No Rock And Roll Fun

WHAT THE POP PAPERS SAY: Blogger servers in distress edition
Well, surprisingly, the Post Office have managed to keep up their end of the bargain - but Blogger are down right now ("updating the servers", I'm informed) so this might well take until Sunday to appear anyway.

Jack White is on the front of the NME - he's grown back the stupid 'tache and got a shit soul patch to go with it. Still, even he looks good compared to the picture on page three, which is related to Selfish Cunt.

There's some splendid coverage of the Pete Doherty court case, which in years to come will appear in text books as an example of how to laugh at someone, while pretending to laugh with someone. Doherty claims he cried to avoid being sent to prison - something Jay Kay clearly didn't think of when he was trying to keep hold of his driving licence this week.

Who knew that the bottling of 50 Cent would be a touchstone issue? In a letter to the NME, Reading-Leeds booker Neil Pengelly tuts like the headmaster of a progressive school: "Should I be feeling angry, disappointed or disgusted at what happened... Reading has a great track record for having the least safe and conservative bills in the country... I believe this was perceived by some as a game. A game that was extraordinarily dangerous and put a downer on what was otherwise a trouble free and hugely enjoyable weekend." (Apparently, bottling The Rasmus doesn't count). There's also a small flurry of letters from equally disgusted readers. Pengelley concludes "a bit of tolerance and respect for acts and fellow festival-goers is the least we can expect at a festival." Hmm - to be honest, modern festivals, the best we can hope for is being fleeced like a bunch of old ladies with our savings in a teapot, herded like cattle, fleeced again, forced to prove who we are and lectured. Yeah, throwing bottles at 50 Cent is childish, but my, the organisers don't like any sign of disagreement with their work, do they?

There's a warning that The Strokes next album could take them five years to make - an early indication they're going to write some new songs for this one, then.

Peter Robinson takes on gospel singing Razorlight Johnny Borrell. In the Vice video, he poses as a rentboy. "Poses" being the keyword here.

Radar band is the Dears - which gives a nice handle to hang a list of "miserable canucks" on - they don't mention Avril Lavigne, though, who is, naturally, so full of angst.

You'll already have read the crux of the White Stripes piece in the other nooks of the internet - effectively, White says they're not splitting up, which means we're giving 'em nine months. The interesting point is when White is asked if the next album will be different: "The whole point of the band was never to evolve; it was always to box us in... the methods we use ...[have] always been ridiculously constrictive."

When would the last Cure interview have appeared in the NME. Probably it'll turn out to be, like, six weeks ago, but it feels like it would have been in the 1980s. It turns out that Robert Smith's Dad brews halluciogenic beer. Which explains a lot.

That it's ten years since Definitely Maybe means many things - not least that, fuck, we're getting old. It also means its time for a Britpop history lesson. Graham Coxon recalls trying ot sneak Americanisms into Blur albums. Oddly, we're told that "before Cool Britannia, [Blur] were just a fringe away from Ned's Atomic Dustbin, and not much hipper" - which is wrong on about every level - Blur were pegged as being baggy or shoey, but never part of the Stourbridge greebo scene; the number of kids you used to see in Neds tops would suggest that they were quite hip, actually; and Blur were the toasts of the Rollercoaster, the UK-Lollopallozalite. Something we'd forgotten, though, was The Holy Bible and Definitely Maybe came out on the same day.

Posters this week come from Reading and Leeds - Messers Barat and Borrell; pelle from The Hives looking like Alan Partridge; Mike Skinner looking like Robbie Williams; Jack and Meg get a poster each; Tom Meighan from Kasbian; Charlotte Hatherley out of Charlotte Hatherley, and the Franz Ferdinand boys.

"London's a liberal place" says Martin from Selfish Cunt. Clearly, he's never heard of Westminster City Council.

reviews
live
dkt/mc5 - glasgow garage - "do the MC5 still matter? Of course not"
the von bondies, astoria - "eight or nine songs that could only be told apart with DNA testing"

albums
selfish cunt - no wicked heart shall prosper - "the rage is clearly genuine", 6
goldie lookin' chain - greatest hits - "one long dirty protest against the state of hip-hop", 8
giant sand - is all over... the map - "one of the most cosmopolitan albums to carry the sand seal", 8
beep beep - business casual - "like someone slightly taking the piss out The Rapture", 5

singles
sotw - razorlight - vice - "in every second of nocturnal longing lurks the fear of the heartbreak"
ali mcqueen - red lights - "Nick Drake and Beck sharing roll-ups"

and finally, back to 50 Cent. They tested out how hard 50 might or might not be by throwing things at Tim Jonze. We like this feature, and would huimbly suggest that they try a similar one next week inspired by Robbie William's belief that people were shooting guns at his house.