Twittergem: Unimpressed by Arcade Fire

Arcade Fire do Bruce Spingsteen:

Watch Arcade Fire's Win Butler cover Bruce Springsteen's 'Born In The USA' at US election concert https://t.co/5nfSYUevLi pic.twitter.com/Fz9xdpiMVp

— NME (@NME) November 7, 2016

Not everyone is impressed:

@NME snore...

— graham coxon (@grahamcoxon) November 7, 2016

Graham Coxon has a dream

Anything that attempts to shift people's interest in politics beyond merely prodding the Tories for their latest failure is to be welcomed, but Instigate Debate has fallen a bit short.

They hosted a debate between Graham Coxon and Pete Doherty - neither of whom have had the best of weeks - and Graham revealed he had plans for America:

"Part of me wants to kind of clear America like an old overgrown field that needs the stubble burning and start again. Just keep the nice Americans somewhere while we do it. I think there will be a lot less oxygen being used, a lot less greenhouse gases."

The first sentence, you can understand.

The second, with the idea of putting the "nice" Americans out the way of the burning... well, that starts to make the whole thing sound a little sinister.

And the third sentence... I suppose at best you could hope that Coxon was making some sort of Swiftian point. Only he's not really Swift.

You take the "nice" people to safety, there's a "clearing" of America, and the end result is less oxygen being used.

Maybe he was joking. Maybe there's a context in which that statement isn't a millstone dangling around his neck. Maybe it's just ill-judged rather than disturbing.

Coxon does move on to suggest that he's actually imagining a world where it's American foreign policy influence that has vanished:

"That's my little dream fantasy, that they have no importance in the world. They're not some sort of power, they think they're policing the world -- and we can actually get back to how it used to be when us and Persia were good mates."

Ah, yes. Let's turn the clock back from a time when a major Western power dominates the globe through its military and financial might to, erm, a time when a major Western power dominated the globe through its military and financial might. The idea of Persia and Britain being "good mates" is laughable - in fact, Britain spent much of the early part of the last century attempting to secure the profits from Persian oil fields. Can you really disdain American cultural imperialism while hankering after the days of the British Empire?

To be fair to Graham, none of his contributions in the video seem that thought-through, and it's impressive that Instigate Debate decided to post the chat rather than just sit on it to spare the participant's embarrassment. Maybe, though, a campaign for Instigating Informed Debate might be called for?

Graham Coxon makes himself less of a pranny

Thanks to H who, in the comments on yesterday's story about Graham Coxon sending a internet posse over to Queen Margot after the blog gave him a snarky review.

As H points out, Coxon eventually turned up and gracefully held up his hands:

i want to say sorry if any comments on my forum upset or angered you. i do think what you have said here is a bit childish, felt a bit slighted, thought it a bit of a random pop- and a bit cruel but..y'know...i'll survive. i do take offense to the part about handling drink..a bit glib, a bit patronising and considering how alcoholism has affected my life and many of those i know and love..i was rather hurt.....alcoholism- i was born with that...and well my middle name i am with you on but..i was born with that aswell i'm afraid.

i agree with rather alot of what you said here tho..apart from the plonker part. i did actually wear a beautiful 1950s gloverall duffel coat to the documentary premier.. you really should have got a still of that..would have proved your point somewhat.

i do think pretentiousness is a good thing all being said...but really dont think i am pretentious. and as for my mild turrets (fidgeting, shuffling, scratching..)...born with that too....

but sorry for the disrespectful language...it was ugly and i am not in the habit of it... i know not if we have ever met...but you would know that anyway if we had. sorry anyway if you were bothered by repercussions concerning your blur documentary/me blog.

Coxon doesn't mention the bit about encouraging his fans to go and post responses, but, in a later post, admits over-reaction:

a kick in the pants is sometimes required and deserved. my language on reflection was unacceptable and i apologise absolutely!

i should have had the intelligence to laugh it off as the joke it was... i fear i was over sensitive the evening i saw your comments which i now see as pretty harmless... and quite accurate. ouch!

He should have shrugged it off - or waited before responding - but who hasn't jumped on the internet and hit a 'post' button they could barely see through a red mist. Having the grace to admit a wrong and apologise does, at least, make Coxon look a little less bad than some other men who would suggest that anal rape is a good corrective for negative opinions.

Graham Coxon makes himself look a bit of a pranny

Suzy Norman, who blogs at Queen Margot And The Supperclub, suggested that Graham Coxon might not come over well in No Distance Left To Run:

I couldn't help thinking I was watching a plasticine plonker, with wire glasses trying to remember where he'd put his oversized duffle coat as he was running late for new Nick Park audition where he hopes to play Wallace's nephew who's just been cycling around Europe on a monocycle but now needs a place to stay for a week before he goes on spiritual retreat in Gumberland; a sort of autobiographical role, made specially for him.

Now, some people might be a little upset by that sort of criticism. Others might take it on the chin. A few might, however, respond to being called a pranny by... well, behaving like a pranny.

Disappointingly, Coxon falls into that last group. a comment on QM&TSC explains what happened next:

The worst thing about the whole Graham Coxon thing?

Graham Leslie Coxon posted your blog link on his own forum, Graham said you needed it up the arse and that you were a cunt. It’s all down to him. So you see, the poor kiddies in forum land were just taking his lead when they decided to harass you.

Graham goes by the name Tin Hat in his forum and everyone there knows its HIM and they hang off his every illegibly typed word.

It's all a bit of a shame - that Coxon overreacts to a bad review; that he'd suggest that anal sex is somehow a corrective for a bad review; that he'd call someone he's never met a cunt. Some celebrities are starting to complain about the acrid nature of comments they have to deal with online; if the sort of semi-famous types who you think would know better are pitching in, what hope is there?

Decade Null: 2004 - Graham Coxon

To be fair, I haven't tasted Alex James' cheese, but even so, I feel confident in asserting that Graham Coxon wins the 'who had the best post-Blur experience'.

Yes, really. Put down that copy of the Good, The Bad And The Queen, you're not making a point, you're just embarrassing yourself.

From Happiness In Magazines, this is Freakin' Out:



I'm aware, by the way, that 'Freakin' Out' and 'appearing on Jools Holland's show in front of an audience consisting, probably, of Stella McCartney and Trigger from Only Fools And Horses' has a degree of internal contradiction contained within.

[Part of Decade Null: 2004]

Embed and breakfast man: Graham Coxon

This is fairly fresh out of the box, the Chris Hopewell-directed video for Dead Bees by Graham Coxon:



Buy Dead Bees
Buy The Spinning Top

T in the Park: Blur might not turn up

NME is reporting that Blur might not turn up for their T in The Park headline slot tonight:

Festival chief Geoff Ellis made the announcement on the Main Stage at the Scottish festival this afternoon. He explained that guitarist Graham Coxon was in hospital and that the situation was being monitored.

They've rejigged the line-up a little; Snow Patrol will go on an hour later than planned in the hope that Graham Coxon will be back in time for a slightly later start.

Otherwise: can you imagine hoping for a Blur set, and having to make do with Snow Patrol instead?

SXSW 2009: Enter Shikari, pursued by fans

The beautiful-and-discerning Enter Shikari couldn't have had a better time at SXSW if they had been covered in cream frosting and jam: NME reports queues round the block as they played Emos.

Also having a good SXSW is Graham Coxon; having a bad SXSW are AT&T, as the combination of SXSWi geeks and SXSW music hipsters brought a slew of iPhones to Austin, taking down the only network on which they work.

Rolling Stone has been thrilled by Circle Jerks and the Dicks:

When the Dicks hit the stage — a little chubbier and grayer than they were in the ’80s — pot-bellied lead singer Gary Floyd offered these words of thanks: “For me, to thank the little people is very easy.”

Rolling Stone is having a go at cultural institutions for getting flabby and grey? Mote-and-beam, surely?

Amongst the kindaexclusives gathered between sets and Mexican food, the LA Times discovered that Devo are about "half-way through" their next album. Since they've already had 19 years to work on it, we'll expect that in 2028, then.

And the Associated Press spoke to Big Boi about his debut solo album. What's it going to sound like, Mr. Boi?

"They can't put Big Boi in a category. Rock, funk, blues, soul, gospel — some of everything."

That's a problem, though, as in that case the record shops are just going to have to pile the CDs in the middle of the floor. Unless they have a section marked 'Hip hop acts who think that putting a few guitars on the record makes them into Jonathan Miller'.

Gordon in the morning: A kinder, gentler Gordon

Hold the front page. Or at least the top of the page... Gordon's updated his byline picture:

Gone is the awkward suit - described by Gordon, of course, as "gay" - and the strange holding of the hand as if shielding the ring finger stance.

In comes... what is that, exactly? Harry Cross on a public order charge? "The sociology teacher was relieved to have got through the Ofsted inspection without year 11 asking questions about same-sex marriage or race?"

You've got to love that strange, ethereal glow around him - is that the protection of a loving god? A recent bowl of Reddy Brek?

Otherwise, it's business as usual: NME Awards coverage with this:

Blur are no longer NMEs

NME/enemy? I first saw that used in a Smash Hits letters page in 1979, and I suspect it was whiskery then. It doesn't even make any sense, does it? As - last night, at least - the Blur reunion was NME's. "NME's - not enemies" you might have got away with.

But, tell me, Gordon - where was the ceremony?

London’s Brixton Academy.

London's Brixton Academy. Not, you'll note, the Brixton Academy in York or Brixton, Alabama.

The Enemy had a great time:

THE ENEMY’s TOM CLARKE told me: “It’s nice not being nominated ’coz there’s no pressure. We’re just gonna have a laugh and get pissed.”

How brilliant it is not having to be worried the whole time that we might find the public love us and value our records. Ooh, the sweet joy of having the pressure of being popular lifted from our weary shoulders. You know what? We might make another underwhelming record next year, so that we don't have to worry about anything other than getting drunk at the 2010 awards.

Doherty's not bad, it's the people around him

You might have assumed that as an adult with a good education behind him, Pete Doherty should at least take responsibility for his own actions.

Apparently not:

"[Pete Doherty] is a scumbag magnet."

It's the people who hang around Doherty who are to blame, explains Graham Coxon, who is, erm, hanging around with him playing on the next record.

Who left whom, Albarn?

The most interesting aspect of the latest in the never-ending waves of 'ooh, maybe Blur will reunite' ponderings is the way Albarn is starting to tweak history:

"The truth be known, Graham and I have been hanging out together a bit. We had lunch the other day," Albarn told BBC Radio 1 on Wednesday. "It's very possible I'll go back to Blur, it really is very possible ... it's fantastic to get my old friend back."

It's subtle, but there's just a hint that he'd like us to forget that it was Coxon who bailed out of the band when Albarn was busily pushing ahead with what, by then, was a played-out idea.

Still, lets hope that this time the reunion will be on. It might not be that good, and it's unlikely to be as interesting as anything that Coxon has done solo, but at least it'll stop the pair of them mooning about like an indie-pop version of Ross and Rachel from Friends - 'we're on a break/ we might get back together/ it's over/ we're on a break' on and on and on...

Blur reunion just sort-of didn't happen in the end

So, whatever happened to that Blur reunion, then? The studio was booked, the hatchets buried, Alex James persuaded to not talk about cheese for five bloody minutes... and then: nothing.

Graham Coxon has told NME what happened:

"I think people thought, ‘Oh, it’s a bit too much, just jumping into a studio’," he said. "We met for a catch-up and it was great, but there was no real talk of recording. It doesn’t really bother me. I’ve got enough going on to feel happy and fulfilled."

We think this elaborate code for "we got a bit drunk and fell out a little", to be honest.

Nash, Coxon fight for the market

Kate Nash and Graham Coxon are actively campaigning to save Camden Market in the face of a totally unfathomable attempt to replace it with a shopping centre.

Okay, it's not unfathomable - we actually understand the concept of "buttock-headed, culture-destroying, profit-driven selfishness" - but what is unfathomable is that this idea can even be floated to the point where gigs are having to be organised to save the market.

Nash is playing the market on Thursday; Coxon, meanwhile, has spoken to the local paper:

"This is a pathetic attempt at modernisation, What's going to be in it? More Starbucks coffee houses and Carphone Warehouses?

"It should be full of tailors, shoemakers, cheesemakers and independent shops, but of course they are not going to do that."

Maybe not cheesemakers, Graham. It took Camden long enough to get Alex James out of its patch last time.

Noel Gallagher's not going to be happy

It was bad enough that Country House beat Roll With It. Now, one of Blur has gone and made a record with Paul Weller. And to add to the insult, Zak Starkey is doing the drumming on Graham Coxon and Weller's This Old Town. All that's missing is getting Liam to do the tambourining. Can't Noel have his friends ankle-tagged or something?

Coming next month: Andy Bell helps Dave Rowntree deliver Labour Party newsletters.

Blur: Back together by November?

Blur, complete with Graham Coxon, are going back into the studio in November.

Or, possibly, they're not, as this is from Victoria Newton, whose source sounds, well, oddly like a tabloid journalist:

A source said: “They’ve all had lots on, with solo projects, cartoon bands, political campaigns and farming.

“But by the end of summer, their plates will be clear. They’ll go into the studio together in November.”

Eh? Alex James is selling his farm, then, is he? And if their "plates will be clear" (earning them a Little Chef lollipop) at the end of summer, why would they go in to the studio in November?

More importantly, this source fails to engage with the part of this story which would be interesting had it been true - how Graham Coxon has returned to the fold. Because, what with the bitter split and everything, surely it's going to take a little more than Coxon discovering that he's got a couple of free weeks around Guy Fawkes' night.

Newton does make a stab at suggesting a motivation:

Graham has released some excellent albums but without much chart success.

Oh, that'd be it, then: Coxon's desperate to be on the cover of TV Hits.

Whatever happened to picking sides

Hey, Paul Weller - aren't you meant to be part of the Oasis team? Isn't recording with Graham Coxon tantamount to consorting with the enemy? Sharing vocals, even?

Britpop: The Phoney War

We know that the first Blur-Oasis chart battle was at least 75% marketing scheme, but at least there were actual hostilities to build the coverage around. More surprising was Jon Wilde's Comment Is Free piece yesterday which predicted a new battle, providing, presumably, a Dunkirk to the Roll With It/Country House Paschendale:

[I]t's a reasonable guess that spring 2008 will bring the welcome return of Blur and Oasis once again slugging it out in the charts - and no doubt slagging each other off to the flaming hilt.

And what is this guess based on?

Partly, Noel Gallagher's comments back in January that Oasis were planning a "massive album" and that he was "counting down the minutes" to the release - although what with it already being May now, he must have been counting down like those irritants on coach trips who think its witty to start "there were fifty thousand green bottles, sitting on the wall..."

And, partly, a chat with Alex James:

Alex James revealed to me last week that a Blur reunion, long considered a laughably far-fetched possibility, is now very much on the cards. According to James, the original Blur line-up, guitarist Graham Coxon included, will convene in a studio sometime in October to begin work on a new album, the band's first since 2003's Think Tank.

So, that's a mad promise from a famous idiot that he's about to create a massive work of art (Wilde, surely, knows that the first stage in the genesis of any Oasis album is for Noel to over-claim for it) and a vague possibility that Graham Coxon might give up his hard-won peace to return to the belly of the beast.

Jon isn't, by the way, warning of the threat: when it comes to Britpop wars, he's in the camp of "a good battle will clear the air and sort things out":

On the other hand, the Blur/Oasis rivalry might fondly evoke a time when we all cared so passionately about music that we were forced to pick sides. Generally speaking, the 90s were exemplified by Clinton and Blair's notion of triangulation; we were all obliged to find some wet middle ground on which to meet. For all its spite and silliness, the Blur/Oasis conflict as least gave us all something to argue the toss about.

Yes. On the other hand, it might leave the UK music industry looking faintly ridiculous, as men old enough to know better fight over a prize that has long since lost its sparkle - with chart glory the Deirdre to Noel's Ken Barlow and Damon's Mike Baldwin.

It seems, though, that Alex James still broods:

Alex James prefers to look at this way: "Blur won the battle, Oasis won the war, then Blur went on to win the whole campaign."

Which would make sense, were it not for James' poor grasp of military strategy - a campaign is a part of a larger war, not the other way round. But still worrying about the spat twelve years on, Alex? The sparks of interest are going out, all over Europe.

It takes two, baby

Graham Coxon probably pissing himself laughing that it's going to take two musicians to replace him; thereby trebling the number of musicians in Blur.

What the pop papers say: Bumper Christmas and New Year edition

So, we’ve abandoned you and allowed a huge pile of magazines to build up on the doormat over Christmas. We’ve sorted out the invitations to join health clubs and the local freesheets, and split the pop papers into two distinct piles - the UK and the American. First up, the UK stuff.

When the BPI and the RIAA bleat around Easter time about another poor quarter for music sales, you might want to take out a clipping from the just-before-Xmas Music Week. There, retailers were already bemoaning how shite sales are going to be in the first three months of 2003. The reason was nothing to do with internet downloads, CD burners or men with suitcases flogging homemade editions of The Man Who in Camden High Street. Nope, the reason why the people whose job it is to stand in dimly lit shops putting price stickers on product are preparing themselves for a crap start to the year is simply because the new releases are all rubbish. Not that that’ll stop the BPI using the sales dip as a reason for them being given the powers to enter homes and smash computers at will, of course.

Though his leaving of his slot was more dignified than Jimmy ‘It wasn’t my idea - they’ve killed me - run, flee, hide yourself’ Young’s, Steve Lamacq’s farewell in the Guardian Friday Review was curious. (Incidentally, expect much knocking of the organisation that kept him employed for four decades, long after most commercial stations would have shoved the carriage clock and B&Q certificate into his hands, when Sir Jimmy Young starts a Sunday Express column this weekend - curiously making him room-mates with that other singer-turned-dj-turned-embittered-hack, Boy George). Lamacq basically said “it’s the end of an era, it’s time to move on”, nodding-dog like to the suggestion that the Evening Session was inextricably linked with Britpop and that as such, it made sense to axe it. Let’s just be thankful Peel never said “Mmm, the show is so linked to Prog Rock/Punk/etc., it’d make more sense to can it than do anything to try to shift the perception of it.” We have no idea what the horsetrading behind the scenes was - is Lammo being freed up to step into the gap if JP gets given a Jimmyyounging? Was Lowe offered the slot as part of a deal to get him to do stuff for BBC Three? - but we look forward to finding out over the next twelve months.

Elsewhere in The Guardian over the holiday, Julie Burchill defended the concept of creating popstars using Reality TV. As ever, her arguments were poor and only really half-thoughts. She suggested that the likes of Popstars - with their constant sing-offs - relied heavily on the ability to sing over personality (really? Since the concept of queuing for hours to sing two lines in front of Waterman and - god help us - Halliwell is unlikely to attract anyone especially talented, the final rounds are all populated by people who have a fairly equal level of ability, albeit low. So what else is there for people to vote on but personality? The papers hardly describe it as a battle between, say, trouble with the high notes Gates and able to hold a note Young; it’s the stuttering one versus the quiet one versus the loser and so on. To pretend that the votes on Popstars, Idol and Fame Academy isn’t based on personality is as dumb as suggesting that the evictions on Big Brother are all decided by the audience choosing who’s best at feeding the chickens and making supper in the house) and that the cult of music personality had left us lumbered with Robbie Williams and Madonna, Elton and the rest. But isn’t the clinging to the old guard down more to the way that new talent is being throttled out by the short-lived Hear’Says and Girls At Our Best or whatever they were called in the end?

For New Year, G2 filled space with minimal effort (“offered a timely feature”) by getting stars to reveal their New Year’s Resolutions. Strangely, the first celeb was Mira from ladytron (“to start eating fish”); Delcan ‘scary Lena Zavaroni for 2003’ Galbraith promised to clean his room (foreswearing the amphetamines might have been more timely - before its too late; John Peel holds out hopes of completing an autobiography - let’s hope the bosses at radio one aren’t planning on giving him some time to devote to the project; Jah Wobble isn’t going to “collect any more wounded birds.” We think he means hangers-on rather than actual sick pigeons and one-legged turkeys - talking of which, Gary Numan wants to stop walking with his feet facing inwards. David Holmes resolves to stop playing Grand Theft Auto - so stealing his Playstation would be an act of kindness instead of a criminal offence. And One True Voice pledge to have a number one album. Which is funnily enough one of my resolutions, along with entering politics and developing a successful cosmetics line, that I’m not going to keep either.

An insight into the brightness that lays behind the Popstars Organisation on the shelves of a WH Smith near you. You’ll find a magazine with the vapid Girls Aloud on the front, claiming to be “The only official Popstars: The Rivals magazine.” Next to it, a magazine based on the even more vapid One True Voice claims to be, yup, “The only official Popstars: The Rivals magazine.” They may both be official, but there’s no way they can both be the only one.

“I want a man” says Meg Matthews. Rather than getting out on the dating scene, or using one of those Internet dating services the broadsheets keep banging on about, Meg’s approach is to take her clothes off and appear on the cover of Elle. Now, while this might work, surely if the desperation for a man is so bad as to try this approach, plumping for a women’s title is the wrong thing to do? Loaded may have had more eligible - well, single - men, surely? Whatever, Meg manages to make naked about as sexy as [insert whatever your oldest aunt wore on Christmas day here] - on her feet she appears to be wearing the remains of that guy’s Saskwatch suit, and she looks dirty. Not in an Aguilera Dirrty way, even, more “Good god, woman, you don’t need a man; you need a buff-puff and a bottle of Oil of Ulay.” This is the approach she thinks will get her a man? You think it buggers belief that she used to be in charge of PR at Creation Records. Then you remember what happened to Creation Records.

The Popbitch explosion rumbles on in the wake of the Beckham rumour, with a splendid piece in the Christmas Private Eye on the hypocrisy of the UK press in their coverage of the story. Especially delicious was the kicking administered to the pisspoor Mirror and the Mail for their ability to be outraged while simultaneously lifting housestyle and stories from the site.

Celebrity guff of a different kind in the Xmas New Statesman, where once again Alex James filed the diary column from what seemed to be somewhere close to the Groucho club ceiling. You start to make sense of why Graham Coxon isn’t entirely upset at his being eased out of Blur when you read the sorts of thoughts that are currently bouncing in the head of Mr. James. Two columns about going to buy a needless expensive dog demonstrating that (i) he’s rich, and can afford to buy pedigree pooches but (ii) that he’s still able to look down his nose at people whose houses stink of dog wee. And there’s this: “Christmas is about consumerism and stuffing. We’ve come a long way from the baby Jesus.” Thanks for that, Alex. You’ll find the rest of the Sixth Form Debating Society in the Great Hall, throwing trifle at each other.

Great news for the start of the year, though, as a Sunday morning dash to pick up the papers finds that our local newsagent has found shelf space for Careless Talk Costs Lives which, thanks to a distribution deal, should now be at all Good Newsagents rather than merely being that thing you can’t find in HMV anymore. It takes the chance to restate its ideals, although it chooses to do this by knocking X-Ray and NME. We certainly don’t think Everett True is wrong, but there’s something a little off-putting about a magazine editorial which attempts to win over its readers by flattering their vanity (“you can cope with a lot more words than X-Ray seems to think you can”) rather than challenging their minds.

Anyway, that’s a minor quibble, as otherwise the issue is excellent. Erase Errata are interviewed, although it seems that True is still stuck in the vinyl versus CD war, praising them for releasing a single that won’t play in an Imac - true thinks this is subversive; actually, Mariah Carey’s Charmbracelet wouldn’t play in an Imac, either, and required anyone who tried to take their machine to a repair shop, which must mean that Mariah is the most subversive artist in the world; Miss AMP takes her bra off and gets into bed with Cat Power. Nick Cave doesn’t feel validated without his art; but he’s called to account for the video he made for Bring It On - “I asked the director what sort of video MTV is showing these days, and he said ‘It’s usually a lot of black girls shaking their asses at the camera’, so that’s what we made” - its funny how an audience who are happy to lap up Cave singing about murdering women react so quickly to condemn a spot of background bump-and-grind, isn’t it? John Robb seems to think The Manufacturers of Popstars have fucked up because singles aren’t selling very many any more; ignoring the scary fact that singles sales may have fallen, but its across the board. As the number of copies being flogged by the Gates of this world drop, it’s not as if The Good Artists sales are poking through the surface, is it? A pyrrhic victory if the death of Popstars is the death of pop.

Coxon himself pops up. “I’ve learned that with Blur, either those three are completely mad, or I’m completely mad, and I just don’t know who is mad.” Graham, love, read Alex’s Christmas Staggers diary. It’ll clear things up nicely for you. Godspeed You Black Emperor are challenged as to why they deserve to be in CTCL - that’s a nice change from the arrogant Traditional Music Press, isn’t it? - but it gets better further in, when they talk about making records in the context of the “collapse of those ugly buildings” and the struggle of how they (we) are implicated in the system every day: “It would be nice if none of this was an issue; would be nice to stress a little less often about the blood in our wallets.”

The reviews spark a squeal of recognition: there’s a razorcuts retrospective out.

A picture of Kurt, and a page blank save for the phrase: “Private thoughts should remain private.” You know what they mean, but... isn’t all the best music - the stuff that really counts - private thoughts being made public?

At the end, the magazine goes out more or less the way it comes in, struggling with the word Indie - positing that, hey, Virgina Woolf was indie, you know. Trying to make it a term that means something, a badge to be proud of. It’s a little as if the 1980s homos had chosen to try and reclaim Chutney Stabber rather than Queer, isn’t it?

In the past few months, we’ve suggested that the Face has totally lost its way and doesn’t know what it’s doing. It may have finally found a role as, following on the heels of the Pink edition, Craig Nicholls is given the chance to strip off and - covered in a print of Jesus - spread himself over the cover. Clearly, the Face has reinvented itself as a hybrid of Select and Sky. We look forward to seeing the yeah yeah yeahs cover sometime before easter.

Our Christmas joy was often interrupted by the clammy hand of panic at our chest as we’d cry out “What if they’ve not held the double Christmas NME for us?” As it turns out, we needn’t have bothered. It had Coldplay on the cover and, as such, was hugely unlikely to sell out anyway.

Mehg White gets not just the hnour of the seasonal made-up CD, but is allowed 11 rather than the usual ten tracks. And one of them is the Readers Digest Christmas Album, which surely is pushing the rules a little bit much even for the Most Wonderful Time of the Year, surely? She also chooses a track by the Chipmunks, for which she really must be sent to a re-education camp.

In the Coldplay piece, Chris Martin coyly refers to “my friend” when he’s clearly talking about Gwyneth Paltrow. This sickeningly cutesy way of behaving makes me want to punch him gently, and i shall, unless he can prove that he always does it - does he talk to his mum on the phone and say “Nah, I’m just laying about with my friend”? If he gets invited to someone’s house, does he say “Can i bring My Friend?” Does he call out “Yess... oh, My Friend” when he squirts some of his underweight spunk into her? Its not like its a secret, and, for some reason, you’re one of the most famous people on the planet, Martin. Stop fucking pretending you’re Hugh Grant in Notting Hill, for fucks sake.

What’s that? Is that noise reindeer on the roof? Nope, its NME slapping itself on the back for its part in the - ahem - new rock revolution. So, that’s what we’re actually meant to call it, is it? Blimey. Another obsession in the issue is made clear, because the paper just can’t get past the idea that The Libertines used to be rent boys. Any opportunity to mention the fact, and it’ll be mentioned. Jesus, let it go, will you?

Hadn’t Noel gallagher stopped doing press a while back? Clearly not, as here he comes to talk to the paper; let’s hold our breath, shall we? Apparently Knebworth’s audience “was all kids” and manchester was “freezing.” There is, however, a small surprise - the oasis equipe were at a Morrissey gig in Australia singing along to There Is A Light That Never Goes Out.

That Christmas soulmates thing is also surprising - Pink spits rather than swallows but, splendidly, pretends not to have heard of Fischerspooner; Craig Vines is unable to make a simple choice between any two items; Ryan Adams doesn’t know what a badger is; Kelly Osbourne is allowed to choose Peaches instead of “Kelly or Pink”; Chris Martin is a cunt and refuses to play; the nme seems to think we have any interest in Liam Lynch (2002’s Joe Dolce).

A 1993 Melody Maker piece by - ding! - Everett True where he brought Kim Deal and Kurt Cobain together is given another trot out - surely Ev wouldn’t have made any money from this, seeing as he’s been so quick to condemn the cobain corpse cash-in elsewhere.

And, being Christmas, the writers get to compile their chart of best albums of the year. So, what has the new rock revolution - a creation of Kings Reach Tower - thrown up as an album to define the year? Erm, a Rush of Blood To The Head by Coldplay. The backslapping antics returns as they nominate their own 1Love as the compilation of the year; single (always, year in, year out, a more interesting choice of record than the album of the year) goes to there goes the fear by the Doves. They think that tenacious d’s Tribute video was the best promo made in 2002 as well. The ability of the individually bright young things at the nme to be distracted by the trivial and shiny never fails to surprise us.

After the bumper, the first edition of 2003 is as thin as a leftovers coldcut supper at Geri’s house. Thom Yorke squints out of the cover of what is boldly trailed as a Predictions issue.

Eighties Matchbox B-Line Disaster make an eleven track CD, too - maybe Meg has changed the world? - choosing Bowie (Moonage daydream) and The Fall.

So, what are the predictions for ‘03? They do it in an A to Z style - more Australians, Blues, Casual (i.e. scruffy bastards); Duran Duran back; Electroclash (apparently the non-arrival of it as a British force last year hasn’t dampened their belief that the Genre That Everyone politely ignored will be a global phenom this year); F is somehow for Electric Six; Goth (another revival? What is it, Buffy?); Has-beens; Jack Black (the nme apparently gives a shit about the Tenacious D movie - be warned); Knoxville; Lesbians (oh, come on, is tatu really going to travel much beyond Ladbroke Grove without running into the ground?); murder powder (crushed-up E - god, even the new drugs are just rubbish reworkings of the old drugs); No more albums (or singles) - the Internet will kill music (although, just quickly, peter robinson - you point out that what most people go online for is the stuff that you can’t find, the outtakes and obscurities; so rather than cherry-pick for the legal download stuff, it’d be in the labels interests to make as many tracks in as many versions available as possible); Oscar (as in “for Eminem” - even though he hasn’t bothered the Golden Globe nominations at all); Protest; Queen (apparently they live on through, um, the Darkness); Radiohead - back! back! back!; Supergroups (erm... Miss Kittin working with Aguilera? We somehow think not...); The Thrills; UK versus US; Vendetta (still doing the You Cock thing?); War (hey, George says that’s not inevitable, you know), um, Xtreme Drinks; Yeah Yeah Yeahs and Zzzz; the people nme hope will give it a rest this year. They nominate Anastacia and Nickelback. For that alone, we’re signing up for another twelve months with them.