Epic Fail

'Epic Fail' is one of the most efficient turns of phrase I have ever come across. In three succinct syllables, 'epic fail' tells you all you need to know. There's been a failure, and guess what, it's pretty epic. It's like FUBAR, but not trying to be cool. It's all like 'listen dude, a car has fallen down an anus, and it's messy'. It's not like 'we need O-neg, stat' or 'man down, man down!!!'. It doesn't swagger around, thinking it's dead important. Oh no. 'Epic Fail' is ultimately matter of fact, in the matter of fucked.

http://failblog.org/ is my preferred source of epic fails. You can see the best pictorial boo-boos from around the globe, comment on them, send in your own if you're lucky/unfortunate enough to come across an epic fail in your own shabby, little existence. And, with this being web 2.0 and all, if you don't like something you can always complain and people will pretend not to read it.



I love Failblog.org because it makes me laugh out loud. Due to the quality editing, and presumable the sheer number of proposed submissions, the photos that make it up tell a story instantly. Usually, the story is someone fucked up. The essence of the humour is in that no matter how long the fail took to build up, be it weeks of hard graft:



or nanoseconds:


or, in the case of this chap's name, a lifetime of fail:


IT'S GOT TO BE WILLIAM. OR BILL, SURELY??!!!1

The actual fail, and all its history, can be traced in 1 camera flash. And that's why I like it.

Personal Genius: Lev Yashin

If there are 2 constants in life, they are football and Russia. One is an unending phenomenon, with a confusing history spanning centuries, full of controversy, infamy, bad moustaches and self-destruction. And there's Russia as well. Lev Yashin was a Soviet footballer, who revolutionised the modern game from the 6 yard box outwards.

Playing as a goalkeeper, Yashin was renowned for his superior agility, and cat-like reflexes. However, he goes down in history as the only goalkeeper to have won the European Footballer of the Year award. Add to that his development of the idea of the goalkeeper playing as a sweeper, in addition to the fact that he spent his entire career at Dynamo Moscow, and it's fair to say that Lev Yashin was a bit of a legend.



Although he died unfortunately after complications on a knee injury, his legacy has lived on, first and foremost in extrovert goalkeeping forays towards the outfield, in an (often vain) attempt to clear loose through-balls, but also thanks to music from bands like The New Lev Yashin or, more simply, Yashin. It's unlikely that bands will surge to name themselves after cult-hero goalkeepers until other European favourites, such as Ludek Miklosko, Pavel Srnicek and Dmitri Kharine become the deserved renowned legends that they are undoubtedly yet to become.

www.myspace.com/theunfathomablemulletofdmitrikharine, anyone?

My Future Of Music Is.... Spotify

Welly welly well, have you heard enough about Twitter? No? Go put your head in a cement mixer. If you're still here, forget about Twitter. It's rubbish. It's full of people who think their every fart is worth documenting. It's like they've taken the single most irritating facet of Facebook - that of the overcreative use of status update - and launched it on its own platform, assured that Twitter is such a genius idea that it doesn't need anything else, like, you know, a point. The fact is, Twitter, that the only solo project that has improved anyone's life was Paul Simon's 'Graceland'. Not even Rocky running up them steps comes close. You might as well give up. No-one's going to buy Twitter, you nincompoops. No-one. Not even the British government and they buy anything, including my (used) socks.

So forget about all this 'POWPOWPOW is currently sitting at the computer updating the POWPOWPOW Twitter account' nonsense. Get a Spotify account. It's changing the face of music, how you acquire it, how it is accessed and produced, and how revenues will be derived. Spotify is like a huge database of music. It's like Napster, in its vastness, except instead of downloading files illegally, you stream them legally. And instead of waiting for some chump in Boston to come online so you can suck up some My Vitriol loving, it's centrally planned and ready to go ON DEMAND. You get thrown some adverts now and then, say once every 20 minutes, and that's the down side. It's not really a down side, considering you are exposed to adverts:

1) On the TV.
2) On the vast majority of radio stations.
3) Outside.

So basically you're paying with the utter inconvenience of doing something you already do all the time anyway. OH BOO HOO.

My favourite bit is the ease with which you can make your own playlists, and share them. You can even make them collaborative, so if you're chatting to a friend in the pub, they can be all like 'have you heard this banger?' and you'll be all like 'no?' and they'll be all like 'well I'll put it on our joint Spotify collaborative playlist' and you'll be all like 'o rly?' and they'll be like 'yea rly!!!1'. That simple.

For starters, here's the official BANGBANGBANGPOWPOWPOW playlist for you to slap your sweaty chops around.

And try it yourself, little doggies! In the distant World Gone Right, people like you will be sitting around, talking about their first Spotify experiences. And then you can mention POWPOWPOW. Lovely.

Spotify Official Website

Review(s) of the Century #5, #6 & #7

Foals - Hummer
Neu! Magazine

Music is a bit like digital TV – there’s far too much of it to think about. So it’s great that wonderful do-everythings like Foals squish lots and lots of noises into their choc-a-bloc 3 minutes. They’ve even taken the time to leave out all the chuff that you probably wouldn’t like. The kind of thing Zane ‘just let me rap over this last bit’ Lowe may refer to as a ‘crowd-rocker’.

If it were genres you’re after, you’d have a very long list, perforated with ‘post’, ‘funk’ and ‘glitch’. Erratic and frantic, ‘Hummer’ jerks about with white knuckles, holding on desperately to any last evidence of rhythm, and it is this claustrophobia that makes Foals so entertaining. With the complexity of !!!, the dancefloor sensibility of the Rapture and the hip-jerking ferocity of Franz Ferdinand, this debut could tap itself into public conscience. A bit too leftfield, some might say, but everything is leftfield before it becomes genre-defining. Bookmark under ‘Potential Festival Champions’.

=

Harrisons (RIP) – No Fighting In The War Room (Melodic)
Sandman Magazine

They’re often accused of being derivative, and perhaps it’s just a coincidence that their album release has been held back until just after the release of the Arctic Monkeys’ second LP, but at least Harrisons are having fun. They’ve always claimed to enjoy going out and gigging and all that palaver. But the tricky transition from live frenzy to on-record quality is sometimes too taxing for some. Not the case for Harrisons, as album kick-start ‘Dear Constable’ bops and whirls over Hillsborough and far away. There are hints of other Popular Sheffield Guitar Based Bands in there, a theme that resonates throughout ‘No Fighting In The War Room’. Mentions too for the roles played by The Libertines throughout. Although this might be the only album of the year that Pete Doherty doesn’t warble over, he might as well have done. There’s a whiff of urbane lyricism happening, but it’s probably just superficial – a second listen would strip away any pretensions to intelligence or mass appeal.

It’s fortunate that Harrisons don’t pitch themselves as an arm-folding, fringe-flicking Band Above All Others. They’re good fun, and this debut album shows just how enjoyable Harrisons are. But don’t you go looking for depth, now – as a band concerned with the grim yet fun sides of not-quite-inner city living, this cheeky four-piece prefer to live for the moment, rather than the potential problems caused by analysing everything too much. ‘No Fighting In The War Room’ is a moment worth living for. Hooray!

=

Monkey Swallows The Universe (RIP) - Little Polveir
Sandman Magazine

Sheffield’s premier lady-based folk twangers are at it again – this time leaving South Yorkshire behind with summery sounds fitting of places where you go on holiday. A-side ‘Little Polveir’ is very sunny indeed and may appeal to those who prefer a bit of Glasgow in their folk-based tastes (see Belle and Sebastian, Aberfeldy, Camera Obscura etc). There is also a pleasant amount of monosyllabic do-do-do-ing and such like - not too unlike Cliff Richard’s ‘Summer Holiday’ - but who cares? ‘Summer Holiday’ is great when the weather is nice. It’s the same here. Plucking its way to the end, the result is independently swaggering hipster jeans and urges to prepare picnics.

On the metaphorical flip side, ‘Hemingway’ lacks the atmosphere of the previous track and the intelligence of its namesake. It does sound very nice, though, and that’s great. Monkey Swallows The Universe are nice. Long may it continue.

What does 'Rave' look like?

Does it look like this?


Maybe. What about this?


Perhaps. And this?


Quite possibly. How about this?


Definitely. But this?


Certainly not.

Remember, kids: 'rave' is not synonymous with 'party'. Any rave-party mix-ups will guarantee your twattish impression on whoever you talk to. Haviong said that, if you're the kind of person who is vaguely tempted to use the word 'rave' instead of 'party', then you're a bonefide twat anyway. And if you are, then sorry, but you can't buy any skiing or outdoor adventure holidays here. Nor do I provide fast-track graduate schemes. Nor am I a consultant of any kind. Actually, yes I am: I am a 'cool consultant'.

Only joking.

LET'S TURN 1990's FOOTBALLERS' NAMES INTO SHOP NAMES AND DRAW THEM ON MS PAINT

Now, I'm like anyone else in that I enjoy a bit of Facebook. However, I'm quite picky over who I make chums with and even pickier over joining groups. Join too many and you're only of those overly-active Facebookers that I REALLY HATE. Anyway, I found a group that appealed to me on a number of levels:

1) Intentionally bad computer art
2) Footballing backwaters
3) Ironic humour

The name of the group is 'LET'S TURN 1990's FOOTBALLERS' NAMES INTO SHOP NAMES AND DRAW THEM ON MS PAINT' and you can find it here. I also like the self-explanatory name of the group and the needless block capitals. Still, the main focus of the group is the actual art itself, so here are my favourites:

FEELY PAL BEAR (Philippe Albert)



Sublime pun. Sublime grasp of the rudiments of MS Paint.

TORY AND DRE FLOW (Tore Andre Flo)



More top-notch punnery. Extra marks for utterly obtuse referencing.

Also, a friend pointed this one out. Not my favourite, but maybe you like it more:



Obviously, I had to have a go myself, being a champion of the word and all, so lap it up, kittens:

PULL PESKY SOLE LIDO (Paul Peschisolido)



INDIGO RAMS (Andy Goram)



As you can imagine, my inspiration for these works is the late, great Tony Hart. Tony, I don't know if you can read blogs but without you, this would never have happened. Thank you.

Old Computer Games Are Well Good #3

I spend a lot of my time on the ol' domestic desktop. I do a lot of my work on it, and because work is officially boring, no matter what it is you're doing, I tend to multitask. I write and research (boring), listen to music (less boring) and play CHAMPIONSHIP MANAGER 01/02 (exciting).

The basic idea is that you manage a football team. The amazing thing about CM01/02, or at least the version I have, is that it appears in a handy little window that you can minimize and come back to. Also, there's an amazing forum where you can download data patch updates, so you can use the wonderful flexibility of the old version, but with all the new players. Also, some clever nuggets have made patches so you can play in the Faeroe Islands or Belarus, or somewhere equally conspicuous. The reason why people have put so much effort into immortalizing CM 01/02 is that many see it as the trade-off between entertaining simulation (which the earlier versions weren't enough of) and overly-exhaustive life transplant (which the later ones are too much of).

I don't like spending too long playing computer games - I like picking them up and at some point putting them down again. CM01/02 has enough options to make it quite fun, but I am not planning every meal for my players, teaching them to read, or wiping their bum-bums. Best of all I get to have a life outside of the game, such as flicking through Spotify, Yahoo! Messenger, or, you know, doing work or something useful.

Championship manager 01/02 Windows torrent
CM01/02 Data Update Forum

Review of the Century #4

Album: LCD Soundsystem - 45:33
This Is Fake DIY, 2007.

James Murphy is incredible. He’s totally god-like: conjuring miracles, enabling mere mortals to do the undoable. He’s actually a lot better than a god because he routinely doles out top notch Class A dance joy. So, when something he makes doesn’t get noticed, that is a bad thing. However, when this thing gets re-released so everyone does notice it, that is a Very Good Thing Indeed.

Great news then, that 45:33 has been given a second run out. Originally sponsored by Nike to help people forget about the alleged unethical sourcing of their wares, 45:33is really quite simple. It is a sub-46-minute long sprawling dance-a-thon, carved and tweaked to fit the athletic peaks and troughs of running for said duration. Although merely listening to it is enough of a workout, 45:33 - originally a iTunes-only offering – has now been dissected into its 6 distinct but overlapping movements, one of which is noticeable as ‘Someone Great’, one of the very high points of the brilliant ‘Sound Of Silver’. To analyse this rhythmic funk behemoth as the sum of its parts would be grossly unfair: the true majesty of this project is the audacity and deft touches throughout which make 45:33 one of a kind. Not a boring moment in sight, and also the odd chuckle as Murphy hisses ‘Shame on you’. It is hard not to imagine fingers being wagged and love handles being gently tugged, the cheeky so-and-so. As things eventually wind down at the end, you’ll be left exhausted, regardless of how far you’ve ran (or not).

Although ‘45:33’ would be more than welcome on its ownsome, it is backed up by another 3 tracks. Most noteworthy is ‘Freakout/Starry Eyes’ – a tripped-out funk odyssey in three parts, spanning a gigantic 12 minutes. It switches from the jazz-hand-shaking Murphy on the more afrobeat moments of ‘Sound of Silver’ and clunks into heavy percussion in the guise of 80s No-Wavers Liquid Liquid and Konk before winding up again for the bizarrely loveable retro-electro stomp of ‘Starry Eyes’, a story about getting rained on in NYC. On any other album, this offering would be a huge selling point, massively ambitious and in most cases, comparably fantastic, but on ’45:33’ it is dwarfed by the immense magnitude of the eponymous effort. Meanwhile, a dubbing of ‘North American Scum’ and the gurgling ‘Hippie Priest Bum-Out’ do the job admirably, but have the sad fate of being located on the same piece of plastic as ’45:33’ and ‘Freak Out/Starry Eyes’.

The re-release of 45:33 cements LCD Soundsystem firmly atop the podium of amazing aceness, affirming and supporting the quality of the album release earlier this year. The title, signifying the common speeds of modern vinyl records shows the universal nature of this effort, both the pop wonderment found on 45s and the monumental album-length experiences found on 33s. A fantastically ambitious gem, and mercilessly executed: Murphy is simply miles ahead of the pack.

Letters Page #2: Nincompoop Special.

Society is full of imbeciles. I have to wipe their sinewy slaver off my brow eevry day, as they relentlessly press the button labelled 'ENGAGE GUFFHOLE' and let rip. I, in response, have to pander to their trivial whims so, this letters page explains exactly 'what', 'why' and 'what the fuck' (as in 'what the fuck are you still existing for?). Here are 3 letters I received from 1 person.

NB: THIS IS A TIME OF GLOBAL ECONOMIC CRISIS.

==

Dear Bang Bang Bang, I need a low-ish interest loan. My credit rating is low due to an IVA 6 months ago. Where's best?

Bang Bang Bang: There's a bunch of loan companies who'll loan dopes like you money. Yes Loans springs to mind. They'll rip you off and rob your telly, though.

==

Previously, Bang Bang Bang received this letter from the same person*:

==

Dear Band Bang Bang: Can you give me a travel insurance quote for the USA the 9th october to the 5th November?

Bang Bang Bang: Hang on, you're going to America for a month?

==

And prior to that particular letter, Bang Bang Bang also received this from the same, IVA-clad individual:

==

Dear Bang Bang Bang: How will I get two thousand pounds to buy the horse I want?

Bang Bang Bang: Do not buy a horse. In the future you'll run out of money (possibly from buying this horse that I'm telling you not to buy). Then you'll be locked into an IVA and will require a high-interest loan to buy more shit. You will not be able to pay back this loan and your tickets to America, as well as your horse and your telly will be stolen. Unfortunately they will not dismantle you to sell for spares.

==

And finally...

==

Dear Bang Bang Bang, Who was the gorgeous bloke in the canteen? And will i ever see him again?

Bang Bang Bang: Yes, if he works as a bailiff, a cutting-edge ITV investigative journalist (Peaches Geldof or Anne Widdecombe), or for some reason he hasn't run the fuck away from you and your horse-faced, Yankee-doodle financial fuckfest yet.

==

* homosapien epic fail .

PReview of the Century #3

Preview: Truckfest, Oxfordshire.
This Is Fake DIY, 2007.



The weather has been awful this summer, hasn’t it? Well it’s not all bad news. Thanks to the rain and floods and whatnot, Oxfordshire’s Truck festival has been postponed to this weekend, 22nd-23rd September. Hopefully the weather will be a bit better this time around, and the festival season will close in style.

For those who don’t know, Truck is one big village fete of a festival. With some 3-4000 people expected over the weekend, there’s a good chance of losing your mates, and then finding them, buying some local fayre from the Rotary Club and/or the village vicar, and then losing your friends again. And there’s very little chance of falling into a poo-infested quagmire, which is a good thing.

July’s bad weather hasn’t harmed the line-up too much at all, with a reported 90% of the original artists set to play. There’s even some interesting additions too! Here is DIY’s top ten of what to catch (one for each of Truck’s whopping ten years), if you’re one of the lucky few popping off to Steventon this weekend.

Foals (Saturday, Trailer Park Stage)

More local boys done good, Foals have been the ones to watch this summer. Here they wrap it all up with their ultra-futuristic, ultra-pacey take on indie dance, before (presumably) going home for some tea, scones and then off to take over the world.

Youthmovies (Saturday, Trailer Park Stage)

They used to have a longer name, but they’re still great. Oxford’s own brand of post-anarchic desolate soundscapery come home to play some windingly brilliant compositions and partake of local real ale.

Forward, Russia! (Saturday, Barn Stage)

Imported from the People’s Republic of Leeds, DIY super-heroes Forward, Russia! take their rawcous racket, angular-jangular guitars and put them all in a blender. Then they take the contents out and make you drink it. Only joking. Watch out for myriad replica t-shirts.

Emma Pollock (Saturday, Barn Stage)

Former Delgados front-lady rifles her way through solo material, undoubtedly helped by the fact that she can sing, is quite pretty, and that her floaty solo material is very good indeed. Helps the sadly gaping abyss left by Euros Childs not being able to make the new date.

Blood Red Shoes (Main Stage, Saturday)

There’s a boy and a girl. One plays the guitar, one plays the drums in the key of rock major. They’re a bit like The White Stripes in that way. But in other ways they’re not. Firstly, Blood Red Shoes are playing Truck and The White Stripes are not. Also, they’re very English, and they do like to be beside the seaside, hailing from Brighton and all.

Fonda 500 (Main Stage, Sunday)

Off-kilter rock heroics from Hull’s finest. Deserve medals for services to Humberside’s music scene, and top noises to boot.

Thomas Truax (Market Stage, Sunday)

Colarado-then-NYC-then-London’s one-man contraption engine, Thomas Truax makes things that go whizz and bang that inevitably make you go whizz and bang. Seeing is believing – he has a vaguely-defined relationship with a once-defunct horn-cum-harp and has a car wheel for a drummer. A bit special.

Outl4w (Barn Stage, Sunday)

They make an awesomely good ear-friendly punk racket, and they may be sick of hearing it, but Outl4w are really, really fresh (young). Still trying to live up to a career-defining appearance on Blue Peter a few years ago, in the halycon days of their youths, etc etc. Watch your Clearasil.

Pull Tiger Tail (Barn Stage, Sunday)

They invented Nu-Rave apparently. Who cares? Pull Tiger Tail play plinky-plonky new-school type music in a very conventional way – one song after the other, a succession of notes played in the correct order. They are very lively and inventive on stage, too, so while you’re having a lazy Sunday afternoon, you can let some other people do all the hard work.

Idlewild (Main Stage, Sunday)

A keystone appearance for many, Scottish indie-stalwarts Idlewild have been there and done that. And they’re going to be at Truck, doing it. Watch out for seminal indie cuts, folded arms, crusty t-shirts and delicate whisperings of ‘do you remember the Lamacq Live, when…’. Classic.