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Some random stuff.
Monday, 2 August 2004 03:02Am on my own computer again (at last) but downstairs in the back room. Could live without that frankly. Don't know what's wrong with the connection in my room, but as long as there are starving children around the world and, according to the Sunday Mirror, teen drug dealers making 50 grand a week, I'm not going to get into a snit about it.
Am sat at the dining table and the chair is too low for the computer. Should help the pain in my left wrist.
Trawling through my dad's collection of complilaton CDs, I found one that calls itself 40 Of The World's Greatest Rock Songs. On the face of it, this particular 2 disc set would easily be able to fulfil the destiny given it by the title. I mean, the first track is Layla by Derek and the Dominoes, there's Free, Steppenwolf, Deep Purple, Alice Cooper, Sabbath etc. There's your Fleetwood Macs and your Santanas... and there's even the fabulous Radar Love by Eurometal guys Golden Earring (the singer was in the line-up on Never Mind the Buzzcocks once and everything!). Man, it's even got a current favourite of mine- Can't Get Enough Of Your Love by Bad Company. The tracklisting makes all the right noises. Shame about the actual record.
And then you get to the end of Layla. Except that it isn't the end of Layla. The bastards cut it off 2/3 of the way through, presumably because the coda isn't 'rock'. FUCK OFF YOU TOTAL KERMITS. HOW FUCKING DARE YOU!
Then if that isn't bad enough, on Disc 2 there's 'Since I've Been Loving You' which normally would have me turning cartwheels across the floor (a Perkins Peanut to the first person to recognise the reference)... except that it's by Black Velvet. Black. Fucking. Bollocking. Wanky. Velvet. I managed to sit through the intro, cringing and dying to kick the CD player though I was. But I didn't manage to get through the first word of the singing. It was like "Worki-" and I had to stop the record. NO NO NO NO NO. JUST SAY NO, KIDS.
Some good things: The mere presence of Thin Lizzy, even if it is in the form of the typical choice of The Boys Are Back in Town. Long Train Running by The Doobie Brothers. Radar Love :D. And er... all the typical shit we all like but is on every single compilation that has rock in the title.
Other terrors: Show Me The Way by Peter Frampton. Or as Rob from High Fidelity and myself call him: Peter Fucking Frampton. Rod Stewart. No particular reason, just him being on it at all. Eye Of the Tiger by Survivor. Thin Lizzy second to Status Quo's fucking Rockin All Over the World on disc two. The doughnut compiling this who thought to put Sunshine of Your Love by Cream on the same disc as Layla, instead of spreading the Eric over both discs. Emerson Lake and Fucking Palmer.
Still, it's better than the 60s set we have that includes bad fakes/reproductions of songs- the song 'The Legend of Xanadu' by Dave Dee and Dozy Beaky Mick and Tich famously has a whip cracking throughout and it's not there. Not that I know because I own the Best of Dave Dee, Dozy, Beaky, Mick and Tich or anything. *whistles*
Finally admitted to my mum and dad that my wrist is killing me, and so had to then admit it's been giving me grief since sometime in California- somewhere towards the start, I think. Either way, it's two or three years this has been giving me grief, so they suggested I possibly see, oh say, a doctor. I'm not fond of doctors. They always tell me a: there IS something wrong but they can't do anything about it or b: there might be something wrong, but they don't know what it is. And then there's c, which I've not had yet: you're seriously ill but don't like the doctor so it's too late for us to stop the illness spreading through you and destroying you.
I don't imagine they'll say that over a smarting wrist, but it's not the only thing I know to be wrong with me. I don't dislike doctors- I think they do great work. But I fucking hate having to go there.
- The singer for Golden Earring has the BEST heavy metal voice. Like gravel, man, like gravel. Dave Lee Roth, listen in wonder, you balding, arrogant twat.
Judging on the state of Morrison Hotel after taking it out of the CD changer in my dad's car, I may have to buy a third copy of it. The first copy ended up with a chunk out of it (still don't know how) and this one is nice and scratched. Cosmic. Still, it's playing OK so far. We'll just have to see. Or rather, listen. I haven't heard this since the drive down from Sunderland, so YAY. My love for Jim Morrison remains deep, true and everlasting. A bit like my feelings for Dave Lee Roth, only nicer.
Am sat at the dining table and the chair is too low for the computer. Should help the pain in my left wrist.
Trawling through my dad's collection of complilaton CDs, I found one that calls itself 40 Of The World's Greatest Rock Songs. On the face of it, this particular 2 disc set would easily be able to fulfil the destiny given it by the title. I mean, the first track is Layla by Derek and the Dominoes, there's Free, Steppenwolf, Deep Purple, Alice Cooper, Sabbath etc. There's your Fleetwood Macs and your Santanas... and there's even the fabulous Radar Love by Eurometal guys Golden Earring (the singer was in the line-up on Never Mind the Buzzcocks once and everything!). Man, it's even got a current favourite of mine- Can't Get Enough Of Your Love by Bad Company. The tracklisting makes all the right noises. Shame about the actual record.
And then you get to the end of Layla. Except that it isn't the end of Layla. The bastards cut it off 2/3 of the way through, presumably because the coda isn't 'rock'. FUCK OFF YOU TOTAL KERMITS. HOW FUCKING DARE YOU!
Then if that isn't bad enough, on Disc 2 there's 'Since I've Been Loving You' which normally would have me turning cartwheels across the floor (a Perkins Peanut to the first person to recognise the reference)... except that it's by Black Velvet. Black. Fucking. Bollocking. Wanky. Velvet. I managed to sit through the intro, cringing and dying to kick the CD player though I was. But I didn't manage to get through the first word of the singing. It was like "Worki-" and I had to stop the record. NO NO NO NO NO. JUST SAY NO, KIDS.
Some good things: The mere presence of Thin Lizzy, even if it is in the form of the typical choice of The Boys Are Back in Town. Long Train Running by The Doobie Brothers. Radar Love :D. And er... all the typical shit we all like but is on every single compilation that has rock in the title.
Other terrors: Show Me The Way by Peter Frampton. Or as Rob from High Fidelity and myself call him: Peter Fucking Frampton. Rod Stewart. No particular reason, just him being on it at all. Eye Of the Tiger by Survivor. Thin Lizzy second to Status Quo's fucking Rockin All Over the World on disc two. The doughnut compiling this who thought to put Sunshine of Your Love by Cream on the same disc as Layla, instead of spreading the Eric over both discs. Emerson Lake and Fucking Palmer.
Still, it's better than the 60s set we have that includes bad fakes/reproductions of songs- the song 'The Legend of Xanadu' by Dave Dee and Dozy Beaky Mick and Tich famously has a whip cracking throughout and it's not there. Not that I know because I own the Best of Dave Dee, Dozy, Beaky, Mick and Tich or anything. *whistles*
Finally admitted to my mum and dad that my wrist is killing me, and so had to then admit it's been giving me grief since sometime in California- somewhere towards the start, I think. Either way, it's two or three years this has been giving me grief, so they suggested I possibly see, oh say, a doctor. I'm not fond of doctors. They always tell me a: there IS something wrong but they can't do anything about it or b: there might be something wrong, but they don't know what it is. And then there's c, which I've not had yet: you're seriously ill but don't like the doctor so it's too late for us to stop the illness spreading through you and destroying you.
I don't imagine they'll say that over a smarting wrist, but it's not the only thing I know to be wrong with me. I don't dislike doctors- I think they do great work. But I fucking hate having to go there.
- The singer for Golden Earring has the BEST heavy metal voice. Like gravel, man, like gravel. Dave Lee Roth, listen in wonder, you balding, arrogant twat.
Judging on the state of Morrison Hotel after taking it out of the CD changer in my dad's car, I may have to buy a third copy of it. The first copy ended up with a chunk out of it (still don't know how) and this one is nice and scratched. Cosmic. Still, it's playing OK so far. We'll just have to see. Or rather, listen. I haven't heard this since the drive down from Sunderland, so YAY. My love for Jim Morrison remains deep, true and everlasting. A bit like my feelings for Dave Lee Roth, only nicer.
