overlap

Sixty minutes chock full of classic big dumb euro metal, performed by people who have no right to act as enthusiastic and joyful as that. If I'm doing a job I enjoy as much as they clearly do when I'm approaching my fifties, I'll be a very happy man. Hell, I even joined in clapping my hands above my head, that's how much fun I was having. And if you don't really know what you're missing, I'd thoroughly recommend getting yourself a copy of WorldWide Live, turning it up to eleven and rocking out to The Scorpions. Now, the new Judas Priest album is a bit not-quite-great, to me at least. Yeah, I'm glad to see a classic band perform in a classic line up once again, and maybe it's just the nature of Priest music that things are the way they are. I love the more uptempo stuff like Living After Midnight and BreakingThe Law, and I'm less keen on the longer, more slowly chugging stuff. And yes, Ian Hill does have an alternative career as a Bill Bailey lookalike wheneverhe's ready, they've clearly spent a good few quid on the set, and they do try to deliver a *show* rather than just go through the motions. Maybe I was too highly expectant after the Scorps were so fantastic, but the Priest set just lacked a little something for me. I was distracted by Halford disappearing offstage every thirty seconds to change his many leather jackets and coats - no, really. No, I didn't expect Halford to have turned into DLR and be doing aerial splits on a tightrope whilejuggling chainsaws, but there's very little menacing nor entertaining for hours on end about shuffling around like an arthritic grandad, though I'd much rather see him immobile but hitting the notes - TheRipper for one was absolutely spot on - than underperforming vocally due to trying to run about like a 19 year old. I'm prepared to accept this is just my take on the gig - I enjoyed Priest, and the Scorpions were well worth the money alone, but if both bands were playing the same town on the same night at some point in the future, I know for sure which one I'd be watching, even if they didn't do a human pyramid!

Labels: Judas Priest, rock, The Scorpions

Why is it that some shops have vast online catalogues of stuff that ain't in their shops? Not for the first time, I've been to a big out-of-town branch (not one of your poxy suburban half a shed-sized shops) with a very short list of items I want, and nothing on the list has come home with me. Not big, and not clever. On the other hand - and somewhere else too, naturally enough (((magic knickers))) - my sparkly impulse purchase knack hasn't quite failed me just yet. Now, about that cardigan...

So now I'm back, but not from outer space. Hoping my scratches and scars heal and fade by the weekend, trying to restore the moisture balance in my forehead - that's one of the disadvantages of wearing caps, hats and helmets all too frequently - and trying to plan a haircut into the remaining time available between voluntary commitments and watching some Metal Gods and organising a sparkly outfit or two. It's gonna be a busy week. In other news, Paul Hester's sad death has taken the wind out of my sails a little, to say the least - it's always sad to be reminded how fragile the human condition can be, and especially so when it comes via people who appear to have plenty to live for. Through the thorns and the bushes I hope he was Dreaming of glory Miles above the mountains and plains Free at last

Labels: Crowded House, Paul Hester, pop

Just a quick one to say I may be mildly drunk, rather sparkly, and still not quite finished packing, but I'll be back soon enough. Have a good week!

It's funny how things can change round in a matter of days. While it's easy to have vague plans and ideal wishes of the things you really hope will happen to you, it's less easy to work out how to get there sometimes. My natural pragmatism serves me well in situations like this, and although I still have certain hopes and expectations of what my life will look like in a decade, say, I've gradually found my way around the possibility that those things may not happen, and that's to be expected as the most important stuff I can't possibly do on my own. And the answer, as is frequently the case, comes in the form of a question. Namely, so when that didn't happen, what did you do with your life instead? And if I can look back and have an answer that takes more than a minute to provide, I'll feel I've done ok. It's not the doing something that suits a thousand pre-ordained criteria that counts, it's the doing something rather than nothing. Just get along the bus and light your own fireworks. And I do.

But I just love the life I lead Another beer is what I need Another gig my ears bleed We are the road crew That's pretty much it, apart from the beer, of course. Nice to get a night of respite in between gigs and catching up with a few old friends of mine, and have the chance to catch up on sleep and non-chips type food. Even if I did have some very nice chips bought for me last night, spinach and mascarpone pizza with added onions and peppers was just the job. Ask me in person, and I'll probably tell you the story of how the rock n roll lifestyle caught up with me a while back, and left in me in a heap on the floor. I like to think I'm not yet so long in the tooth that I'm incapable of learning any lessons, especially one visited on me so forcefully. But tomorrow, in the words of Canned Heat, ah well, you know! My mission drive Is to open up my eyes I don't care who wants to stare these days To realise To be brought back down to size The wicked lies and all the shite you say I don't care who wants to stare these days

Pretty gutted to hear TV's gone. Far more of an influence on me than the sainted Peel. I was once talking to a guy who'd met him, who said he was a very enthusisastic, genuine and humble bloke. I'm told the conversation went something along the lines that while TV felt he was very lucky to do what he did for a living, he said the fact the other guy was a metalworker meant he had a lot more to offer the world in general because he could produce tools and useful things where all that TV did was play records. It was more than that, much more. \m/ rock on \m/

Labels: rock, Tommy Vance

Since I last had something to say for myself? Blimey, that can't be right. The week ahead looks packed enough there won't be much time for posting there either, though I will be, variously, in London, Sheffield and Wolverhampton at some point or other. If you're in any of those places (except London where I can't pack much more in), I'll try to remember to wave hello on my way by. Meanwhile, with the distant horizons showing signs of a forthcoming sparkly gathering, what else do you think I'm doing but playing the outfit selection game?