Wednesday, September 10, 2003

WHAT THE POP PAPERS SAY: Brian's little belly edition

Having snickered at Banng, it's the least we could do to drop by and see what was going on at Kerrang these days, as the fad of nu-metal receedes leaving their audience starting to dwindle back to less stellar levels. Okay, and we wanted to see the Placebo feature, which oddly enough doesn't even rate a single mention on the front page of the magazine - has Molko sunk so low that he doesn't sell copies at all any more (except to us, of course?) . their feature is built around their recent gig in Croatia, which the locals seem more interested in using to get out word about their own scene. The gig takes palce at the Dom, which seems apt for the Placebo boys, although these days when there are anked owmen on the tour bus, it's because they're doing life drawing classes rather than banging like a shed door in a hurricane. Brian M now has a little belly, which is actually quite sexy.

Elsewhere, the rang tries to find a new role, running about seeing where it can stretch the rock genre title to. So, the Gossip are in (all the way from Arkansas to Hull), and so are 27, because they've been touring their Mazzy Star-isms round with hardcore bands (interestingly, they say they go down better with the rock audiences, which suggests even the people who turn out for sweat and beer don't really have their hearts in it anymore.

Fred Durst talks about the new album Results May Vary which he believes "ends in triumph" - it ends in him singing "save me before I drown", and the thought of Durst disappearing under the waves would be a pretty big triumph in our books.

Quite Cute Alert: Colour of Fire. They once supported Placebo. And they're quite cute. That's as far as we can go.

Tom Cooper Temple cause tells a tale of throwing up into a turntable while it was playing beyonce. Because, you understand, he loves Beyonce. (This was at the kerrang awards party, so not even they have any commitment to rock).

A summer space-filling top 20 mentalists in rock (they say 21, but one is Steve O, who is merely jeremy beadle swearing. Justin Darkness scores five; G G Allin wins.

Q comes with fly posters (Stokes, Chilli Peppers, radiohead and Cobain - pretty much where Q is at these days) and a cover that shows Kate Moss draped around David Bowie - leaving now merely Paul McCartney and Fred Durst on her 'Rockstars: To do' list.

Metallica 's Kirk uses Regaine and Lars son plays with the Metallica action figures, which is curious and perhaps the sort of thing that will lead to many hours of painful sessions on the couch in later life - I mean, we'd love to send Lars scuba-diving round the u-bend, but then he's not our daddy.

Blur say they don't care about not making the Mercury shortlist - they don't need someone to tell them their album is "as good as the M-people". But we bet they could use the cash, if only to tide them over till the next US commercial jingle comes through.

Electric Six's guide to picking up men runs thus: Work it Girl; Show No Mercy; Pucker Up. Looking like the Windsor day Ward is having a Sparks Fancy Dress party is apparently no bar to success.

Mark from Ash paid psychic Sharon Neil to "move on three spirits that had attached to his aura." We reckon it cost him about two and a half grand. Mr. Muscle would have had them off for about two quid fifty.

"The last time I went back home, I was whistled at by some rednecks in a truck. I was flattered but I'm not sure if they were really interested in me. they just wanted me for my body." Havok from AFI doesn't reveal if he put out or not.

Neil Young fans apparently get confused by the screen flashing up "Clear Channel: Support our war" during his current live set. Which goes to show what an uphill task political campaigning is these days.

Paul Banks of Interpol appears to suggest he flited with suicide, but then retracts claiming he's "too egotistical" to kill himself.

Writing about Westwood, Johnny Davis seems upset that people were more interested in taking potshots at Timothy's background than they were in getting to the bottom of who tried to shoot him. There's a hint that the people who laugh at Westwood (son of a bishop turned street man) are involved in some sort of bizarre inverted snobbery and racism, and then hip hop supremos are trotted out to defend him: Pharrell Williams says "Any man should be able to speak the way he wants." Which is, of course, true, but doesn't make Westwood's phoney accent and desperate attempt to be something he isn't any less preposterous. His musical nous and enthusiasm would have been more than enough to win him respect, but the obviously faux trappings are on a par with Peel deciding to try and sound like he's a teenager from Goole or Tim Burgess pushing the idea that he was born in the South of California. Oh, hang on...

James Walsh reckons his singing is great because he isn't doing it trhough a nose full of coke. We don't reckon his voice is great because we're not listening through an ear full of cheese.

Kate's meant to be interviewing Bowie, but the best bit comes when David says to Moss "You've had flirtations with drugs... [long, difficult silence] Oh... should I mention this?" The Dame is addicted to tea tree sticks these days.

Linda Perry is making Pink lighten up for the next album: "I didn't want to hear her yapping about her problems, so it's in the third person. I can't take another child abuse song."

Matt from Muse - on the cover of the nme - now looks like Stuart Maconie working in the offices at the Nationwide. The cover also promises "The Darkness on Speed - we join them for a day at the races." They don't, of course; merely standing in the press huddle as the band do something with cars or something.

Other news: Limp Bizkit's Manchester gig saw them off stage by 9.45, less than an hour's worth of shows. And yet, they still have apologists - one Gary Vale telling the paper "people thought this was a proper show and it was just a warm up" to defend the crap event. Maybe it was the full-price fee of twenty five quid which led people to assume they were going to see a gig and not merely a rehearsal?

The next relaunch of the paper - next week - has apparently taken "six months of research and hard graft", so the plans must have been laid almost before the last relaunch had hit the streets, in the wake of the last circulation figures. On this basis, they'll probably be working on the next relaunch right now.

NME confidently predicts the Darkness would win the Mercury.

The Guardian described PJ Harvey's outfit for her Tate Modern gig as a catsuit; the nme suggest it was a tassled trouser suit. the photographic evidence isn't clear. Anyone?

The Hiss do the CD thing - The verve, Cohen and Dylan are in.

Matt Bellamy not only watches BBC Four, but discusses the show about jesus going off to India after the crucificion at some length.

Stellastarr* rubbish the idea that there is a "new york scene" - "the stokes, Interpol, the Yeah Yeah yeahs - do you think these bands are friends?" Well, maybe not friends, but there's an infrastructure of support, isn't there?

The nme has noticed that Limp Bizkit have become a national joke (only two years after they became a national joke) and spends two pages considering why. The impact is lost a little when you turn the page for an article on Andrew WK. Apparently, WK's "life-affirming qualities shames the cynics who've been slagging him since his emergence." No, not a bit of it. There's no denying his enthusiasm - that's never been in doubt (although he now shows it a lot more; at first the bloody noses and hagiogrpahy suggested he was serious, as well as partying, rather than merely serious about partying.) The cyncism was entirely directed at his very few cheerleaders in the press who seemed determined to try and convince us he was the new Iggy, and their continued perseverence in the face of an almost blank response has done nothing to make us any less cynical, i'm afraid. Yeah, he's enthusiastic. So is the pooping sheep-like dog in the house that backs on to ours - it doesn't mean anyone wants to listen to his incessant yapping all night. Or, indeed, at all.

the strokes - room on fire - "a refining and a tinkering of the strokes sound", 9
starsailor - silence is easy - "good and professional isn't enough when only magic will do", 6
peaches - fatherfucker - "don't be a pussy - take a risk", 9

sotw - stellastar* - jenny - "more art punk"
placebo - special needs - "pure borderline irrelevance"

Pretty girls make graves - the garage - "more compelling than britney snogging madonna"
fannypack - new york -" just like bubblegum"

amd finally, back to Kerrang, who record Nickelback's arrival at the Iron Maiden album launch. And we look from Chad to the maiden, and the Maiden to Chad, and none of us can tell the difference.

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