If the above image doesn’t fill you with glee: Scott Pilgrim is the creation of Bryan Lee O’Malley and involves seven ex-boyfriends, Sneaky Dee’s, Chinese men slicing streetcars in half, bands named after Mega Drive obscurities and KNIVES CHAU?

I will be talking about little else come February 4th, 2009 – the release date of book five of six - it’s your duty (if you like comix and y’know, stuff) to be able to engage in conversation with me about Wallace Wells on that day, obviously, so brush up. If not to appease my whims, you can give them a read so you’ve got some warning before the movie arrives and everyone pretends that they were the original Scottaholics. If Micheal Cera can ruin Kimya Dawson (even more) for me…

Elsewhere in the vague connected world of graphic novels and musical notes! Stones Throw has unveiled a reworking of Madvillain’s ‘Madvillainy’, and it’s all about the physical product with this one. Namely, a massive silver box. Every format is represented in this ensemble cast - a seven-inch of a track that was found under the stairs, the demo tape, the finished product and ‘ALL CAPS’ in paper and ink form. (MiniDisc? Your invite was lost in the mail HONESTLY) Recycling is gooood for the wallet. Only given one or two tracks a listen after tearing chunks from the interblag, so I’ll have to investigate this one further. Perhaps another Williams Street excursion next?

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  Download: Plumtree - ‘Scott Pilgrim’

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  Download: Madvillain - ‘Space Ho’s Coast To Coast’

Podcast #2 imminent. Sorry, only me this time.

roman david

Hey, have a comic instead of original content. Cat and Girl by Dorothy Gambrell is a comic that I became aware of because of a T-shirt portraying the eponymous characters as Vikings. As someone who was that ex-roommate who sold all but five of his CDs, I emphasise with what it has to say, and there’s certainly an irony in treating files as objects whilst refusing to pay for them - something we’re all guilty of.

I read that the music model that The People want is where you pay a tenner a month in order to download everything possible, DRM-free. Fortunately, it already exists. Unfortunately (if you’re the BPI), it’s called RapidShare. As for scarcity… when an out of print record that fetches >£50 on Amazon Marketplace can be found withing three minutes of a Google search, who needs scarcity?

Speaking of which…

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  Download: Flipper ‘The Way Of The World’

roman david

Two French exchange students found dead after a fire in south-east London were the victims of a ”frenzied, horrible and horrific attack” having been bound and stabbed repeatedly in the head, neck and torso before the house was set alight.

Laurent Bonomo, of Velaux, and Gabriel Ferez, of Prouzel, both 23, were found lying in the living area of the ground-floor bedsit. Bonomo had been stabbed 196 times with up to 100 injuries inflicted after he was already dead, police said. Ferez had 47 wounds.

Detective Chief Inspector Mick Duthie, of the Metropolitan police, today described their injuries as the worst he had seen in his policing career. “These were two young French students who were visitors to our country and had been in London for only a matter of weeks. They were talented students working on a dream project.

“The level of violence used on these two victims was excessive - it was horrendous. The extent of the injuries are horrific. Everyone working on this case, including myself, has been deeply shocked by what we have seen. I have never seen injuries like this throughout my career.”

–The Guardian

It could only be New Cross!

It’s events such as this that make me realise just how distinct living in London was compared to the relative utopia that I’m stuck in for the summer. The Barnetby Bugle reports of broken windows and irresponsibly driven motorbikes. CRIME WAVE. This is entirely fucked up and you’ve gotta feel for the poor sods’ families. The reaction smacks of when Magda Pniewska was unwittingly shot within a week of us all moving in, again half a mile away from the security of Fred and Francis - you are exposed to this sort of crime on a regular basis in south London. It’s only when it lands on your doorstep that it hits you. Well, your adopted doorstep two hundred miles away.

Speaking of which, I’m still without a place to live come September - if you have a garden where I could camp then give me a bell via Facebook or semaphore. Like I’d be deterred by a pesky horrific turn of events - and that’s how we should all feel. In the meantime, be sure to check out the amusingly embarrasing podcast that I recorded with my friend; there are more to come - the next one will be more of a mix than a radio show but just as entertaining. If you like chiptune.

roman david

I miss New Cross.

The past nine months have been certainly something - chaotic, expensive, wonderful, three pound ten a pint - but that was all expected, rather unlike the gaping chasm that once housed my overdraft and my continued inadequacy when it comes to spirit measures. For every time stood watching The Teenagers and encounters with saucepans there have been new friends, adventures on hills, good courtyard times, all sorts. Why people would want to mix with me is another matter; I have been described as ‘a big friendly walrus’ and I spent my childhood years mastering the Death Egg boss instead of having friends.

If only these times didn’t fly by; if only I had spent some of them learning instead of sitting here, back in Humberside, worrying my head about whether I can return… not that I would turn back time and live my life like it was a Baz Luhrmann song or some bollocks, because where’s the fun in that? I screwed my finances, but I did so laughing my kertwatted arse off, buying too many records, having my ears pulverised by a myriad of wonderful racketeers and I’m probably financing The Wine Cellar’s manager’s new telly. Not as much as my friends (oh mercy!), but every little helps.

I’m probably closing in on the best year of my hilarious existence and it’s all London’s fault. Now if only I wasn’t rounding it off here, having traded SE14 for DN38; Brockley, Honor Oak Park, Forest Hill is now Habrough, Grimsby Town, Cleethorpes. Fine, there’s a Björk special on MTV2 right now, but after that there’ll be The Wombats and The Fucking Ting Tings. The nearest place to buy records and see talented people perform is at least an hour away; there isn’t even a Chick Chicken for miles around…

Siigh mope whinge arrgh and so on. I’ve been here a week and I’m already sounding like a whinging little git but that’s what Scunthorpe, what Grimsby, and even Lincoln does to you when you’ve seen what the alternative is. I suppose I could be somewhere like Norwich and then I wouldn’t even have the wonderful Peter Levy to tell me about how someone in Gainsborough is complaining about their bin collection rota. Or Lincs FM, playing middle-of-road, Radio-2-lite joy from the Humber to the Wash although I don’t need them because my mother listens to Newton Faulkner, a feat all the more morose considering she used to be into the Cocteau Twins. Still, some records to steal. It’s nice not spending a penny in nearly a week. It’s also nice being able to steal media in a simpler manner, thereby making me want to spend less pennies. Look at me, I’m nullifying my argument. HOORAY

The thing is that I can go on to myself (I’ve seen the Google Analytics; nobody will be reading this) about this area but I should have gotten a job or something… people find ineptitude a selling point after all, right? And it’s only till September although I also need to work out where I’m living by then (email/FB inbox message AM I RITE?) so yeah. Disregard those paragraphs. Cast them out! But I still need to see people soon again and be less bored/boring than I have been in the past week or so. Perhaps, perhaps that will involve more blogging.

Oh yeah, and at least I don’t have that beard anymore.

roman david

Just some visual proof that I haven’t spent all of last month failing my studies, develop emotional attachments to people that don’t exist and generally drink myself stupid; last month was the month of seeing bands and then seeing them again a short while afterwards, preferably in a different city that doesn’t house tramps that offer your drunken buddies bananas. Pissed Jeans, No Age, The Mae Shi with bands such as Mob Rules, Statues and The Shitty Limits in tow - it’s been a good month for standing in darkened rooms watching men writhe.

Pissed Jeans and Mob Rules at the Fenton, Leeds on the 16th.

Only went to Nastyfest at the Faversham (17th) for the latter half of the evening, just in time to catch everyone going crazy to No Age, The Mae Shi and (unpictured) others such as Japanther and Cadence Weapon; a tip to London crowds… the north is making you look like miserable tossers. Dancing is better than judging, you know.

The PJs at the Old Blue Last. Had to include the last one for shits and/or giggles. My, does my friend (right) look sweaty.

And finally, No Age at The Dome. Stage invasions ahoy, including that Japanese guy who you can see being taken off after he tried to take a monitor amp with him. Goodness. Their performances cemented the quality of their new LP and and whatever horrible metaphors the NME used when reviewing the thing (’Teen Creeps’ is “a brash, off-key blast of eardrum-searing Superchunk-style fuzz-pop”, apparently).

There were countless other support bands but if they’re not up there then they’re not worth your time - thereby suggesting that Mob Rules are worth your time. MOB RULES, you could say. Soft Skeleton has some exclusive tracks on their latest podcast, so head there for some fine fury. Nearly typed ‘furry’ there, which would have sent a different message entirely. They’re playing a gig in Brighton and a gig in High Wycombe and then you’re stuck till October.

Here’s to June and here’s hoping I actually post things instead of hoarding them and forgetting any critical elements therein.

roman david