All in All

I appreciate that this is probably old news to most people but I've just been saddened to find out that Do Me Bad Things are no more.

Without knowing anything about them, they used to annoy me because I would be scanning gig lists and see the Do M.. bit there and get all excited that it may be another show by Canadian band Do Make Say Think (you can see how similar the names are, it's an easy mistake to make when you're only skim reading). Then, we saw Do Me Bad Things at last year's Electric Picnic in Ireland and they were fantastic, really making me want to see them again.

And now I won't, ever again. At least I can be thankful that I saw them the once.

Admittedly, I'm not that surprised at them going their own separate ways as they seemed to be three different bands all rolled into one - it seemed inevitable that they wouldn't last forever.

I can't find anything on Google about Do Make Say Think that's less than a year old either. I guess there's a strong chance they have left us as well. Why do the good bands split and yet dross like Westlife stay around forever churning out their drab ballads for mothers?

The Shangri-Las once sang 'I can never go home anymore' and I often think that this is a motto we should all live by. We should stop looking at the past through Rose-coloured glasses, it's never the same.

Case in point being Thomas Lang. Now I have always loved his music - 'The Lost Letter Z' is in my all-time top 10 albums - and I loved seeing him at Ronnie Scotts during the late 80s/early 90s. I was excited 18 months ago when he came out of seclusion and did a gig at the Jazz Cafe. He was a bit crap, the new band were a bit poor, the new stuff was awful and as I left I made a slight promise to myself never to do this again.

Keeping to this promise I decided not to bother seeing Martin Stephenson ever again. I loved him 10-15 years ago, saw some great gigs at the time (except for the one promoting 'The Boy's Heart', which was a crap album) but it's not the same anymore.

So once again my motto has been put to the test. Lene Lovich is doing a gig at the tiny Metro club in April. I was a huge Lene fan in the late 70s/early 80s but never got to see her because I just didn't do gigs in those days. It will never be the same, she must be pushing 50 (not that that means anything, it's just symbolic of how much time has passed).

Nonetheless, I couldn't pass it up, especially at what is such a great venue (we saw the darkness there before they hit the big time and then became a big joke), so I have bought my tickets. Tune in next month for my lengthy blog regretting this and promising never to do it again, again.

I don't think I've mentioned the gigs seen so far this year so it's time for a quick round-up.

January. Mogwai did a week's residency at the ICA, one of my favourite venues in London. We went on the first and last night and they didn't disappoint. Mogwai are one of those bands who I doubt I would never have heard of if it were not for Mac, so thanks to him. Having said that, I would see them live any time (and already have tickets for the Albert Hall in September) but I don't find them the sort of thing I would like to listen to at home or in the car.

After Mogwai, Keiran deputised for Mac at Secret Machines, who were absolutely bloody great, and I saw Luke Haines on my own ina bit of a Johnny-No-Mates sort of way. At least it meant I cut down on the beer.

February started with Richard Hawley and Nick Cave. Richard Hawley is a revelation and I loved every minute of it. Nick Cave, I honestly went into the gig thinking that I have seen him enough now but he really delivered the goods. It was supposed to be an intimate gig but he was harder and louder than I've ever seen him. And he did 'God is in the House' which is probably my favourite track of his so that was fine.

Goldfrapp next, with Kathy deputising for Mac, and Kieran and Janet also on board. Opened with 'Utopia' so I was hooked instantly. Great show, wet myself laughing at the totally abyssmally synced but totally gratuitous sexy lady dancers who were all tits and ass. Kieran couldn't wipe the smile of his face.

Onto Belle and Sebastian with Gary this time covering for the Glasgow-incarcerated Mac. What can I say? They were Belle & Sebastian. No surprises in the show. Professional, pretty, sweet enough to make you want to put your arms around the person you love and kiss them. As I say, I was with Gary so instead I got him to buy me a pint, which was good enough in the circumstances.

Now Mac's back so we went to Brad Meldhau at the Barbican. I thought he was very good and undeserving of the snide reviews I read. I didn't quite think he deserved the standing ovation some people felt the need to give though.

Battles at the Luminaire. Why didn't this venue exist during the 8 years I lived in Kilburn, I ask you? Great little venue, fantastic band - like a harder, more guitar-based Tortoise without the attitude. Support from the Semi-Finalists. I think you should always be wary about having also-ran sort of names like that because it's too easy to say that there's an apt name for a band. Rather like the Ordinary Boys, in a way.

Strokes. Why did I want to see them? First album was fantastic but the two follow-ups I've had no interest in. Maybe I wanted to be convinced I was wrong and so should run out and buy them. But no. They weren't bad but they were really nothing special. Average is the best review I could give. Still, the audience of children loved them.

Sparks. Why don't enough people give them the respect they deserve? (although if they did it would be a bit harder to get tickets so there is a swings and roundabouts thing there). The new album really comes alive live and Ron is a genius. Second half hits show reminds you just how great they are. Gig of the year so far based on the list above (although full marks to Battles for coming second so far).

Finally, last night was the NME awards tour. Richard Hawley pulled out at the last minute through illness so Gary and I were left with Howling Bells, Brakes, and Editors (in the picture above). Howling Bells went through a few styles and influences trying to find their sound, and sadly settled on being a Texas tribute band. Brakes did great 4-minute songs but this was ruined by excessive (and I mean about half their set) comedy 30-90 second songs. Editors were another great revelation. The singer perhaps tries too hard to be the new Ian Curtis, the guitarist looks about 12, and the bassist is a borderline chubber that Mac would go for, but these are minor quibbles. I hope to see them again.

Unless you've been hiding under a rock, it's been impossible to get away from the waster activities of Pete Doherty this year if you live in the UK. Never being a fan of either the Libertines or Babyshambles, I find the constant attention he gets to be tiring in the extreme.

Last week was no exception. He was in court (again) on drugs charges (again) and managed to get away without a custodial sentence (again, although I appreciate he was inside a couple of years ago for burglary to fund his drug habit). On leaving court the sad fans applaud him as if he's a hero, and the NME are relieved to have hero-worship material to fill another few pages this week. I have managed to switch off in general when talk is going on about Doherty, but the Guardian publishing his prison diaries the other day was really too much for me not to comment.

If I may quote (for I'm having problems with links): "The story starts here with a slap in the mush from some unsympathetic magistrate. I'm banged up in Pentonville with more than a tailor's dozen charges on me tail. God knows why: the band should be smashing up the Toon, Glasgae and Shepherd's Bush this weekend and instead I'm birded off on remand after a slow clucking duck walk (sitting too) through the bowels of Bethnal Green nick, Thames magistrates and now da 'ville. Innit bleeding marvellous?"

Who does he think he is? Some modern day cheeky Artful Dodger cockernee character? His use of language is straight out of Dick Van Dyke in 'Mary Poppins'.

And then there's the appalling poem:

"I see paint-cracked walls/ stained with shite/ Long long lock-up days/ Cold lonely nights/ And I think to myself ... what a wonderful world/ I see men touching fists/ Saying "watcha bruv" Screams from below/ Shit parcels from above/ And I think to myself ... I see my true love On a Rimmel advert"

I am really lost for words sometimes.

It's just occurred to me that I haven't talked comics for a while. Does this mean that I'm coming to terms with being a 40-year old man and starting to bore of them a little?

Hell, no. I've just been busy, that's all. I'm not the onlyy one either, so much has happened in the spandex-wearing DC universe I'm notn sure if one blog will cover it.

The Crisis has really started, and the cause is Alexander Luther and Superboy-Prime. They have kidnapped one representative from what was each of the old earths to kick start a machine to bring back Earth-2, they have instigated the Villain war, they have instigated the space war in order to create a new centre of the universe, they have distracted Magic, and encouraged a lot of deaths.

So far we have seen Paradise Island and all the Amazons disappear from Man's World so that they can live in peace, Captain Marvel assume the role of Shazam, taking him off the board, Batman have a bit of a breakdown, an entire city destroyed, Flashes disappear into the Speedforce taking the speedforce with them, and death upon death. Someone called Neptune Perkins was bitten in half (dunno who he was, don't care either), Titans Pantha, Wildebeest and ally Bushido were quite viciously killed, Jade died rather uneventfully in space, Airwave may or may not have died too (that one was a bit confusing as I don't know the character). Three issues to go and I still don't have any idea where it will all lead to.

Good things and bad things:

Good. The action has really picked up speed. The art and writing are good. As many people as possible are involved. No-one I really like has died yet. It makes me impatient for a month to pass to read the next issue. Not sure where this will leave Wonder Woman (she's not safe from the block yet) but hopeful. The Doom Patrol are sorted out sort of (I'll expand on this in a minute)

Bad. I understand that some people who died (Lady Quark for example) are suddenly still around, which is bad editing ignoring their death because they are useful to the plot. The Rann-Thanagar War special was rather shoddily done - Jade's death rather undramatic, the Green lanterns recognising Superboy Prime when technically he's never existed before, Donna Troy not well portrayed. The cover to issue 4 (above) implied that Donna's space team were going to play a big part when they had two pages total.

Probably just minor quibbles, though.

I only mention the Doom Patrol (he said digressing perhaps but I can't be arsed starting a new blog to write this comment), is because although I have little interest in the group, I was infuriated when writer/artist John Byrne decided that he wanted to write a new version which meant everything ever written before ceased to exist. This was a real insult to every writer and artist who ever worked on the series (including my favourite Grant Morrison). Thankfully it's all been folded back into itself now and they did all exist (somehow) so Byrne's ego trip has been cancelled out. I find Byrne overrated, and I find his ego and attitude offensive. I also hated his Wonder Woman which also went some way to re-write her and her supporting cast's history (including Donna troy) in his image, which in my opinion indirectly led to the temporary death of Donna and permanent death of Queen Hippolyta.

(Perhaps I do read comics too much. Come home soon Mac, make me read real books again!)

Hoots Mon!

Just back from a long weekend visiting the wonderful (but stressed) Ian Mac in Glasgow, which I will discuss in a later blog, but one thing that was a real eye-opener was seeing just what Saturday night in a big city can be like.

There's been a lot in the press recently on the binge drinking culture, and to our shame we have been occasioanlly watched programmes like "Booze Britain" with an air of smug middle classness, but I really wasn't prepared to see quite what it can be like. I will stress that in no way do I think what I saw on Saturday night was just a Glasgow thing, I feel this is the same thing going on in all major cities.

Before 9pm we saw a number of young people, male and female, already looking worse or wear, in varying states of undress despite the cold. By 11.30pm, as we were walking back to the flat, we spotted a girl vomiting everywhere, being looked after by her friends, every alleyway and shop doorway had at least one lad in it having a pee (one tried to get his bits out in the middle of the road to go there and then but thankfully thought better of it at the last minute). Thankfully we didn't see any trouble but you can't help wondering that it couldn't be that far off.

It really was quite shocking how bad things actually are. Pity the poor taxi drivers and bus drivers who have to deal with that.

This weekend we are going back to Beckley, where it will be far more civilised, with a glass of wine in front of the fire with any luck.