goodbye 2004
1. What did you do in 2004 that you'd never done before?
I met Andy Serkis and Billy Boyd of Gollum and Pippin fame, respectively.
2. Did you keep your new years' resolutions, and will you make more for next year?
Most were kept; the ones that weren't will go on next year's list.
3. Did anyone close to you give birth?
My thesis supervisor's wife gave birth to a beautiful little girl.
4. Did anyone close to you die?
My great-grandmother. People you love should not have to be taken away from you.
5. What countries did you visit?
Britain (obviously), Canada (obviously), Italy, Vatican City, and the US.
6. What would you like to have in 2005 that you lacked in 2004?
The ability to focus and not get so easily distracted.
7. What dates from 2004 will remain etched upon your memory, and why?
Sitting the Applied Probability exam in May - I've never felt so stupid in my life. The recent Muse gig and near hyperventilation. Opening the acceptance letter envelope from Oxford. Seeing Mum and Dad at the airport.
8. What was your biggest achievement of the year?
Being accepted into Oxford, no doubt.
9. What was your biggest failure?
Not being as supportive of a very close family member as I would have liked. Bloody Atlantic Ocean.
10. Did you suffer illness or injury?
Luckily not - just the odd cold at the beginning of fall.
11. What was the best thing you bought?
It would have to be my iPod, which I am never without. That and my entire Depeche Mode discography.
12. Whose behaviour merited celebration?
White Teeth D's on a drunken night out. 'Hey mate, you can't dance.' Quality.
13. Whose behaviour made you appalled and depressed?
I won't say, but it's not anyone who reads this website.
14. Where did most of your money go?
Into Depeche Mode's wallets. It was worth it.
15. What did you get really, really, really excited about?
My parents coming to visit, and the prospect of a new Depeche Mode album.
16. What song will always remind you of 2004?
Keane's 'Everybody's Changing'.
17. Compared to this time last year, are you:
a) happier or sadder? Happier and more fulfilled.
b) thinner or fatter? Fatter, although I prefer to call it 'more womanly'.
c) richer or poorer? Oh God. Much, much, much poorer.
18. What do you wish you'd done more of?
Seen more of my friends instead of being buried in work. On second thought, we were
all buried in work. Sigh.
19. What do you wish you'd done less of?
One word - Selfridges.
20. How will you be spending Christmas?
Christmas was a lovely, quiet one, spent with my parents here in London.
22. Did you fall in love in 2004?
(Erm, where did question 21 go?) I didn't fall in love; rather, I fell out of love.
23. How many one-night stands?
None.
24. What was your favourite TV program?
I don't have a television license unfortunately. But I do love The Office on DVD.
25. Do you hate anyone now that you didn't hate this time last year?
Yes. I cannot stand seeing a loved one being hurt and manipulated.
26. What was the best book you read?
The Lord of the Rings: The Return of the King, by...as if you didn't know who wrote that.
27. What was your greatest musical discovery?
Depeche Mode although they weren't an entirely new discovery, as I've listened to them before. (My answers are starting to get boring, aren't they.)
28. What did you want and get?
Happiness, fulfillment, acceptance of the past.
29. What did you want and not get?
Nothing.
30. What was your favorite film of this year?
Hands down - The Incredibles.
31. What did you do on your birthday, and how old were you?
I had just turned 21 and had assessments due that day. Fun.
32. What one thing would have made your year immeasurably more satisfying?
Seeing my family more.
33. How would you describe your personal fashion concept in 2004?
Black. God, my entire wardrobe was black and is likely to stay that way. The uni look - fitted blazers, soft jumpers, nice denim, pointy flats. The work look - pencil skirts, fitted shirts, stilettos. The current look - black fitted belted trenchcoat, fitted denim, and black courts. Notice a trend? Black and fitted. Always works.
34. What kept you sane?
My iPod.
35. Which celebrity/public figure did you fancy the most?
Dave Gahan *swoon*
36. What political issue stirred you the most?
I won't pretend to know anything about politics.
37. Who did you miss?
My grandfather, immeasurably.
38. Who was the best new person you met?
Keith @ SE.
39. Tell us a valuable life lesson you learned in 2004:
Everything happens for a reason, and those reasons are not for us to decide.
40. Quote a song lyric that sums up your year:
I need you to trust who I'm going to be
And in everything I'm going to do
Cos I'm not afraid of what I don't know
For understanding is all that I earn
But what is for sure is I'm going to go
I'm going to live
And I'm going to learn
Happy New Year, everyone. Be safe tonight.
xmas goodies
What did Santa bring you lot for Christmas?
I received:
>Lord of the Rings: Return of the King Extended Edition DVD
>MAC Blot Film + Touch Lipstick
>Bliss Bath Box + Jellybath sachet
>Photos of Cuddles (our dog in Toronto)
>A black jumper and black top
>Three unmentionable items
>A dog
Yes, a dog. Except not just any ordinary dog - it was a very adorable replica of Cuddles, pictured below.
Figure 1. Bloody hell, the resemblance is uncanny.
Figure 2. The men in my life, no doubt.
Figure 3. And they both have stylish animal-print beds.
The replica dog (who came with the very unfortunate name of 'Libby Labradoodle', which shall be changed straightaway) was a gift from two lovely friends in Toronto who know how much I miss Cuddles when I'm in London. They reportedly spent a day making a doggie bed out of a shoebox, embellished with buttons and bows, covered with leopard print fabric, and complete with pillow. They would be amused to know that the resemblance of the dog to Cuddles really is quite uncanny, especially the texture of its fur. One night I caught myself half expecting the dog to move when I got up.
J and SQ you are so thoughtful and creative. Cheers. I love it.
blink of an eye
'London at Christmastime,' someone recently informed me, 'is mad. Absolutely mad. It becomes a total ghost town, if you can believe it'.
I had a difficult time last week believing a preposterous claim like that - after all, I was still getting trampled on by the consumerist masses whilst shopping on Oxford Street. Now, however, I am surprised to find myself admitting that it is indeed true.
Earlier today I dropped my parents off at Heathrow - they had come to visit for a few days. It was a lovely Christmas. We spent most of our time in the flat, catching up and making lots of food. We did go shopping, and saw a film as well, but aside from that we kept it simple. It seems like yesterday that they had just arrived. I miss them already.
This is my first time staying in London over Christmas and it admittedly does feel a bit strange. Tradition has it that we have a big, cheery, family Christmas dinner each year - it was held at our house this time, and I missed it. London seems to have emptied itself over the past few days - all the flats across the street are dark and silent; even the people living in my building have gone away. Shops are quiet and closed; restaurants that once used to be full of people have dimmed their lights. There is barely any traffic outside. And it is very, very chilly.
I love Christmas, but it somehow always makes me a bit sad. Strange how time flies by so quickly.
introducing...
Right. Muse/SantaMuse/etc is obviously having a wee identity crisis - no doubt attributable to too much eggnog, gingerbread men, etc etc. Please update your links. Cheers.
PS - This is a tribute to one of the best. B-sides. Ever.
santamuse's personalised, interactive xmas greeting
Over the past few years, you will inevitably have observed a surge in the popularity of the e-Christmas card, or reindeer spam. You may even have resorted to it. The spam card constitutes a wonderfully efficient means of conveying your genuine, personal esteem and best wishes to a prodigiously large group of acquaintances. This can be done with minimal effort and concentration, generally, by ticking a number of boxes in your address book. The key idea is automisation.
Despite its instant appeal, Christmas spam has some drawbacks. It tends to leave the recipient unmoved. The words of seasonal love and affection found in Christmas spam e-mail are felt to be diluted in proportion to the list of the addressees that precede it. In some cases the card may actually invoke resentment, according to the recipient's personality or social beliefs. The card is simply a reminder that the sender is unable or unwilling to make the sincere personal connections expected of him/her at this time of year. In short, that they deviate from basic human adequacy.
In line with these risks I have devised a template for Christmas spam that incorporates many of the above lessons. In essence, we take Automation and add Delegation (the 'AD method', in a more-than-convenient analogy to AD Disorder). In short, the method requires that the recipient is empowered; that they actively cooperate with the sender in wording the message. I believe that you will find this of use in future years. Note that it can be easily modified for other group e-mail purposes, such as the announcement of deaths, births and circumcisions.
Dear [please insert some term of affection by which you are now or have been known to me. If I have never displayed any overt affection to you, insert your full first name, with a 'y' or 'i' appended on the end],
How is little [insert the name of your young child, pet, or lover (if you do not have any of these, or if I am either your child or your lover, please delete this line altogether)]?
It seems such a long time since we have met up. Another whole year has passed already!
I am fine and working hard. We must meet in the new year for a drink.
Have a very happy Christmas, and send my love to [insert the name(s) of any mutual friends]. I do miss them terribly and at this time of year have fond memories of [insert an enjoyable shared experience].
Yours
SantaMuse
*****
J, you are absolutely brilliant. Cheers.
good news!
Bloody hell - I've just been accepted into the University of Oxford for graduate studies...!!
Two months of nervousness and nailbiting are over - now only two more applications pending...
muse @ earls court london
Right. Where to begin.
Muse are undoubtedly the noisiest, rockiest band I regularly listen to, and consequently they attract a certain audience. That audience, as I was surprised to discover, was predominantly male and of an average age of 15 (if I'm being generous). They would also not look out of place on Toronto's Queen St W (dyed hair, spiky mohawks, piercings etc). There I was, with the hair colour I was born with, wearing a smart blazer, and feeling like I ought to be babysitting these kids. Moving on.
The first opening act was Soulwax, whose creative use of synths reminded me at times of Depeche Mode, but not
nearly as good. The Zutons - a band currently getting quite a bit of airplay in Britain, and for good reason - took the stage shortly thereafter.
The Zutons were fabulous...for the most part. Things were peachy keen until the second last song of their set, when the crowd crush happened - effectively a wave of hundreds of bodies crushing yours from every direction imaginable. (I was stood at the epicentre of it, right in the centre, six rows from the stage - evidently not a good place to be when this sort of thing happens.) Girls around me started screaming; I saw kids gasping for air and trying to keep on their feet, so as not to be dragged under and trampled on. The song ended but it got unimaginably worse. For a minute I could not breathe, and the last thing I remembered with any clarity was thinking, 'Shit - I'm going to faint'. It was seven long minutes of sheer physical agony and terror. Truly frightening.
I was glad when the set ended - I was hoping the kids would calm down. If the opening act was going to elicit this much chaos, I shuddered to think what it might be like when Muse took the stage. So I started pushing my way through the masses. When I got out, I collapsed, and good thing I collapsed where I did (right in front of First Aid). I was given about two litres of water and it was suggested I ought to rest in the First Aid room. I assured them I was fine, I just needed breathing space. (The next half hour was spent regaining my breath.) I took up a spot that was left of the stage, front row nonetheless, where I could enjoy Muse in peace. And as the night progressed I watched as various bloodied concertgoers who had fainted were carried out by security.
Muse were as overblown, theatrical and operatic as expected. It was spectacular - at one point thousands of metallic black balloons showered down from the heavens, followed by even bigger balloons, and then a massive flurry of confetti. I even have photographic (although extremely blurry) evidence, and confetti in my bra to prove it.
Setlist:
Intro riff
Hysteria
Butterflies & Hurricanes
Newborn
Sing For Absolution
New song
Muscle Museum
Citizen Erased
Ruled By Secrecy
Piano interlude
Sunburn
Thoughts of a Dying Atheist
The Small Print
Interlude riff
Time Is Running Out
Plug-In Baby
Bliss
Encore 1:
Dead Star
Microcuts
Encore 2:
Apocalypse Please
Stockholm Syndrome
Outro riff
I've been to nearly 20 gigs where I've been stood front and centre in the standing area, and crowd crushes have never happened before. (Granted, the music I normally listen to - of the Doves, Elbow etc variety - are practically Enya compared to Muse, and thus not conducive to crowd crushing. That, and I'd like to think that 20- to 30-year olds are mature enough
not to crowd crush.) I would have enjoyed the gig more, had those twats not started pushing in the first place.
When it happened though, I do distinctly remember a girl behind me screaming, 'Stop pushing! The Zutons aren't that great anyways!' I beg to differ. That being said, when I heard a Zutons song on the radio the following morning, the dizziness started and my chest tightened up. I had no choice but to switch off the radio.
depeche mode > album reviews > 1993...2004
Continued from album reviews 1981...1990.
Songs of Faith and Devotion (1993)
After the chart-topping success of Violator, DM could have went ahead and made Violator 2, but they didn't. SOFAD was the result of the band undergoing its most difficult period, one that saw Dave Gahan shovelling cocaine into his system by the kilogram, Martin Gore taking up daily binge drinking, and Andy Fletcher verging on a nervous breakdown. (Not too coincidentally, SOFAD turned out to be Alan Wilder's last DM album.) The circumstances were a recipe for disaster, but the resulting SOFAD most certainly was not. All growly synths and distorted guitars, its distinctly rock/gospel/blues-infused sound was a slap in the face for those expecting another slinky follow-up to Violator. It opens with the pulsating drive of I Feel You, and lapses into the biggest, most brilliant rolling bassline ever (Walking In My Shoes). At SOFAD's epicentre is In Your Room, a monumental, foreboding six minute opus with S&M undertones; and it ends with Higher Love, a rousing, spine-tingling closer that never fails to make me shiver in awe. Dave Gahan's voice has never been better. This is undoubtedly my favourite DM album, and an absolute stunner at that.
Key tracks: I Feel You, Walking In My Shoes, Condemnation, Judas, In Your Room, One Caress, Higher Love
Rating: 10/10
Songs of Faith and Devotion Live (1993)
Non-die hard fans needn't rush out to purchase this - it contains exactly the same tracks as SOFAD, and in exactly the same order, and there are times when the die hard fan thinks '101 this ain't'. That being said, there is no denying the sheer power of these tracks when performed live - but stick to the Devotional DVD for a truly electrifying performance of songs from the SOFAD era.
Key tracks: Condemnation, Higher Love
Rating: 7.5/10
Ultra (1997)
After a four-year hiatus - and one that wasn't exactly a holiday either (the departure of Alan Wilder, Dave Gahan's repeated episodes of overdosing etc) - Ultra was the album that DM seemed destined never to make. Production shifted from Alan to Tim Simenon, who injected Ultra with a more reflective, layered edge. The beats were grittier - as in the case of the abrasive, dissonant opener - and the synths much more complex. As a consequence, Ultra is a much less immediate album than its predecessors, and opinion is still very divided as to whether it is a 'good' DM album or a poor one. Good or bad, there are two pleasant surprises here - Dave Gahan using his voice as more of an instrument (as opposed to relying on overproduction), and the corrosive single Useless, with its sensual, moaning guitar riff. Fighting off their demons never sounded so lovely for DM as it does here.
Key tracks: Barrel of a Gun, Home, It's No Good, Useless, Sister of Night, Insight
Rating: 8/10
The Singles 86>98 and The Singles 81-85 (1998)
Some might argue that this collection of singles is yet another shameless cash-in on the part of Reprise Records, but it is indeed a worthwhile purchase for casual listeners as well as hardcore Mode fans. It presents all of the band's influential, groundbreaking singles up till 1998 - including a rousing live version of Everything Counts - and introduces no new songs, save one - the organic and very sensual Only When I Lose Myself on Disc 2 of 86>98. For those interested in hearing how DM's sound has evolved from the upbeat synth pop of the early 80s, to the electronica/synth/rock crossovers of the early 90s - and why they are widely considered the trendsetters and pioneers of electronica - these LPs would be a very, very fitting place to start.
Key tracks: All of them
Rating: 8/10
Exciter (2001)
There is probably not a single DM album that divides fans more than this one. Actually, to call it 'Exciter' might be a bit of an overstatement - aside from two shamelessly grinding, dancefloor-worthy tracks, the rest of the album is decidedly more mature, minimalist, organic, and restrained in feel. Earthy guitar riffs and electrified, pulsating synths find themselves sitting side by side here, perhaps the biggest surprise being the electro-acoustic sound that producer Mark Bell has managed to coax out of DM. Rarely has Dave Gahan's voice sounded so rich and expressive, without being overblown - Goodnight Lovers finds him purring over a hush-hush backing of gospel singers in a glorious closing lullaby. The only song that sounds bizarrely out of place is The Dead of Night, a loud, swaggering stomp that could be Nine Inch Nails dressed in drag, complete with glittery eyeliner. That aside, and although Exciter might not be DM's best, not many bands could pull of a feat like this in their 20th year.
Key tracks: Dream On, When the Body Speaks, I Feel Loved, I Am You, Goodnight Lovers
Rating: 8/10
Singles Boxsets 1-6 (2004)
Given that these six nicely-packaged (in black, of course) boxsets typically cost £26.99 each on a bad day at HMV, it somehow goes without saying that they might be suited more for die hard DM completists. All 36 singles (up to Dream On of the Exciter era), complete with remix after remix, and some truly stunning and glorious b-sides, present hours of true aural ecstasy for DM followers. I am a sucker for DM b-sides, and the best can be found here - Route 66, Black Day, My Joy, just to name a few. This is undoubtedly six boxes of pure music history.
Key tracks: Shake the Disease, But Not Tonight, Route 66, Dangerous, Happiest Girl, Sea of Sin, Death's Door, Surrender
Rating: 9/10
Remixes 81...04 (2004)
There is no denying that DM have always been at the vanguard of remix culture, being pioneers of a groundbreaking genre. The band's particularly choosy selection of remixers have been legendary, a reflection of the hottest, best remixers in the world. Remixes 81...04 is no exception, reading like a who's who list of the cream of the crop - Underworld, Kruder & Dorfmeister, Goldfrapp, Air, and Timo Maas, to name a few - all wanting to contribute to a bit of DM history. Not all the remixes are entirely successful, however - Are People People? is particularly scary; DJ Muggs' metal-edged version of Freelove does not sit well with the song's tender, soulful lyrics; and Linkin Park's version of classic Enjoy the Silence sounds a bit too much like Linkin Park for my taste. For those lucky enough to get their hands on the limited three-disc set, the third disc is undoubtedly the best - it showcases some truly exemplary, multidimensional remixes and is a fascinating example of the remix as an emerging art form.
Key tracks: Never Let Me Down Again (Split Mix), I Feel Loved (Chamber's Remix) World In My Eyes (Mode To Joy), Useless (The Kruder & Dorfmeister Session), Enjoy the Silence (Timo Maas Extended Remix), Photographic (Rex the Dog Dubb Mix), Halo (Goldfrapp Remix)
Rating: 8/10
To be continued when the new album is released (not soon enough evidently).
depeche mode > album reviews > 1981...1990
As promised - and apologies for the delay - capsule reviews (out of 10) of the entire Depeche Mode discography. (Note 'discography' meaning major commercial album releases, not compilations, bootlegs etc). As I was writing this I realised that to review all albums in one go would be far too much, so I've decided to split up DM's 23-year career into two bits. This set of reviews covers 1981 to 1990. Part 2 will follow shortly. To be read in conjunction with the
DM biography. Enjoy.
Speak and Spell (1981)
The world was first introduced to Depeche Mode with S&S, which was largely the work of then-member Vince Clarke. His influence permeates the album in its entirety, with its fluffy, jaunty bubblegum rhythms and trademark brand of upbeat synth pop. This is not the same dark, brooding, romantic DM of today, and needless to say, early 80s material generally does not age well (Dreaming of Me, with its nonsensical, cartoony lyrics, had me in fits of giggles when I first heard it) - but that being said, S&S is undeniably one of the finest representations of early synth pop, a sound which DM later honed to perfection.
Key tracks: Just Can't Get Enough
Rating: 6/10
A Broken Frame (1982)
Vince Clarke's early departure from the band signalled a new start for DM - one that allowed Martin Gore to wet his feet in the pool of songwriting. With ABF, he did just that, but with results that were not always successful. Martin later remarked that ABF was undeniably DM's worst album (and many die-hard fans would agree), but what it did showcase was his burgeoning songwriting ability and potential. Whetting fans' appetites was only the beginning - though a largely patchy album, it did reveal hidden surprises such as opener Leave In Silence, with its highly evocative lyrics and gloom-laden sound that would later become DM's trademark.
Key tracks: Leave In Silence
Rating: 5/10
Construction Time Again (1983)
It is often said that Alan Wilder's arrival marked the beginnings of a positive upward trend for DM. CTA sees DM in a more experimental (Pipeline), slightly sombre (Love, In Itself), and surprisingly cynical mood - 'The handshake seals the contract/From the contract there's no turning back', Dave Gahan intones matter-of-factly in the classic live favourite Everything Counts. The fact that only two singles were lifted from this album suggests that perhaps it was meant to be an experimental record of sorts - with lyrics that would make Karl Marx proud and a mishmash of sonic landscapes, including soul. Inconsistent perhaps, but also well ahead of its time.
Key tracks: Everything Counts, Pipeline, Shame
Rating: 6.5/10
Some Great Reward (1984)
Some might say that SGA was DM's first truly great album, and in many ways, it was. CTA had indicated that DM didn't seem entirely happy being nicely coiffeured pop pin-ups - hence the dabbling in other forms of music. SGR revealed a much darker side of DM, including forays into religion, S&M, unrequited love, and death - themes which DM would later continually explore. Upbeat pop finds itself sitting comfortably alongside funky basslines and stunning balladry, making Some Great Reward a sure indication of some great things to come.
Key tracks: Master and Servant, Lie To Me, Blasphemous Rumours, Somebody, People Are People
Rating: 7/10
Black Celebration (1986)
The magic DM had started with SGR culminated in the record that was Black Celebration - their most gloomy, foreboding, and nihilistic record to date. Borderline gothic in feel, it is arguably also one of DM's greatest albums, and one of my favourites. Lyrics are weighty and bleak, and synths are minimalistic. Experiments in rhythm, industrial sampling, and eerie choral landscapes contribute to the darkly perverse and intense feel of the album. Martin Gore is on top form here - this is a definite Mode classic and one not to be missed.
Key tracks: Black Celebration, Fly On the Windscreen, A Question of Lust, Stripped, Breathing In Fumes
Rating: 9/10
Music For the Masses (1987)
As its title suggests, MFTM was arguably meant to cement DM's status as stadium-filling gods, and it did just that. It opens with the pomp of Never Let Me Down Again - an overblown, excessive, aggressive live favourite - and coupled with the subsequent two tracks (one haunting and elegiac, the other insanely catchy) makes for one of the most memorable first 15 minutes of an album that I've heard. The music is overtly sexual - from the heavy breathing that forms the backdrop of I Want You Now to the insistent drive of Behind the Wheel. Once again DM dabbles with unconventional sampling, using a Russian men's choir for the experimental heave-ho of Pimpf.
Key tracks: Never Let Me Down Again, The Things You Said, Strangelove, Behind the Wheel, Nothing
Rating: 8.5/10
101 (1989)
101, the first of two DM live albums, is named after DM's monumental sell-out show at the Pasadena Rose Bowl - the one hundred and first show held at that venue. The atmosphere here is electric and awe-inspiring, and ought to prove to any cynical critic that yes, synth pop and electronica can actually sell out stadiums, making DM the world's biggest cult band. The setlist is to die for - 20 major Mode favourites.
Key tracks: Behind the Wheel, Stripped, Never Let Me Down Again
Rating: 8/10
Violator (1990)
Ah, Violator, how I love thee. Undoubtedly DM's most popular and commercially successful album, it doesn't take a genius to figure out why. The nine glorious tracks (why must there only be nine?) are tailor made for the dancefloor and bathed in waves of shiny, slinky synths and funky basslines, coupled with bluesy guitar riffs (found in the groovy stomp of Personal Jesus). I don't think I'm completely wrong in saying that DM opened the floodgates for an entire generation of dance/electronica artists to follow. The production is flawless - total perfection - with the words 'Alan Wilder' written all over it. Violator oozes class and is deep, dark and sexy. This one needs to be played loud.
Key tracks: World In My Eyes, Personal Jesus, Halo, Enjoy the Silence, Policy of Truth, Clean
Rating: 10/10
To be continued...
coming down
My previous post ought to serve as a glaring reminder that I need to keep myself away from my beloved laptop after returning from a night out - the results are evidently disastrous and highly embarrassing. Friday afternoon - when the effects of alcohol began to wear off - had me gawking in horror at the nonsense I had posted at 4 a.m. that morning. Friends want to use those now-classic lines of poetry as their e-mail signatures. Thanks. No need to credit the author.
Thursday night at 19:30 had us (D, Z, N, J1 , J2 and F) in the basement bar at Roka, which was swarming with beautiful people. A lovely, exotic bar, but I cannot stand their sodding clad-in-black doorman, who clearly has the IQ of a gnat, and who bars the entrance with his hands clasped over his genitals. But I digress. Seeing as our reservation for Yauatcha (pan-Asian dumpling restaurant in Soho) was for 21:00, we accomplished some very efficient drinking (efficiency = consuming large amounts of alcohol in very short periods of time) before walking/stumbling (delete as applicable) over to the restaurant.
F has fabulous taste when it comes to restaurants - Yauatcha was his choice. It is currently one of London's hottest. Its entrance opens into a low ceilinged, white walled tea room, in which pretty little dainty cakes line one side, and a glowing neon-blue backlit aquarium snakes along the walls. But the basement dining room is spectacular - dark and mysterious, with a black ceiling studded with hundreds of twinkling lights, and black walls overlaid with smoked glass shelves, along which hundreds of flickering coloured candles burned. The food was delicious - prawn dumplings with shark fin, accented by bits of gold leaf; delicately flavoured Chilean seabass mooli rolls; and exquisite roast venison puffs covered in golden flaky pastry which melted in the mouth. Drinks emerged from behind a royal blue translucent glass wall, behind which the silhouettes of the chefs could be seen flitting back and forth. We had wine, wine, and more wine, and when the cheque came to a simply astounding £198 for six people, we were too drunk to notice (or care).
It was decided that the night ought to go on. By 12:15 we were stood in a queue outside Chinawhite, one of London's most exclusive clubs of which J2 was a member. Most unfortunately the club was at full capacity, and thus could only admit J2 and one (not six) of us, so we headed over to Cafe de Paris, another popular nightspot and perennial celebrity haunt. Upon arrival we encountered the bouncers turning away some clubbers - trashy girls with all of their wobbly bits hanging out, and a young man who was yelling 'But these jeans are by Phat Farm! And this top cost me £80! My trainers are by Adidas!' at the bouncers. They were turned away. At that moment in time, I was terribly glad that I had even bothered to dress up, although it had been quite a chore. My friends - God bless them - were dressed to the nines, and we were all clothed head to toe in slick black outfits and wearing smart coats. We got in.
D and J2 made a beeline towards the bar which was charging extraordinary prices (£7.50 for a vodka and lemonade? Never again). We drank. We danced. We drank some more. We danced some more. And consumed more alcohol, whilst dancing up a storm and seeing colours having sex, and shapes exploding, as it were. (I ought to point out that this is not necessarily a result of dodgy substances, but more a result of consuming staggeringly copious amounts of alcohol - so much that we might as well have been high.) By 2:30 J1 and I were giggling nonsensically and clinging onto each other whilst tripping over sweaty bodies on our way to the loo. Whilst in the cubicle, I could barely stand up nor see straight, so it was rather surprising that I had the sense to realise that it might be a clever idea not to drink any more that night.
D and I could have gone on dancing but J1 and J2 were knackered by 3:15, so we left. I was in bed at 4:30, got two hours of sleep, and fell out of bed again a couple hours later to attend the last set of lectures of term (if that's not dedication, I don't know what is). Needless to say, I was extremely knackered, my voice resembled that of a phone sex operator (again), and my ears were ringing. The day was spent tripping over cracks in the sidewalks, and falling down flights of stairs, accompanied by a pounding headache and a burning desire to curl up on the pavement to nap. D and Z rang me later on in the day, complaining of similar symptoms, not too surprisingly.
Being one of the best nights out I've had, the hangovers were worth it. Those horny colours and orgasmic shapes really are beautiful. And until you experience them for yourself, you'll just have to take my word for it.
colours havi ng sex and shaapes exploding ;
dancing in my hand s
k
santamuse
SantaMuse does not enjoy Christmas shopping. Often she gets rather grumpy and un-SantaMuse-like whilst scouring the shops of London for boys and girls who are very difficult to shop for. Not to name any names, but *cough*Juliet*cough* would undoubtedly top SantaMuse's 'Most %$!£ing Difficult To Shop For' list.
So, for you boys and girls out there (Juliet included!), what would you like SantaMuse to get you for Christmas? The naughtier you've been, the better. Ooops, bad SantaMuse. Bad.
And no waffly wishes, please. SantaMuse does not do world peace, saving Brazilian rainforests, eradicating world hunger (leave that to Bono), yadda yadda. Bah humbug.
Ohhh my. Is New Order's album 'Substance' ever brilliant. Every song a classic. A must-hear.
I am well aware that the posts I write following a giddy night out are usually incoherent/rambling/boring (delete as appropriate). And yet I never learn my lesson and continue doing it anyway. So if you please, bear with me.
Last week was a mess. I apologise to all who are awaiting replies to their e-mails - I haven't forgotten, and I still love you. My week of assessments began a week ago. Inference's take-away examination was confusing and difficult, and called for numerous hastily-arranged meet ups with Z, F, and the lot. Luckily being the only female in an all-male group of friends means that the sessions are bound to be entertaining, and that did keep me sane whilst muddling through pages of brain-numbing mathematics. As for the Medical Stats assessments - of which there were two - they were a pain in the arse. Moving on.
Shopping can also be a pain in the arse, especially round Christmastime. I love shopping, and I love Christmas, but I do not enjoy Christmas shopping. Having to wade through hoardes of people on Oxford Street on a regular day is bad enough, and having to do it whilst talking on your mobile, carrying a dozen bags, and holding a brolly is a total nightmare. Not only that - one has to also manage to keep their hair in place whilst doing so. (I don't know about you, but I only have two hands.)
A and I went to see a late show of
The Incredibles tonight. It was brilliant, imaginative, creative, clever, and...well...incredible. (Words seem to escape me at 2 a.m. in the morning.) If you haven't seen it, do go. You won't be disappointed. I haven't laughed so hard in a film in ages.
In a recent discussion about relationships, a (platonic) friend asked me whether I could start another relationship at this point in my life. If he had asked me at this time last year, the answer would have been no. If he had asked me in the summer, the answer would have been perhaps. And now - well, the lovely thing about now is that I'd be equally happy continuing being single, or starting a relationship. Admittedly, being single during the holiday season is vile. Especially this season, when all of my friends are going away/going home for the holidays, leaving me alone here for New Years (!). (J and SQ - would you mind booking a flight to London ASAP? Pretty please?) If worse comes to worse, I will put on a facial mask, curl up in bed, and watch DVDs. Either that, or I'll head over to the Apple Store on Regent Street. The blokes in that shop seem very friendly. So friendly in fact, that each of the three times I've been there, three different salespeople have tried inviting me out for drinks. How do you back out of something like that if you're not interested? You might try saying, 'Erm, I'd rather have one of those iPod remote controls, actually...' and scurrying out of the shop. Fast.
shoeheaven
My favourite pair of shoes was a black pair of kitten-heeled flats, with two criss-crossing leather straps on the fronts held in place by a silver stud, that looked oh-so-badass (badarse?). My love affair with these shoes began sometime last year, at which point I was lucky enough to have purchased them on sale for less than half their original price.
They literally went everywhere with me. To Toronto, to Rome, to Yellowstone National Park (very difficult to do hiking in). They accompanied me (with great trepidation) to my exams, to the law firm where I worked last summer, to Sainsbury's, to several smelly gigs at the Brixton Academy. Through thick and thin, they were on my feet, and even if they had been stepped on, kicked aside, or dirtied - I would lovingly give them a thorough polish when I got home at night.
By the end of the summer, they had developed into a pair of worn-in, slightly faded, soft black leather shoes that felt so right when I put them on. But they also showed signs of wear - the leather around the heels was peeling off and the plastic bit of the heel was completely worn down. This prompted a remedial visit to a shoe repair shop, which did the trick - temporarily. When my friends wanted to go to a slightly posher restaurant than normal, they'd say, 'Dress up. Wear something nice - and that doesn't mean jeans. And don't wear
those shoes.'
A few weeks ago however, after a period of running feverishly between lectures/the library/my flat/Sainsbury's, I was tripping all over London's %£&!ing uneven pavement (if you live here you'll know what I'm talking about - bits of the pavement have a surface reminiscent of Lego blocks - try running on something like that. In kitten heels. Stilettos are another matter. You don't run - you hail a taxi). Then I noticed that I'd be slipping on tiled floors, and when it rained my feet would get completely wet.
Yesterday, after I nearly fell down (yet another) flight of stairs, a quick glance at the bottom of my shoes told me why. The heels were
completely gone - essentially I was wearing a flat pair of shoes. Never mind peeling leather - the bottom of the shoes were so worn away that the white plastic making up the body of the shoes was clearly visible (that explained the slipping). Not only that, but the soles had been so heavily eroded away that there were holes in them - no wonder my feet were getting wet when it rained.
They were basically beyond repair. On Wednesday, my lovely black flats accompanied me one last time to Oxford Street, into a shoe shop, and watched me purchase another pair of shoes. And then they walked me back to my flat, at which point I took the new shoes out of their box, and put the old shoes into it. Then I closed my eyes and put the box into the rubbish bin. And then I took the rubbish outside and put it on the pavement, onto the spot where the rubbish is collected each day.
When I came upstairs, the new shoes were there to greet me in their new, glossy leathered splendor - not a scrape in sight. They too are black, and kitten heeled. But they are somehow not the same. I put them away and went to the window. My rubbish bag was still there. After making dinner, I peeked outside again. My rubbish bag was still there. But after taking a shower, I drew back my curtain, and discovered that the pavement had been cleared. My rubbish bag was no longer there.
Those who were tolerant enough to listen to me rattle on about a pair of shoes gently told me that the shoes have served their purpose, that they know how much I miss them, and that they have gone to shoeheaven. I believe them. And if there truly is a shoeheaven, I hope it is a lovely place. Those shoes deserve it.
before i forget...
Apologies to all for my elusiveness for the past while - life has, as of late, given me a virtual slap in the face, and just about everything that could possibly go wrong
is going wrong. Please do not take it personally if I tell you - directly or indirectly - to sod off. An advance warning, if you have not been fortunate enough to have experienced this directly - I guarantee that I
will get in a strop if I'm in the middle of trying to figure out how to apply a complex Taylor series expansion to a rigorous mathematical proof, and you interrupt me by wanting to talk about dancing piglets or the like. (Under normal circumstances I highly encourage the discussion of dancing piglets - but not when I've got about 2,197 things on my to-do-or-die list that I haven't actually done and that I'm supposed to do - by the end of next week.)
I will be back, I promise. Keep posting. I miss and love you all, even if it's just the ecstasy talking. xxx
