Drunk Blogging

Hello and welcome to my first ever drunk blog post.

I feel this is a momentous occasion and one to be celebrated globally.  No doubt the world's eyes will be trained on this blog, anxiously awaiting the fallout of such a dangerous endeavour.

It's just that things very easily get complicated around me. 

Oh, Sally Shapiro, that song you wrote, Jackie Jackie, is a melting moment of wintery wonder.  I wish I knew a Jackie, to ask her to spend a winter with me.  Like you, I don't want to be alone.

Sally Shapiro - Jackie, Jackie

Oh, Anthonio, my Anthonio, was I ever more than just a face in the crowd?  Did you even know my name, did you even really care?

Very gay in many ways, and then I was about to write a but, but does being 'very gay' mean it is bad?  Is suppose musically, it can do, but though this has that mix of deep sincerity with crisp dance beats it doesn't really veer into handbag house nor glossy pop.  A suitably melancholy lilt lifts it from the norm (although is that what makes it a little gay?)

Annie - Anthonio

I was walking across the hills, I was looking at what I built.  Stars flashing everywhere around castles in the air.

Jeremy Jay seems to have a fearlessness about him.  A strength, a shield.  Love everywhere - something to hope for, eh?

Jeremy Jay - Love Everlasting

But if stars should shine by the very first sign.

The XX made me feel warm, make me feel sad.  I should be making music but I'm not.  I admire them for doing what I don't.

It's fine, so fine by me.  One of my albums of the year.

The XX - Stars

Oh my god, I need to stop listening to music and post this because otherwise, I'm going to end up uploading too much music.  But I'm just writhing in rhythmic ecstasy to the melodic majesty of one of the best fucking discoveries of 2009 - Liquid Vega.

Jesus, I can't really work out the lyrics but even if I could, I wouldn't want to share them.  When I die, my heaven will be a stupor soundtracked by this band.  Emotion seems banal when faced with this.

Liquid Vega - Heart

There's been no mention of Fever Ray.  Except now there has.

Fever Ray - Coconut Acapella

Drunk blog over.

Carrie, you get me every time...

Oh, I just finished watching Carrie for the umpteenth time and, as always, I wanted to just press pause the moment Carrie steps up and collects her bouquet and is crowned Prom Queen.

This brings me to a point that irks me immensely about the way that the film is packaged on DVD (etc) these days...  Why place the 'bloody Carrie' picture on the sleeve and then all the menus and cut screens?

Ok, I know that most people who are likely to buy the film will already have seen it and those renting it will most probably know what it's about anyway.  But, tonight, for example, I just watched it with a Carrie-novice - someone who'd never heard of the film, nor Sissy Spacek but did know John Travolta and Stephen King.

Of course, the beauty of Carrie is that in the latter half of the film it lulls you into a false sense of security that 'everything will turn out fine' and you begin to think that Carrie will save the day, sort her loon of a mother out and live a long and carefree life.  However, if you've been faced with with a pig-blood-sodden Sissy Spacek glaring at you from the cover, deranged eyes bulging, there's no way you'll be able to kid yourself into believing in a happy ending.

You know what, as I write, I think I'm realising that what I'm actually complaining about is the fact that I've been deprived the enjoyment of re-experiencing my first viewing experience through the eyes of someone else.  You see, I had no clue how the film would end first time round, and each time I watch, the emotional impact diminishes.

I'll watch again though, I know.  But maybe next time I will press pause.

Oh, for a fixed contract

Remind me never to open my inbox before having my morning cup of coffee.

The director of the language school where I've been teaching this past year writes in the most floral, meandering manner and took about 8 paragraphs to tell me they want to pay me less per hour for my courses in 2010.  Does she truly believe her fawning praise for my teaching style and her 'sincere' appreciation for my hard work makes up for the proposed 3 Euro-per-hour-reduction?  Does she expect me to accept her claim that 'we all must tighten our belts in this current economic climate' when the school has had its largest intake of students yet?

No doubt this evening I shall be greeted with the customary double handshake that lasts an uncomfortably long time, the keening upwardly-tilted head and the barrage of rapidly spewed pleasantries that invariably leaves the recipient slightly bewildered and lost for words.

Why, I wonder, has this silver-tongued baby-kisser not yet made a foray into local politics?  What has kept her in the position she currently holds?  Or is she in fact training; using us poor teachers and students alike as test subjects while she hones her slithery technique?

I suppose it would be wiser to respond in kind but I do very much feel the urge to do this:

Diamanda Galás - Saint of the Pit

Disconnect your brain

Ok, I've slightly paraphrased the lyrics of the song I was just listening to in order to title my first post but, as a native English speaker and current English teacher, it pains me to deliberately misspell words. If I make an actual error, that's different because, hey, I'm fallible.

Anyway, the song I was just listening to was called 'Deconnect My Brain' and it formed part of Fever Ray's Winter Solstice mix, that is currently being streamed here (starts one hour in). Of course, anything linked to the Fever Ray moniker instantly grabs my attention but I would enjoy this playlist regardless of who created it. So far, I've picked up on Sonic Youth, Electrelane, Laurie Anderson and the owner of the silkiest, most sensual voice in music, David Sylvian.

There are a few artists I don't recognise, one of them being whoever is responsible for the aforementioned song 'Deconnect My Brain' but I do know another one of my muses, Stina Nordenstam, is due to make an appearance any minute now. I'm intrigued to see which song Karin Dreijer Andersson picks...

...Of course, it had to be. The one moment these two doyennes of dreamy darkness met musically:

It may be silent, but I hear bombs fall.

I hear sirens down in Whitehall.

I see fires around you, Paul.

But you stand so still and you look so small

And I'm so tired and no help at all.

Parliament Square

Stina Nordenstam (The Knife Remix)

I'm suddenly lost in London. The imagery, of course, and what it means to me.

I'm struck by the synergy of this moment. The catalyst for me finally starting a(nother) blog came today from The Secret Life of Ginger, where, coincidentally, one of the posts made me ever so wistful for London. Pushing the wistfulness to the back of my mind, I decided instead to take inspiration from Ginger's entries and start writing a blog of my own, at the same time as listening to some music. And what do I find? That my chosen soundtrack ended up bringing me back to London again.

Is this a sign?