Tuesday, September 21, 2021

pourdom

After my receipt of that Pete Shelley album yesterday and the realisation that I also owned another, I was reminded that some time ago I had purchased a book about/by him a few months ago that had never shown up. This happens. I figured oh well it hasn't come it probably never will and it's almost certainly no good anyway. So guess what turned up today. 

I have read a few bits and pieces of it (I'm mainly marking today so I'm not in the position to sit down and spend a lot of time on a book, but I do need palate cleansers of reading or listening to something or walking to the shop or I get confused between different essays). It's actually pretty good, he comes out as very personable and matter-of-fact. 

As I was walking around a little bit as well, I dialled up Pete Shelley on Spotifuck to discover of his four solo albums only the first (which I haven't listened to but which I believe is a weird little pre-punk experimental thing) and the last (which I listened to a bit of and which is horrible) are available i.e. the two I own on vinyl aren't spotifucked. When I went to the chemist this afternoon (helicopters everywhere - jesus christ people are stupid i.e. anti-lockdown protestor shits) I listened to the third Buzzcocks album on Spotifuck and, well, it's patchy I have to say. 

I guess that's OK, the secret to albums is that they have an ebb and flow, they can't be hit, hit, hit because then what do you get - well exactly, Singles Going Steady, the most perfect English male pop record of the late 1970s, we can't have that raising the bar for everyone, it's stressful. 


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