Author: Paul

  • Amsterdam.

    I’ve finally stopped moving. It’s the first time in a week I’ve been able to say that. I flew from Southend to Amsterdam, back again, and then on to Glastonbury. Today is the first time I’ve not had to go go go. It feels pretty sobering, and sort of awful with it. I’d like to continue this model of just disappearing off on jaunts, of having adventures, but that’s what my whole writing gig is about, it’s what I want to do. I need to fund these things by working and until someone pays me to write, I work for a living, rather than getting to live for my work. 

    Our trip to Amsterdam was rightfully magnificent though. I call it ours because I took Kate. It was her birthday present, and although I would never have thought of it as being her cup of tea, she mentioned how much she would like to go there at the start of the year and I made it so. The joy of Southend airport now flying to Amsterdam is just awesome. It didn’t feel as though we were up in the air long enough for us to have crossed any real kind of boundary and so we found ourselves dragging our confused selves onto a train at Schiphol airport and wondering why tannoy announcements were not in our mother tongue. Twenty minutes later we were in Amsterdam. Ten minutes later we were on the Overtoom apologising to the owner of our rented apartment for being quite so timely. We left her to clean and wandered around the Vondelpark, eating paprika crisps and taking photos. When we returned to our 70’s themed lodging, we just dropped everything and took off for Central, not really knowing what to do or where to go exactly. 

    The trick is to follow the trams. All the trams of Amsterdam appear to have a final destination of Amsterdam Centraal station and you don’t need to go far for the famous sights of prostitution, magic truffles and marijuana. Of course Kate wanted to do all three, simultaneously, whilst racking up lines of coke, kicking children with clogs and throwing brownies at swans. I kept her on the straight and narrow. We wandered lonely as a cloud, of hash pipe smoke, and eventually came across Baba, a cafe made famous by it’s appearance in my book of short stories Where Did All The Money Go?

    (I should point out it was famous before I wrote about it).

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    Now, I have been told the best coffee shops are to be found on the outskirts, away from the well-worn tourist traps of Amsterdam central and that may well be but I’m all for embracing my inner tourist, especially when on a city break. 
    Baba is just cool. It has everything you need, the staff have always been friendly and helpful, and their brownies are delicious if not somewhat paranoia-inducing. I treated Kate to a coffee and a brownie and then bought a couple of joints before we tried to walk back to our apartment. Somehow this proved to be a lot harder than finding Amsterdam Centraal had been. We walked alongside canals, over bridges, over more bridges, beside canals, over canals, beside bridges and eventually found our way to the Vondelpark, which we assumed was a small park set back from the city. By this point, I felt light. My eyes were a bit heavy but I was walking on the moon. I mentioned this to Kate. Being the man of the world I am, I wanted to make sure she was okay because she’s not one for sporadic drug use in any way, shape or form, and I have  something of a history of it, especially during my student days. Again, it’s all in the book. 
    Our conversation went something like this:
    Paul: I feel really light
    Kate: Do you?
    Paul: Yeah, do you?
    Kate: No. I’m wearing Doc Martens, it’s impossible to feel light in Doc Martens.
    Paul: Good point. 

    We started on our way through the park. It was picturesque and dusky. Everything was beautiful and at peace and suddenly a deranged homeless man in double denim started rambling towards us. Ordinarily, I would have used the powers of reasoning and deduction to deal with the situation. For some reason they seemed to abandon me and so instead I entered into a game of Chicken with this poor man who had been fucked over by life. He reached out for me, and for a split second the delusional state I was in meant my brain was screaming ‘HIT HIM! HIT THE HOMELESS MAN!’
    Luckily, another unfortunate sort on a bicycle came past and distracted him so we were free to go. For some reason the Vondelpark was constructed to meander all over the place like a snake playing jazz. We walked for what felt like three hours, trying to pretend everything was fine, and then it started raining and we ran back to the street to get our bearings. We were only about halfway back by this point, but being back on the main road made everything seem that much easier. 

    When we got in, we shook off the rain, made tea, sat on the balcony and had a joint together. As I’ve said before, there’s something beautiful and bonding about sharing a joint with someone, it’s like the peace pipe of the modern age. It was a really nice experience. Then we settled down to watch Kill Bill and freak our freaking noggins off. I can’t really remember what happened but Kill Bill is a very intense film to watch when high. The colours seemed sharper than blades. We didn’t say a word for over an hour and then my intense cotton mouth meant I had to head to the kitchen for some juice. Then, something like this happened.
    Paul: Here you go
    Kate: Thanks
    Paul: It’s tropical
    Kate drinks
    Kate: Goddamn, that’s some good juice. 
    Paul: I know! Do you want some crisps?
    Kate: Really badly
    Paul goes for crisps
    Kate: Bring the biscuits in as well
    Paul returns with both crisps and biscuits
    Paul: I need to shut the curtains, people can see in
    Kate: Don’t worry
    Paul: I’m not, I just need to shut them
    Paul gets up and shuts curtains
    Kate: Oh my god, it looks like the walls are closing in on me, open the curtains
    Paul: Kate, don’t be silly. It’s fine. 
    Kate: No, I don’t like it
    Paul: Oh wow, come and feel this fabric, these curtains are amazing. 
    Kate: I can’t! My legs don’t work!
    That seemed to settle the matter and I returned to the sofa. Everything became very funny, see.
    At some point, I put Kill Bill Vol. 2 on, but I couldn’t remember doing it, and we freaked out over the fact we had forgotten which parts of which films occurred in each. Then we went to bed. 

    The following morning we went to Anne Frank’s house. Kate had recently read her diary, and it was to be a key part of our trip. We arrived at about ten o’clock by which point there was a queue of about two hundred people already outside. The problem of being in a city for three days is you can really only do things if you aren’t going to spend upwards of four hours queuing for them. We decided to take a canal boat cruise around to the other side of Amsterdam and visit some museums. The boat ride was really nice, and we pulled stupid faces at each other to pass the time.

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    We went to the Van Gogh museum, made famous by it’s appearance in Doctor Who, or if you’re not a fan, then it is made famous by the fact it is a museum dedicated to Vincent Van Gogh. I’m still unsure how to pronounce Van Gogh. 
    Seeing his artwork was really inspirational. The famous pieces (Sunflowers, self portraits etc) are all there, and it’s nice to see such a memorable piece of art live up to it’s name and reputation (go fuck yourself Mona Lisa). 

    We also visited Amsterdam’s sex museum, which has some of the best unnecessary erotica I’ve ever seen. Regardez, a lice comb:
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    That evening we went to the Hard Rock Cafe, which boasts some marginally memorable pieces of memorabilia, like the thing someone wore once, or a guitar held by a guitarist etc. Don’t get me wrong, I’m a geek for that sort of thing, but when there are so many Hard Rock Cafes around the world, the genuinely impressive pieces can get a little sparse. That being said, their Alabama Slammer went down a treat.
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    After that we went back to the apartment, I had another joint and we watched Donnie Darko, until I fell asleep and missed the ending, and Kate had to carry me to bed. 

    Third and final day in Amsterdam, it’s a Tuesday lunchtime, we go and look at some girls in windows:
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    Note: This is not actually a part of the Red Light District, and is in fact a picture of the back of Kate’s head (excellent bob), beneath a sign in the sex museum. Kate is not a part of the sex industry. 

    It turns out that Amsterdam don’t really bring their A-game when it comes to girls in windows on a Tuesday afternoon. Don’t get me wrong, they were all charming, insightful and delightful creatures but they didn’t inspire lust in the way I guess it is expected for the whole thing to work. I’m not sure I could ever pay for sex. Not beyond the way I do currently, the way we all do currently in fact. You buy a girl a drink, technically you’ve paid for sex. Take her to see Frankenweenie at the cinema, technically paid for sex. It’s a tightrope and we’re all dressed in macs, pressed against windows, dribbling. 

    We also went for pancakes. One of our favourite films (500 Days Of Summer) has a brilliant scene in a pancake house which spells the end of the relationship between ZDC and JGL.
    Wow, I’ve just realised they have initials like airport abbreviations. Cool. 
    Where was I? Right. There’s a scene in 500 Days where Summer says “I love these pancakes”, and it’s something we say to each other a lot. If you aren’t us, which odds state you aren’t, then you might not get it, it’s fine. It’s just one of our things. 
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    So in summary. Go to Amsterdam. I described it once as “Disneyland for students”, but it’s also Center Parcs for drugs, Alton Towers for drink, and a donkey ride down Brighton beach for prostitution. 

    ImageI call this one: Cock beside a cock.

  • High tide mark.

    I just wanted to take the time to thank everyone who has bought or downloaded my first book, Where Did All The Money Go?
    I finally got my filthy little paws on some download stats this morning. There were over 170 downloads in the UK alone, a further 50+ in Amerikey, and then various pockets of sales across Europe. That’s on top of the 80 physical units sold.
    I’m not much of a businessman and I would never choose to be, however, I call that a rip-roaring success.
    You can tell I’m not much of a businessman because I’m making 6% of each physical sale.

    I have made very definite plans for the money though, and I wanted to take the time to tell you where all your money went.
    I’m in the process of redrafting my second novel (Visions Of Violet). Once completed, I plan to send it out to agents and publishers across the land in the hope of snaring the elusive deal my first novel didn’t quite manage to cop. I’m going to use your money to pay for the printing, packaging and posting of those copies to agents and publishers. Your purchase has become an investment and I thank you for it.
    Once I’m done redrafting Visions, I will be redrafting my first novel Situation One. I plan on self publishing that little guy as no agent would touch it. It’s essentially the novel WDATMG spawned from and it is very good. There are more adventures from Michael, Oliver, Eli and Ross, but in the redraft I am hoping to rope in all the new characters added to the short stories. I believe a number of you have a soft spot for Madcat now.
    I’ve checked up on him, he’s doing fine and Lucas has informed me there is another story to be gleaned from their relationship. So I guess it makes sense to follow the publication of S1 with another book of short stories, which I have already started drafting in my head while running.
    I’ve also re-opened the case file on my three-part fantasy series, Coppypock, and am planning on writing a Palin-on-acid type book on the Sahara later this year.
    Basically, I’m running myself into the ground between this, improv, gigs etc. so I’m going to take a week off.
    My week off will be a couple of days in Amsterdam with my favourite, followed by Glastonbury 2013. I’m stockpiling material right now, and I can’t wait to share it.

    Thanks again.
    Peace & love.
    Be safe.

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  • Free for 5.

    This week my book is free to download for Kindle. 

    I don’t care if you have a Kindle, you have some way of downloading it and reading it, whether it’s on your iPhone, iPad, generic smart phone that wants to be an iPhone, or just on a computer. Even if you just download it so I get off your back about it, download it now, here.

    At the moment it is sitting pretty in the Top 20 free Kindle books in the Humour category. 
    This is what I have been working towards for the last couple of years, or to be cliche about it all, what I’ve been working towards all my life. The blood and sweat and tears inherent in this book is something I am immensely proud of, and any success it gains is as a result of the incredible people who believe in me. I don’t know what I would do without each and every one of you. 
    Please keep pushing it. Keep spreading the word. Good things can happen if you work hard enough. 

     

  • Volunteer.

    This morning I am in pain. I noticed it when I tried to sit up in bed. It was as though there was something jarring the movement in the upper half of my body. The reason being I spent yesterday doing a hard day’s graft.

    If you know me at all, you’ll know I am not one for physical work, it not being my vocation nor something I was built towards. I have more physically in common with the tools themselves. This was different.
    I spent yesterday at Little Havens children’s hospice digging up their grounds and allotment patch. You may remember I did this last year. The sense of a job well done was so good I had to offer my services up again.

    Little Havens offer care and support for children with life limiting illnesses and their families. As far as charity beginning at home, this is probably as close as I can get as the complex is based just a ten minute drive away.

    I know there is no selfless good deed, and in taking time away from work I not only got to spend the day out of the office and away from the computer screen but am also filled with a sense of achievement so great it feels as if I was paid for my labours. What I have taken away from working at Little Havens is that there are a lot braver people than me, a lot more caring people than me and that there is always something anyone can do to help.

  • Nifty fifty.

    I just wanted to let you all know that I have checked the statistics page for my book this morning and discovered I have sold fifty copies. That’s fifty actual copies of something I wrote. I can’t get over how awesome this is. 

    I wanted to take the time to thank everyone who has bought it so far, and sent me pictures of their copies, and asked me how it’s going and everything else.

    I’m living some kind of surreal dream existence. I didn’t think I would ever get to a point where people were actually reading something I had written. I honestly appreciate every single one of you for taking the time and spending the money on something I have made. 

    I love you all.

  • What are the things people do when they aren’t writing a book?

    I’m one of those terrible people who just constantly goes on about the thing that they’re doing. I’m going to be wanky and call it ‘being an artist’.

    The problem is, everyone is doing something, and it’s very hard to get your voice heard. That’s why this morning I’ve conducted myself in a way I would usually hang, draw and quarter anyone else for by just spamming everything with links to my book’s page on Amazon. It’s here by the way. 
    Now I’ve told as many people as I think I can tell without getting really creepy about it I am left with the terrible lonely sensation of job completion. It’s an unusual thing, especially for me because I’m a sucker for never seeing anything through to a conclusion. There are so many things I leave up in the air that it feels strange to sit here knowing my product is complete and live and purchasable (for the very reasonable price of £4.99). 

    The thing is I’ve wanted to get Where Did All The Money Go finished so I could allow myself to get lost in another project, I think it’s just a bit too soon, like having my heart broken. I have so many other ideas, and I can’t wait to step away from the dick and fart jokes I imposed upon myself with WDATMG and Situation 1. The two most immediate projects are redrafting Visions Of Violet, the book I wrote for NaNoWriMo last November and finishing the comedy show I’m co-writing. Those are the top two, and then everything else falls in under that. 

    I can’t imagine a life where I don’t constantly have something to be getting on with, it’s how I choose to function and I’m very happy in that. 

  • Project 333 – one month in.

    So a month ago today I started on my own Project 333. 
    You’ll want to read that post first, it’s here
    Today I am allowing myself some adaptation to it all. 
    I will still keep 33 items of clothing in my wardrobe but the last month has taught me a little more about my wearing habits than I had expected. 

    I started with:
    7 t-shirts
    4 jumpers
    4 cardigans
    7 shirts
    2 pairs of jeans
    1 pair of shorts (because I’m hoping for a summer at some point this year)
    2 coats
    1 jacket
    1 blazer
    1 necklace
    1 earring
    2 pairs of shoes

    There are some of those items I am yet to wear, and I can put this down to any number of reasons. Despite limiting my wardrobe, I feel I have improved it. Each time I go to put something on, it’s something I want to wear, I don’t have to pile a bunch of stuff out of the way in order to get to ‘that’ t-shirt, or whatever else it may be.
    What I have learnt is that I do wear a t-shirt pretty much every day, with a combination of the other items I have allowed myself. This has left me with the dilemma of often running out of t-shirts (because if it is a running day I hadn’t set aside work out t-shirts). If the washing doesn’t get done for a week (as is often the case at Schiernecker Towers (we’ve got a lot going on)) then I am pretty stumped when it comes to choosing clothes. I have therefore given myself two extra t-shirts.
    Of course, under the rules of Project 333 I have to only wear 33 items. This means getting rid of something. Despite my clean looking cupboard there are still shirts and jumpers I favour above others so I have cut one shirt, and one jumper in favour of two t-shirts. I also fancy a change to the two pairs of shoes I allowed myself so I’m shopping in my long winter coat (which was a bit of an oversight for an April – July Project 333) and am getting my desert boots out. 

    When I am done with all this, I still don’t think I could go back to having as much stuff as I did. There are clear favourites, and on 12 July I am going to make a conscious effort to give as much away to charity as I can, and then make sure I have more of my uniform items. 

    Another issue I thought I would have is people noticing I am always in the same thing. That hasn’t happened once. I can go a week without repeating, two if I wear every t-shirt once, and every shirt once, but it hasn’t come to anyone’s attention, at least not to the point where they have commented on it. 

    If you’re thinking about doing this, joining in, then you should. It’s becoming a really interesting experience. It’s a very cathartic process and means you can shift focus to where it is needed.

  • 21.

    Today is my baby brother’s 21st birthday. 
    It’s really strange to think of him as an adult. I don’t know if I ever will truly be able to grasp it. He certainly doesn’t act like it a lot of the time. When I think about how we were when we were little, and how much I doted on him and how much he adored me in return, I’m saddened by the way things have to change but spending time with him, and my other brother, and their friends last night just shows that things changing is not necessarily a bad thing. We all have our own things going on, but when thrown together everything we have shared in the last two decades is inherent in it, it sits between us and it’s a fantastic thing to be a part of.

    I feel very lucky to get along with my siblings. I know far too many people who for a number of different reasons don’t have that same relationship. There really is nothing like a brother. 

     

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  • Between the rock and a hard place.

    A while ago I wrote a massive article on music, and the current state of it. As part of this article I interviewed a number of people about their tastes, and what they think is on the horizon. I think we’ve started to see the turning of the tide. 

    The article was never published despite promises. The joy of having my own website is I can write what I want. Here it is:

     

     

    In the last five years the volume on amplifiers seems to have been turned down. Overdrive has fallen out of favour and instead we are faced with a wave of electronica, of synth beds and computer-based production of music. This is not to say there are not incredible bands making incredible music out there, more that we appear to be at a low point for the rock guitarist.

     

    These things come in waves. As part of the research into this article I spoke to a number of people about what they make of the current trends in music, their thoughts on what will happen this year and whether live music still prevails in a world where venues are closing left, right and centre and charging bands to perform. One of the key pieces of information I was given was these things come in cycles or in waves, which makes perfect sense, even on a grander scale than the music scene. We are experiencing a massive 80’s resurgence.

    Yuppies are trotting about in their patent leather shoes with no socks, spunk in their quiffs, body warmers, outrageously big mobile phones and wraps of cocaine lining their pockets. Teenage girls are donning washed out denim cut-offs, making collages of androgynous boys they fancy and drinking garish alcoholic concoctions. Music is more image than substance. Teenage boys are pawning their Fenders for Korgs. The more you think about it, the more parallels there seem to be and the more depressing it all becomes. To quote Tame Impala, one of the few bands of the last couple of years still flying the flag, ‘it feels like we only go backwards’.

    Is there really that much difference between Duran Duran crooning and swaying on a yacht in the video for Rio (boats and hoes) and A$AP Rocky bragging about his bank account figures? Is Rihanna glamorising sex any more than Madonna ever did?

     

    A decade ago there was a resurgence of British guitar bands. It felt like a scene, and while it was quite short lived and was never really given a tabloid-friendly title beyond ‘new Brit-Pop’ it was an exciting time for British music. Radios and charts were full of clever lyrics, battling guitars and skinny white boy attitude. There are still bands of that wave riding along and they are to be applauded for it. Suck It And See was arguably Arctic Monkey’s best album to date while In The Belly Of The Brazen Bull saw The Cribs return to lo-fi form, yet there is no real collective nature to what is going on.

     

    The worry when I took this article on was the fact I am invested in the last wave. I wanted to be a part of it. They were my formative years. I was in school, in college, at university and beyond when The Libertines, The Strokes, Franz Ferdinand and the like were pummelling pop with a righteous uppercut. I decided to open my inbox to others to see if I was taking the whole issue far too personally.
    James claimed “Miles Kane is single-handedly keeping guitar going at the moment” saying he expected it all to “pick back up this year, whatever that means”. Whilst interviewing him he mentioned a number of different artists due to release new albums this year. Amongst those listed were Yeah Yeah Yeahs, Atoms For Peace and Kings Of Leon “but that’s just wishful thinking” he added of the latter. The thing I took from speaking to him is we are reliant on pre-existing and established bands to keep the whole operation on the road. There are not many up and coming guitar bands.

     

    During the period of my research I was amazed by the amount of people who commented on the state of ‘manufactured’ music, especially the attempts by shows like X Factor to branch out with ‘winners’ like Matt Cardles and James Arthur who can hold a guitar. It’s hard however to maintain respect for anyone when you can see the price they were bought for.

    The joy of listening to a band or musician is to hear the progression they make form the first album where they don’t get the full works in terms of production, when they are seen as a risk. The songs they produce for the first album are the hard work, them honing their craft and finding their way in the world. The ones who make it to a second or third album and indeed beyond are those who have a gift for songwriting. The stories you have to tell once you have ‘made it’ are seemingly not as exciting and involving as the freshman effort, and that is where many meet their maker. With manufactured artists everything is thrown at them, a team of songwriters, top producers, radio play, total exposure, and you don’t get to enjoy the journey of it all. Seeing them break down over the loss of a childhood pet who always believed in their talent is just not the same thing.

     

    In terms of the way music is now being produced there were a mixture of opinions from people. Ariel, who works for New Jersey radio station The Core said it “doesn’t make any difference to her” how an album was recorded as long as it is bearable to listen to. “I don’t mind if it is in a fancy recording studio or in someone’s garage”.

    Meanwhile Lottie said “the best records in my mind are often (but not always) those that are simply recorded, and are always those that are not overproduced… if a band aren’t honest with how they sound then it almost defeats the object”.

     

    Ariel also said she had noticed there was a blurring of the lines between alternative stations and pop stations. While this can be seen as a positive as it gets a greater listenership and the opportunity to influence more young people to pick up instruments and try and make something meaningful, it also taints the music and the artists for those who sought it out and for who it was made special. While investigating the matter I received some flack for trying to drum up a redundant argument. I was told to seek out great music rather than accept what is offered to me. I try to do both, but it feels there is very little powerful music being created at the moment. I am open to being corrected, open to recommendations and a severe telling off.

    Janelle said she was simply too lazy to “Dig through the horseshit” to find new music. She complained it had got “terribly bleepy-bloopy”.

     

    Singer-songwriter Sam Sexton said some of the blame lies with the music venues themselves. “Good new bands find it hard to come through. 20 years ago live music clubs were ubiquitous, now they take a backseat and there is no good outlet unless you have the ability to market yourself”.

    This brings out another interesting discussion. It seems bands need to be able to package and develop themselves over the Internet in order to reach the people, rather than building a fan base in the traditional way of gigging as often as they possibly can.

    Florence & The Machine and Two Door Cinema Club were given radioplay following their BBC Introducing pages. Lily Allen was considered to be a MySpace star. Arctic Monkeys first EP was ripped and shared over the Internet to gain buzz. It seems increasingly if you want to get ahead as a band you have to put the hard work in yourself in terms of social networking. The problem is everything is trying to do this. In the same way all bands start out trying to emulate a hero’s sound, all bands try to emulate the success of YouTube or BandCamp sensations. In many way we are saturated with music. Before Internet downloads there were only the CDs you could afford to buy or burn copies of from friends. Before that there were only the tapes you could copy songs from the radio with or buy. Before that there were only vinyl.

    I spoke to my own father on the subject, who brought me up on a steady diet of T-Rex, David Bowie and Led Zeppelin. He plays in a 60’s and 70’s cover band. He said when he was a teenager he could only afford to buy one record a month and he would listen to it non stop and know every lyric and every guitar part through. That’s something we have lost.

    In a world where you can carry 8,000 songs around in your pocket, and have access to Spotify, YouTube and however else you choose to listen to music there is a big wall for artists, and the money is spreading thinner each time.

    Danielle commented “the likes of EMI, Sony BMG and so on need to start listening with their ears and not with their bank accounts”. This is all well and good in theory, but so is Communism.  In practice we are looking at a business, and the aim is obviously try and make as much money as possible.

     

    I asked a lot of people if rock was dead. It is possibly the most cliché question I have asked anyone in two years but that is often the best way to get a response from people sometimes. I believe for the most part it is dormant. It is rare to hear a recognisable riff in music today. Those that spring to mind come from the likes of Band Of Skulls, St Vincent, Jack White and The Black Keys, bands who are known, are established and are keeping the flame burning.

    There seems to be an essence of laziness to music today. It seems anyone can sit at a computer and throw something down, and I state that whilst spanking myself with a paddle for committing exactly that sin.

    We should be more concerned about the callouses on our fingers than the squareness of our eyes.

     

    A part of the problem is education. Music isn’t seen by the government as being important, despite David Cameron’s insistence that he loves The Smiths. A statement which moved Johnny Marr to ban him from listening to his music.

    I gained a lot more from music between the ages of eleven to sixteen than I ever did from maths. It’s a wider problem as well. The worlds of art and drama are sidelined for what are considered to be the core subjects. I don’t know why any school child would need to learn German unless they wanted to translate the complete works of Rammstein but I’m not in government and therefore obviously aren’t as savvy to the world as they are, from their ivory towers, with their two homes and fraudulent claims and benefits. 

     

    To return to the idea of cycles, in theory the next phase we repeat should therefore be the early nineties. Freelance writer Rob Thomas said “people will get fed up of bumf dink weeble weeble music and want more guitar based music… I think music has a cycle of about 25 to 30 years”. As far as I can see this will only be a good thing. Imagine if the ‘soft grunge’ fashions of the last year give rise to a resurgence of grunge music. The kids who tire of the current scene will dip back to Sonic Youth, Husker Du, Pixies and Nirvana. At the time it was a complete sub-culture and a complete fuck you to record companies and prancing about to backing tracks. It was gritty and it was real.

    It won’t be anything new in the immediate sense of the word but as Ariel commented “new music must always be compared to already existing music in order to fit into a category or several. Any new music will inevitably be stuffed into a genre, keeping a genre ‘alive’ in a sense… it seems critics and listeners are much more likely to smash twenty genres together to create an artist, rather than creating a new genre’.

     

    I’m reminded of a quote in Chbosky’s Perks. It was said no band could ever be as big as The Beatles because they gave the whole thing a context. Anybody following from that point is just emulating and that’s how sub-categories begin. Arguably Helter Skelter was the start of metal.

    There is always the hope something will come through and completely change music. As Kate said ‘rock never dies, it just goes underground it’s off the coke and ready for a comeback’. I read recent dub-step was the music of our generation, but if that’s the case I think I’ll sit this one out.

     

    I can’t predict the future. If I could I wouldn’t have included quite so many maybes in this article. What I will say is the floor is wide open for a new scene or culture or sub-genre of rock bands to come forth. It has been long enough. You may be reading this article with a guitar cradled in your lap. You may be planning on meeting up in a practice room or a garage with some friends, but there is no reason you couldn’t take what you are doing and blow an awful lot of turgid driftwood and shit clean out of the water.