Fed up

Sorry about the break, but I have got a life you know, one where I do a proper job instead of staring into a computer all day.

Anyway, Radio 2. I normally hate those wankers who spraff off about their favourite radio station like they own it - I think I've blogged before about Radio 4 listeners - but what's going off at Radio 2? As it's one of the few channels I can get on my radio at work I tend to listen for most of the day. For a start they put Graham Norton on to 'dep' for Chris Evans. He made a balls up of it, not radio fodder at all. Then they go and announce him as the replacement for Jonathan Ross. Who decided that? A deaf person? And what is this show going to consist of? I think I know: him fawning and giggling all over crusty old actresses from the bloody 1970s no bastard's heard of for years, if at all. Gemma Jones, anyone? No, me neither.

Theses tossers at Radio 2 had already incurred my wrath for cutting Radcliffe and Maconie's ace show from four nights to three - then replaced them on night four with Jo Whiley. I realise La Whiley's too old for Radio 1 now (even though Westwood's well into his 50s), but why knock down a perfectly good show so that she can come on and introduce Paul Weller at the BBC theatre for the umpteenth time? (I don't like Weller either, more of him in a future post)

Then over the past week we've had a brace of announcements. For a kick off that walking car crash that is Richard Madeley has announced that he's in talks with Radio 2 'bosses'. I'm hoping he'll be on one of those Sunday morning shows where he reviews the Sunday newspapers, which'll be okay by me because there's nothing more inclined to get me to turn off the radio than listening to some lazy DJ going through newspapers (unless it's Sarah Kennedy which is always fun-for-all-the-wrong-reasons. Especially as last week she read out an article on 'funny' place names and mentioned a place in America called Spunky Puddle which flew straight over her head. Funny how she didn't mention Shitterton though. Or Racistdrunktelegraphreader-on-the-Wold).

And this week we've had to suffer the indignity of Chris Tarrant doing Steve Wright's show. Jesus, I never thought I'd say this but come back Wright, all is forgiven. The fork-throwing funster's interview with Simple Minds' Jim Kerr on an ISDN line was cringeworthy. Get off Tarrant, you're shit. Yeah, you heard, SHIT!

Enough of that, unlike the rest of the UK population between the ages of 35 and 45, I didn't watch that Boy George thing because I hate both Culture Club and so-called New Romantics. If I never hear Karma Chameleon, that Hurt Me thing or that shocking War song again it'll be too soon. I tire of the rose-tinted spectacles everyone of my generation sees the 1980s through. Mind you, I reckon the three greatest albums of the decade were Metallica's Master of Puppets, Slayer's Reign in Blood and Talk Talk's Spirit of Eden. Hardly Pelican West or Deep Sea Skiving, are they? And not a Roland synthesizer in sight.

The drums then. Cor, I had a great time last week. We got into drum fills. I think I'm going to be of the drumming school that twats it as hard as they can because they like to make a noise, a bit like Dave Grohl, not a bespectacled 'thinker' like Bill Bruford. Talking of thoughtful drummers, there was a great one on Young Musician of the Year this week. She played a thing by Frank Zappa, which, as you can imagine, was a little avant garde. She showed amazing restraint, I just like to smack the drums and cymbals. My tutor's asked me to come up with a drum solo ready for next week. Horror of horrors, a drum solo! Not a horror for the bastard playing it though. Tee, and indeed, hee.

I leave you with one of my favourite tracks from my new favourite band. They are *shhh, whisper it * nu-prog. Run for your lives! The drumming on the whole album is immense though, not that anyone reading this will actually play that video of course, but hey-ho, I like it, it's your loss etc...

Metal on metal

I watched that Anvil: The Story of Anvil the other night. It's not very good despite all the plaudits it received. What I was expecting was a warm-hearted look back at a band who could have been contenders but never quite made. A film that investigated why they never made it, and their peers like Metallica, Motley Crue and Guns 'n' Roses did.

According to the blurb "Anvil were a major influence on the burgeoning thrash metal scene at the time. Members of Metallica, Anthrax and Slayer pay tribute." No they don't, they just come on at the start of the film and say "Anvil? Oh yeah, I remember them." That's it, not "Anvil? Well without Anvil we wouldn't be where we are today." And do you know why they don't say that? It's because Anvil aren't very good. Their so-called anthem, Metal on Metal, is just pretty average. The rest of the stuff I heard is third rate metal using adolescent sex (or the lack of it) as its subject matter. Look over any rock festival posters from the 1980s and there's Anvil at the bottom of the bill.

We're also told, according to the DVD box, to expect a "warm-hearted film about friendship." That's not really possible when Anvil's main man, Lips, is such an annoying prick given to moments of violence towards tight-fisted club promoters and even his own drummer, the man he was supposed to have made this pact with when he was fourteen that they'd "carry on rocking together forever." The drummer's name, by the way, is Robb Reiner, just one consonant too many away from sharing the same name as the director of This is Spinal Tap. Which is quite apt as Anvil's career trajectory mirrors that of Spinal Tap, especially the closing scenes of a rapturous return to Japan. The Japanese have a thing for a sub genre of heavy metal that I like to call 'Shit Metal.'

So the blurb's all wrong and what you get is a slightly depressing film about Lips cajoling Robb to go out on tour/make demos/try and get funding to make a new album in the UK. Fortunately for Lips - if not for the listening public - his older, and much more successful sister, stumps up the $12,000 to enable the band to record their new record in the Kent countryside. What follows are scenes of Lips chucking his toys out of his pram while sacking Robb. Robb returns to the fold about half an hour later when Lips has calmed down a bit. We then have to endure Lips hawking his record around major record labels without success. Lips gets upset.

Fortunately for Lips some bright spark invented the internet and you can buy it off him direct. Result! Not.

The saddest scenes though are near the beginning when a dodgy East European promoter books them on a European tour. It's very nearly heartbreaking to watch Lips approach metal luminaries like Michael Schenker, Carmine Appice and Tommy Aldridge at a Swedish metal festival to be met with blank 'who is this guy?' looks.

Robb emerges as kind of likable. You can tell he thinks they're flogging a dead horse but doesn't want to let his mate down. Surely there must have come a point in the past twenty years where he thought to himself 'enough is enough.' They both have day jobs, by the way - Lips delivers school dinners in a van.

No doubt Anvil will find short term gain from making the film, but they're still only making bottom of the bill at this summer's heavy rock festivals. More for curiosity value at a man who plays a guitar solo with a vibrator. Yes, really.

Anyroad, I went to see one of my favourite metal bands of the moment last night. The Amazon review for their new album contains this: "Fourth album from the successful American progressive metallers and follow up to their 2006 major label debut 'Blood Mountain'. That album, while their most successful, drew criticism from some fans for its seeming lack of focus. This album seeks to remedy that issue by having a unified concept in which an astral traveller wanders the spirit realm, exploring themes from quantum physics to Czarist Russia, and musically is as complex, brutal and enthralling as their earlier work." Which is pretty much what I want from heavy metal, not a turd with a Flying V and a dildo.

A gentle, lilting ballad...

...for fucking Valentine's Day about the horrors of Nazi death camp doctor Josef Mengele. Enjoy. (like anyone who reads this will actually want to listen)