No Rock And Roll Fun

The Observer Music Monthly marked twenty-five years of hiphop - good god, I can recall when rock was that young - by asking: what do you do if you're from an "urban" background but don't have a hip-hop outlook? Not much, reckons Nelson George: "In so many ways, hip hop has become the establishment - a monolithic enterprise that stifles opposing voices and sustains the like-minded. This may be why hip hop culture has not yet seen a rival rise up against it." Meanwhile, Steve Yates picked his 25 greatest moments in hiphistory, unfortunately starting them in 1973, which we calculate as undermining the whole 25 year anniversary business.

Does the world need another piece about Motley Crue, and Pamela Anderson, and all the rest of it? We'd have thought not, but that's probably why we're not editing a Sunday supplement. More interestingly, Ben Thompson railed against the mispronunciation of band names, or at least the placing of stress on the wrong part of the name: although surely this isn't a new phenomenon, is it - Peter Powell was making a career out of it when rock was only 25 years old, surely?

The OMM Top Ten is the worst next big things evah - including space for Menswe@r, Sigue Sigue Sputnik and 21st Century Girls. Even bringing in the best songwriter they could afford couldn't help them, of course.

But, offering up this hostage to fortune, the OMM then goes on to pick the next big things for 2005: Annie (we'd love to think so, but it isn't going to happen); The Mitchell Brothers (who - inevitably - we have to respond to with 'yeravvvinalarfaitncha'); Stephen Fretwell (who's lovely, but not life-changing); Acoustic Ladyland (a pun does not a career make) and Performance, who might just pull it off.

Richard Desmond's confused-about-his-sexuality monthly Attitude (featuring a half-undressed Jonathan Rhys-Meyers, by the way) leaps on The Others - they reckon that Dominic Masters is "everything Brett Anderson teased us with - a bisexual figurehead who's experienced everything." Asked about the big NME interview, Dominic splutters that it's not appropriate to ask about his sexuality in a music magazine - "it's not the predominant fact about me." Although, erm, why does he think that Attitude wanted to interview him at all? It's not all thought through, yet, is it?

Back when hip hop was only fifteen, Richey Manic disappeared, which makes it ten years next week, so this week's NME is a memorial edition, although not he doesn't quite get the same lost voice of a generation treatment that Kurt did a few months back. Which is odd, because in some ways Richey was the greater loss by far: without Kurt, we got The Foo Fighters and Krist Novoselic's political career; without Richey, we got the 2005 model Manics.

U2 attempt to explain that they're not playing Glastonbury because "it's broadcast." Eh? The Edge mutters on that "it just makes life so much more difficult to get it right." Which doesn't make any sense at all - either you play a decent set or you don't, surely? Or do U2 only worry about really doing a decent set when there's the prospect of a sell-through DVD to make some extra cash off?

And, on the day the U2 ticket sales went ankles aloft, there's ominous news that Glastonbury are going to use the same ticket system as went so bad last year because - in what's clearly a week of lame excuses - "the new ticket computer wasn't ready." And, managing expectations down, Michael Eavis warns "that there'll still be problems." Well, yes, if you're running the same system as last year. Oh, and there's going to be "more security" - some sort of photo ID is going to be needed, which seems to be adding an extra layer of room for things to screw up. Still, it'll please the letters writer who suggested that Ebay is "a disease worse than cancer." Although cancer, admittedly, doesn't let you complete your Sarah 7" collection or flog that unwanted cheese fondue set.

Peter Robinson versus up with Taylor from Hanson, a man who by now must be realising he's never going to be able to leave his junior life behind. In fact, asked how the world would have been different if Hanson had never existed, he offers that there'd never have been the 'singer looks like a girl' jokes.

We're impressed with Ian Winwood's coming straight to the point with Roddy Woomble: does anyone, he asks, still care about Idlewild? After a spot of defensiveness, Roddy decides they do.

It's less clear if anyone really cares about John from The Libertines, but his Rosencrantz is rolling anyway: a band called Yeti. Yes, yeti.

The highlight, perhaps, of the Richeyarama is the unearthing of a letter about the Manics from 1997, pointing out that "with Richey went all feeble hopes of purity and guitars and profound grafitti." Ah, that letterwriter knew that the only way to keep a band together was to ensure that you let nothing split the team up. That letterwriter was Pete Doherty. There's also a 1994 interview with Mr. Edwards, but we've got a feeling that it's not quite as "never seen before" as all that.

And, yes, there's another run through of that Lamacq/4Real incident again. The man who did Little Baby Nothing, it seems, will always be remembered most for chopping his arm at the Norwich Arts Centre. Is the NAC still going? They probably have a plaque of some sort.

reviews
live
22-20s - belfast limelight - "too much lounge band, not enough rock & roll"
fighstar - dublin ambassador - "[charlie busted] does this stuff very well"

albums
the others - the others - "still rock and roll band whose hands are worth placing your life in", 8
the beat up - black rays defence - "they don't just make a terrific racket", 7
midnight movies - midnight movies - "somewhere between Lush and My Bloody Valentine", 6

tracks
totw - bloc party - so here we are - "we'[ll] still be tipping them in 2006"
trick daddy - lets go - "a hiphop version of The Professionals film"
the*ga*ga*s - sex - "as predicatable as a money shot"

And finally: The Charlatans must have thought they'd got away with avoiding a ribbing following a third of their audience puking their guts up after last May's Aberdeen gig. Then the Guardian health page decides to run a story on winter vomiting disease, and cast about for an easily-illustratable advantage. Within 24 hours, it's all over the web - The Charlatans make you hurl. And they say there's no such thing as bad publicity.