The delights of MTVTwo, which I've neglected quite so far bit the last couple of years, are tickling my kumquats again at the moment.
Tilly & The Wall, OK. (Didn't they play instruments by kicking brick walls and sheets of steel?) Oh, dear - now some of that would-be angular stuff from Thomas Tantrum that sounds like it's after rolling bored out of some photobooth in a branch of TopShop or something. Sliding vocals, lumpen snare, tinkly pickled guitar sound... There's a sigh in my hearts and lungs the size and consistency of a broccolum.
Other than that a little Hammer aktion this evening. We've no gigs coming up in the foreseeable so we're doing a bit of writing. "Donkey Duty" it is called. Well, so far. It started out sounding quite like an Ian Dury/Stevie Wonder bleed-up, and some words about novels moving around under my skin and alphabetti on my breath. I quite like those. Goatboy has been throwing some words about pissing on bonfires as well. It all promises.
Before that my car-key declared some kind of resistance, by firstly - almostly impossibly - locking me out of my lovably dilapidated Honda Concerto - almost 18. (Key to the door, ironically enough). The AA came and sorted it out, as they were bidden. Then when I went back to the car when I got home, having left my phone on the passenger seat, the key broke in my tremulous fingers. Is this some Final Destination bullshit? I hope not, non-readers; really I do.
I'm hungry...
Your pal, Coc x
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