meeting my match
...in shopping, that is.
It isn't everyday that you go shopping with a man, and end up carrying
his bags. Which is precisely what I did at the weekend. White Teeth D - as he is known on this website - and I had an extremely productive shopping marathon on Saturday. Or rather - he did.
White Teeth D's purchases:
*A pair of Kurt Geiger dress shoes
*An Armani dress shirt
*A Hugo Boss fall/winter coat
*A Hugo Boss jumper
*Three iPod remote controls
*A pair of jeans from French Connection
The damage done: approximately £1,000.00
My purchases:
*A Depeche Mode singles box
*A pair of Diesel jeans
The damage done: erm...negligible in comparison
I half-joked that he ought to live on bread and water for the next year or so. All I can say is, D is extremely efficient, having accomplished this in a matter of an afternoon. (Whoever said that money doesn't buy happiness obviously did not have any money.) As much as I'd love to spend £1,000 in an equivalent period of time, I don't even have £1,000 in my account. Lol. Perhaps I shouldn't feel so guilty about last week's £50 splurge on CDs...
saturday morning rituals
The lovely Australian neighbours who live in the flat below mine have a slightly bizarre Saturday morning ritual. For the past four Saturdays (including today), they have woken me up rather unpleasantly at about 09:30 with the strains of an extremely out-of-tune rendition of 'When the Lion Sleeps Tonight' wafting through their window (and into mine). The girl happens to be a worse singer than me (if that is possible), and she habitually begins the ritual with the first verse. The bloke - who is a
marginally better singer - joins in at the chorus, and the both of them seem to highly enjoy the bit that goes something like 'aaaaaaoooooooooooo-oooooooooooooooooo-a-wimba-weh'. Perhaps this is some sort of mating ritual. Perhaps they are rehearsing for an audition for a dodgy childrens' production. Perhaps next Saturday morning, I ought to open my window and join in. Thoughts?
the man in my life
May I take this opportunity to gloat about how utterly adorable our little dog is? (Insert non-sensical and incoherent cooing and gushing here.)
K - a brilliant photo, cheers!
keane @ carling academy brixton
Keane's gig last night left me completely deaf and with a voice my friends habitually call my 'phone sex voice'. (Read: low, husky, a borderline croak. How this can possibly be sexy is beyond my understanding.)
The reason behind this shameful voice of mine is because, well, at a Keane gig, you naturally feel inclined to sing (or rather, yell) along to lead vocalist Tom Chaplin's passionate intonations, something that Keane's music enables the audience to do quite nicely. If you live in the UK you'll have heard Keane's ubiquitous singles and their much-talked-about brand of emotional, soaring pop, and the rather tiresome comparisons to Travis, Coldplay, and the like. The difference is that Keane - gasp - do not use guitars. Does this make them special? On the album, yes; in a live setting, not so much.
Let's not ignore the fact that bands all get a wee bit of studio tweaking. That's not to say Tom's voice isn't gorgeous - it is. He's blessed with a startlingly delicate and crisp angelic croon, displayed to perfection on the album. Last night, I fear he might have been trying
too hard - his voice sounded brash and forceful, perhaps better suited to a live venue but certainly disappointing those hoping that the gig would capture some of the intimacy and warmth that their debut album,
Hopes and Fears, did. Despite the programming, at times the lack of guitars did make some songs sound more like tinny Christmas carols - which was not the case on the CD itself.
Perhaps it was a combination of that, Tom's cherubic looks, or the band's choirboy image that made the sequences during the chorus of every song - when Tom punches his fist into the air and slams down his microphone stand in a fit of frenzied emotion - seem a little
too contrived, as well as slightly juvenile. (There were at least two occasions during which I began questioning his age and telling myself that he really was singing into a proper microphone, and not a hairbrush.)
However, watching Tim Rice-Oxley's raucous, keyboard-pounding, foot-stomping, ground-shaking performance on the piano was a real treat, as were the two opening acts - talents to make note of. As for Keane, we'd love them more if they didn't try so hard to be the rock stars that they're clearly not. And that is
definitely not a bad thing. Simple, sunny, catchy indiepop are what Keane do best, and they ought to keep it that way. As cliche as it sounds, we love Keane - just the way they are.
this just in
This may not be relevant (or interesting) to all of you, but I am extremely excited. It has just been officially announced that in December, Depeche Mode will be meeting in Santa Barbara with producer Ben Hillier to discuss upcoming album details (!), and studio sessions will begin in January, after a holiday break. Hurrah!
The choice of Ben Hillier was a welcome surprise. Although there has been speculation about Alan Wilder (see
biography) being a potential producer, I thought this was complete and utter toss. He left the band, and it is highly unlikely that he should come back, much less to produce an album.
I hope Ben Hillier is able to take Depeche Mode's sound even further - no two DM albums sound alike so it'll be interesting to see which direction he chooses. The man's CV is extremely impressive, having produced material for Doves, Elbow, Blur, Idlewild, Pulp, Suede, Smashing Pumpkins, Travis, U2, and New Order, just to name a few. It has been suggested that the forthcoming album could take on a glam-electronic sound. Another likely possibility is that Ben will opt to work the same sort of magic he did on the Doves, Elbow, and Blur albums - swirling guitars, dark atmospheres, and a general sense of moodiness - perfect complements to Depeche Mode's repetoire of music.
Coincidentally Ben has worked with some of my other favourite bands, so I am very excited about what his collaboration with my favourite group can accomplish. It's only a question of time...
120 hours
Thursday 11 November. Woken up by a friend's slightly drunken call at 08:45 (yes, that is early). Muddled through the Inference ICA (In-Course Assessment) and received four more similar phone calls. Met D and J (postgraduate students) to go through the ICA, and then dashed off to meet Z, F, and several others at 18:30 in the library. Being the workaholics we are, we were there till 21:15.
Friday 12 November. Project meeting at 10:00 which ran half an hour late, followed by yet another meeting with Z, F, et al to discuss the bloody irritating last bit of an Inference question ('express the Cramer-Rao lower bound as a percentage of the variance of the minimum unbiased variance estimator'). We spent an astounding total of over five hours on this bit, and we're meant to be the top of our class. I reckon we were trying to make the maths far too complex than it should have been. A few hours later, it was dinner with A, A and M to satisfy my craving for Japanese food, followed by coffee/desserts. A and I caught a late-night show of
Bridget Jones's Diary: The Edge of Reason - pure fluff, but loads of fun, and had the entire audience giggling throughout.
Saturday 13 November. Woke up too late to do anything substantial, so did my usual routine of Saturday morning cleaning. Early afternoon called for some shopping, starting from Bond Street and heading down Oxford Street. Late dinner. Received a call from a friend who happened to be walking past my flat - 'Crikey! The aliens have fucking landed!' I opened the curtains and was blinded by a spotlight sat on a piece of scaffolding right outside my window. It was 23:15 and there was a bloody film crew on the street outside. The next hour was spent sat on the windowsill in my slipdress watching the filming.
Sunday 14 November. Visited the Victoria & Albert Museum, which in my opinion was a glorified Antiques Roadshow. I have never been in such a massive building with so many...knick-knacks. The Japan exhibit was astounding though. Walked down to High Street Kensington for a late lunch at Wagamama, and then to Boots to pick up a body wash. Late dinner. Midnight entertainment - Devotional.
And here I am, Monday night, after having endured a six-hour day of pure Inference. (There is such thing as
too much Inference, but I don't think our lecturer agrees.) Mondays are brutal - why can't the world leave me alone?
depeche mode > the biography
If U2 are the world's biggest rock band, then Depeche Mode are the world's biggest cult band. Their beginnings: as a slightly camp, poppy fresh-faced group straight out of Basildon, Essex (which is not exactly synonymous with all that is hip and happening) specialising in candyfloss tunes and fluffy, slightly questionable lyrics.
Dave Gahan had been recruited from his daily activities of stealing cars to play starring role as the voice of Depeche Mode – the magnetic, crotch-grabbing, arse-shaking, arm-waving lead singer. The band’s lyricist and songwriter, Martin L. Gore, who has seemingly had a bad hair lifetime, was a shy teenager who later had a penchant for hitting S&M clubs and wearing leather skirts. Andy (‘Fletch’) Fletcher was the non-musician of the group, these days looking like the world’s least likely rock star with his sensible jumpers and glasses - more like a rakish accountant, perhaps - but was the emotional core of the group. Andy did not get on with Alan Wilder, who has since left the band (along with Vince Clarke, an original founding member), who, with his upper-middle-class upbringing, had considerable musical talent and was responsible for dramatically injecting a greater sense of sonic drive and adventure to the band’s earlier work.
With a career spanning 20+ years, DM's internal struggles have been gleefully well documented by the press. Sex, drugs and rock-n-roll were nothing new to DM, and the excesses of non-stop touring took their toll on the band. The infamous Devotional tour, which was comprised of over 150 dates during a 15-month period, nearly killed them. Quite appropriately, it was dubbed ‘the most debauched tour ever’ by Q Magazine - its road crew included a drug dealer and psychiatrist, both employed by the band. Dave, by now fully absorbed in the LA grunge scene, shocked his bandmates when he showed up at a session plastered with tattoos. He had become a junkie, his diet consisting mainly of vodka, cocaine and heroin. He suffered a heart attack and collapsed backstage; shortly thereafter he overdosed again - this time on a particularly potent blend of heroin and cocaine, taken intravenously - and when later found unconscious, lapsed into a two-minute period of clinical death. He certainly looked and acted like the proverbial rock star, and this fact was cemented by an episode involving a midnight snack of wine, a handful of valium pills, accompanied by a razorblade.
Martin instead opted for binge drinking and partying, reportedly downing over 70 glasses in one marathon 11-hour session. Andy was diagnosed with depression and later suffered a nervous breakdown due to mental stress and anxiety. Meanwhile Alan, citing unhappy working conditions, quit after Devotional. The band members would go for days without speaking to each other, and sometimes would not see Dave for three or four days at a time. Dave responded by turning a closet in his house into ‘The Blue Room’, where he could shoot up in peace. By the final dates of the tour, he was babbling incomprehensibly, acting erratically, disturbingly resembling a tattoo-covered Christ figure, with his pale, emaciated body and long, stringy hair.
The road to recovery was long and difficult. Dave, offered a choice of jail, death or rehab, thankfully chose the latter. Martin kicked his habit, and Andy too eventually reappeared back in the studio. Preliminary recording sessions were disastrous however, with Dave’s ordinarily resonant baritone being so destroyed by drugs that a vocal coach needed to be hired. But the band clung on, and those days are now long gone. Since then, the three remaining DM members have been happy, healthy, cleaned up, and settled down with families. On current tours, the band are no longer interested in anything stronger than a couple of glasses of red wine and some cigarettes, their only remaining vice.
With all due respect to Oasis, DM are arguably the most influential band Britain has produced. It is impossible to deny the impact that DM has had on many generations of artists, with the Nine Inch Nails, Marilyn Manson, and Garbage citing DM as an influence, just to name a few. They were the pioneers of electronic music, transforming it from a medium of blips and beeps into something much more lyrically-driven and fuller-bodied, equally at home on the dancefloor as in a stadium. What began as bubblegummy synth-driven pop in the 80s has since evolved into a mature, guitar- but still primarily synth-driven melange of rock, pop, and electronica, with a touch of blues and gospel thrown in for good measure. Well-known classics include the groundbreaking Black Celebration, which was the first album to fully explore the suitably dark side of love; the slinky dancefloor rhythms found on the band’s most commercially successful album, Violator; the gospel-tinged soul-rock of Songs of Faith and Devotion, their grandest, rockiest affair yet; and of course their comeback album Ultra, which is, interestingly, equal parts seductiveness and grittiness. Critics are quick to classify DM as reformed goths who appeal only to a generation of mopey, depressed individuals still stuck in the 80s. Martin’s hypersensitive, complex lyrics - which explore love as obsession, sex as addiction, sin as indulgence, and religion and redemption - are partly to blame.
I have always enjoyed rock, electronica, and to some extent, pop, and it was in DM that I found the perfect balance between these genres. They’re rock, but not quite; they’re electronic, but not really; and whether they really are pop is questionable. DM have continuously pushed the limit with each subsequent album that they have released. Never wanting to conform to the same sound, each album challenged its predecessor and set a new musical standard, continually pushing the envelope in terms of creativity, sound and emotion. Martin’s lyrics read like gorgeous poetry, and Dave has quite possibly the most sensual voice I’ve ever heard.
Enjoy the forthcoming reviews of the DM discography.
absolution
I don't want to start any blasphemous rumours (okay - for those who know me well, that really was a terrible joke). Nor am I trying to advocate certain behaviour, or make the devout amongst yourselves hate me, but this is my take on the seven so-called sins.
1 >
Pride. Let's face it. I am proud. I don't let anybody walk all over me.
2 >
Greed. Yes, I am greedy. I'd like a hairstyle that stays put regardless of wind speed. I wish I had more shoes. And would a lifetime supply of tiramisu and sushi be asking too much?
3 >
Envy. The grass is, and always will be, greener. So what?
4>
Wrath. Sure, I'll admit to wanting to murder my ex-flatmate and chucking her alarm clock out the window.
5 >
Lust. If it feels good, do it.
6 >
Gluttony. I love food. I eat a lot. I eat a lot of food that I love. Why starve yourself?
7 >
Sloth. Should I be working? Yes. Am I working? No. Am I being lazy? Absolutely.
Right. Now that I've turned the entire Christian world against me, I only have this left to say. I make little apology for the above. I believe in God, and pray nightly. I am Christian - but I am also human. Aren't we all?
you never know what those farmers get up to...
The thesis I am working on this year is about sexual behaviour/sexual lifestyles/sexual attitudes in Britain. Now, anything sex-related is bound to be interesting (which is partly why I chose this topic instead of modelling environmental influences on trees, for example, not that trees aren't interesting, of course).
I'm bound by a strict confidentiality agreement stating that I am not to disclose specific results from particular interviews or questionnaires, but I will comment on something I've just come across in analysing dataset input variables. There was a section on the 1990 questionnaire that asked how respondents learnt about sex, which is quite a standard thing to ask on such a survey. The possible responses were also fairly standard - from a parent, relative, magazine, school, etc - except for one which read 'farm/animals'. Erm...
sorry? I cannot possibly be the only one who is thinking horribly disgusting thoughts about this.
Thankfully, that response was omitted in the 2000 survey (it probably elicited many red faces and nervous giggles from respondents). It was replaced by 'video', which, strangely enough, did not appear in the 1990 survey. I hope there isn't some sort of implicit connection between 'farm/animals' and 'video'. But I think I'm thinking far too much about this...
wooooooarggg. this screen is so blurry. dinner, drinks, and etc with d (white teeth) and z (closet game theory geek). too much food, too many drinks, and far too much wine. is dave gahan really singing 'the mercy in you'? i could have sworn it was 'the birdseed in you'. birdseed. that is the word ofthe day.
[Edited on 06.11.04 - we shall pretend that the above post never happened. Disgraceful. I've said and done stupider things whilst drunk, but luckily I did not have a blog back then...]
I finally got around to watching
Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban last week, and was quite impressed. Light years ahead of the first two films, gorgeously shot, and thankfully darker in tone (the first two were starting to get a bit fluffy). Harry is growing up nicely, seems to be at least a foot taller, and finally has some teen angst. Lovely. It was a welcome surprise to see so much of the film shot outdoors, whilst the students were out of uniform. The bridge was a wonderful touch, and very symbolic indeed. Far better work - and much creepier - than Chris Columbus's standard kid fare.
Apple also decided to unveil their latest iPod models recently (how dare they, when I've only recently bought mine). The sexy red and black U2 Special Edition iPod is particularly lovely (although, with all due respect to U2, I'm glad it was a U2 Special Edition and not a Depeche Mode model...) As for the iPod Photo, I reckon Apple are attempting to make the crossover between digital music and digital imaging - it'll be interesting to see how popular the Photo models are. Although they have colour screens (a novelty, really), they are larger in size and cost even more than the original models do. 60GB also seems rather excessive, although I can understand that a larger capacity is required for storing images. I'm having enough trouble filling up my 40GB as it is, but don't encourage me.
PS: Whether or not you love them as much as I do, reviews of the entire DM discography are in the works. Watch this space.
decisions, decisions
I won't pretend to know a lot about politics (I don't). However, I do know that Barbara and Jenna Bush score much, much higher on the style meter than do Alex and Vanessa Kerry. Does that count? I'd vote for Kerry though.
Any thoughts on the election?
the mode
My latest obsession is Depeche Mode, positively one of the most brilliant bands who have walked the face of this earth (alongside U2, The Cure, etc). I've always liked their music, but only very recently have I been able to listen to their albums continuously, and in full. Since then, their songs have been on endless repeat, and I can only say that when they're blaring from my iPod earphones, I am in a totally different world. Dave Gahan can take me to bed any day, and sing me DM songs in that velvety, dark, illegally sexy voice of his.
