tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13397422851080387622024-02-21T09:32:43.560+00:00Your Plastic ToyOne boy and his record collectionMichael-Jasonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15976377790773521706noreply@blogger.comBlogger200125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1339742285108038762.post-60914315844308102192014-05-06T21:28:00.000+01:002014-05-06T21:31:19.918+01:00'The Orb's Adventures Beyond The Ultraworld' - The Orb (1991)<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><i><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">“What were the skies like when you were young?”</span></i></span><br />
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">“Are next door mowing their lawn?”</span></span><br />
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">“No, Grandad - that sound’s on the record.”</span></span><br />
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">“Oh. Who is it?”</span></span><br />
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">“The Orb.”</span></span><br />
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">“What’s that dripping noise? Has nan left a tap on?”</span></span><br />
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">“It’s on the record, Grandad.”</span></span><br />
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">“Is that a plane? Or is this still The Orb?”</span></span><br />
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">“No, that’s a plane. But the spaceship you’re about to hear taking off is The Orb.”</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;">My grandparents and I loved those early Orb albums - my Grandad quickly acclimatised to the layers of samples woven in to each track. They were the soundtrack to our Sunday lunch. And our afternoon Scrabble games in my pos</span>t-college<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"> </span><a href="http://your-plastic-toy.blogspot.co.uk/2010/05/drowners-suede-1992.html" style="letter-spacing: 0px;" target="_blank">unemployed years</a><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;">. Perhaps not the audience or the environment Dr Alex Paterson had in mind for his visionary ambient experimentations. </span></span><br />
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">They are also great albums to put on while writing. Which I remembered today while tapping away at the day job. And for an hour I was transported. Off to the Ultraworld. Via my grandparents’ dining-room table. </span></span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Further reading: 'U.F. Orb (1992)'</td></tr>
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Michael-Jasonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15976377790773521706noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1339742285108038762.post-46816312554750238422014-02-19T16:41:00.001+00:002014-02-19T16:56:28.173+00:00'Tower Of Strength' - The Mission (1987)<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<i style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">“And you’re true to me,</span></i><br />
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><i><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">And still I need more”</span></i></span><br />
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">If you were looking for me on a Saturday night in 1987/88, the best place to start would have been The Astoria. Formerly on Charing Cross Road. Now dust on the wind. (Oh, how very poetic. Wayne Hussey would surely approve.) And much missed.</span></span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Not my pic. Happy to remove if anyone wants to claim it.</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;">Snake-dancing to All </span>About<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"> </span>Eve. <span style="letter-spacing: 0px;">Moshing to The Wonder Stuff. Choking on dry ice to The Nephilim. So very many formative gig experiences happened for me within its dark-to-the eye and tacky-to-the-touch walls. Most always in the company of my cousins or my friend Chris. We’d go back to school the following Monday laden with tales of taking an elbow to the face from a zealous stage-diver during ‘Too Many Castles In The Sky’ by Rose of Avalanche, while our classmates talked about a great pair of Hi-Tecs they’d bought in Farnborough. Could never understand why others didn’t want to share our world. “Hey, I got elbowed in the face. You don’t see the great joy of life in that? No?” </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;">Let’s avoid making a list. But if we were making a list, and it was called ‘Bands I Saw Most Often At The Astoria’, then straddling the misty peak like a gothic colossus would be (you guessed it) The Mission. They seemed to be the house band in those years. </span><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;">Even when they weren’t actually on the bill, various band members would pop up on stage for other people’s shows. And every time I saw them was a petal-strewn delight. </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;">My final </span>visit to <span style="letter-spacing: 0px;">The Astoria was for Kate Nash, Soko and Noah & The Whale. In 2008. There had been almost a twenty-year gap. But nothing had seemingly changed. Those walls were as dark and tacky as ever. Except, I noticed for the first time there was a balcony. It must have always been there, but us teenage goths had no time for balconies. Now none of it remains. Pushed aside to become an underground station entrance when they finally finish rebuilding Tottenham Court Road. Unlike all the ‘80s bands I saw there that have since come back together, this is one icon that unfortunately we won’t get to see reform.</span></span><span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; letter-spacing: 0px;"> </span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Oh, yes - those beloved multi-formats.<br />
Here's the limited 12-inch Bombay Mix.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">With insert and sticker.</td></tr>
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Michael-Jasonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15976377790773521706noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1339742285108038762.post-66169535780202176622014-02-11T18:01:00.003+00:002014-02-11T20:59:07.546+00:00'Rat Rapping' - Roland Rat Superstar (1983)<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><i><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">“With a penthouse suite, swimming pool,</span></i></span><br />
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><i><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Pretty young guinea-pigs playing it cool.”</span></i></span><br />
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">The Stones. The Who. The Bermuda Dimensions. A classic rock lineage. “Woah! Back it up! The Who?” Yes, the Who. Roger Daltrey. My Generation. “No, no…. the BERMUDA Who?” Oh, sorry. The Bermuda Dimensions. Otherwise known as TBD. (No-one ever called us that, but let’s shorten the name now or we’ll be here all day). Yes, my second band. Well, not mine, as such. The second band I was in with my cousins, Grant and Matthew. (New readers can catch up on the adventures of our first band right <a href="http://your-plastic-toy.blogspot.co.uk/2010/05/until-i-believe-in-my-soul-kevin.html" target="_blank">here</a>.) </span></span><br />
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">You haven’t heard of TBD? Pfft! Where you you in 1983? (Oh, really… well that explains it then. Anyway…) No, I’m not sure about the name either looking back at it. There were three of us. We had read some stuff about the Bermuda Triangle. 3D was on a second go-round at the cinemas. So, you can see where we were coming from at least.</span></span><br />
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">With cousin Matt on vocals, cousin Grant on keyboards and myself on rhythm guitar, we could best be defined as a ‘bedroom band’. Or even better defined as ‘the spare bedroom of my grandparents’ band’. There was no touring the pubs and the clubs of the UK for us. Mainly as we were only 12 years old. Our arena was the C90 cassette. And our sound was… well… kind of diluted rocky, poppy, shambolic noodling. Our influences were Dexys, ABC, Adam Ant, and the Human League. And we sounded spectacularly like none of them. Even when we were doing countless cover versions of their songs. </span></span><br />
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">It was another of our bands mainly inflicted on close family, and occasionally friends. But we did have one celebrity fan. Oh, yes. (Wait for it.) Roland Rat! "What?"</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;">Taking a cue from the cheeky self-promotion and enigmatic marketing of ZZT Records (Frankie, Art of Noise, Propaganda), much of our time which would have been best </span>utilised<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"> rehearsing, was spent creating an image around TBD. Extravagant cover art and lyric books. Tour posters for tours that were never going to happen. And, of course, a fan club. For one flat fee of 10 pence (bargain!) you got monthly newsletters, badges, album discounts (yes, ha ha), and loads of other stuff which most probably soon found a bin. </span></span><br />
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Our school friends all humoured us by signing up. (And my dad quickly lost his humour when he discovered how much printer ink I was using up for just 10p a fan.) But we knew what we really needed was a celebrity endorsement. And celebrities didn’t come much bigger at that time than Roland Rat. So I popped him a letter in the post offering free membership. And this came back…</span></span><br />
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;">Success! Of sorts. But, well, you know the ending to this. You've never heard of TBD. You won’t find our name in any Halls of Fame. Roland Rat didn’t help boost cassette sales in my school playground. Within a year we had gone our separate ways. But not for long. For about six weeks, in fact. As by the next half-term we were re-energised and our third band awaited. One that actually played a show. Kind of. But more of that in another post. (Hey - you only had to wait four years for this follow up.) </span></div>
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Michael-Jasonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15976377790773521706noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1339742285108038762.post-66193225564148368662014-02-08T17:35:00.002+00:002014-02-08T18:01:37.287+00:00‘You’re The One That I Want’ – John Travolta and Olivia Newton-John (1978)<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><i><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">“I got chills… </span></i></span><br />
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><i><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">They’re multiplying.”</span></i></span><br />
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Imagine a time when singles came without picture sleeves. “Woah! Singles! Pictures! Sleeves! Slow down, please.” Ok, first imagine a time when people actually bought singles. Let’s call it 1978. And now imagine them without picture sleeves. Yes, those were miserable times. All your favourite three minute vinyl wonders would be housed in cheap uniform paper sleeves. It’s almost like the global-multi-mega-conglomerate record labels didn’t care. As if these potent pop treasures were all thoroughly disposable.</span></span><br />
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">But I cared. I wasn't having all my singles dressed so shabbily. So, I got to work with a copy of Look-in magazine, kitchen scissors and sticky tape to create my own picture sleeves. With debatable results… </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; letter-spacing: 0px;">Oh, yes. It’s pretty clear to see the fledgling art director struggling to soar free within me at aged seven, I think we can all agree. Though whether this is an actual improvement on the plain sleeve provided is something I’ll leave for you to decide for yourself.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;">My love of sleeve design flourished further with the advent of recordable tapes. There was no way I was letting all those C90s stack up on my shelves with just the handwritten labels showing. Uh-uh. So I’d root </span>through<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"> the music papers for suitable sleeves. Which, as this was my Indie/Goth era, most usually meant stark black and white images of abandoned buildings. As we can see…</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Probably should have thought about adding titles to the covers. Save me having to remember them all. The 4AD/Factory fan in me wouldn't allow for that though.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; letter-spacing: 0px;">A missed career opportunity, methinks.</span><span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; letter-spacing: 0px;"> </span></div>
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Michael-Jasonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15976377790773521706noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1339742285108038762.post-12427164399903044492014-02-07T18:35:00.002+00:002014-02-07T18:35:52.661+00:00'Ant Rap' - Adam And The Ants (1981)<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhi6bf1p31UYyDwgo8efR0sQ849zVnvk3YiOaWuovUZACmZNm37S3bq7_eHycptmNIKjCag1d0GXGlYGl7gEXzs6jZrWHXX0cQjQFfq354idN-2gw0Bq0JQjOcFo-CWtwZ_CZ9Z_ZEeM9Q/s1600/photo+2.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhi6bf1p31UYyDwgo8efR0sQ849zVnvk3YiOaWuovUZACmZNm37S3bq7_eHycptmNIKjCag1d0GXGlYGl7gEXzs6jZrWHXX0cQjQFfq354idN-2gw0Bq0JQjOcFo-CWtwZ_CZ9Z_ZEeM9Q/s1600/photo+2.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><i><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">“All things lively must be used.”</span></i></span><br />
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Going to the dentist after school. Nothing worse. “Slight over-exaggeration perhaps, Michael?” Nope. You’ve already had to endure hours of double Science, orienteering (is that really a thing outside school?) in the driving rain, and an assembly about the dangers of climbing electrical pylons. And now you have to be picked up straight from end-of-day registration to go get your annual dental check-up. Which means you’re going to miss Danger Mouse, Dramarama and Blue Peter - and today they’re making a TARDIS out of a shoe box. And it will never be repeated as no-one has bothered inventing video recorders or the Internet yet. Argh! </span></span><br />
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Oh, and guess what? To prolong the torture, you’ll be kept waiting in the stuffy, windowless dentist’s reception room for an age. (An ‘age’ being more than three minutes in any young kid’s mind, of course.) And the TV in there is always broken, so no chance of seeing that TARDIS get built. Instead you can listen to the intermittent sound of drills and screaming. While watching a goldfish being victimised by a toddler throwing faux-Lego bricks in its tank. </span></span><br />
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">So far, all pretty much the norm. But today, on this late Tuesday afternoon in the early ‘80s, a new dimension of horror awaits. Oh, yes. For today I’m not (finally) being called to the dentist’s room. Today I’m being led down a new corridor. To a new door. That opens up to reveal giant steps down in to a darkened basement (you didn’t expect it to be a well-lit basement, did you?). This can’t be right. Hey, stop shoving. Ok, I’m going. Down. Down.</span></span><br />
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">What’s this? Why is Worzel Gummidge here? This is most odd. And somewhat terrifying. Why is my dentist secreting a life-sized model of Jon Pertwee dressed as ITV’s Saturday evening scarecrow superstar? And can we put some proper lights on instead of this weird red glow?</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; letter-spacing: 0px;">To this day, I do not know the link between good dental hygiene and that chamber of fear. Was this some UK-wide Government initiative or the machinations of a lone dental practitioner with a love for anthropomorphic farm-based characters? Was tatty old Worzel meant to represent a state of decay that would shock you in to brushing your teeth more? Or was he meant to be a welcoming face for children? I would have gone for Metal Mickey instead. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; letter-spacing: 0px;">I do know that I spent half an hour scared witless while chewing some tablets that turned my mouth red. And that Worzel came back to haunt my sleep that night. And the night after. And, to be honest, he’ll probably be coming back tonight after this. </span><br />
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Michael-Jasonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15976377790773521706noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1339742285108038762.post-87828435743066641442014-02-06T19:51:00.002+00:002014-02-06T20:03:42.549+00:00'Which Smiths Record Cover Are You?'<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><i>“</i>Michael, if this was a proper blog, you’d have one of those link-baiting personality tests everyone loves so much.” You’re right. Again. That’s why I love you so. Let’s get to it… </span></span><br />
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Just answer the three simple questions below to discover which Smiths album sleeve you are...</span></span><br />
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">1. </span></span><br />
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><b>Do you have a favourite colour?</b> (I don’t want to know the actual colour - it will have a negligible impact on the end result, believe me.) </span></span><br />
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">2. </span></span><br />
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><b>Have you ever watched a television show? </b>(You have? Excellent. This is going well, isn’t it?)</span></span><br />
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">3. </span></span><br />
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Something random about fruit. Erm… <b>Do you believe in bananas?</b> </span></span><br />
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Ok, that’s it. And I’ve decided that you are… </span></span><br />
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Yep, ‘The World Won’t Listen.’</span></span><br />
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Make of that what you will. It could mean you’re terribly introverted. Or then again, perhaps incredibly extroverted. Who am I to say? Try doing it again if you’d like another album. You won’t actually get one, but it will reconfirm your first choice. </span></span><br />
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Back to our regular programming tomorrow. Probably. </span></span><br />
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Michael-Jasonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15976377790773521706noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1339742285108038762.post-26217047187999138892014-01-30T18:50:00.000+00:002014-01-30T22:39:22.291+00:00'Old Man' - Neil Young (1972)<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<i style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">“Old man, take a look at my life,</span></i></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><i><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">I’m a lot like you.</span></i></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><i><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">I need someone to love me the whole day through.</span></i></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><i><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Ah, one look in my eyes and you can tell that’s true.”</span></i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; letter-spacing: 0.0px;">Never grow old. That’s what my Grandad used to tell me. Usually while he was contorting his aching limbs in to the cupboard under the stairs to find some fuse wire or an old tobacco box full of screws. Yes, I offered to help. But as I’m sure you know, grandparents keep everything in special places that only they can find and are impossible to describe, so there’s no point trying to look for them.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; letter-spacing: 0.0px;">Growing old though is something I’ve always relished. I felt like an octogenarian when I was just fifteen. Possibly as I was keen to escape my teenage years. But mostly because living with my grandparents was so enjoyable. I was eager to get to their age.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;">This was foolish, of course. Never wish your time away. My Grandad told me that too. But following his advice to never grow old will require inventing some kind of Marvel-style super serum that may well be beyond me. I need to hang out in more labs with evil geniuses. In the meantime, I’ll stay young the best way I know how... by being open to new ideas, experiences and adventures. </span>And<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"> keeping limber by climbing in and out of hall cupboards.</span></span><br />
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Footnote: This was one of my Grandad’s favourite songs. He would have been 93 today. Written by Neil Young for the caretaker of his Californian ranch, Louis Avila. Neil will tell you more (in a wonderful early performance, from the BBC archives)...</span></span><br />
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Michael-Jasonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15976377790773521706noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1339742285108038762.post-16217047852118458002014-01-28T19:02:00.001+00:002014-01-28T19:12:49.622+00:00'Stay' - Low (2013)<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<i style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">“I threw my hands in the air,</span></i><br />
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><i><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">And said, ‘Show me something.’”</span></i></span><br />
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Just can’t listen to cover versions of songs I love. Have I mentioned this before? It’s usually easily avoided. There’s not many bands looking to do covers of <a href="http://your-plastic-toy.blogspot.co.uk/2012/04/moonchild-fields-of-nephilim-1998.html" target="_blank">Fields Of The Nephilim</a> after all. But every so often I’ll be taken unawares and trapped. Watching a film perhaps. All going well. Yes, it looks like she remembers him from when they last met in that book shop in Paris seven years ago. When suddenly there’s a harpsichord version of The Cure’s ‘Just Like Heaven’. No. Please. No. </span></span><br />
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">But if it’s a band I love doing a cover of a song I don’t know, then I’m most usually always smitten. As is the case here with Duluth slowcore favourites Low. They could cover any song and I’d swoon. For this special split single they’ve chosen Rihanna’s ‘Stay’. I’ve haven’t heard the original. (Yes, I’m sure it was a huge hit and what planet have I been living on?) Is it good? No, I’m not going to listen to it. Am sure it will pop up in my life at some point. For today, it’s Low's glorious version that is playing on repeat.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; letter-spacing: 0px;">Have popped it below for you - though I’d encourage you to track it down at all good local independent retailers (and global online stores) if you like the sound of it (proceeds go to charity and all that). “But, Michael, we can’t listen to cover versions of Rihanna songs we already love.” Oh, now you’re just being difficult.</span><br />
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Michael-Jasonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15976377790773521706noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1339742285108038762.post-66950428560684713112014-01-26T18:26:00.000+00:002014-01-26T20:10:37.738+00:00'Down Under' - Men At Work (1982)<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<i style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">“He just smiled and gave me a Vegemite sandwich.”</span></i></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; letter-spacing: 0.0px;">Late Sunday afternoons at the turn of the ‘80s. 5 to 7pm. Fingers poised over the Play and Record buttons of my tape recorder. Which is pressed up against the single speaker of my AM radio. (We’re still a few years away from built-in stereo systems in my house.) All set for ‘the nation’s favourite countdown’ with Tony Blackburn on Radio One. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; letter-spacing: 0.0px;">There I would be week in, week out. Systematically killing music by home taping all my favourite Top 40 songs. In mono. Over a distorted speaker. With Tony Blackburn speaking over all the intros and outros. And my Mum calling me down for dinner half-way through whatever was number one that week. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; letter-spacing: 0.0px;">By my side would be my trusty Star Wars A4 notebook. Where I would jot down each chart act, song and position. Highlighting new entries. And indicating what was going up and what was going down. And by how many places. In different inks. All ready to be cross-referenced across weeks and months and years. An invaluable activity, I think you’d agree - and not at all related to my OCD.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; letter-spacing: 0px;">As my musical tastes transformed in my teens (see every other post on this blog), I outgrew this weekly chart show ritual. And I went from the constant childhood excitement you get from liking almost every song in the chart, to the rare gothic thrill you’d get from hearing any of your bands getting played on the radio at all. And then I discovered the John Peel Show. But that’s for another post on another day. (Ooh, it’s like a cliffhanger. Except not quite.) </span></div>
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Michael-Jasonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15976377790773521706noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1339742285108038762.post-50996018560760342652014-01-25T18:44:00.000+00:002014-01-30T22:38:35.901+00:00'Temptation' - New Order (1982)<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<i style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">“Up, down, turn around,</span></i></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><i><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Please don’t let me hit the ground. </span></i></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><i><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Tonight I think I’ll walk alone,</span></i></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><i><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">I’ll find my soul as I go home.”</span></i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; letter-spacing: 0.0px;">Songs about walking home alone. Those are my favourite songs. (He says, with the right to change his mind at any time, so don’t hold me to it.) See also The Smiths’ ‘Rusholme Ruffians’ (“Though I walk home alone, my faith in love is still devout”) and The Wedding Present’s ‘My Favourite Dress’ (“A long walk home in the pouring rain, I fell asleep when you never came”).</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; letter-spacing: 0.0px;">Can’t get enough of them. 'Now That’s What I Call Some Good Songs About Walking Home Alone.’ I’d buy that album. (Are you listening record companies?) </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; letter-spacing: 0.0px;">Of course, this is because I’ve spent far too much time traipsing around on my lonesome. Let’s just say it’s through choice and there’s a certain romanticism to it. (Except it’s not always. And for ‘romanticism’ read ‘bitter sting of rejection’.)</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; letter-spacing: 0px;">New Order’s ‘Temptation’ remains one of the most perfect songs to me. And marries my favourite theme of long walks home alone, with my second favourite theme of not being able to remember the colour of people’s eyes (“Oh, you’ve got green eyes; oh, you’ve got blue eyes; oh, you’ve got grey eyes”). It’s another of those songs that seems to capture one Saturday evening in March 1989 quite perfectly. The answer was she had grey eyes. Well, kind of more silver, but let’s not ruin my memory of the song.</span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Classic enigmatic Peter Saville cover. <br />
With the band's name nowhere to be found. </td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;">P.S. If you like your indie frontmen in white shorts, you'll love </span>this<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"> performance from the archives...</span></span><br />
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Michael-Jasonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15976377790773521706noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1339742285108038762.post-13423178467612825672014-01-24T18:30:00.001+00:002014-01-30T22:37:59.913+00:00'Inside Llewyn Davis' - Soundtrack (2013)<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<i style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">"Sure as a bird flying high above,</span></i></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><i><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Life ain't worth living without the one you love.</span></i></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><i><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Fare thee well, my honey,</span></i></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><i><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Fare thee well."</span></i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; letter-spacing: 0.0px;">“Michael, we’ve done an audit of your blog and found it significantly lacking in ‘of the moment’ content. That’s where the clicks are these days. So let’s not write about another obscure imported Clan of Xymox b-side and focus on something a bit more current, please.”</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; letter-spacing: 0.0px;">Don’t worry - I’m right on it. Look, it’s the 'Inside Llewyn Davis’ soundtrack. In all good cinemas today. If you live in the UK. Other folk got it earlier. And the soundtrack actually came out about two months ago. And most all the songs on it are ‘60s folk covers. Arrrgh! This isn’t ‘of the moment’ at all. Still, it’s all you’re getting today. And it is the most wonderful soundtrack - my favourite from last year.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; letter-spacing: 0.0px;">There’s a glorious ebb and flow to this set of songs (curated by T Bone Burnett) - from the plaintive pleas of ‘Hang Me, Oh Hang Me’ to the playful passion of ‘Please Mr. Kennedy’. (I can see you’re enjoying the alliteration there.) It made me pick up my guitar and want to learn them all. Except I’m not that good at finger-picking. It’s such a powerful soundtrack in fact, that it will knock down all your belief systems. “Er, really?” Oh, yes. I believed I would never (ever) buy a Justin Timberlake song. It proved me wrong.</span><br />
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;">If you're heading out to see the film this weekend (which is another Coen brothers gem, so please do), I’d pick the soundtrack up first so you can harmonise along with Carey Mulligan on ‘Five Hundred Miles’. Don’t worry about the startled looks of anyone around you in the cinema. In fact, they should do sing-along screenings. What a great idea. You heard it here first. Possibly. Can’t be sure - I don’t know everything else you’ve been reading. Let’s say that the majority of you heard it here first. Yes? </span></span></div>
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Michael-Jasonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15976377790773521706noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1339742285108038762.post-17804140403818333672014-01-20T19:05:00.001+00:002014-01-24T21:25:28.047+00:00'Happy When It Rains' - The Jesus & Mary Chain (1987)<div>
<div style="font-family: Arial;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><br /></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; letter-spacing: 0px;">Oh, you’re still here. Good, good. I was hoping you would be. What’s that? Oh, let’s not stop for questions. Let's call it the lost year. Here we go… </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="min-height: 11px;">
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<i style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">"And we lived our lives in black."</span></i></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; letter-spacing: 0.0px;">Hmm… why can’t I see Chewbacca’s face clearly? I’ve seen this film 56 times and I’m sure everyone’s favourite walking carpet was never such a fuzzy blur as this. Fuzzy, yes - he’s a Wookie after all. But never a blur. </span></div>
<div style="min-height: 11px;">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; letter-spacing: 0.0px;">This was the moment I realised I’d be needing glasses. Which as a child in the early '80s meant big, thick, plastic, tortoise shell NHS specs. The humiliation! I mean, they hardly complemented my fixed brace and Paddington Bear-style duffle coat. But it meant I could watch Star Wars again in all its low-res, slightly chewed, VHS glory - which was the most important thing in my life at that time (oh, how nothing changes). And in about a year’s time a certain Steven Patrick Morrissey was about to make my glasses very fashionable indeed - though not really in my corner of the playground where the Kids from Fame were the prime role models.</span></div>
<div style="min-height: 11px;">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; letter-spacing: 0px;">Despite the nascent thrills of actually being able to see things again, my 20/20 vision was pretty short-lived. Bewitched by the screeching Siren call of the Mary Chain, my de rigueur floppy indie fridge was to quickly obscure all before it and Chewbacca once again became a fuzzy blur in my life for the next decade. As did most of my classmates - which explains why I never recognise any of them at reunions (the comic effect of this would work better if you believe for a fleeting moment that I’m the sort of person that actually goes to class reunions). And road signs - which most probably contributed to my failed <a href="http://your-plastic-toy.blogspot.co.uk/2010/06/drive-blind-ride-1989.html" target="_blank">driving test</a>. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; letter-spacing: 0px;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="min-height: 11px;">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghQ38gAoirAFYejYYYTPlXtzkZ46Y9b01qglL1cf4HynqyUj12T-HKO1SpTfAM9BZ9q24UQGGubIBk00d6etENgUAvCdEcdVSnhotJEh_9o6V6GG9_QCSYnM3m2r-zrN11GxKUqD56Kec/s1600/323_28369817300_1299_n.jpg" height="320" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="252" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Me. And fringe. Circa 1988.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; letter-spacing: 0px;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; letter-spacing: 0px;">Of course, no such fringe issues exist today. Ah, the dangers of backcombing. </span></div>
<div style="font-size: 10px; min-height: 11px;">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span><br /></span></div>
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Michael-Jasonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15976377790773521706noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1339742285108038762.post-67873132137911149242012-11-03T18:28:00.001+00:002012-11-03T18:28:29.113+00:00'Anaconda' - The Sisters Of Mercy (1983)<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5A5aniV-MXlPHzsWfQOc5gYm7pTZMMyPVosjeSywjhPjbS1BAA5qk0OYOVqOyfomjJa_jcV6QOOHZI2xQ-X_fsgi5-RTNgT5n86Xg_IwPUlCRfgQCIK7XHnLNyoKthxLWnSuRQIOKQ2o/s1600/DSC03455.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5A5aniV-MXlPHzsWfQOc5gYm7pTZMMyPVosjeSywjhPjbS1BAA5qk0OYOVqOyfomjJa_jcV6QOOHZI2xQ-X_fsgi5-RTNgT5n86Xg_IwPUlCRfgQCIK7XHnLNyoKthxLWnSuRQIOKQ2o/s320/DSC03455.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoBodyText">
<i><span lang="FR" style="line-height: 150%;"><br /></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoBodyText">
<span style="color: #666666;"><i><span lang="FR" style="line-height: 150%;">"</span></i><i><span lang="FR" style="line-height: 150%;">She will, she will, she will, she will,</span></i></span></div>
<div class="MsoBodyText">
<i><span lang="FR" style="line-height: 150%;"><span style="color: #666666;">Let it take her breath away."</span><o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoBodyText">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoBodyText">
<span lang="FR" style="line-height: 150%;">The garden’s
on fire. From an exploding rocket far too big for a milk bottle. It immediately
toppled over and shot the firework along the ground. And there goes the rhubarb
patch. That was the first and last firework night my dad hosted at home. The
very reason they recommend organised displays. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoBodyText">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoBodyText">
<span lang="FR" style="line-height: 150%;">Our annual local
display up at the park by the shops had recently been cancelled though from a complete
lack of organisation in previous years. I’m not sure who even was supposed to
be in charge of it. Or how it lasted so long. I clearly remember rockets
raining in to the audience one year – though fortunately no-one was hurt. And
the highlight was always the perilously huge bonfire. This was basically an
excuse for the local estates to clear out their houses and save money on a
skip. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoBodyText">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoBodyText">
<span lang="FR" style="line-height: 150%;">For weeks,
the bonfire would build and build. Anything and everything was thrown on to it.
From mattresses to gas canisters. And it towered over the park. You could
imagine Richard Dreyfuss making mashed potato sculptures of it at the dinner
table. By the time November 5th rolled round, this beast of a bonfire was so volatile
that there was no need for an elaborate lighting ceremony. Basically anyone within
a mile of it with a sparkler was likely to set it off. And the heat and roar of
the flames was intense. It was no wonder the park had so few trees and so
little grass left. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoBodyText">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoBodyText">
<span lang="FR" style="line-height: 150%;">The unbridled
fun and total disregard for safety didn’t end there. For days after, the
bonfire would be left unattended and smoldering away in the park. And then the
games began. ‘Jump The Bonfire’. ‘Walk Through The Bonfire Without Melting Your
School Shoes’. ‘Throw Your Friend’s New Gym Bag In The Bonfire’. Happy days.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoBodyText">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoBodyText">
<span lang="FR" style="line-height: 150%;">About a month
later you’d see a couple of men in suits slowly circumnavigating the enormous
burnt patch in the middle of the park and looking mighty miffed. As if they could
clearly remember their council department disallowing any bonfire event to take
place here, and they weren’t ready to believe that these were the markings left
by an alien spacecraft. Meanwhile, the locals would already have begun hoarding
petrol cans and asbestos ceiling tiles to fuel next year’s bonfire. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoBodyText">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgg7fi468-oYwZ3qWjDtyr5I_NeBeNB_QpOo8do_I9S5Sm6t6pnawjP3zdSWpWkHVmUyr8PPCC_Nop8yg9ULNExjTHkRjqciNREH8kx96ykEzNNDejOV83NhzS8NJAVIwYIQwd2ZxtLAQc/s1600/DSC03461.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgg7fi468-oYwZ3qWjDtyr5I_NeBeNB_QpOo8do_I9S5Sm6t6pnawjP3zdSWpWkHVmUyr8PPCC_Nop8yg9ULNExjTHkRjqciNREH8kx96ykEzNNDejOV83NhzS8NJAVIwYIQwd2ZxtLAQc/s320/DSC03461.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoBodyText">
<i><span lang="FR" style="line-height: 150%;"><br /></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoBodyText">
<i><span lang="FR" style="line-height: 150%;"><span style="color: #666666;">Spotify linky:</span></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoBodyText">
<span lang="EN-US"><a href="http://open.spotify.com/track/0gfb9Ez2OUfMbHnFnK5K4J">Sisters Of Mercy –
Anaconda</a></span><b><span lang="FR" style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;"><o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
Michael-Jasonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15976377790773521706noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1339742285108038762.post-29809336235472791492012-10-20T16:51:00.001+01:002012-10-20T16:54:10.011+01:00'Gimme Shelter' - The Rolling Stones (1969)<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigmQxjGpJ_wJ9wtqPV5B08_ls11_qxoWe50BqoQ91AGHbDOkNoFLdz4pdbq_kwj0LkW8wzFkHrJU7YY2i1-3p4F7rKwQ9vraF9ImoNKO7xaQfTFqgJOJyWyEe9SkSRoXzJ9nmg3cWINOI/s1600/DSC03453.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigmQxjGpJ_wJ9wtqPV5B08_ls11_qxoWe50BqoQ91AGHbDOkNoFLdz4pdbq_kwj0LkW8wzFkHrJU7YY2i1-3p4F7rKwQ9vraF9ImoNKO7xaQfTFqgJOJyWyEe9SkSRoXzJ9nmg3cWINOI/s320/DSC03453.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoBodyText">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoBodyText">
<i><span lang="FR" style="line-height: 150%;"><span style="color: #666666;">"War, children,</span></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoBodyText">
<i><span lang="FR" style="line-height: 150%;"><span style="color: #666666;">It’s just a shot away."</span><o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoBodyText">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoBodyText">
<span lang="FR" style="line-height: 150%;">No-one needs
to buy a Rolling Stones record. That’s what I used to think. Their poppy hits were played
non-stop on Radio One when I was growing up. To the point that the songs were
drained of any resonance. And then I heard The Sisters Of Mercy’s version of ‘Gimme
Shelter’. A maelstrom of apocalyptic visions and pounding rhythms. I expected
this from The Sisters of Mercy. But from the Stones? How little did I know.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoBodyText">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoBodyText">
<span lang="FR" style="line-height: 150%;">My parents
record collection was light on Stones albums, so it was off to Our Price for any
album they had with ‘Gimme Shelter’ on. Which was this Greatest Hits double set.
Here my love of the Stones began. In their hands, ‘Gimme Shelter’ was something
else again. It simply reverberated with unbridled emotion. This is what Steve Wright should have been playing on the Radio One Roadshow. And to think I still had to
discover ‘Sticky Fingers’, ‘Exile On Main Street’, and so very many more.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoBodyText">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoBodyText">
<span lang="FR" style="line-height: 150%;">I think we’ve
all learnt something here about misconceptions. I’m now ready to hear The
Sisters Of Mercy cover something by Genesis. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoBodyText">
<span lang="FR" style="line-height: 150%;"><br /></span></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisC93f2CSZ8z-fKan5sdScaqj-ZqdOaAL90t9UVEcZZwu4zqejF0V6OM2N0aA2ViYos_jncqGZlTxzC-WiBemeLda-2JT48tcFQKjXA0t7RUVDtcKOIY1NoPskt__ROwfPpGSc18TPUd8/s1600/premiere.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisC93f2CSZ8z-fKan5sdScaqj-ZqdOaAL90t9UVEcZZwu4zqejF0V6OM2N0aA2ViYos_jncqGZlTxzC-WiBemeLda-2JT48tcFQKjXA0t7RUVDtcKOIY1NoPskt__ROwfPpGSc18TPUd8/s320/premiere.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Mick, Keith, Ronnie, Charlie and Bill introduce last week's <br />
world premiere of 'Crossfire Hurricane' at the London Film Festival. </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoBodyText">
<i><span lang="FR" style="line-height: 150%;"><br /></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoBodyText">
<i><span lang="FR" style="line-height: 150%;"><span style="color: #666666;">Spotify linkys:</span></span></i><span lang="FR" style="line-height: 150%;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoBodyText">
<span lang="EN-US"><a href="http://open.spotify.com/track/1dv3ePjze9tPq2pk8eWJdR">The Rolling Stones
– Gimme Shelter</a></span><b><span lang="FR" style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;"><o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
<div class="MsoBodyText">
<a href="http://open.spotify.com/track/7vt8y7XWRtTkuLJUiyqoiv">Sisters Of Mercy – Gimme Shelter</a></div>
Michael-Jasonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15976377790773521706noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1339742285108038762.post-45577441505010747532012-10-12T17:49:00.000+01:002012-10-12T18:03:54.747+01:00'Ants Invasion' - Adam And The Ants (1980)<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWXx08TrWok1fwt61P9uF8DM5yXL9Yyvx7p8K5XI0pOpxfuSdnvaKoEKT-yfYYdK9IcwU8U22l97gnV3SQe3UD0sP8u1YqztMN2Hy-i__45zJei59DY6AEqjVxTe39-SchYRii-aVNf00/s1600/DSC03420.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWXx08TrWok1fwt61P9uF8DM5yXL9Yyvx7p8K5XI0pOpxfuSdnvaKoEKT-yfYYdK9IcwU8U22l97gnV3SQe3UD0sP8u1YqztMN2Hy-i__45zJei59DY6AEqjVxTe39-SchYRii-aVNf00/s320/DSC03420.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoBodyText">
<i><span lang="FR" style="line-height: 150%;"><span style="color: #666666;"><br /></span></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoBodyText">
<i><span lang="FR" style="line-height: 150%;"><span style="color: #666666;">"10.35 and I hope I’ve made the right decision.</span></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoBodyText">
<i><span lang="FR" style="line-height: 150%;"><span style="color: #666666;">Heart is beating;<o:p></o:p></span></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoBodyText">
<i><span lang="FR" style="line-height: 150%;"><span style="color: #666666;">I’m alive,<o:p></o:p></span></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoBodyText">
<i><span lang="FR" style="line-height: 150%;"><span style="color: #666666;">But I don’t call this living."</span><o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoBodyText">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoBodyText">
<span lang="FR" style="line-height: 150%;">"Don’t go in the
bamboo!" These were the chilling words of warning I’d hear endless times as a kid. From my
parents. From my teachers. Everyone seemed spooked by bamboo. These days it’s
all pubescent vampires and post-apocalyptic zombies. Back in the Seventies it was
giant grass.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoBodyText">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoBodyText">
<span lang="FR" style="line-height: 150%;">There were
tales. Told by flickering candlelight on cruel October nights. Well, some of
them. Others were told under the flickering school hall strip lights in morning
assembly. Of children being shredded alive by running through the bamboo patch on
the school playing field. "Hold it there! What?!" Yes, exactly. I’m not sure who
the school thought they were fooling with this. How come these grisly deaths by
menacing perennial evergreens never appeared in the local paper? And why didn’t
they just chop the bamboo patch down? I’m pretty sure our Head Master was cribbing
his assembly notes from a Stephen King book. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoBodyText">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoBodyText">
<span lang="FR" style="line-height: 150%;">And then
there was the Bamboo Man. Who lived in the woods near our house. Apparently. "Stay away from the Bamboo Man!" "Is he made of bamboo then?" "Er, no. He lives in
the bamboo." "Well, the name needs some work." Of course, the tales of a Bamboo Man just made you want to play in the woods even more. Would we see him? What
did he eat? Did he steal those Micronauts I hid in the silver birch last week? <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoBodyText">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoBodyText">
<span lang="FR" style="line-height: 150%;">It would seem Bamboo Man was only visible to adults though, as none of us kids ever spotted him.
Despite continually throwing rocks and assorted masonry in to the bamboo to
flush him out. Kids, eh? <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoBodyText">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoBodyText">
<span lang="FR" style="line-height: 150%;">Three decades
later though, I hear he’s still dwelling there. Well, that’s what my eleven-year-old
nephew has been told. Surely this must be Son Of Bamboo Man by now though? And
why is all this bamboo still around? Is someone panda farming in the area? Don’t
people own scythes anymore? <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoBodyText">
<span lang="FR" style="line-height: 150%;"> <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoBodyText">
<i><span lang="FR" style="line-height: 150%;"><span style="color: #666666;">Spotify linky:</span></span></i><span lang="FR" style="line-height: 150%;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoBodyText">
<span lang="EN-US"><a href="http://open.spotify.com/track/588TFCvzyzR4eYFv19DEkw">Adam & The Ants
– Ants Invasion</a></span><b><span lang="FR" style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;"><o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
<div class="MsoBodyText">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoBodyText">
P.S. It's always a delight when I open an album sleeve and some forgotten treasure spills out. Today it was this 12-page catalogue...</div>
<div class="MsoBodyText">
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Michael-Jasonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15976377790773521706noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1339742285108038762.post-85286682964538677932012-10-08T20:38:00.000+01:002012-10-08T22:28:14.470+01:00'Raiders Of The Lost Ark' - John Williams (1981)<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCwNwpgdxiIUvjUK-OdsN88Gus4m6MdyUJWkZ_eDBR5nrX-x49mA5SS8lOePcVwCHQ_UeF3HNrzO3GKLe_CAvO95bjod8z3Gt-QY1PUpvkmEFdltU-Sb95N1meDxxw4i8thlZ_35im4uM/s1600/DSC03416.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCwNwpgdxiIUvjUK-OdsN88Gus4m6MdyUJWkZ_eDBR5nrX-x49mA5SS8lOePcVwCHQ_UeF3HNrzO3GKLe_CAvO95bjod8z3Gt-QY1PUpvkmEFdltU-Sb95N1meDxxw4i8thlZ_35im4uM/s320/DSC03416.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="color: #666666;"><i><span lang="FR" style="line-height: 150%;">"</span></i><i><span lang="FR" style="line-height: 150%;">Dah-da-da-da,</span></i></span></div>
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<i><span lang="FR" style="line-height: 150%;"><span style="color: #666666;">Dah-da-dah."</span><o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoBodyText">
<span lang="FR" style="line-height: 150%;">Was anyone
here at my 10th birthday? I’m thinking of holding a reunion. It’s a long shot,
I know. Especially as I think I only invited about three friends. Who I haven't seen for three decades. Can you guess
what we saw? (Though the film actually has a different official title now. ‘Indiana
Jones and the Raiders of the Lost Ark.’ Mr Lucas just loves to tinker.) <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoBodyText">
<span lang="FR" style="line-height: 150%;">This was my last
birthday party. I peaked at 10. There would be no coming-of-age-type-events as
I turned 18 and 21. No need. I’d seen Harrison Ford escape a giant rolling
boulder. What was going to top that? <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoBodyText">
<span lang="FR" style="line-height: 150%;">Only one other
party comes to mind when I was younger. A dinosaur and pirates themed event in
a local school church when I was about six. Shared with another boy in my class
who had a birthday that week. I liked dinosaurs. He liked pirates. I wish I’d
gone as a dinosaur pirate now. That would have been spectacular. Perhaps it’s
not too late. I need to roll these parties together. A screening of ‘Raiders’
with everyone dressed as dinosaur pirates. And there’ll be warm Kia-Ora and a box
of stale Revels for all. Who’s in? <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoBodyText">
<i><span style="color: #666666;">Spotify linky:</span></i></div>
<div class="MsoBodyText">
<span lang="EN-US"><a href="http://open.spotify.com/track/21lBMezfglqIAEBrVVWxSV">John Williams – The
Map Room: Dawn</a></span><b><span lang="FR" style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;"><o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
Michael-Jasonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15976377790773521706noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1339742285108038762.post-56363434416409209502012-10-06T17:42:00.000+01:002012-10-06T18:15:13.840+01:00'Boys Don't Cry (New Voice)' - The Cure (1986)<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCOEtEYmMmHmyRBGz1SRnK-aN13C6-xKAu6VZk3vBdjnCeE_xtURpamQ6NtRu-WV4b6g6PNeHA9UZwm_CqhloXq_S9w-F2LOshaAr-i3DQsojs6xj8G4V_TiJXdVXwDAI69UD-HOZRdk8/s1600/DSC03409.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCOEtEYmMmHmyRBGz1SRnK-aN13C6-xKAu6VZk3vBdjnCeE_xtURpamQ6NtRu-WV4b6g6PNeHA9UZwm_CqhloXq_S9w-F2LOshaAr-i3DQsojs6xj8G4V_TiJXdVXwDAI69UD-HOZRdk8/s320/DSC03409.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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<div class="MsoBodyText">
<i><span lang="EN-US" style="background-color: white; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; line-height: 150%;"><span style="color: #444444;">"I try and laugh about it,</span></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoBodyText">
<i><span lang="EN-US" style="background-color: white; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; line-height: 150%;"><span style="color: #444444;">Hiding the tears in my eyes."</span><o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoBodyText">
<span lang="FR" style="line-height: 150%;">The Eighties
in one image. Well, my Eighties. I can’t speak for the striking coal miners or
those that fought in the Falklands War. I’m thinking they’d probably choose
something less frivolous.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoBodyText">
<span lang="FR" style="line-height: 150%;">My Sixth Form
days would begin and end with this poster of Robert Smith hanging over my bed.
My black school folders had this silhouette drawn on them in silver pen. My
friend <a href="http://your-plastic-toy.blogspot.co.uk/2011/05/thorn-of-crowns-echo-and-bunnymen-1984.html" target="_blank">Toni</a> had a Boys Don’t Cry T-shirt she wore one summer day we were
walking her dogs over the fuel allotments. It was on badges I found in
<a href="http://your-plastic-toy.blogspot.co.uk/2010/06/snake-dance-march-violets-1984.html" target="_blank">Kensington Market</a> and postcards bought on the Isle of Wight. I’m surprised I
didn’t get it as a tattoo. (Well, not that surprised, actually.) <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoBodyText">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoBodyText">
<span lang="FR" style="line-height: 150%;">And, of course,
I’d painstakingly copy that look. Plumes of distressed hair, over-sized suit
jackets, high-tops with multiple sets of laces, and a guitar slung nonchalantly over my shoulder (the guitar was one fashion accessory too far, to be honest - especially when out shopping or visiting the dentist). It would be a long time
until another sleeve had that impact on me again. Probably ‘Life Is A Rollercoaster’
by Ronan Keating. Ho ho ho. </span></div>
<div class="MsoBodyText">
<br /></div>
<iframe allowfullscreen="allowfullscreen" frameborder="0" height="349" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/9GkVhgIeGJQ" width="400"></iframe>Michael-Jasonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15976377790773521706noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1339742285108038762.post-60212648819261460062012-09-22T18:00:00.000+01:002012-09-22T18:03:00.279+01:00'Weightless Again' - The Handsome Family (1998) <br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtiv5Uj47C4Fms3ksp8CX_74qB4bUshyphenhyphencDaoiwlCw1rg87vC3_3q7YgiEfFA_tc58dfEaUU3sHfOs5_z-uoLtrKQnkk7War7WsEjaWVCjBJc7gRZuPmnEMPCoKraerI_ymkghBa1LfhKw/s1600/DSC03395.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtiv5Uj47C4Fms3ksp8CX_74qB4bUshyphenhyphencDaoiwlCw1rg87vC3_3q7YgiEfFA_tc58dfEaUU3sHfOs5_z-uoLtrKQnkk7War7WsEjaWVCjBJc7gRZuPmnEMPCoKraerI_ymkghBa1LfhKw/s320/DSC03395.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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<div class="MsoBodyText">
<i><span lang="EN-US" style="background-color: white; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; line-height: 150%;"><span style="color: #666666;">"We stopped for coffee in the Redwood forest;<o:p></o:p></span></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoBodyText">
<i><span lang="EN-US" style="background-color: white; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; line-height: 150%;"><span style="color: #666666;">Giant dripping leaves,<o:p></o:p></span></span></i></div>
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<i><span lang="EN-US" style="background-color: white; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; line-height: 150%;"><span style="color: #666666;">Spoons of powdered cream.<o:p></o:p></span></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoBodyText">
<i><span lang="EN-US" style="background-color: white; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; line-height: 150%;"><span style="color: #666666;">I wanted to kiss you, but wasn’t sure how."</span><o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoBodyText">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoBodyText">
<span lang="FR" style="line-height: 150%;">There’s a
note waiting for me in the hallway. Must be from my new neighbours welcoming me
to the building. Yes, it’s from the girl next door. But she seems to have
skipped straight over the welcoming part and launched straight in to ‘Please don’t
play any music between 11pm and 8am’. That’s friendly. Especially as I haven’t
even played a single song yet. Guess she must have noticed that the dozen crates
I moved in yesterday were all labelled ‘Records’. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoBodyText">
<span lang="FR" style="line-height: 150%;">She needn’t
have worried. My <a href="http://your-plastic-toy.blogspot.co.uk/2010/05/feed-me-with-your-kiss-my-bloody.html" target="_blank">tinnitus</a> means I can never play anything loud anyway. And over
the next couple of years, I often thought I’m the one who should be writing
letters as she seemed to be continually throwing Proclaimers-themed parties.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoBodyText">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoBodyText">
<span lang="FR" style="line-height: 150%;">Fourteen
years later, she’s moved on. And I’m still here. Nesting. Moving again seems
too much of an ordeal. Far easier to just buy every flat on this floor and
knock through. That’s the plan. At least that was the plan, until my friend
pointed out that when I’m older I’ll be stuck three floors up with no lift. Hmm.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoBodyText">
<span lang="FR" style="line-height: 150%;"> </span></div>
<div class="MsoBodyText">
<i><span lang="FR" style="line-height: 24px;"><br /></span></i>
<iframe allowfullscreen="allowfullscreen" frameborder="0" height="369" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/dEL5F_ulqbs" width="400"></iframe><br />
<i><span lang="FR" style="line-height: 24px;"><br /></span></i>
<i><span lang="FR" style="line-height: 24px;">Spotify linky:</span></i><br />
<span lang="EN-US"><a href="http://open.spotify.com/track/4PucjIMWobcYWZuAgvxosT">The Handsome Family
– Weightless Again</a><o:p></o:p></span></div>
Michael-Jasonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15976377790773521706noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1339742285108038762.post-13682573533227170752012-09-15T15:58:00.001+01:002012-09-15T15:58:28.461+01:00'(Hey You) Rock Steady Crew' - Rock Steady Crew (1983)<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilBKmu4znhFks6dzimBxRwehEw2m2eKhRQkFo7dRBJD31aTXwuEANrTYmZlkG8V_ZeZ4ErfkoJoCH9-43jQ6vUYZ88bBXG_k7dmwjGVBIumqXqr1AD0sJKbuZZmHUgZd3uPtlxPht5CTo/s1600/DSC03377.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilBKmu4znhFks6dzimBxRwehEw2m2eKhRQkFo7dRBJD31aTXwuEANrTYmZlkG8V_ZeZ4ErfkoJoCH9-43jQ6vUYZ88bBXG_k7dmwjGVBIumqXqr1AD0sJKbuZZmHUgZd3uPtlxPht5CTo/s320/DSC03377.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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<i><span lang="EN-US" style="background-color: white; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; line-height: 150%;"><span style="color: #666666;">"Bodies in expression of music inspiration,<o:p></o:p></span></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoBodyText">
<i><span lang="EN-US" style="background-color: white; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; line-height: 150%;"><span style="color: #666666;">Tell us when you feel it,<o:p></o:p></span></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoBodyText">
<i><span lang="EN-US" style="background-color: white; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; line-height: 150%;"><span style="color: #666666;">‘Cause we’re gonna rock the nation."</span><o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoBodyText">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoBodyText">
<span lang="FR" style="line-height: 150%;">Hip hop was
my life. For one weekend in 1983. Think I got carried away by a trip to
Croydon. It always seemed like Judge Dredd’s Mega-City One when I was a kid. With
its towering concrete edifices, block wars, Umpty-baggers, chump dumping and Stookie
glanding. (Ok, I may have over-stretched that analogy a little.). The big difference
was that Croydon seemed more lawless. (Yeah, yeah, only joking. Or am I? Yes, I am.) </span></div>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbnR1hMe3-WbksstEVkzCQGxxBqWnpoDulzAktLawf0ODaA5h5RjQA4xJxz5mI5gku4Z28PIVHoYhfhw6tLNiF5K0b_bku1OTxlYVI1Y8-cNM22p0IKbrxf9L1L01ZUXYvs08jDV3BqqM/s1600/mc2david+erskine.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="101" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbnR1hMe3-WbksstEVkzCQGxxBqWnpoDulzAktLawf0ODaA5h5RjQA4xJxz5mI5gku4Z28PIVHoYhfhw6tLNiF5K0b_bku1OTxlYVI1Y8-cNM22p0IKbrxf9L1L01ZUXYvs08jDV3BqqM/s320/mc2david+erskine.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Mega-City One illustrated by Gary Erskine.<br /></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoBodyText">
<span style="line-height: 150%;">Weekend shopping
trips to Croydon with my grandparents meant I got gifts. Which is how I found
myself in Our Price buying this 12-inch. My one connection to a scene that had
nothing to do with my life. I wasn’t about to start popping and locking any time
soon. But I’d seen someone breakdancing on a bit of cardboard outside Bejams earlier. Next to
a wall covered in amateurish graffiti. So this seemed like a suitable souvenir. </span><span style="line-height: 150%;"> </span><span style="line-height: 150%;"> </span><span style="line-height: 150%;"> </span><span style="line-height: 150%;"> </span><span style="line-height: 150%;"> </span></div>
<div class="MsoBodyText">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoBodyText">
<span lang="FR" style="line-height: 150%;">How different
my life could have been if I’d let a little more electric boogaloo in to my
world. Instead, the enchanting sirens of gothdom were beckoning me.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoBodyText">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjQQVHhyphenhyphenf5VYBCyAfYdMpC9qsnys-hc6_l2-W8VFQ5X_6yNc_4onzuiz__5LR7T44IgmxcNDPZ7tf_SoajFPhC2TKf_EZmSJSVsfxnuGpgjAaToX0WppfzkPO-BFnIIO5lEWHwzsEuoWI/s1600/DSC03384.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjQQVHhyphenhyphenf5VYBCyAfYdMpC9qsnys-hc6_l2-W8VFQ5X_6yNc_4onzuiz__5LR7T44IgmxcNDPZ7tf_SoajFPhC2TKf_EZmSJSVsfxnuGpgjAaToX0WppfzkPO-BFnIIO5lEWHwzsEuoWI/s320/DSC03384.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoBodyText">
<br /></div>
<iframe allowfullscreen="allowfullscreen" frameborder="0" height="349" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/c4J-EVxMcd0?rel=0" width="400"></iframe>Michael-Jasonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15976377790773521706noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1339742285108038762.post-87459856761207726572012-09-12T12:11:00.001+01:002012-09-12T13:20:21.580+01:00'Where's Me Jumper?' - Sultans Of Ping F.C. (1991)<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPRCErRopZtpXkeed5FdTZTEXNA1kWm0e4Gye60uwIJ5ZJTPPHwD9MF2yzswYC30f5mNlpW1tENTOsHRxj6F1w5vYwCXNoysF_U72PmmCnN17b8wKiyFCMD10KEw86pxK6MTofJ5y1Udg/s1600/DSC03372.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPRCErRopZtpXkeed5FdTZTEXNA1kWm0e4Gye60uwIJ5ZJTPPHwD9MF2yzswYC30f5mNlpW1tENTOsHRxj6F1w5vYwCXNoysF_U72PmmCnN17b8wKiyFCMD10KEw86pxK6MTofJ5y1Udg/s320/DSC03372.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoBodyText">
<i><span lang="EN-US" style="background-color: white; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; line-height: 150%;"><span style="color: #666666;">"It’s alright to say things can only get better;</span></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoBodyText">
<i><span lang="EN-US" style="background-color: white; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; line-height: 150%;"><span style="color: #666666;">You haven’t lost your brand new sweater."</span><o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoBodyText">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoBodyText">
<span lang="FR" style="line-height: 150%;">"We’re on the
cover of Melody Maker, Michael."<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoBodyText">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoBodyText">
<span lang="FR" style="line-height: 150%;">"Really, Chris?
Because I’ve got it right here and I can’t see us. There’s four mud-caked
lads staring at me."<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoBodyText">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-beI9wOyWZ3FRGxbFHqOL5SG2t0CI-HXPaHPnWfh2461cfkz5_4Z0kpUGXHkenSTpOGna0YzNxjyMoqx4ljUgeuiQEIud8Dw178pVQ4V43lB6tsk3XbQ-EHSjy4oq4flt0tJqu0hl60o/s1600/mm.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-beI9wOyWZ3FRGxbFHqOL5SG2t0CI-HXPaHPnWfh2461cfkz5_4Z0kpUGXHkenSTpOGna0YzNxjyMoqx4ljUgeuiQEIud8Dw178pVQ4V43lB6tsk3XbQ-EHSjy4oq4flt0tJqu0hl60o/s320/mm.jpg" width="233" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoBodyText">
<span lang="FR" style="line-height: 150%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoBodyText">
<span style="line-height: 150%;">"Ignore them.
Look between the middle two guys at the crowd in the background. And to the
right. That’s your giant parka and the back of your head."</span></div>
<div class="MsoBodyText">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoBodyText">
<span lang="FR" style="line-height: 150%;">"Hmmm.
Perhaps."<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoBodyText">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoBodyText">
<span lang="FR" style="line-height: 150%;">"And that’s me
next to you, Michael."<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoBodyText">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoBodyText">
<span lang="FR" style="line-height: 150%;">"Hmmm. I won’t
be getting it framed."<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoBodyText">
<span lang="FR" style="line-height: 150%;"><br /></span></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHUjuzo5rAkyh_ML_Y5HvHae9Z_QRaMh-B1oiYhUFTD8QfUA44l4jVUMNOjBMNE-DUu1yH73NR_B0dAh_SniZQmy2P03AHu6ftyUASgjT7TOj2hAYvRFv0cFC0splbp6zJhM56i5riAEo/s1600/reading92.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHUjuzo5rAkyh_ML_Y5HvHae9Z_QRaMh-B1oiYhUFTD8QfUA44l4jVUMNOjBMNE-DUu1yH73NR_B0dAh_SniZQmy2P03AHu6ftyUASgjT7TOj2hAYvRFv0cFC0splbp6zJhM56i5riAEo/s320/reading92.jpg" width="207" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The year we all spent three days up to our knees in mud <br />
and folk went home with trench foot.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoBodyText">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoBodyText">
<span style="line-height: 24px;">Fourth on the bill in the Session Tent...</span><br />
<br /></div>
<iframe allowfullscreen="allowfullscreen" frameborder="0" height="349" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/jxmZZBJQAKM?rel=0" width="400"></iframe>Michael-Jasonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15976377790773521706noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1339742285108038762.post-79140484203921948672012-09-11T21:53:00.002+01:002012-09-11T21:54:58.534+01:00"Strangeways, Here We Come" - The Smiths (1987)<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBe0ZVn9hJv2eBkjsOy_IcRq3zXayL_hWA1TeIihjAbzzQ-B5OnXtShEtH6dmb13yKWbS13WzUdVptyhdaqOvWuDStEcMC_Tqtb0HBOaE9Z4mvjerQg9_4UrX-0Chcuw4zt_TWGqk_fhg/s1600/DSC03366.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBe0ZVn9hJv2eBkjsOy_IcRq3zXayL_hWA1TeIihjAbzzQ-B5OnXtShEtH6dmb13yKWbS13WzUdVptyhdaqOvWuDStEcMC_Tqtb0HBOaE9Z4mvjerQg9_4UrX-0Chcuw4zt_TWGqk_fhg/s320/DSC03366.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoBodyText">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoBodyText">
<i><span lang="EN-US" style="background-color: white; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; line-height: 150%;"><span style="color: #666666;">"I travelled to a mystical time zone,<o:p></o:p></span></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoBodyText">
<i><span lang="EN-US" style="background-color: white; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; line-height: 150%;"><span style="color: #666666;">But I missed my bed,<o:p></o:p></span></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoBodyText">
<i><span lang="EN-US" style="background-color: white; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; line-height: 150%;"><span style="color: #666666;">And I soon came home."</span><o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoBodyText">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoBodyText">
<span lang="FR" style="line-height: 150%;">Is the Summer
over? Can I come out of hibernation now? What did I miss?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoBodyText">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoBodyText">
<span lang="FR" style="line-height: 150%;">So… we were
talking about The Smiths. "Oh no, Michael. Let’s move on to something else." Ah, but we can’t. We need
to wallow in the 25th anniversary of "Strangeways…" and The Smiths splitting. The
news that Johnny Marr had left the group had broken in the NME a month back. It
almost ruined my week on holiday in Swanage with my grandparents and cousins. Above the Mary Chain on the cover was a big ‘Why I Quit’
headline. Oh, here it is… <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoBodyText">
<br /></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfJTk1G9tTaiLXx9UdrHyZvUXeRFGNfdsxlc2juTpHBIlj8e8auGKank9v6IadqBSGiEoT_WIlebYtW1eL8bPO3_-HUgQZ7F6ULzZ401FyHPDAiukS17Jx5T3c-Gm03znpTg1UDYhqJeg/s1600/nme.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfJTk1G9tTaiLXx9UdrHyZvUXeRFGNfdsxlc2juTpHBIlj8e8auGKank9v6IadqBSGiEoT_WIlebYtW1eL8bPO3_-HUgQZ7F6ULzZ401FyHPDAiukS17Jx5T3c-Gm03znpTg1UDYhqJeg/s320/nme.jpg" width="224" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My copy of this is in the loft somewhere, so thank you vinylonthe.net.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoBodyText">
<span lang="FR" style="line-height: 150%;">Come on, you
know you’ve missed these stupidly detailed musings. Heartbroken by the seaside,
there was at least one final studio album on the way. Though the cloying absurdity
of their current single ‘Girlfriend In A Coma’ didn’t bode well. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoBodyText">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoBodyText">
<span lang="FR" style="line-height: 150%;">Morrissey has
often claimed ‘Strangeways…’ is his favourite album. Marr too. I can’t agree as
<a href="http://your-plastic-toy.blogspot.co.uk/2010/05/queen-is-dead-smiths-1986.html" target="_blank">‘The Queen Is Dead’</a> remains their glistening pinnacle for me. But they bowed
out in their own inimitable style with some wonderfully intuitive paeans to the
loveless, witless and, er, spleenless. And no-one rolls an ‘r’ quite like
Morrissey. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoBodyText">
<span lang="FR" style="line-height: 150%;"> <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoBodyText">
<span lang="FR" style="line-height: 150%;">Let’s hope
they never reunite.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoBodyText">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcnOIxalDDKJal_q9XZbfUh4RKCHj61Q-rZCx_EgGDYe0htMks7QA3twMVamhemEB2xVvSXdIACAjzqP7ykSzRLS9PnqadjO8XcSPmGZtGV5V4XiRE0zcDS4mQIlFWdk8Hy-85QNU4078/s1600/DSC03371.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcnOIxalDDKJal_q9XZbfUh4RKCHj61Q-rZCx_EgGDYe0htMks7QA3twMVamhemEB2xVvSXdIACAjzqP7ykSzRLS9PnqadjO8XcSPmGZtGV5V4XiRE0zcDS4mQIlFWdk8Hy-85QNU4078/s320/DSC03371.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoBodyText">
<span lang="FR" style="line-height: 150%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoBodyText">
<i><span lang="FR" style="line-height: 150%;"><span style="color: #666666;">Spotify linky:</span></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoBodyText">
<span lang="EN-US"><a href="http://open.spotify.com/track/6Ps04Nfh2PySU4fIPZWxrU">The Smiths – A Rush
And A Push And The Land Is Ours - 2011 Remastered Version</a><o:p></o:p></span></div>
Michael-Jasonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15976377790773521706noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1339742285108038762.post-5485112779107248782012-07-28T10:56:00.000+01:002012-07-28T11:18:05.483+01:00'Ask' - The Smiths (1986)<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEix6LPP9r3z8i2q7i6X-VMnLtiaF2CV3Br4lTstUgk1FEZJygB8BS8hBuyCezr9tnciVDmuBSbKLwjqvK3GMMJYtpo5Smv9050wXjAQx1n3gnGYAkXQUOW_f5zHJ_omR6dG70Lx8i7T0mA/s1600/DSC03310.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEix6LPP9r3z8i2q7i6X-VMnLtiaF2CV3Br4lTstUgk1FEZJygB8BS8hBuyCezr9tnciVDmuBSbKLwjqvK3GMMJYtpo5Smv9050wXjAQx1n3gnGYAkXQUOW_f5zHJ_omR6dG70Lx8i7T0mA/s320/DSC03310.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoBodyText">
<i style="background-color: white;"><span lang="EN-US" style="background-color: white; line-height: 150%;"><br /></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoBodyText">
<i style="background-color: white;"><span lang="EN-US" style="background-color: white; line-height: 150%;"><span style="color: #666666;">"Spending warm Summer days indoors,</span></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoBodyText">
<i><span lang="EN-US" style="background-color: white; line-height: 150%;"><span style="color: #666666;">Writing frightening verse,<o:p></o:p></span></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoBodyText">
<i><span lang="EN-US" style="background-color: white; line-height: 150%;"><span style="color: #666666;">To a buck-toothed girl in Luxembourg."</span><o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoBodyText">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoBodyText">
<span lang="FR" style="line-height: 150%;">Morrissey
wants you to hang out of a car door. Speeding down a motorway. With a video
camera. Sounds like a dream job. This was the brief given to an old work
colleague of mine called Chris. (No, not that <a href="http://your-plastic-toy.blogspot.co.uk/2010/05/this-corrosion-sisters-of-mercy-1987.html" target="_blank">Chris</a>. Or this <a href="http://your-plastic-toy.blogspot.co.uk/2010/05/psychocandy-jesus-mary-chain-1985.html" target="_blank">Chris</a>. There are
too many people called Chris in my life.) <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoBodyText">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoBodyText">
<span lang="FR" style="line-height: 150%;">In 1986, The Smiths
commissioned a short film from director Derek Jarman to support the release of <a href="http://your-plastic-toy.blogspot.co.uk/2010/05/queen-is-dead-smiths-1986.html" target="_blank">‘The Queen Is Dead’</a>. The agreement seems to have been ‘you can do what you like, just don’t expect the band to appear’. Chris was the cameraman on the <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=h51uE7xpwhA" target="_blank">wildly expressionistic results</a> – and he appears
briefly in the background to the playful video for ‘Ask’ that was recorded the
same year. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoBodyText">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoBodyText">
<span lang="FR" style="line-height: 150%;">When I met
Chris, nearly a decade had passed and he was a salesman at the video production
company where I got my <a href="http://your-plastic-toy.blogspot.co.uk/2010/06/little-star-stina-nordenstam-1994.html" target="_blank">first job</a>. You could tell his heart was elsewhere. And most
days his body was elsewhere too, as he continually called in with increasingly
inventive excuses as to why he wouldn’t be coming in to the office. Two favourites
were…</span><br />
<i style="background-color: white; line-height: 150%;">"I slept in a
graveyard."</i></div>
<div class="MsoBodyText">
<span lang="FR" style="line-height: 150%;"><i>"I’m chained
to a bed and haven’t got the key."</i><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoBodyText">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoBodyText">
<span lang="FR" style="line-height: 150%;">But I think
he topped both of these the day he sent us a fax from his local library:</span><br />
<i style="background-color: white; line-height: 150%;">"Can’t make
calls today. Lost my voice."</i></div>
<div class="MsoBodyText">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoBodyText">
<span lang="FR" style="line-height: 150%;">And he never
returned.</span></div>
<div class="MsoBodyText">
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrMmaoG06EMIBnQ9l78S8xuJJhaQ1EY6kVQT4DdOZwxtNTGTPDy-KGZdcdCIoCIdKr6_Nzkxo3C0EPPSYuWw8qXw9fApal6gYQHYBsDMrDy8rSd-zXX_5XGJk4T77bo0jjyB3TKgxKzoc/s1600/DSC03313.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrMmaoG06EMIBnQ9l78S8xuJJhaQ1EY6kVQT4DdOZwxtNTGTPDy-KGZdcdCIoCIdKr6_Nzkxo3C0EPPSYuWw8qXw9fApal6gYQHYBsDMrDy8rSd-zXX_5XGJk4T77bo0jjyB3TKgxKzoc/s320/DSC03313.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<br /></div>
<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="349" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/gMY4W0l4peY?rel=0" width="400"></iframe>Michael-Jasonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15976377790773521706noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1339742285108038762.post-9491977159921880372012-07-27T16:19:00.001+01:002012-07-27T16:23:38.091+01:00'Perfect' - The The (1983)<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggBmL3q2ZkY_fFtHdAuRl8zyRlOkBZFK8uKziA3lWCbF7A3O2ZjK6FlphmjHUKfuP_491VgDxod29_KHKpu_Wsp_Zk71aJZSiHvkywFCdTvBTlL9rqWdgXYkxIg4Jg6WGiCOXEdc8vQk4/s1600/DSC03303.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggBmL3q2ZkY_fFtHdAuRl8zyRlOkBZFK8uKziA3lWCbF7A3O2ZjK6FlphmjHUKfuP_491VgDxod29_KHKpu_Wsp_Zk71aJZSiHvkywFCdTvBTlL9rqWdgXYkxIg4Jg6WGiCOXEdc8vQk4/s320/DSC03303.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoBodyText">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoBodyText">
<span style="color: #666666;"><i style="background-color: white;"><span lang="EN-US" style="background-color: white; line-height: 150%;">"What is there to fear </span></i></span><i style="background-color: white;"><span lang="EN-US" style="background-color: white; line-height: 150%;"><span style="color: #666666;">from such a regular world?"</span></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoBodyText">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoBodyText">
<span lang="FR" style="line-height: 150%;">No-one can beat
me at the 100 metres. Think that’s still true – can’t be bothered to Google it.
But I hear the London Olympics is coming up, so I’m sure someone will give it a
go. We’ll see.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoBodyText">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoBodyText">
<span lang="FR" style="line-height: 150%;">My nickname
at school should have been ‘The Flash’. Popular consensus chose ‘Goth!!’
instead. But my PE teacher could see beyond the petty labels to the raw talent sprinting
towards him. So I was asked to join the school sports team and take part in the
District Championships. Hmmm… Joining teams? Competing in events?
It doesn't sound very much like me. And it wasn’t. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoBodyText">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoBodyText">
<span lang="FR" style="line-height: 150%;">Which is why my
school Sports Days were spent sitting in the shade at the back of the field with
my sister’s Walkman, whilst reading interviews with The The and Sigue Sigue
Sputnik in the NME. And with three ‘Breaking Bad’ DVD box sets in front of me,
I’m all ready for this year’s Games. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoBodyText">
<br /></div>
<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="349" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/UnX18g8-P9I?rel=0" width="400"></iframe>Michael-Jasonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15976377790773521706noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1339742285108038762.post-20459905203723288322012-07-14T18:04:00.000+01:002012-07-14T18:25:44.081+01:00'Dry' - P J Harvey (1992)<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinL470vcUYkVoOCFm3Elb9bxWZ9DdolSEUV7kzj2HDGpNI38pB6BoUNNlonVj1WaP8ycMpEbvPkFijvDQYptJSGHyn2gfldBWcoUBV2Mw4tUHyC2uetV9fZt9hC3AorhdtQdldCeUrTnM/s1600/DSC03238.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinL470vcUYkVoOCFm3Elb9bxWZ9DdolSEUV7kzj2HDGpNI38pB6BoUNNlonVj1WaP8ycMpEbvPkFijvDQYptJSGHyn2gfldBWcoUBV2Mw4tUHyC2uetV9fZt9hC3AorhdtQdldCeUrTnM/s320/DSC03238.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoBodyText">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoBodyText">
<span style="color: #666666;"><i><span lang="FR" style="line-height: 150%;">"</span></i><i style="background-color: white;"><span lang="EN-US" style="background-color: white; line-height: 150%;">You can love her.</span></i></span></div>
<div class="MsoBodyText">
<i><span lang="EN-US" style="background-color: white; line-height: 150%;"><span style="color: #666666;">And you can love me at the same time."</span><o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoBodyText">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoBodyText">
<span lang="FR" style="line-height: 150%;">They say never
meet your heroes. Nonsense. I say always meet your heroes. And apply for jobs with
them.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoBodyText">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoBodyText">
<span lang="FR" style="line-height: 150%;">In the Winter
of 1991, I’d been <a href="http://your-plastic-toy.blogspot.co.uk/2010/05/drowners-suede-1992.html" target="_blank">unemployed</a> about six months and my Job Centre Careers Advisor
insisted I look for opportunities beyond writing. So I wrote to John Peel, as he’d recently said
he needed help managing his record collection. This didn’t exactly appease my Careers Advisor.
And I didn’t really expect a reply. But six months later I got one. Handwritten.
Apologising for the delay and wishing me luck in my job search. It remains my
favourite rejection letter ever.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoBodyText">
<span lang="FR" style="line-height: 150%;"> <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgADKEjdY4v3K5vyof7FriVmhMH-WHb4_IZ_mV4UUO_ebZCQKjvg78Xj7g08E7qRzAenABYEYk4IfhBZU1o0VxkQwiKyiY-DBalfF6iJMpPm7sCrzJgqNj_r4inMViMH7Uom4oEznzqUc8/s1600/DSC03251.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgADKEjdY4v3K5vyof7FriVmhMH-WHb4_IZ_mV4UUO_ebZCQKjvg78Xj7g08E7qRzAenABYEYk4IfhBZU1o0VxkQwiKyiY-DBalfF6iJMpPm7sCrzJgqNj_r4inMViMH7Uom4oEznzqUc8/s320/DSC03251.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span lang="FR" style="line-height: 150%;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; line-height: 150%;">Flash forward
three years. I’m watching Electrafixion (Ian McCulloch and Will Sergeant’s
short-lived Bunnymen diversion) in a tent at the Reading Festival. And there’s
John Peel hovering on the outskirts of the crowd. As the set ended, I got a
chance to go over and thank him in person for the encouraging letter and let
him know I’d since found a job as a </span><a href="http://your-plastic-toy.blogspot.co.uk/2010/06/katy-song-red-house-painters-1993.html" style="background-color: white; line-height: 150%;" target="_blank">scriptwriter</a><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 150%;">. His handshake made my year.</span></div>
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<span lang="FR" style="line-height: 150%;"><br /></span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiArOVqK5Whujb3-e-aVoRlnzCkU4KXD9wbMJs2o4KmOstgBC461R_vni7Kwqa8aKCgHDCijABt0T3J-6wt19vQql-TvNtmazv9QBiyJAqTOWbnluMt54H-nBwg7yMQMhbPdz9cc2Wbzps/s1600/DSC03257.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiArOVqK5Whujb3-e-aVoRlnzCkU4KXD9wbMJs2o4KmOstgBC461R_vni7Kwqa8aKCgHDCijABt0T3J-6wt19vQql-TvNtmazv9QBiyJAqTOWbnluMt54H-nBwg7yMQMhbPdz9cc2Wbzps/s320/DSC03257.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #333333; font-family: Georgia, serif; text-align: justify;">This numbered first edition (4214) comes with a superb extra LP of early album recordings called 'Demonstration' - yet to be reissued.</span>
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<span lang="FR" style="line-height: 150%;"><br /></span></div>
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<i style="background-color: white;"><span lang="FR" style="line-height: 150%;"><span style="color: #666666;">Spotify linky:</span></span></i></div>
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<span lang="EN-US"><a href="http://open.spotify.com/track/50M7d920xhkdowHyM0O2i3">PJ Harvey – Oh My
Lover</a><o:p></o:p></span></div>Michael-Jasonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15976377790773521706noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1339742285108038762.post-32900043373652260542012-07-10T21:53:00.001+01:002012-07-14T18:13:16.657+01:00'Ghostbusters' - Ray Parker Jr. (1984)<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSe-aFGWYfy5ORD5-K2IsdQ54hR5rvwVrgrNvM04yiYEQoXINnokzIoESoHXrYu1u6lmoTLwjbj_QvqDu76hDb0STIBR5MDITOAqDH5U73V6tDNce3hErZR4evOLQONgenH_ntZBhQKwo/s1600/DSC03233.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSe-aFGWYfy5ORD5-K2IsdQ54hR5rvwVrgrNvM04yiYEQoXINnokzIoESoHXrYu1u6lmoTLwjbj_QvqDu76hDb0STIBR5MDITOAqDH5U73V6tDNce3hErZR4evOLQONgenH_ntZBhQKwo/s320/DSC03233.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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<i><span lang="EN-US" style="background-color: white; line-height: 150%;">"If there’s somethin’ strange in your
neighbourhood,<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
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<i><span lang="EN-US" style="background-color: white; line-height: 150%;">Who ya gonna call? Ghostbusters!"<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span lang="FR" style="line-height: 150%;">This seems misguided advice. There’s always something strange going on down my street.
There’s a guy who walks around covered in birds. Another they call The Wizard –
you can probably guess what he looks like. I don’t think the Ghostbusters would
be best qualified in those cases. We need to define their services better. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<i><span lang="EN-US" style="background-color: white; line-height: 150%;">"If there’s somethin’ weird and it don’t look good,<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
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<i><span lang="EN-US" style="background-color: white; line-height: 150%;">Who ya gonna call? Ghostbusters!"<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span lang="FR" style="line-height: 150%;">Ok, this isn’t
helping. It’s quite a specialised offering we have here. Shouldn’t we be mentioning
spirits right up front? Paranormal activity? Floating librarians, at least. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<i><span lang="EN-US" style="background-color: white; line-height: 150%;">"I ain’t afraid o’ no ghost."<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span lang="FR" style="line-height: 150%;">That’s pretty
much the minimum job requirement I’d say. Just as I’d expect a milkman not to
be afraid of milk. Or something. (Make up your own analogy.) Is this really their Unique Selling Point? <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<i><span lang="EN-US" style="background-color: white; line-height: 150%;">"If you’re seein’ things runnin’ through your head,<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
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<i><span lang="EN-US" style="background-color: white; line-height: 150%;">Who can you call? Ghostbusters!"<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span lang="FR" style="line-height: 150%;">Well, yes,you
can. But perhaps after you’ve seen a psychiatrist. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<i><span lang="EN-US" style="background-color: white; line-height: 150%;">"An invisible man sleepin’ in your bed.<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
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<i><span lang="EN-US" style="background-color: white; line-height: 150%;">Oh, who ya gonna call? Ghostbusters!"<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span lang="FR" style="line-height: 150%;">In some ways,
we’re finally getting a better understanding of their business model. In many
other ways, you’re just creeping us out.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<i><span lang="EN-US" style="background-color: white; line-height: 150%;">"If you’re all alone, pick up the phone,<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
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<i><span lang="EN-US" style="background-color: white; line-height: 150%;">And call… Ghostbusters!"<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span lang="FR" style="line-height: 150%;">This just
sounds like a different service altogether. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoBodyText">
<i><span lang="EN-US" style="background-color: white; line-height: 150%;">"I ain’t afraid o’ no ghost,<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
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<i><span lang="EN-US" style="background-color: white; line-height: 150%;">I hear it likes the girls."<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span lang="FR" style="line-height: 150%;">Scare
tactics. A big no-no in modern marketing. Please amend. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoBodyText">
<i><span lang="EN-US" style="background-color: white; line-height: 150%;">"Mmm, if you’ve had a dose,<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
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<i><span lang="EN-US" style="background-color: white; line-height: 150%;">Of a freaky ghost, baby.<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
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<i><span lang="EN-US" style="background-color: white; line-height: 150%;">You better call… Ghostbusters!"<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span lang="FR" style="line-height: 150%;">Not sure this
portrays our young urban female demographic in the best light. And could we stop calling
them ‘baby’, please. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<i><span lang="EN-US" style="background-color: white; line-height: 150%;">"Let me tell you somethin’…<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
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<i><span lang="EN-US" style="background-color: white; line-height: 150%;">Bustin’ makes me feel good!"<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span lang="FR" style="line-height: 150%;">Spot on. I
can see this as the strapline for the campaign. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoBodyText">
<i><span lang="EN-US" style="background-color: white; line-height: 150%;">"Oh, who you gonna call?<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
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<i><span lang="EN-US" style="background-color: white; line-height: 150%;">Ghostbusters!"<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="background-color: white; line-height: 150%;">Ends
on a strong call to action. But we need to add the phone number in there, guys. And perhaps a hashtag?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="background-color: white; line-height: 150%;">Now,
I’m looking forward to seeing what you’ve done with the launch campaign for
Club Tropicana. Woah… what do you mean drinks are free?!!? We’re trying to run a
business here.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="349" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/KvkKX035484?rel=0" width="400"></iframe>Michael-Jasonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15976377790773521706noreply@blogger.com1