Christ, is it 2008 yet ? Remember when the Millennium seemed to be inching slowly closer (what will the twenty-first Century be like!!!????......ahh, I see... ) time has sped up post 2000, innit. Actually, talking of regional variations (see previous post) heading down Trafalgar Road to buy a screwdriver yesterday my suspicion that “izzit” is now the default question tag/response to all questions was confirmed. The exchange went like this:
(geezer in skully) “ I thought you was still up in Woolwich.”
(young women (surprised)) “Izzit?”
“Yous two have been to the bingo, izzit?”
Obviously I only heard Black Moth Super Rainbow as Blissblog was banging on about them, and of course, he was bang on. There was as much colour and light in Dandelion Gum as you could need. A huge, glistening, multihued glacier of a record, it should be prescribed on the N.H.S as a cure for Seasonal Affective Disorder. Like finding the sweetshop of your childhood dreams hidden inside a dilapidated hillbilly shack. Great tartrazine-colured washes of sounds, exquisitely toothsome peaks of pink-icing inflected Moog, long, fizzy strips of sugar-rich Vocodered-up vocals. Chemical without being at all toxic, this was the kind of palette that only Chemistry can bring you, hyper-vibrant, a peek inside the mind of a supersmart kid hyped-up on Haribo.
What was I doing enjoying a Radiohead record? No-one was more surprised then I was, (actually, no-one else cared…. aha, you like the new Radiohead album, right. So???!!!) never having had much invested in them, generally finding them a bit too exactly-what-an intelligent-modern band-should-be and that Thom Yorke solo album downright dull. It might be the fact that I can’t even remember what “Kid A” or “Hail to the thief” sound like but “In Rainbows” seemed to sideline Yorke’s emoting and grimly adolescent “lyrics”and get on with some sinuous, glitchy, flowing and free floating, wonkily propulsive post-pop that put me as much in mind of Pram circa “Imaginary animals” as anything. Plus “Bodysnatchers” had that Killer-riff/ pealing echoplex guitar thing going on that, dammit all, it’s just hard to resist and " House of cards" was the best song U2 never got round to.