, Fopp, Zavvi and more wiped from our high streets over the last decade, and, if that isn’t worrying enough, we may soon find ourselves in a time where music and film can only be immediately bought in supermarkets.
I doubt today’s teens will similarly reminisce about hours spent in Sainsbury’s or Tesco’s music sections, or even remember the process of clicking a few buttons to buy their first ever album. As Reverend Lovejoy's wife would say, WON'T SOMEBODY PLEASE THINK OF THE CHILDREN?!
The truth is, as much as sleek web design and recommendations from other users are great, they are no substitution for browsing in a store filled with physical and wondrous products. not to mention actual human beings you can even share a conversation with about what you're buying. That is worth paying a little extra for.
I hope that a buyer is found and that as many stores as possible stay open and that staff can keep their jobs. But I also hope we all appreciate HMV more. While sales may be down, no one ever questions the popularity of music or film as a whole, and they deserves their place on our high streets.
If this national institution can be saved, I for one will remember the thought of it no longer being there, and will try to act accordingly. It’s not perfect, but nothing is.
I’m not a diehard customer – probably buying from there only a handful of times a year – and have played my part in contributing to its demise by replacing my once frequent purchases with a Spotify account and Amazon. But, as I’ve written this piece, and got caught up in it, the thought of a high street without a single place to buy music or film has become increasingly depressing.
The closure of the four-floor Birmingham store last year is already proof enough for me that the loss of HMV would be keenly felt. While it wasn’t my local store, it was the biggest one nearby, and the best. I spent hundreds of hours in there, buying, searching or just killing time browsing. And I have missed it since.
As great as independent music shops are, for most of the country they are too few and far between to play a big part in the filling the potential void left by HMV. And for film lovers, there are no such shops at all.
Sharing in the nostalgia that many have expressed (via #HMVmemories), HMV played a key part in the early development of my music obsession, and in my teen years as a whole. I have undoubtedly more vivid memories of HMV purchases than of any from other shops. While that may make me rather sad, it is true nonetheless.
Unfortunately, this announcement could be the final step in a trend that has seen Virgin Megastores, Fopp, Zavvi and more wiped from our high streets over the last decade, and, if that isn’t worrying enough, we may soon find ourselves in a time where music and film can only be immediately bought in supermarkets.
I doubt today’s teens will similarly reminisce about hours spent in Sainsbury’s or Tesco’s music sections, or even remember the process of clicking a few buttons to buy their first ever album. As Reverend Lovejoy's wife would say, WON'T SOMEBODY PLEASE THINK OF THE CHILDREN?!
The truth is, as much as sleek web design and recommendations from other users are great, they are no substitution for browsing in a store filled with physical and wondrous products. not to mention actual human beings you can even share a conversation with about what you're buying. That is worth paying a little extra for.
I hope that a buyer is found and that as many stores as possible stay open and that staff can keep their jobs. But I also hope we all appreciate HMV more. While sales may be down, no one ever questions the popularity of music or film as a whole, and they deserves their place on our high streets.
If this national institution can be saved, I for one will remember the thought of it no longer being there, and will try to act accordingly. It’s not perfect, but nothing is.
Friday, 4 January 2013
Tainted Love?
After spending yesterday afternoon binging on The Smiths and The Smashing Pumpkins, a thought suddenly occurred to me that these two have something in common.
I love the music of both – each would probably make my personal top 10 – but they also both suffer from having frontmen that are, frankly, tools. This tenuous but hopefully noteworthy link between these bands wasn't an entirely new thought, but in the wake of an unrelated comment I saw recently, it made me think again.
Namely, it made me wonder if you can love a band’s music when you no longer love the band, or even if you never liked the band themselves in the first place? And what would it take to make me completely disown a band?
To go back to the unrelated comment, an unnamed friend posting on social media recently posed the question, or problem, that they wanted to listen to Lostprophets, but in the wake of recent revelations, weren’t sure if they should, or even could.
I felt it was an interesting question, broadening it slightly, they were basically asking if the subsequent actions of a musician can taint their music?
Obviously, that is an extreme example, and this is a light-hearted blog and I’m drawing no comparison between Morrissey and Billy Corgan and the Lostprophets frontman I don’t even want to name let alone discuss. I am not attempting to make out that their actions, which I will now discuss, are anything like what he is accused of (disclaimer out of the way, calm down).
But there are a number of reasons for me to have formed these opinions. They have both fucked me over in person by ruining gigs I was at, Morrissey walking off four songs into a gig I’d travelled all the way to the Roundhouse in Camden for, and Corgan ending a Pumpkins (in name only) gig in Nottingham after just over an hour, despite completing a three-hour gig in London just two days later. The following setlist for the gig even mentions him storming off.
Unless the mythical Smiths reunion ever comes to fruition (it won’t), or the original Pumpkins line-up tours again (they won’t either) I would never consider seeing either of them again. These experiences have irrevocably changed my feelings towards these bands because they always come to mind when I listen to them, which is admittedly unfair on the rest of The Smiths and the original Pumpkins but true nonetheless.
Add to that, they both have become increasingly erratic and annoying public figures, frequently making embarrassing or simply ridiculous statements in the media. I’m sure I’m not the only Smiths fan bored of having to defend themselves to non-fans every time Morrissey makes a ridiculous remark about the royals or worse. Last year Billy Corgan said he wanted to “piss on” Radiohead. Seriously, what a dick.
I had ignored Oceania, the latest SP’s album, completely (until yesterday, it’s okay by the way) because of my thoughts on him as a person and comments such as that. The same would apply for any new work from Morrissey. But, I still regularly enjoy their best work, just as I still admire their talent too.
So, I guess my point is Steven and Billy, you haven't completely ruined it yet, but please, stop it already. I still want to listen to The Queen is Dead, Meat is Murder, Siamese Dream and Mellon Collie for years to come. You've ruined yourselves, don’t ruin your work for me too.
I love the music of both – each would probably make my personal top 10 – but they also both suffer from having frontmen that are, frankly, tools. This tenuous but hopefully noteworthy link between these bands wasn't an entirely new thought, but in the wake of an unrelated comment I saw recently, it made me think again.
Namely, it made me wonder if you can love a band’s music when you no longer love the band, or even if you never liked the band themselves in the first place? And what would it take to make me completely disown a band?
To go back to the unrelated comment, an unnamed friend posting on social media recently posed the question, or problem, that they wanted to listen to Lostprophets, but in the wake of recent revelations, weren’t sure if they should, or even could.
I felt it was an interesting question, broadening it slightly, they were basically asking if the subsequent actions of a musician can taint their music?
Obviously, that is an extreme example, and this is a light-hearted blog and I’m drawing no comparison between Morrissey and Billy Corgan and the Lostprophets frontman I don’t even want to name let alone discuss. I am not attempting to make out that their actions, which I will now discuss, are anything like what he is accused of (disclaimer out of the way, calm down).
But there are a number of reasons for me to have formed these opinions. They have both fucked me over in person by ruining gigs I was at, Morrissey walking off four songs into a gig I’d travelled all the way to the Roundhouse in Camden for, and Corgan ending a Pumpkins (in name only) gig in Nottingham after just over an hour, despite completing a three-hour gig in London just two days later. The following setlist for the gig even mentions him storming off.
Unless the mythical Smiths reunion ever comes to fruition (it won’t), or the original Pumpkins line-up tours again (they won’t either) I would never consider seeing either of them again. These experiences have irrevocably changed my feelings towards these bands because they always come to mind when I listen to them, which is admittedly unfair on the rest of The Smiths and the original Pumpkins but true nonetheless.
Add to that, they both have become increasingly erratic and annoying public figures, frequently making embarrassing or simply ridiculous statements in the media. I’m sure I’m not the only Smiths fan bored of having to defend themselves to non-fans every time Morrissey makes a ridiculous remark about the royals or worse. Last year Billy Corgan said he wanted to “piss on” Radiohead. Seriously, what a dick.
I had ignored Oceania, the latest SP’s album, completely (until yesterday, it’s okay by the way) because of my thoughts on him as a person and comments such as that. The same would apply for any new work from Morrissey. But, I still regularly enjoy their best work, just as I still admire their talent too.
So, I guess my point is Steven and Billy, you haven't completely ruined it yet, but please, stop it already. I still want to listen to The Queen is Dead, Meat is Murder, Siamese Dream and Mellon Collie for years to come. You've ruined yourselves, don’t ruin your work for me too.
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