Thursday, January 29


Just clicking around and landed on a popular blog you might have seen a few times.
It mentions sex, rape, Nazism and revenge fantasies...and that's just the opening few posts.
Man, my blog is waaaay not hardcore at all, eh?
I need a latte and a sit-down.

Wednesday, January 28


Saw Frost/Nixon last night.
Solid entertainment with Langella's Nixon being a wonderful replacement now for my shitty Al Pacino impression - all jowly and gruff.
Great performances by all involved although it takes Michael Sheen about 15 minutes to get past the impression stages of his performance. Sam Rockwell and Oliver Platt are great but the talking heads bits, where the actors play their characters a few years after the event, are unnecessary and a bit distracting.
One of the lads asked me for an 'outta 10' so i'll give it a 6. Howzat?

Friday, January 23

Silver Jews split

Thanks to Mr Thrillpier who left a comment over at On The Record regarding this
See Dave Berman's original forum post here
Probably the best 'split up note' I ever did read...

Hello, my friend.
Cassie and I went to the cave and it looks great. 58 degrees but the humidity makes it feel like 72.
I'm just going to play fifteen songs. My fifteen favorite ones.
A dollar per song. Plus Arnett Hollow. I don't
want to keep you underground for too long. Fall Creek Falls State Park State Lodge is great by the way.
Yes I cancelled the South American shows. I'll have to see the ABC Countries another way.
I guess I am moving over to another category. Screenwriting or Muckraking.
I've got to move on. Can't be like all the careerists doncha know.
I'm forty two and I know what to do.
I'm a writer, see?
Cassie is taking it the hardest. She's a fan and a player but she sees how happy i am with the decision.
I always said we would stop before we got bad. If I continue to record I might accidentally write the answer song to Shiny Happy People.
What, you thought I was going to hang on to the bitter end like Marybeth Hamilton?

love david

Ain't that nice?

Thursday, January 22

Skins trying to apeal to the 'me' market

Kicking off the new series of Skins with Son The Father by Fucked Up? Genius.
Yes I just saw the beginning of it...might even watch the rest.

So long, asshole

Lest we forget, Bush is not the only cocksucker the world is glad to be rid of...

Oscar nominations 2009

Check it oot
Some strange ones there..
Frozen River has been nominated so I shall be having a look at that one tonight. And Richard Jenkins is up. If ever a man deserves an Oscar, it's Jenkins. Unfortunately he is up against the likely winner, Sean Penn, and the winner our hearts really want, Mickey 'Whatthefuckiswrongwithhisface' Rourke.


New service called Spotify is in its infancy but looks set to grow up very quickly. It appears to run off a Last FM kind of deal but is a less annoying version of that service. Sounds promising.
Check it out here in a Quietus article.
Check out the actual service's site here
Potentially solving the problems that illegal file-sharing has created for the music industry. Unfortunately, I received an invite to it last week and it is not yet available in ROI. Blegh.

Wednesday, January 21

Animal Collective: Official video for 'My Girls'

I had the video embedded here but it got removed really quickly by Domino, I think.
It's streaming here though
Worth it for the Millenium Falcon hyperspace-type-thingy which melts the band.

Tuesday, January 20

Blog awards

So, I got nominated for a blog what I would be saying if I had gotten nominated for a blog award..
Anyhoo, I guess I'm too 'real' for the kids...ahem...congrats to the nominees and may the best geek win.
Lots of love.

EDIT: That list is just the nominations list which means I didn't even nominate myself. What a spa I am.

Monday, January 19

Hodge podge

I hate the fucking washing machine and to keep balance in the world, it hates me back.

I overstuff it with all kinds of crap, hoping it will wash everything I put in, whether that be one t-shirt or twenty.
I treat it like a slave and I am the master of the manor, expecting it to do what it's told, to quiver before the orders I spit in its direction.
And it punishes me by dying my white Efterklang t-shirt grey, my beige Bonnie Prince Billy t-shirt blue and various other items a colour not too far away from the original but far enough away that it just looks a bit 'off'.
Then when it begins to wash, it makes horrendous clunking and whirring noises like it's blurting out, in a bastardised Johnny 5 voice, 'Adam, come and look at me, I'm about to burst and spill your formerly-known-as-white t-shirts all over the floor'.
Clunk, clunk, parp, toot, rattle and eventually crrrrash.
I do go and look and I stand like an idiot waiting for the fateful click so I can open the door and then see there is nothing wrong. It mocks me.
I hate you, washing machine.
I've also just discovered that the dog intensely dislikes me singing along to the new Antony and the Johnsons song, 'Epilepsy is Dancing', which I am singing alot at the moment.
It gives me a chance to do frighteningly warbly acrobatics with my vocal chords.
I put on a fabulous falsetto, a kind of English accent, a wobbly vocal effect and sing the already strange lyrics while prancing about the kitchen in a fey, highly questionable ballerina dance that I imagine Antony and his Johnsons might do if they were performing it in my house.
'Caaaaaaht me eeeeeen quadraaaaantssss, leeeeeave me in da cwornnaaaaaahhhh'
Try it, it's fun, I can assure you. Very liberating.
Finally, I saw a great headline (yes, being a sub ed makes me a headline nerd) the other day, from an American paper I think.
It was a picture of a forlorn looking 12 or 13 year-old boy, in black & white, and the headline was:
Methinks the sub editor was, possibly, bullied at some stage, no?
And lastly, it's my birthday tomorrow so I shall leave you with the song I shall be listening to: Run DMC's Peter Piper. Download it. It's a classic.

Thursday, January 15

Review: Merriweather Post Pavilion

(I'm posting this here for the moment. It'll be on drop-d too)

If the internet hype is to be believed, the arrival of Animal Collective's latest long player heralds the dawning of a new musical era bidding us to board the Spaceship Geologist with a gaggle of lysergobot friends and fly away to planet Panda Bear with headphones superglued to our ears and Merriweather Post Pavilion on constant loop.

But Public Enemy's Chuck D has been proven wrong. Believe the hype.

Merriweather Post Pavilion (named for a renowned Maryland venue where, in 1969, Led Zeppelin and The Who performed on the same bill for the one and only time in their respective careers) is a rare album indeed.

David 'Avey Tare' Portner, Noah 'Panda Bear' Lennox and Brian 'Geologist' Weitz are without MIA bandmate Josh 'Deakin' Dibb this time but his absence is far from inhibiting. Instead they fill the vacancy with such a gallimaufry of blissed-out, grooving, harmonised euphoria it's as though the missing link between Brian Wilson and Kompakt has now been defined so clearly we should wonder why it doesn't just sprout legs and dance to its own subsonic groove.

While accusations of psych-folk and inaccessibility have been levelled at the band before, MPP takes everything the 'Collective have been about for so long - Panda Bear's sublime solo album Person Pitch included - and becomes the album that will define them for many years to come.

The album kicks off with the gorgeously ominous gloop of In The Flowers which drifts around for two minutes before giving way to a pulsating beat that threatens to drive the song through the roof. Following this is My Girls, with its Beach Boys harmonies, lyrical focus and singalong melody. Summertime Clothes is dripping with techno reverie and a dizzying joy whilst pondering the wonders of night-time wanderings and Bluish brings the gloop back and speckles it with more harmony and sheer warmth than you could shake a pointed stick at.

There's not a duff track here and the closing pair of woozy paean No More Runnin' and the ecstatic, techno-flirting Brother Sport mean you depart this album on a giddy high that would normally be difficult to reach without necking a brace of particularly chalky and bitter little chaps.

On every listen it is possible to get something different from Merriweather Post Pavilion - a vocal you hadn't previously absorbed, a sound you hadn't picked up on fully – and the definitively welcoming vibe of what is very much a product of the digital age gives us a dance album with a palpable heart and soul, an electronic album with a real voice, a record that sets the bar stupidly high, not just for a few bands, but for contemporary music in general.

Fuck overstating it; if anything I'm selling it short.

Make no mistake, the snozzberries taste like snozzberries. This is how music is meant to sound.

Great shop, sad news

Road Records on Fade Street is closing.
Now that is an honest assessment of how difficult it is for an indie record shop to get by these days.

Wednesday, January 14

Some Kind Of Monster Asshole

Watched the Metallica doc on TV again last night.

What a bunch of dickheads. Especially Lars.

Sunday, January 11

Prince of Darkness?

So Prince Harry is in a bit of bother again.
A soldier being racist and homophobic? Really?
Next week: Soldier in 'camouflage-wearing' ordeal.

Saturday, January 10

Revolutionary Road

For anyone involved in a relationship, Revolutionary Road might prove a somewhat uncomfortable ride; not for the caustic, bitter, spittle-laden fury contained in its simple plot but for the horrifying idea that any couple, once in love, could end up filled with such abject hatred and resentment towards each other.

Sam Mendes - director of the beautifully-shot Road To Perdition and the excellent, if overrated, American Beauty - directs his wife, Kate Winslet, and Leonardo DiCaprio in this adaptation of the highly regarded 1961 novel by Richard Yates.
I have not read the book but have read many of his short stories and Yates certainly knows how to paint a bleak picture of impotent, stunted masculinity so I fully expected this film to weigh heavily with hostility and bile, replete with a downer ending.

I wasn't wrong.

While Todd Haynes tackled the social melodramas of 50s America in his fabulous tip of the cap to Douglas Sirk, - Far From Heaven, in 2002 - Mendes is more interested in the behind-closed-doors minutiae of frustrated American suburbanites in 1955 with delusions of intellectual grandeur.

April (Winslet) and Frank (DiCaprio) were once idealistic young lovers with dreams of greatness and intellectual fulfillment. Now, they are pretty, bored drones who get by on the fumes of supposed superiority to their dullard surroundings.
The sad truth is that they are exactly what they hate and, truthfully, they know it. What follows is a couple intent on tearing the flesh from the bones of their marriage and exposing each other's failings and shortcomings in a manner so vicious it will leave nothing when it passes. They argue horribly, they both have pathetic extra-marital sex, they pretend everything is okay to their fawning neighbours and they harbour an immature idea to escape their myriad problems by fleeing to gay Paris...until April discovers she is pregnant, something that proves to be the key in determining the outcome of their marriage, their lives and this film.

Michael Shannon (pictured on the right) - in a tour-de-force cameo as the mentally-unhinged son of Kathy Bates' realtor, brimming with razor-sharp observations and dry wit - steals this film from the two fine actors headlining the poster and provides a kind of 'this-is-what-this-means' commentary for the key moments when the couple's lives are really unravelling.
His killer line is to Frank when he 'compliments' the preening failure's awareness saying: "Plenty of people are onto the emptiness, but it takes real guts to see the hopelessness."

The movie is big, shiny, wonderfully-shot and lit, and creates a different cinematic world that, despite a good script and great performances, leaves an emotional gap between the viewer and the film that is difficult to fill. TV's Mad Men is blessed with labyrinthine plots that detail the feelings of a nation just out of the 50s and trying to deal with the social changes that are coming like a tidal wave but Revolutionary Road is firmly set in the mid-50s when the 50s ideal is the be-all and end-all.
There is no change on the horizon and the status quo is suffocating.

Unfortunately, the film itself creates a distance I imagine the novel did not. Without being inside the heads of these characters, having an internal monologue to grind out, in detail, the frustrations and anger that drive them to say the things they say, it becomes difficult to connect with the multiple fights which come thick and fast.

The director is also faced with the problem of cinematic deftness while attempting to emotionally connect with the viewer on a profound level over what could be perceived as staunchly middle-class whining and despite an effort that gets alot right, the epic self-absorption of the characters renders them and their problems slightly unrealistic and dismissible and, ultimately, the whole film falls short.

It's hard to identify with a hardship or desire you cannot grasp for the grandiosity of its presentation and relative indifference you feel towards the characters and the fault for this must lie with the director.

Friday, January 9

Hours of Worship

Ahhh Brooklyn. It can't really put a foot wrong these days. With Animal Collective hoovering up the blog and muso plaudits and the hipster-tastic Telepathe delivering an icy slab of danceable album sexiness, here is a blast of tiny techno-esque tuneage from Brooklyn's Hours of Worship. Details of them are thin on the ground so fuck it; just listen up.

Bury Me In Smoke is a menacing, brooding, creeping minimal piece that is as chilly as a comedown winter Sunday. Check their myspace for a few more examples of their tasty vein of electro, particularly Thirteenth Key. Thanks to No Pain In Pop for the heads up on this.

Download Bury Me In Smoke here


I'd love to go to South by Southwest this year but I can't imagine anyone I write for having the resources to send a hack over, so if any publication/e-zine out there is looking for someone to cover it for them, I'm ready and willing to take on that challenge, sirs.
That is all.
Yours in fantasy land,

P.S. someone stumbled across this blog yesterday by googling 'grandparents copulation'.
This is disturbing firstly because they searched for that on the internet and, secondly, this is where it brought them. I can't say I'm not a tiny bit pleased though.

Thursday, January 8

Robot(leg)s in Disguise

It's weird what you stumble across if you ever click that 'next blog' tab at the top of the page..

I would link to the blog but I can't find it now. Sorry, random blogger.
I want this freaky thing just for walking around the streets, never mind the stairs. I wonder if you can programme in co-ordinates and then just set it to walk you anywhere at all. You could sleep in it and then set it to walk you to work on time. Take that, pollution. Maybe they've developed a torso one aswell so you could become a Transformer or, at the very least, a Zoid. Remember Zoids?
And as for playing football in it.....ok I'll stop now.

Monday, January 5

A new beginning

A few notes for the dawning of a new year:

*There Will Be Blood is going to be hard to top. Really hard.
*Celebrity Big Brother is already very sad. It's a little too Alan Partridge. Cringey.
*The Merriweather Post Pavillion hype was, thankfully, justified.
*If you see this in time, Thrilla in Manila is on tonight. It's actually better than When We Were Kings so watch it if you can.
*The 'tache Brad Pitt has grown for Inglourious Basterds (that's how it is being spelled for the movie) is incredible. I may grow one and show what a non-Brad looks like with it. Maybe not.
*I've tentatively attempted to begin running regularly. My legs are proper sore. Any runners out there want to give good tips to a novice?
*Where the fuck are the gigs at this month?
*I'm reading Andrew Keen's book The Cult of the Amateur at the moment and am getting huge satisfaction from the hatred for him building up inside me. I'm going to have to prepare an email to him for when I'm finished. A strongly worded one.
*First hobby of the new year is going to be: get listening to Mastodon.
Here's more 'tache

Sunday, January 4

Vouchers to spend?

I've meant to put this up for a while. I have a recommendation for anyone out there with vouchers burning a hole in their pocket or someone who needs new headphones. These are the badboys to get: The Sennheiser PX100 headphones.

I've used them for years and, despite no cheque from Sennheiser, think that anyone out there who is looking to get a decent set of headphones should definitely snaffle a pair. They even come with a little sturdy case that they fold into. Very handy for the oul' holidays where you inevitably stand on them in the dusky half-light after a skinful of questionably legal cocktails and a skin-blistering session in the sun. They're about 50 quid in Tower - which is dear-ish I suppose if you're used to getting those pink gel bud ones for a tenner - but you'll get them for half that on eBay.
I was reminded about doing this post last night when someone told me my headphones looked like something from the 80s. That's endorsement enough, methinks. Everyone loves the 80s. Reagan, Cold War, Predator. Hilarious stuff.
Now go get all the albums on my end-of-year list and listen to 'em on these. Do it.

Saturday, January 3

Christmas pic

I got a digickal camera from the missus for Crimbo so I hope to be able to put a few more photos on this blog in 2009.
Hopefully, not all of me. This snap is of myself (on the right) and my uncle enjoying a couple of Cohiba cigars on Xmas day in my Galway back garden. See that decking? I built that with my Dad. Well...he did most of it, but still...
As a quick recap on the old pressie situation, my wonderful sister and fabulous parents managed to get me The Wire boxset and Homicide, the book too. Twas a good haul and that's what it truly is about: receiving gifts. Don't get hoodwinked by the religious overtones and altruistic hoopla, getting presents at Xmas is the best. Happy New Year, dudes.

Friday, January 2

This is Davina. You are live on Channel 4 (unlike me, The Davinabot, because I am no longer technically 'live')

And it begins again. I won't patronise anyone by saying how much I hate Big Brother because I don't. I think part of the reason I have watched a few series of it, though, is my dislike for people who say 'I don't watch television'.
Those words make my blood boil. It never means 'I don't watch television', it means 'I'm too smart to enjoy television, I find it dumb and time-wasting'.
Which it often can be.
And often is not.
I have found, however, that I do hate more and more people, generally, as the years go by. I'm becoming an intolerant bastard indeed.
And I reserve a special kind of disgust/hatred combination for many of the Big Brother contestants. It has kept me cosy many a night. If I've had a bad day and am a bit bummed out, I just think of people like Rex or Kinga or Paul from years ago and I think to myself it could be worse - I could have been born as them.
But this, of course, is not just Big Brother.
This is Celebrity Big Brother.
Now we get down to the nitty gritty, the absolute dregs of existence: delusional, quasi-famous, star-faded/fading 'celebrities' whose agents are slobbering after a percentage of the Channel 4 cheque their lazy clients will snaffle for their appearance. All they must trade is their last scrap of dignity.
Anyway, I haven't seen many of these Celebrity Big Brothers over the years so I'm not sure how things will pan out exactly. Maybe a bit of the oul' racism?
Let's hope it goes badly - it's more fun. And Mini Me is in it. Brilliant.

Alien Family Guy

I won't make a habit of it but I can't resist putting this up.