All in All

If I ruled the world, part 2.

One law I would introduce would be concerning statues. Frankly, I think you should be dead for over 50 years (preferably 100) before a statue of you can be commissioned. Aside from anything else this would give ample time for the benefit of hindsight to decide whether or not your contribution to the world justified such a tribute.

Why this and why now? Well, in the space of three months I have been to Montreux and seen the statue of Freddie Mercury, as detailed and depicted in an earlier blog, then this statue of Diana and Dodi was unveiled in Harrods and now finally, the fourth plinth in Trafalgar Square has a 20ft high statue of Alison Lapper. I'm not going to comment on the artistic merits of any of these (Mr al Fayed has a very keen legal team, and once he has time I'm sure that Ian Mac will be blogging about the Lapper statue better than I could), but I just feel that it is inappropriate to commemorate someone in this way especially when they are still alive, but also before sufficient time has been given to their contribution to the world.

It's really going to happen! There is a new Kate bush album for the first time in 12 years coming in November, and a single beforehand.

I don't want to get so excited that it will never meet my expectations, but I am really, really looking forward to this. Anyway, it would have to be pretty dire for me not to love it - I'm one of the few people to point out the positive parts to The Red Shoes (although I struggle to justify Lenny henry doing backing vocals), and for years I tried to convince myself that Terence Trent D'Arby's Neither Fish Nor Flesh was great, and not a pretentious pile of drivel.

Anyhow, new Kate songs. A drawing on the single cover by her little boy, Bertie. I think I will go home and listen to Hounds of Love later.

The years haven't been kind, have they?

Ok, maybe I'm a bit biased because frankly I never thought that much of INXS - they had a couple of decent songs but didn't rock my world. But you can't deny their success, they were big, gigantic in Australia and big enough in the states and Europe to make each of them very wealthy indeed. Then Michael Hutchence died, they were pall bearers at his funeral and they looked totally desolate, I do believe that it was like losing a brother for them.

That's why I have been disgusted by their desire to rake in the cash by hosting an MTV reality Pop Idol-type show to select a new vocalist to replace Hutchence. This is seriously shameless and an insult to his memory. Some poor Canadian called JD has won, and I hope he enjoys his moment, but he's just going to be a puppet, isn't he? On a salary instead of a share of the royalties like the rest of them. I have no doubt he'll be treated like an outsider, told what to do, never allowed his say. Surely they didn't need the money to stoop this low?

(I feel the same way about Brian May and Roger Taylor of Queen too, but their only saving grace is that they selected an established singer, and have just done a handful of gigs - and hats off to John Deacon for having nothing to do with this or "We will rock you". Mr Deacon, you are a truly honorable fellow)

So, as I mentioned earlier, we spent last weekend at the Electric Picnic festival in Ireland. This is only the second year this festival has been running and although there are still areas for improvement, it was a pretty good festival.

In terms of the bands we saw, Arcade Fire were exceptional, Kraftwerk were as good as usual although it was a pity they clashed with Flaming Lips and we had to choose, Mercury Rev can do no wrong in my eyes, Clor were interesting, Do Me Bad Things were a revelation and well worth checking out properly, The Kills were fun, the Human League greatest hits set was just what you needed to kick off a hungover sunday afternoon. That's my highlights. For the rest of the festival, everyone was really nice, well organised beer tent queues (The Big Chill could learn a lot from this), utter confirmation at how gorgeous the Irish accent is (and so many people had lovely eyes).

Minor quibbly flaws - not particularly well signposted so we ended up in the day car park and not the camping one, which was quite a hike away from the camp site. Very few showers. And for some reason, the bars were only licenced until around 11pm (except for the organic one in the Body and Soul Zone, so after 11 it was organic cider or nothing!). I'd go again if the line up was worth it.

The first in an occasional series of observations about things that really annoy me more and more as I become a middle-aged old fuddy duddy.

We were at the Electric Picnic music festival in Ireland at the weekend. It was everything you could rerally hope for from a festival of 60-70,000 people in a field an hour or sos drive from Dublin - good music, decent weather etc - and I'll discuss it in finer details including highlights and disappointments in a separate blog.

However, one thing I just don't understand about festivals is why so many people feel the need to wear silly comedy hats or wigs for the entire duration. How does this enhance the festival spirit and your enjoyment? These are regular people, probably with decent jobs and sensible lifestyles so why do they all suddenly decide that as it's a festival, I'd better wear a hat that looks like a flower pot for the next two days? Or a brightly coloured troll wig?

They look crap, simple as that, and I didn't feel my festival going was any the less enjoyable by not wearing a hat. Therefore, if I ruled the world (part 1) comedy hats and wigs would be banned from festivals.

We're all really shocked by the news coverage of the devastation caused by Hurricane Katrina in New Orleans. My dear, dear friend Keith Boadwee (on the left, with the lovely Kenny) is from New Orelans and has friends and family there.

Thankfully he's been able to make contact with them all and checked they are safe, but he's understandably shocked and upset at the scale of devastation.

Keith, we're thinking of you, we love you.

This picture was a flyposter on the Tube system advertising some sub-The Apprentice Jerry Hall vehicle reality show for VH1 or MTV, where she selects a young boy to be her toyboy. Sounds rubbish but what do I know? Anyway, after just a day or so all the posters have been removed on the instructions of the bosses of London Underground because they are "offensive".

To whom? I mean, I might complain at length about how the accepted view of the male body beautiful seems to involve absolutely no chest hair, and so i'm technically offended by the fact that all these guys' chests are waxed to within an inch of their lives, but that's just a minor quibble.

It's political correctness gone mad, I tell you