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author, journalist and dee jay Tony Fletcher.
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Friday June 6th: The Royale, 506 5th Avenue between 12th and 13th Street in Park Slope, Brooklyn. Spinning with GFS and The Warmth crew: expect to feel the funk. Free admission.
...But two new postings before I go. 2CD's & MP3's is a brilliant compilation album from Novamute that actually embraces, rather than shuns, technology. The Brut Champagne 1995 Premier Cru from Paul Goerg is similarly superb value for money. See you in a week.
I don't want to have to write this review. It would be so much easier in so many ways to just pretend the concert didn't take place, or that I didn't attend, or that none of it really matters. But truth is, Ian McCulloch's show at the Bowery Ballroom on Wednesday night was one of the biggest disappointments of my gig-going career, and I'd feel I was being dishonest if I didn't come out and say as much.
My love for Ian and the band with which he became famous, Echo & The Bunnymen, is well documented. If you need to know any of that background (the band's history and my own relationship with them) please go to this lengthy feature that I posted in 2001 after being won back over by the beauty of the Bunnymen's last album, Flowers. Shortly after posting that appraisal, I saw Echo & The Bunnymen at the Beacon Theater in Manhattan with the Psychedelic Furs; neither band was on a par with its 1980s peak, not surprisingly, but the Bunnymen were good, perhaps even great. While there were three 'hired hands' on board to flesh out the line-up, the interplay between sole remaining Bunnymen founders, McCulloch and guitarist Will Sergeant, was still fascinating, hypnotic, one of the great partnerships in rock. And while Mac couldn't quite reach the high notes on 'Ocean Rain', he gave it his best shot. There was the sense that he still cared.
There was no such sense at the Bowery Ballroom, a concert that served as promotion for McCulloch's newly-released third solo album, Slideling. There are, to begin with, questions as to why McCulloch would return to the solo circuit given that his second solo album, Mysterio, released over a decade ago, bombed commercially and critically, a career nose-dive from which he never fully recovered. I can only assume that Will Sergeant didn't want to rush into a new Bunnymen album, but that McCulloch feels productive and sees no reason not to keep recording and releasing music while the muse is with him.
Which is fair enough. What doesn't make sense is pressing ahead with the solo sideshow and then not delivering where it counts in concert. The paltry attendance for the show must have been disheartening: the room was less than half full, and there was a distinct lack of anticipation in the air. Compared to the manic buzz and lack of elbow room for the last gig I saw at the Bowery the Libertines it was clear that while the Bunnymen's legacy may now be confirmed (they're regularly name-checked as an influence by everyone from Coldplay to the Stratford 4), Mac's solo pulling power is almost non-existent. Perhaps he should have waited until Slidleling had settled in with the public before coming over. Perhaps he should have played a smaller club. Either way, if he and his band played like they really meant it, we'd be out there now spreading the word so that he next time he could fill the room.
Disappointing show, disappointing photos. We were forbidden from using flash.
Instead, I'm left wondering where to start with my reluctantly negative comments. McCulloch took to the stage (looking good as always) flaunting the city's no-smoking rule, and sporadically demanded took a lit cigarette from a roadie as in the Bunnymen days of yore. The promoters didn't ask him to put the smokes out. The crowd cheered his rebellion. Nobody stopped to ask whether it's the cigarettes, or the other substances he's admitted to over the years, that have done such damage to his voice. Because what was once a near-operatic range is now down to an octave or so. Smoking may look cool (and taking cocaine has its attractions) but it's no substitute for losing one of the greatest voices in rock music. I miss that power, that range, that almost unearthly emotion, I really do.
As for his band, as nondescript as the last time he played solo, it's as if McCulloch prefers sinking to the level of mediocre musicians than rising to the challenge of quality ones. The four-piece, including a keyboard player, were mind-numbingly average. The drummer deserves special condemnation for his complete lack of imagination and verve. That the volume level was so quiet only compounded the sense of void in the half-empty hall. And while I'm aware that the current McCulloch solo show appears to be aiming for intimacy on the level of the most simple of Velvet Underground songs, there are three caveats to this approach. 1) If he really wanted to croon and keep it quiet, he should have played a small lounge venue like Joe's Pub or Fez. 2) The Velvets were often as loud and abrasive as they were quiet and tender (as indeed were the Bunnymen at their peak). 3) It takes skill to play quietly. When I saw Lloyd Cole at the Bowery a couple of years ago with his new band The Negatives, that too was a surprisingly quiet performance by someone who's seen more successful days, but Cole had surrounded himself with peers who knew how to play with subtlety. Mac's current band only know how to play with the volume turned down.
I'm loath to criticize the choice of material too. Sure, McCulloch could have opened with something stronger than the Slideling ballad 'Playgrounds and City Parks' and he could have followed it with something better known than 'Love In Veins,' but I'm all for artists previewing their new songs, audience familiarity be damned. Besides, he interspersed the new material with songs from his first two albums, 'The Flickering Wall', 'Lover Lover Lover' and 'Candleland'. And yet none were played as if any one on stage was bothered. This lack of passion was, inevitably, reciprocated; the crowd clapped but politely, and I moved from the front rows to the balcony, hoping perhaps to get a clearer, wider, emotionally better view.
A rendition of 'Nothing Lasts Forever' from the Bunnymen's Evergreen was followed by a truly bizarre rendition of 'High Wires,' one of the more upbeat and instantly lovable songs from Slideling. Halfway through, Mac headed to the back of the stage and began absent-mindedly repeating the introductory guitar riff, at which the surrounding musicians peeled away from the performance and the song seemed to grind, temporarily, to a halt. (There is no such breakdown in the excellent recorded version.) For a moment, I thought he was going to put the guitar down and go home, but he returned to center stage, the musicians came back in, the song was concluded. The audience, meanwhile, looked at each other with incredulity; several made for the exits.
A tepid version of the all-too-appropriate early solo single, 'Proud to Fall', also failed to impress; veering from set list, Mac then delved into prime Bunnymen catalogue in what seemed like a calculated attempt to rescue the night. But the superb Ocean Rain single 'Seven Seas' disappointed on every level: Mac didn't attempt to replicate the soaring middle vocals of the recorded rendition, the guitar solo was bludgeoned (oh for Will Sergeant's presence at this point) and the clamoring descending bell that heralds the chorus was delivered as a timid synth sound that sounded like something off my son's $20 Casio keyboard. Any solo artist is entitled to play from his band's famous repertoire, but if he can't offer a new arrangement, he should at the very least aim to match the original for emotion. McCulloch did neither.
Looking over to the sound board, I could see that the set list still promised 'The Killing Moon', which I didn't want to hear after this sacrifice of 'Seven Seas'; and a 'Velvets' finale, presumably a medley of sorts that sounded like it would be far too obvious for comfort. I headed instead to the exit; believe me, I was not the only one cutting my losses. Those who were stayed on - a mere 200 or so - were a combination of the barely interested and the blindly devoted.
I slept badly Wednesday night; I kept waking up and seeing myself back at the Bowery, suffering again this lack-luster performance from one of my musical heroes. And I can't explain it. Slideling doesn't appear to be a bad album; if anything, Mac seems to have become rejuvenated in recent years. But when I think of some other gradually ageing artists I've been impressed by in concert in recent years, I notice a couple of consistencies: either they've surrounded themselves with talented musicians to keep them on their toes (Joe Strummer, Lloyd Cole, the Creation), or they've been so buzzed to play that their enthusiasm extends automatically to the audience. (The Rezillos would be a good example.) McCulloch and his band failed on both accounts; it's hard then to lay the blame for this nightmare on anyone but the performers. Somewhere in McCulloch's considerable lyrical ouvre there must be a reference to reaping what you sow; if not, it's time there was.
Serendipity? Synchronicity? Tuesday evening I took part in a 2.5 mile 'downtown dash' in Manhattan (an easy way to tick off another of the nine runs needed to qualify for next year's Marathon, though being the competitive type I ran it like my life depended on it anyway). Racing past the tourists in Battery Park I noticed, oddly enough for the very first time, the restaurant American Park nestled right at Manhattan's tip, overlooking the harbor and the Statue of Liberty; I figured it would be a nice place to dine out at some time. I got home to find an invitation to a wedding reception in June at that very location!
Then yesterday, listening as always to new CDs in the car, I was so impressed by a track from the new Tommy Guerrero album Soul Food Taqueria that I stopped to identify it as track 11, 'Gettin It Together.' Lo and behold if, fifteen minutes later, I'm not getting a caffeine fix in Starbucks when I hear the exact same song played through the store stereo. Tommy Guerrero is a cult figure in some circles: he was a prominent 1980s skateboarder and a founder of the REAL board company, and he gained critical acclaim in music circles when he displayed his guitar-playing chops on his Mo'Wax debut A Little Bit Of Something. But with his deliberately lo-fi approach that mixes all manner of Californian rhythms, Guerrero is certainly not the kind of underground hepcat you expect to hear in a (supposed) bastion of corporate coffee culture. (On 'Gettin It Together', guest vocalist Lyrics Born suggests, in a Sly singalong style, "The time that it takes to build a family to a neighborhood, we got it, we got it." It's so strong a hook that I checked with the label to make sure it's not a cover; I'm assured it's Guerrero's own composition.) Score one for Starbucks.
I've just been listening to WNYC, as George W. Bush's chief economist, Diana Furchtgott-Roth, tries to defend her boss's policy of massive tax cuts as a spur for economic growth. As I've said before on this site, I'm no economist, but I understand this basic truth: a loss of tax revenues can only be offset by either a cut in spending or/and the decision to run a budget deficit. Bush, as Furchtgott-Roth made unequivocally clear, prefers "a temporary deficit" in the hope of spurring long-term economic growth.
Before iJamming!'s many overseas readers surf on out of here, I just want to state that herein lies one of the great contradictions of American politics and economics: that while it's perfectly legal for the Federal Government to run a budget deficit in the hope it will prove to be "temporary", it's illegal for the fifty States to do so. I'm not certain about individual cities within all of those fifty States, but I can tell you from being in the middle of it that New York City, as a separate entity within New York State, is also mandated to balance its budget.
You don't need to actually live in New York to know that the combination of the Wall Street downturn, and more specifically the ongoing economic fallout from the attacks of September 11 (measured both in trickle-down job losses and the corresponding drop in personal and corporate tax payments), has created a financial crisis in New York City such as hasn't been seen since the 1970s. In fact, there are plenty pundits who consider the current situation worse even than then, when the city effectively went bankrupt and became the dangerous and ugly urban wasteland of many a realistic movie. Yet Mayor Bloomberg doesn't have the President's choice of being able to run a deficit or offer tax cuts to spur the city back into boom times, and faced with a $3.8 billion dollar budget deficit for year 2004, has been forced to apply spending cuts right across the board. This means reduced spending for schools, libraries, and garbage collection. It means the threatened closing of fire stations and even public zoos. It means immediate job losses for municipal workers.
Simultaneously, to raise income, Bloomberg has increased the cost of everything from property taxes (up 16%) to water rates, to parking tickets (doubled); there's also been a sudden tendency by NYC cops, apparently under orders from above, to issue tickets and fines for the most arcane and previously non-enforced of laws. The Transit Authority just arbitrarily increased subway and bus fares by 33%. (This latter move, along with the MTA's hike in bridge and tunnel tolls, is at least being challenged in court.) You can imagine that New Yorkers are not a happy lot right now.
It doesn't stop there. New York State, which extends all the way to the Canadian border, where the rural inhabitants have little in common with the city-dwellers of the five boroughs (and yet are suffering their share of the 9/11 fallout), is also mandated to balance its books. If it was left to the Republican Governor, George Pataki, that would be achieved by simply slashing spending, ensuring that at the very same moment President Bush is delivering tax cuts to the rich, the poor in New York would be losing their basic services and their safety nets.
Fortunately, there has been some semblance of common sense at the New York State Legislature, which has proposed a package of modest tax increases (on sales tax and the highest incomes). The Governor duly vetoed the package, as is his legal right and which plays to his Republican constituency; the Legislature, in a rare show of bi-partisan co-operation, has over-ridden the veto, as is their right and which plays to common sense. After all, given the choice in slashing education spending (as Pataki would do), or increasing the New York Sales Tax by a 1/2 per cent over the next two years (as the Legislature proposed), I vote for the latter. The increase in sales tax is small enough that most people won't notice it (at least not alongside their one-third hike in public transportation!), and it's also a manner by which tourists and business visitors can contribute to the city's ongoing welfare. This is not, to my mind, old-fashioned left-leaning "spend and tax"; it's a common sense reaction to a considerable crisis.
But still, the bottom line remains: If the Federal Government can run a deficit supposedly to spur the economy, then the individual States and major cities should be able to do likewise. And if not, and the cities and States are forced to balance their books - even after the drastic and unpredictable events of 9/11 - then surely the Federal Government should also be required to do so. Yet, while the national deficit is currently $6 and a half trillion dollars (and will certainly rise with Bush's hunderds of billions of dollars of tax cuts), the city's immediate budget gap, less than 0.1% of the national debt for a city that makes up 3% of the population, has to be closed immediately, regardless of the cost to its society. Which puts us in the farcical position that while the Government is lowering taxes, the States and cities are raising them. Each legislature can conveniently blame the other for ruining its own plan for recovery. And from where I'm sitting, that recovery is still so far over the horizon I'm worried we'll fall off the precipice before we get there.
A pension-age couple French-kissing over the power tools in the DIY super-store; an adulterous gay couple French-kissing in the front room; a married man whose wife has mysteriously disappeared having loud sex with the unstable daughter of a rapist-murderer in front of the man's baby; an execution; an abortion; and more swearing than Friday night in a Docklands bar
yes, even by its own extreme standards, last Sunday's Kathy Bates-directed episode of Six Feet Under managed to break just about every taboo that television has ever considered sacred.
And Sunday-night-songs-of-praise be for that. Six Feet Under quite possibly takes my award for the greatest drama series I've ever remained addicted to this far into its third series. (And if it doesn't, it definitely takes first prize as the greatest ongoing American drama series I've seen since moving here.) A part of me doesn't want to say too much more about this third series, which reaches its climax over the next two weeks, because a lot of iJamming! readers are in the UK where the second series got redirected to a satellite channel and the third series has, of course, yet to be shown. (And I still don't understand how a supposedly high-minded cultural nation can buy in all the worst of American TV sit-coms and movies and not consider Six Foot Under a late-night priority promotion on either BBC2 or Channel 4.) Then again, in the Internet age, you're never more than a link or two away from knowing the latest plot lines, and I'm sure there are addicts in the UK who are getting their dose some way or another.
What I can say about Six Feet Under without giving anything away is that for all its quite deliberate visual provocations, the show remains unerringly human. It avoids judging even its characters' worst excesses. And by avoiding the trite conclusions that mark most TV dramas, it reminds us that in this journey we call life, few of our personal issues ever do comfortably resolve themselves. People fall in love, they make mistakes, they promise themselves they'll learn from their errors, only to consistently repeat them. Rarely is anything perfect, and when it is, we over-reach to preserve the moment because we know it won't last and in doing so, we hasten the inevitable outcome. That's reality TV.
For a couple of seasons, in the same HBO time slot, The Sopranos succeeded with a similar ethos, but at just about this point in its third series, the script-writers worked themselves into ever tighter corners and came to over-rely on rub-outs as an easy method by which to solve their plot dilemmas. Like The Sopranos, Six Feet Under features death as an everyday part of life, but any violence based around the Fisher family of undertakers is almost always domestic, internal, and emotional. That makes it all the more effective. The following exchange from Sunday's episode is a classic example. (I removed identification of characters to make it more universal.)
"This is the difference between you and me
I want you on my side, I need you on my side. And that's the one thing that I've never ever had. Because everything I do is too weak or too nice
You know, you don't really like me. You're not for me. I look at you and all I think about is how I can help you be what you want to be between now and the day that you die. You look at me and all you see are problems. I'm so fucking sick of it! God, why should I stand for it? Why should this constant abuse be what I call love?"
No show is completely perfect, and Six Feet Under has its own problems with plausibility: in the case of our missing married mother, the lack of involvement from the police or her own family simply beggars belief. But compared to everything else out there, this is the one show worth watching. British viewers, petition your TV companies. (As if it will make any difference: the BBC still shows no interest in airing its Keith Moon documentary.)
Last week I plugged other peoples' books, music, movies, bars, radio shows, dj gigs and online music stores. Let me start this week with some shameless self-promotion. On your right you will see the cover for my debut novel, Hedonism, to be published on July 14 2003 by Omnibus Press in the UK. Those who know me personally know that I've never worked any hard on any one project in my life as on this book, and it not only thrills me but, in a healthy way that anybody who's had their work presented to the public will identity with, frightens me that it's so close to publication and public reaction. You'll hear a lot more from me about Hedonism over coming weeks and months, but given that I don't have an online link for you to place advance orders (which I know you're all dying to do), I'll let you off with this visual teaser. It's a great cover, isn't it?
I'll be updating the main Hedonism page here on the website soon, but if you want an idea of what the book is about, go here, and if you want to read (and hear) a sample chapter or two from an earlier draft, follow this link if you have broadband, and this one for dial-up.
It's rare for me to go to a big movie upon release as I did with The Matrix Reloaded last week, but that says something for the film's mass appeal: the Keanu Reeves futuristic action pic had the second biggest opening gross of all time. And I'm hardly the only one to have an opinion about it either: I checked in at the internet movie database this morning and there were already over 8,500 yes, eight thousand five hundred viewer reviews posted. But the more I think about the Matrix Reloaded, the more I feel let down. Not just by the lack of plausible plot and decent dialogue, not just by the modesty of the mind-fucks (as in, the movie didn't play with my head the way the first one did), but by the fact that the special effects have already passed me by. Yes they were impressive, but not so much so that I'm still thinking about them; the only way they've stuck in my head is in how thoroughly and pointlessly over the top they were. There are people who know a lot more about movies in general and the Matrix in particular who have posted their own detailed reviews, so before you follow the herd like I did and fork over your hard-earned dollars, maybe check out some of them. Start here, which should ensure you save your money for something else. Like City of God perhaps? Which I must see this week, for reasons that will soon become apparent.
MAY 5-18: Live reviews of The Rapture, De La Soul, Carlsonics, Laptop, The Libertines, Echoboy, The Greenhornes; observations on Chris Coco/The Blue Room, The Apple Music Store, Alan Freed, Phil Spector, The Matrix Reloaded, Rare Earth, Tinnitus and Royale!
APRIL 28-MAY 4: Flaming Lips, Madonna, Bill Maher, The Dixie Chicks, the war
APRIL 21-27: Rotary Connection, War(n) Out, Cocaine Talk
APRIL 14-20: Belated London Musings on Death Disco and CPFC.
APRIL 7-13: London Musings: Madness, Inspiral Carpets, the Affair, the Palace, the Jam
MARCH 31-APRIL 6: Music be the spice of life, London Calling: Ten Observations from the Old Country
MARCH 24-30: Six Foot Under, Peaches/Elefant live, MP Frees and Busted Boy Bands
MARCH 17-23: Röyksopp live, Transmission, Worn-Out War Talk
MARCH 10-16: Live reviews: Stratford 4, Flaming Sideburns, Joe Jackson Band, Linkin Park. Why I Oppose The War (For Now).
MARCH 3-9: The Pursuit of Happiness, Weekend Players, U.S. Bombs, Al Farooq, A New Pessimism, Brooklyn Half Marathon
FEBRUARY 24-MARCH2: Orange Park, Ali G-Saddam Hussein-Dan Rather-Bill Maher-Jon Stewart TV reviews, Stellastarr*, James Murphy, The Station nightclub fire, the Grammys
FEBRUARY 17-23: Village Voice Poll, Singles Club, Smoke and Fire
FEBRUARY 3-16: Snug, The Face, Pink, Supergrass live, Keith Moon, Phil Spector, Gore Vidal
JANUARY 27-FEBRUARY 2: Communist Chic, Spiritland, Daddy You're A Hero, Keith Moon, State of the Union, CPFC and more on Iraq
JANUARY 20-26: Divisions of Laura Lee, Burning Brides, Words On War, Child Abuse of a Different Kind, Losing My Edge
JANUARY 13-19: Pete Townshend, Pee Wee Herman, South Park and more Pete Townshend
JANUARY 6-12: Interpol in concert, Tony Fletcher's Top 10 Albums and Singles of 2002, More on Joe Strummer and The Clash, Fever Pitch and Bend It Like Beckham.
DECEMBER 31 2002 -JAN 5 2003: A tribute to Joe Strummer, Radio 4 live on New Year's Eve
DECEMBER 25-30: NO POSTINGS: ON VACATION
DECEMBER 16-24: Metro Area, Breakbeat Science, Sting makes Wine, New York Downtown redesigns, Keith Moon anecdotes, Campbell's jokes.
DECEMBER 9-15: Tiswas, pledge drives, The View from Up North
DECEMBER 2-8 MUSINGS CLICK HERE (includes Weekend Players and Snow Lit Piano Bars)
FOR NOVEMBER 25-29 MUSINGS CLICK HERE (includes Joe Hurley, Thanksgiving, Sven Väth, Richie Hawtin)
FOR NOVEMBER 16-24 MUSINGS CLICK HERE (includes Longwave, The Pleased, Get Your War On, Powder, Radio 4, Supreme Beings Of Leisure, Ben Neill, Baldwin Brothers, Thievery Corporation)
FOR NOVEMBER 9-15 MUSINGS CLICK HERE (includes CMJ report including Datsuns, von Bondies and My Favorite, and political Eagles)
FOR NOVEMBER 2-8 MUSINGS CLICK HERE (includes Halloween, the New York Marathon, and British Cuisine)
FOR OCTOBER 26-NOV 1 MUSINGS CLICK HERE (includes live reviews of The Streets, Mooney Suzuki, Sahara Hotnights, Flaming Sideburns, Stellastarr*; Jam Master Jay; Halloween)
FOR OCTOBER 19-25 MUSINGS CLICK HERE (includes Underworld live, Atlantic Avenue antics, Girls and Boys night)
FOR OCTOBER 12-18 MUSINGS CLICK HERE (includes Bali Bombing and stupid editorials, the Electro-Clash festival, VHS Or Beta, Ballboy, Mindless Self Indulgence, 2 Many DJs, Tom Petty, The Streets, pointless stop-the-war e-mails)
FOR OCTOBER 5-11 MUSINGS CLICK HERE (includes Steve Earle and John Walker's Blues, Dreaming Of Britney, Girls Against Boys and Radio 4)
FOR SEPTEMBER 28-OCT 4 MUSINGS CLICK HERE (includes White Stripes live, Morel live, My Generation re-issue)
FOR SEPTEMBER 21-27 MUSINGS CLICK HERE (includes The Creation live, Village Voice, Wine not Whine and more)
FOR SEPTEMBER 14-20 MUSINGS CLICK HERE (includes Firefighter Andre Fletcher, Untamed, Uncut, and more September 11 Musings)
FOR SEPTEMBER 7-13 MUSINGS CLICK HERE (includes Sep 11 memorials, Did Bin Laden Win?, Scissor Sisters and Electro-clash)
FOR AUGUST 31-SEPTEMBER 6 MUSINGS CLICK HERE (includes The Strokes live, The Rising, Saint Etienne, Team USA, a.i., Tahiti 80, Dot Allison)
FOR AUGUST 17-30 DAILY MUSINGS CLICK HERE (includes holiday musings, wine reviews, Luna at Southpaw, and more)
FOR AUGUST 10-16 DAILY MUSINGS CLICK HERE (includes lengthy Who live review)
FOR JULY 27-AUG 9 DAILY MUSINGS CLICK HERE (includes Area 2, 24 Hour Party People Party, Hootenanny Tour, 2 Many DJs and more.
FOR JULY 20-26 DAILY MUSINGS CLICK HERE (includes Wilson Pickett, John Entwistle, rebuilding downtown NYC)
FOR JULY 13-19 DAILY MUSINGS CLICK HERE (includes Love Parade, Teany, RenewNYC, Femi Kuti, NRA, Londonisation of New York, Britishification of Global Rock)
FOR JULY 6-12 DAILY MUSINGS CLICK HERE (includes Mike Meyers as Keith Moon, the RAVE Act, John Entwistle, Michael Jackson, Southpaw, Moby Online, Layo & Bushwacka!,(accidentally deleted)
FOR JUNE 29-JULY 5 DAILY MUSINGS CLICK HERE (includes World Cup Final, John Entwistle's legacy, The Who's decision to carry on, the meaning of July 4)
FOR JUNE 22-28 DAILY MUSINGS CLICK HERE (includes World Cup diary, Dr. John, Doves, Mermaid Parade, John Entwistle's death, Timothy White's death, Clinic Firewater and Radio 4 live, The Who's decision to carry on)
FOR JUNE 15-21 DAILY MUSINGS CLICK HERE (includes World Cup diary, Liars live, GiantFingers, the Big Takeover)
FOR JUNE 8 -14 DAILY MUSINGS CLICK HERE (includes World Cup diary, StellaStarr*, Jose Padilla, Dee Dee Ramone, suicide bombings)
FOR JUNE 1-7 DAILY MUSINGS, CLICK HERE (includes World Cup diary, Southpaw, Six Foot Under, Andrew Sullivan)
FOR LATE MAY DAILY MUSINGS, CLICK HERE
FOR MAY'S EIGHT DAYS IN A WEEK'S MUSINGS, CLICK HERE
FOR LATE APRIL LONDON MUSINGS, CLICK HERE
FOR EARLY APRIL MUSINGS, CLICK HERE
iJamming! Site Copyright Tony Fletcher 2003