“In her kiss I taste the revolution!”: The impact of Riot Grrrl on Gossip and music today

In light of the recent success of female-fronted bands such as Gossip, it seemed timely to look back at the Riot Grrrl movement and the inspiration it provided to a younger school of musicians.

Beth Ditto and her band, Gossip, have been splashed across the UK press in a big way this past year. Fear not, this is not just another article about squirrels! Gossip's brand of energetic punk-pop, their outspoken frontwoman and their political affiliations have caught the attention of the mainstream media and, it seems, the public. A great deal of the attention has been on Ditto herself and the fact that she is fat (and proud of it), gay (and proud of it!) and feminist (ditto – ha!). I can't seem to turn on my tv lately without seeing her face on even the most inane shows.

They started out some seven years ago. Such a big voice in such a small town (Judsonia, Arkansas) was never going to work. Ditto and Gossip guitarist Nathan Howdeshell (who goes by the moniker Brace Payne) moved from backwoods Arkansas to Olympia, Washington where, inspired by the Do-It-Yourself aesthetic of the thriving local music scene, they decided to start a band.

Gossip's first two full-length albums, 2001's That's Not What I Heard and 2003's Movement, released on the Kill Rock Stars label, are rough, unpolished affairs of short, snappy, punky songs which do not shy away from overtly lesbian lyrics and the band's political agenda. These sentiments are still there with their most recent album Standing In The Way Of Control, the title track of which is a diatribe against the Bush government's decision not to sanction gay marriage in the US. The difference is that now people are dancing to it in clubs and are blissfully unaware of its political sentiments; a nice coat of sparkly lipstick has been added to make it all a bit more presentable.

But the basics of Gossip's ethos owe a lot to Riot Grrrl. The DIY philosophy is still very much present, with Ditto doing newspaper interviews about how to make and amend your own clothing and the statement on the band's MySpace page:

“START YR OWN BAND

- PLAY BROKEN GUITARS. DO NOT WORRY ABOUT TUNING, RHYTHM AND DETONATION”.

Ditto has not been shy about her political leanings and, whilst courting the press in a way that riot grrrls at the time never did (she even has her own fortnightly Guardian column – What Would Beth Ditto Do?), she brazenly speaks her mind about issues important to her, and does not sugar her words. The music itself also shows many similarities, and it is no coincidence that their early albums were released on Kill Rock Stars. Of course one can ascribe many influences in listening to Gossip, from the bluesy wail of Janis Joplin to the soulful belting of Aretha Franklin, but the punk allegiances are very much there for all to see.

As Ms Ditto herself puts it “I don't want the world, I only want what I deserve” - a message which would have fitted perfectly with the beliefs of those early riot grrrls.

“Revolution girl style now!”

So what is Riot Grrrl? Well, it all started in 1991, around the time of the International Pop Underground Convention, in the Pacific Northwest of America, specifically Olympia, Washington and Washington DC. Disillusioned by the male-dominated, often misogynist, world of punk music, a group of women decided to take matters into their own hands.

A deeply political movement, this scene was as much about activism and 'the message' as the music that was produced. Equally important was the creation, and distribution, of zines (key zines including Jigsaw and Girl Germs), and the co-ordination of gatherings and festivals such as Pussystock, where seminars and workshops were held on such topics as sexual abuse and self-defence. Tackling head-on issues including sexuality, gender, sexism and homophobia (overlapping here with the Queercore movement), as well as rape, domestic and sexual abuse, body image, abortion and a woman's right to choose, the aim was to build communities of women, encourage communication and shared experience and, ultimately, to empower.

The popular press naturally misinterpreted the intentions of these “angry young women”, misquoted them, and wrote spiels about how they were 'man-haters' who neglected to take care of their appearance, completely missing the point about standing up for equal rights, for what you believe in, and for not being ashamed of what happens to be between your legs. So misrepresented were they that, by 1992, key members called for a “media blackout”, refusing to speak to the popular press. This had the unfortunate effect of limiting available information even further, therefore continuing to distort what was fed to the public about the intended purpose of the movement.

The roots of Riot Grrrl music were firmly in punk, with key influences including Patti Smith (to my mind the original riot grrrl), The Slits, The Raincoats, Joan Jett, Crass, The Plasmatics, The Au Pairs, Frightwig, Poison Girls, Poly Styrene of X-Ray Spex, and Debora Iyall of Romeo Void – to name only a few. And it wasn't only influences from the field of music that were important, but feminist writings and strong female voices in general - from performance art (e.g. Carolee Schnemann), journalism (e.g. Ellen Willis) and the world of zines (e.g. Vaginal Davis).

The key proponents early in the Riot Grrrl revolution included Kathleen Hanna and Tobi Vail of Bikini Kill and Allison Wolfe and Molly Neuman of Bratmobile. The movement was christened after a zine they had produced together (the 'grrrl' of Riot Grrrl zine coming from from a term often used in Wolfe's earlier Girl Germs zine - “angry grrrls” - the spelling symbolising a growl). Through the production of various zines and via their music, these two seminal bands incited others to join in and themselves take action – this was not about playing the most proficient or technically capable guitar; it was much more grassroots than that, setting up a garage band and playing what you could (with punky conviction, urgency and true, visceral grit).

So, how about a guide to the 'need to know' of Riot Grrrl...the two key bands mentioned above?

“BECAUSE I believe with my wholeheartmindsoulbody that girls constitute a revolutionary soul force that can, and will, change the world for real.”

This is one of the principles of the Riot Girl Manifesto, as penned by Kathleen Hanna of Bikini Kill, who became something of a 'poster girl' for the movement as a whole. They also gave us the title of this article in their song Rebel Girl.

After working together on the zine Bikini Kill, Kathleen Hanna (of Suture), Tobi Vail and Kathi Wilcox formed a band of the same name, where they were joined by Billy Karen. Known for controversial songs such as I Like Fucking and Suck My Left One (perhaps one of the most iconic songs of the movement, its lyrics about incest), they were known for eschewing major record labels and the mainstream press, and for inviting females to the front of the crowd at their shows, where they would often hand out lyric sheets. The band themselves, and many fans, would sometimes daub themselves, in lipstick or black marker, with words such as 'slut' or 'rape', in an attempt to reclaim words used against women and to bring issues out in the open. This led to great misrepresentation in the press. Vail, Karen and Wilcox (with Molly Neuman of Bratmobile) are now The Frumpies, whereas Hanna went on to form Le Tigre.

Factoid: Kathleen Hanna is responsible for coining the title of Nirvana's breakthrough song Smells Like Teen Spirit when she spray-painted 'Kurt smells like Teen Spirit' on his wall. She was, at the time, in a relationship with Dave Grohl, Vail in a relationship with Kurt Cobain. 'Teen Spirit' was the name of the deodorant which Tobi Vail wore.

“We're not anti-boy, we're pro-girl.” (Molly Neuman)

After collaborating on a zine called Girl Germs (later to become one of their song titles), Allison Wolfe and Molly Neuman formed a band in response to the male-orientated grunge music scene. They initially played as a duo, before adding Erin Smith (responsible for popular zine Teenage Gang Debs), introduced to them by Calvin Johnson of Beat Happening and K Records, in July 1991. (With whom, incidentally, Beth Ditto has recorded a song - Lightning Rod For Jesus).

Their aim was to create feminist punk rock – which they did in a sassy, poppy, witty fashion. Their first album Pottymouth is a key one in the Riot Grrrl canon, and contains a great cover of The Runaways' (a Joan Jett incarnation before The Blackhearts) Cherry Bomb.

They split in 1994, in part due to the media scrutiny of Riot Grrrl, reforming in 1999 and touring with Sleater-Kinney after each working with various other outfits. Allison Wolfe was also involved in organising the first Ladyfest in 2001.

Other notables include:

Heavens To Betsy (with Corin Tucker, later of Sleater-Kinney), 7 Year Bitch, Excuse 17 (featuring Carrie Brownstein, again later of Sleater-Kinney), Mecca Normal and the UK's Huggy Bear and Voodoo Queens.

There are arguments for and against including many others in this list, and riot grrrls themselves resisted definition of the movement as it meant different things to the various people involved.

True Riot Grrrls stuck fiercely to independent records labels such as Slim Moon's Kill Rock Stars (a great place to start sifting through the back catalogue - you can even download and sample some free mp3s here), Calvin Johnson's K Records and, later, Donna Dresch's Chainsaw Records, with a few signing to Sub-Pop. Kill Rock Stars continues to release music in which the influences of the early 1990s are unequivocal, including Erase Errata, The Frumpies, Comet Gain and, of course, Gossip, as well as the now defunct Sleater-Kinney and The Need.

Without Riot Grrrl, it would be very difficult to imagine Gossip sounding as they do today. They continue the work of promoting positive self-image (picking up the baton of Bikini Kill zine and its 1991 article on fat oppression), gender equality and the necessity of standing by your convictions. They are also keen to acknowledge their heroes, as with the original scene. This is Riot Grrrl updated for the noughties...perhaps a more image-conscious, media-friendly little riot sister.

The Riot Grrrl movement, however small in size and however short-lived, has had a massive impact for women in the music industry – strong women with voices that demand to be heard – and for equality in general. Sadly, it may also be to blame for watered-down offerings such as the Spice Girls and their trite “girl power”!

My album of the year

The inscription inside the gate fold CD case says it all - "How beautiful are these days."

This album is, from top to bottom, simply beautiful.

And I make no mistake in using the word 'simply'. No flourishes, no trills, no fancy packaging, no pretension, no superfluous production or excess. This is just great music...as simple as that.

There are no honeyed vocals here but, in this case, that is part of the appeal. Baker's voice is something akin to Tom Waits-lite (I do not mean this in any derogatory sense...quite the opposite. His voice has the depth and expressiveness of Tom Waits but, certainly for me, is a great deal more listenable!). He has also been likened to Townes Van Zandt and John Prine...accolades if ever there were any! This is a voice ravaged by the lessons life has taught; someone who has come through the other side to share with us the beauty the world has to offer.

In grizzled tones, Baker sings over a wonderfully sparse backing, at times talking more than singing. An understated offering...but one that has been calculated to perfection.

Upon first listen, there might appear to be a sense of melancholy to the whole affair. But listen more deeply. These are the tales of someone who is glad to be alive; his appreciation of, his joy in, all the little things that so many of us take for granted. It is the rasp of survival...a man that has dusted himself down and learnt to live for every new day. Yet it is not our usual hackneyed story of drug addiction and exorbitance. Baker, in 1986, lived through a terrorist bombing on a train in Peru, only just escaping with his life, deafened in one ear, partially deafened in the other, and having to endure some 17 reconstructive surgeries (never mind 'smaller' accomplishments such as having to learn to play guitar left-handed!).

"a bomb concealed in a suitcase ripped through the roof of a packed train that was carrying tourists to the ancient Inca city of Machu Picchu. Seven passengers were killed, including one American and three West Germans. As many as 40 other people were injured." (Time.com) or New York Times.

This experience is written all over Baker's work - in an uplifting, not maudlin, way. The storytelling here is consummate, yet the lyrical content economical; there seem to be no unnecessary words, and each song tells its story both succinctly and charmingly. We hear of a woman gambling in Reno, a brothel customer, the son of an oil-rich man, a psychic and, in 'Boxes', a woman searching memories of old Valentine's cards and a letter telling her that her husband will not be returning from war. It is the small details, the things so frequently overlooked, that make these stories so real, the "pigs feet jar" (Juarez), the "one red rose, it glistens in the sun" (Sweetly Undone), "cold Mexican beer" (Days).

The very simplicity is touching; sentiments that could, if offered in a more polished timbre, seem cloying, here are the epitome of rapture:

"Before the sun
Before the heat

Before we untangle from our sheets

Before this summer day unfurls

Pretty world" (Pretty World)

and

"You've got a book on Africa

I've got Twain

Lay down and rest

Lay down in the sun

Lay down with your top

Sweetly undone". (Sweetly Undone)

For me, the beauty of this album only grows the more I listen to it. It is a great album, not just a great collection of songs. The landscapes can be stark, but are never barren...and they speak of both solitude and love.

The album also features Walt Wilkins (making his name on the Texas red dirt scene with The Mystiqueros) and the sweet vocal additions (contrasting with Baker's own sublimely on 'Odessa') of Chris Baker-Davies.

It's a keeper!

High points: Sweetly Undone (my personal favourite), Pretty World, Broken Fingers, Odessa, Boxes.

You can listen to snippets (and buy the album) here.

Smoking, it seems, is good for you...and fun to boot!

Ah, the good old days! ;o)

It all used to be so innocent (the italics are there for a reason!)...before smoking-related litigation I presume.

...here we have cigarettes being advertised by Mr Claus himself ('Have a cancerous Christmas'?)...

And if that doesn't appeal enough to the younger smoker...

...advertising bragging that this brand is a hit with the young'uns (because it's already killed off all of the older ones?).

Start 'em teeny-tiny...

Well, if the medical professionals recommend it...?

Oh, and the sporting ones...

Smoking is good for you for SO many reasons! Stressed?

Sod the bananas!

But let this be a warning to you:

About getting fat if you don't smoke!

Another bonus...

...it gives you that healthy glow:





Hmmm...what else gives you a healthy glow?


Yay for the post-coital puff!

Don't they look satisfied?




He finished first...obviously!




And...


Yes, he joined in too!

Pleasure ahoy indeed!

And that's all I have to say on that topic!

And remember...









...a worthy bit of advice for you boys!

It seems that, more recently, the messages have been far more subtle:

http://observer.guardian.co.uk/uk_news/story/0,6903,1577892,00.html

They will stop at nothing to get you hooked! (This is clearly not the place to entertain the recent spate of anti-smoking advertising!).



I shall, therefore, leave you with this beauty from The Philippines:

Well, if she sanctions it...!

I may be singing out of key, but it sure feels good to me...

I've been on quite a journey since we last met.

No, not some spiritual journey...I haven't found myself or the answer to world peace. Sadly.

Nope, I have pootled (or bimbled, if you like...I have just introduced my friend Katy to this word) up and down the country like a loon, visiting various peeps and spending an awful lot of money (that I don't have) on petrol.

Ok, so it's been more than a week now since I got back, but I've admitted previously that I am lazy, so no further apologies.

Friday I headed down to my parents' house, in order that I was in that neck of the woods for my pals' wedding on the Saturday. The journey down took eons. It took me two and a half hours to travel about 26 miles...it being the Friday of a bank holiday weekend, the A1(M) was closed in both directions due to accidents. Of course I didn't realise this until it was too late.

Still, I have a super-cool new gadget for my car. It's a cassette tape that you plug into your iPod so that it plays through the car stereo. I already have an iTrip; however I have come to realise that this is rubbish for long journeys as you go in and out of radio reception areas and various local stations; it is also rubbish for short journeys as it is too much of a clart on. Only really useful when you're going round a friend's house and they have a crap taste in music and an alarm clock radio then!

Anyway, moving on...so, I was armed with this new-fangled cassette tape. Tee hee. Oxymoron? Therefore, although the traffic was a pain in the arse (it was one of those traffic jams where people were actually getting out of their cars), I was really quite enjoying singing along. I had on a playlist I made a couple of years ago (sufficiently long ago for me to have forgotten what was on it) and was having a good old wail and keeping chipper. Have a look at what I was listening to if you like:

http://www.thoughts.com/divinyl/blog/playlist-8665/

I haven't even edited it for the sake of my pride (and I'm not sure, when it's generally in alphabetical order by song, why some songs seem to be in the wrong place!)...there were some corkers in there (and also some terribly saddo moments, for some reason a plenitude of Tori Amos, and stuff that I was sticking in there because it was newish to me and I was trying it out/familiarising myself...like Anthony and the Johnsons etc. Lots of omissions, as I haven't really got around to putting my whole music collection on my iPod, especially newer (to me) stuff. But it holds about 7,500 tracks and there's already 6,151 on there...I just checked; what a loser...and I haven't updated at all in over a year. Cripes...I really am going to have to be very brutal in my editing)...very eclectic and something for everyone...I'm sure the rest of the traffic jam appreciated it! I even got two separate cheers from the other side of the road for my singing efforts!

I decided that Willie Nelson's version of 'Across the Borderline' is now on my list of funeral songs...no, I wasn't getting that desperate being cooped up in my car, but every time I hear it, I always think what a beautiful, sad song it is. My dad reckons I'm morbid for deciding what songs I want playing at my funeral, but I don't see why. I don't have to think about that all important 'first dance' song do I?? FYI, I want a trio of songs, the first being 'Across the Borderline', the third being Stevie Wonder's 'A Place in the Sun'...I'm not yet sure what the middle one will be...I did think about 'Across the Universe', but maybe that's just because they were next to each other in my playlist and I was getting a little too much into the theme! My mate Ben's funeral song is to be the dancey reworking of Womack and Womack's 'Teardrops'...Love Station or some such like. Well, it's upbeat eh? But I want deep and meaningful shit, man! I thought, when I first heard that song as a kid (the original one), that the lyrics were “eardrops in my eyes”...painful!

It just happened to be the hottest day in recorded British history. Ok, so I exaggerate, but suffice to say that I have arms that don't match...I look like a one woman Benetton ad!

I eventually got to the 'rents' house and was immediately handed a beer as soon as I got in...now that's what I'm talking about! It was a Landlord as well...good call Dad. We had a good old bond over music and I finally traipsed off to bed.

The next morning I met my pals at Alton Station and we travelled in convoy (can two cars be called a convoy?) down to Southampton, to a Travel Inn where we would get ready for the aforementioned wedding. Rather disgustingly, my single room cost exactly the same as the doubles my friends were in, i.e. I paid twice as much just for not being shacked up (and, as Johnny Nash put it, and the sensible amongst us know, “Love ain't nothin' but a monkey on your back”. Ok, so I'm not really sure what this means, but I like it nevertheless). I also lost the money I had paid for the hen 'do', which I couldn't afford to go to. I shall, however, curtail my rant on that one, as I have much more to say.

And so, to the wedding itself...

It was lovely...as much as I am hating the whole marriage shebang. I have known both bride and groom since I was 16 (yup, they have been together that long!), and they were married in a country pub garden on a beautifully sunny day (thank goodness I got to experience one without being caged up in a small tin box, i.e. my car!), by a friend of theirs, whom I also know (they'd done the whole registry office thing a few days earlier, so Dave was on full vicar duties at this one!). The groom arrived in a Ferrari...we all just thought it was some twat showing off and revving past until we realised it was him. The bride looked fab...her hair was rock solid and completely immovable with lashings of hairspray. Following the vows, as they walked back down the 'aisle' (there wasn't really one, as it was a pub garden, like I said), there was a piece of music played. You could see a ripple of recognition throughout the crowd...yes, indeed it was the Baywatch theme tune. Inspired!

Later on, after the first dance, they also had an Elvis impersonator...it was all just so very them. And I managed to avoid getting so drunk as to fall over this year...yay me! It wasn't my fault at the last one...honest guv'nor. There were waiters who simply would not let you finish your bottle of wine, never mind your glass...they insisted on refilling constantly...seriously, my friends and I ended up trying to hide from them! This is not like us!

And so, that's now two of the group of four of us married off. The third (erm, not me) is engaged. And then there's me as token (uber-single) lezzie! This was the first time I had met my pal's fiance. And jolly nice he was. He had a touch of the Louis Theroux about him (a good thing) and could converse endlessly about music...tick.

The next day it was a drive up to Manchester to catch the end of Pride...and see Gossip again. We got there just in time for them starting and weaved our way through the crowds. There was a woman that was amazed that I knew the words...seriously, she was pointing me out to her friends and wanting me to be a performing baboon! We bumped into her later on, and she was still going on about it! Beth was, again, awesome. Although the sound system was pretty rubbish, it beat the one at the Lowry the last time I saw them, and the atmosphere was oh so much better. The crowd was HUGE. Ms Ditto was in one of her customary sausage skin outfits (which, unusually, remained on throughout)...I later canvassed opinion and I was, indeed, the only person who thought that there was something quite erotic about her belly all encased yet on show like that. Hmmm...I shall not continue on this topic methinks...I already sound like some right weirdo!

Then it was to Velvet (the furthest away bar, in order to try and avoid the crowds post-gig...so we could actually get a drink). Somehow I managed to find a vein in the bar queue and was served almost straight away...superb! It was a great evening. Not really for any explicable reason...it was just lots of hanging round outside, drinking, chatting and people-watching. Totally laid-back and very much my sort of evening. I also met a redeeming lesbian...the one that got away! Her name was Sally, and she seemed, on first meeting, not to have any major mental health complaints, and was actually rather attractive. Shock horror! She was a friend of a friend we bumped into. So, I was chatting to her for a bit...then we went into Via Fossa and I was talking to her pals...a really canny lesbian couple (maybe there are some ok ones out there?). Suddenly, it was 3.00am! I honestly don't know how that happened. But a few of us went outside for a cigarette and then they wouldn't let us back in because it was closing time. I had no idea it was that late, and was planning on chatting to Sally some more. Alas, I didn't even say goodbye.

The next day, all Pride-d out, my pals headed across to a safari park for the day. As I had just arrived the previous evening and wasn't all Pride jaded like them, I decided to head into Canal Street on my own to check out the stalls and generally people-watch (a favourite activity of mine...particularly at events like Pride festivals...some right characters!). Half a pint in, I bumped into my friends Steph and Jo, so ended up tagging along with them for the rest of the day. Steph, who was straight when I met her (putting people into boxes...me?) in uni halls, is now out-lezzying me...she and Jo have been together for about 5 years now!

The next day, after a sedate evening at an Italian restaurant, it was back in my car (which is surviving rather well, despite still making funny noises and losing speed on any sort of incline!) and heading down to Folkstone. Yes, I know it doesn't make any sense to be going Gateshead-Farnham-Southampton-Manchester-Folkstone-Gateshead...but Manchester Pride is something of a ritual and I had planned to go there before I realised that it was the same weekend as my pals' wedding. And I wanted to see Gossip again too.

Folkstone...to visit another friend I've known since I was 16. So Katy has been living in Folkstone almost as long as I have been in Newcastle, but I have never yet visited her there (nor has she visited me, I hasten to add, although she does have a child to consider). In fact, I have only seen her once in those nine-ish years...although we have kept sporadically in touch via e-mail, MySpace, etc.

And it was very nice to see her. From initially being known as 'Katy the scary goth girl' (who, upon first meeting told me her plans to get her clitoral hood pierced), she really has grown. As, I suppose, is to be expected in over a decade!

There are no great stories to tell about my time at Katy's. She was even more skint than I (although today I have checked my bank balance...I have been avoiding doing so...and I am over my overdraft, with 11 days to go until pay day...which will then only just about take me back up to zero! Then when my mortgage payment etc. goes out, I'll be in the same boat again. Aargh! Any rich sugar mummies out there?), therefore most of the time was spent in the house...chatting etc. (she is one of the very few people who can probably out-talk me...this is some feat!).

I met her son, who is now five, for the first time...I have officially been introduced to the wonders of Ben 10! My favourite toy he had was called Upchuck...nice. Reminiscent of the Garbage Pail kids? Anyone remember them? I used to collect the stickers.

Obviously highly appropriate for an infant school-aged child...it may explain a lot!

So we did lots and lots of talking; about all sorts of things really. Like her current weight loss programme. As far as I can tell, this essentially means not eating. Sure, she has lost weight, but what a way to live your life. As long as you are not seriously endangering your health (I mean in terms of being overweight), then why not live it, and enjoy it, while you can? So I questioned her quite a bit about why being thin was so important to her. I still don't really understand. Thankfully it is not something I personally obsess over...in fact, I find it wearying that everyone at work (when I'm there!) always seems to be on a diet. And it simply annoys me when people constantly 'compliment' me when I have lost weight. My weight goes up and down...just because I don't monitor it. I go through phases where I can't possibly eat enough, and others where food just does not interest me. And often, when they are telling me I look great, it is because I have been ill!

Why does society prize sticky out, pointy, boniness? It doesn't make sense to me. Look at art...the most beautiful paintings have always been of curvaceous, rubenesque women (the clue is in the word, I guess...coined after the voluptuous women in Peter Paul Rubens' paintings):

This, in my opinion, is how women should look. Curves are sexy goddamnit! Shock horror, we see some cellulite...really, ask yourself what makes that unattractive? Society has conditioned us to believe it to be totally abhorrent...but why so? Some flesh on those bones is the very epitome of fecundity, if we are thinking in evolutionary terms...it means a woman is capable of nourishing and sustaining life within her. And since we're all only, basically, here to reproduce...

Last word on the whole topic of body image...did you know (I'm sure you did, as it's a pretty well-known fact I think) that if Barbie, with her proportions, was a real human being, she would not be physically capable of conceiving, or even menstruating? In fact, she'd probably fall over! Ha! Just in case you never saw this great advert:

On with the show...

Katy, whilst I was at hers, introduced me to http://pandora.com/. Which I LOVE! It's based on something called the Music Genome Project, in which, basically, a load of songs, from a load of different genres of music, were taken and analysed for their musical properties...you know, like folk roots, acoustic guitars, strong female vocal, minor key tonality, electronica influences...whatever. There are squillions of these 'factors'. So, you put in a song, or artist, you like, and it plays you stuff that it thinks is similar or that you might also like. I have (typically) put in a long and varied list, ranging from country to rock to trip-hop, and lots of things in between. And it does play some duds...but mostly it's pretty good. It plays like a radio station (but attuned to your personal tastes), and you can say 'yay' or 'nay' to each song as is plays, which further informs the music they will play you. Great idea methinks.

The things I have bookmarked (to check out further at some later date...when I get around to it) so far include:

Glitter Mini 9; Supreme Beings of Leisure; 100 Watt Smile; Hazard County Girls; Giant Drag...oh, tonnes more, I can't be bothered listing them all! (I would link to my bookmarks page for y'all to see, but it has my e-mail address on, and I'm not that foolish in a place where anyone can read this!). The song it is playing at the moment, hilariously, is by Dean Ford and the Gaylords!

Oh, and it has some great artist bios and album reviews too...what more could you want? I think the only artist I've tried to put in so far that they didn't have was The Need...so there really is a copious amount of stuff on there; although it does seem to play some 'thumbs upped' songs more often than other stuff.

The only snag is that you have to be a US citizen to use it. Pah! Just stick in a US zip code and you're away. Easy peasy. Katy disclosed that she just put in 90210...this amused me. I, however, have decided that Austin is where it's at, so have gone for a Texas post code. But you could be from the OC, or even Alaska, if you like.

The other music-related thing for this'un is my discovery that you can get Limewire Pro for free (if you use Limewire, anyway)...all you have to do is type 'Limewire Pro' into the search box on Limewire itself! And bingo...faster downloads (without forking out)...yay! Yes, I do download music...but this is not something I feel too guilty about, as I am also one of the music industry's most prolific cd buyers! I mostly use Limewire to check stuff out and try before I buy, or for if I only want one song by a particular artist, that kind of thing. That's my justification.

Over and out.

Procrastination and inertia a la Divinyl...aka more random bollocks!

I type this blog with vampish red nails (of varying lengths!). This is the first time I've had red nails in...well, ever, I think! They have been black/green/blue/you name it in my younger days (as has my hair...pretty much every colour save for black on that one...although it has been as dark brown as you can get. It's kind of forgotten what colour it is supposed to be underneath nowadays! Red was quite a favourite for a while...bright, pillarbox red. And that never seems to go away completely!), but never really anything as trad as red (we're back on the nails, the parentheses were just particularly long!).

It is my pal's wedding on Saturday, and my outfit is red. Not like scarlet woman red...not made of satin, or boned, or anything like that! I believe it to be appropriate for this pal's wedding. I have already painted my nails because I simply couldn't wait...I got too excited about trying it out after buying the nail varnish...such a kid! My toenails are also red...and I seriously don't remember the last time I painted them! Yes, I am femme as far as lezzies go...but not that uber-high maintenance femme! I'm having a drama about my toes actually...well, one specific toe anyway.

Nope, I don't have some deformed Elephant Man growth or club foot; nor six toes like Anne Boleyn (who I always thought was called Amber Lynne when I was a child)...my feet are quite normal thank you, except, that is, for their humongous size...UK size 8 (European 41)...gargantuan! Especially at the age of about 11, when I still had to try and find brown school shoes...you can imagine, I'm sure. Anyhoo, the toe...

Yup, I busted the little toe on my right foot. Tripped on the stairs. And nearly ripped it off! Seriously...my pals who are doctors even thought it was all icky and gross. It's basically torn away from the toe next to it...a big fissure between the two. Aargh! I can still wiggle it, so don't think it's broken...but don't know what I'm going to do about the fact that I'd planned to wear red kitten-heeled flip-flop-stylee shoes on Saturday. I don't know if I'll be able to walk in them without doing it even more damage in the healing process! Thankfully, however, it is no longer black. I thought I was doing a Michael Jackson-type thing, only backwards (the Moonwalk?)! Snigger.

Ok, I'm sorry, this is dull...so, the last word on the nail polish...it is slightly sparkly...a bit Dorothy-esque...although in a relatively understated (as understated as red nail polish can be!) kind of way...not full-on, in your face glitz...not like a drag queen's lipstick sparkly red. Enough of this already...

So...I have been watching quite a lot of fil-ums lately. These have included: Annie Hall, The Bourne Identity and Supremacy, The Forgotten (which I thought I'd think was shit, but then I started thinking I might enjoy it. Turns out my first instincts were spot on. But Julianne Moore...grrr), Near Dark (a complete waste of two hours of my life...utter pants!) , a couple of John Waters films (I'm purposefully avoiding the new Hairspray...why does it even exist?) and Monster House. This last one had a trailer for a film called Stranger Than Fiction (a rather odd one to have on a children's dvd methinks)...which stars Queen Latifah, Emma Thompson and Maggie Gyllenhaal. Sounds great! Except that Queen Latifah, no matter how hot she is, always seems to be in crap films. And it also stars Will Ferrell...guh! Seriously, I can't be doing with these 'funnymen'...you know, the ones who make a living out of gurning senselessly and 'oof, something just hit me in the balls' gags...I avoid Jim Carrey, Eddie Murphy, Adam Sandler, Chris Rock, Robin Williams (with the odd 'serious role' exception) etc. at all cost.

But female players-wise, we seem to be onto a good'un...throw in Ana Matronic and you've got me a party! Ok, and Rachel Griffiths, French, and indeed Saunders, Kirstie Allsopp (a bit of posh!), a sprinkling of Drew Barrymore (who I've fancied since I was about 10!), Josie Lawrence, Clea Duvall, Ruth Jones...can't think of any more right now...and I'm ready to roll! What do all these women have in common? Very little I should think. But they are often quirky, few are classically 'beautiful', none are too skinny (for famous people, anyway), and many have good noses. Generally dark-haired, amusing, roundish ladies are good...with a few exceptions.

Shall we move on? How about to the usual TV round-up? I'll very swiftly cover the Big Brother house...I positively can't abide Carole...and don't get me started on Ziggy (with his piggy little eyes and his smarm...not a man to be trusted). Please don't let either of them win. Generally pretty dull in there though. I am, however, throughly enjoying Heroes thus far. I am particularly pleased it has Ali Larter in it!

I saw a great show the other day, on TMF I think. It was a show from MTV called 'Little Talent Show'...an X-Factor/Pop Idol-style programme, in which three judges had to identify a “triple threat” (i.e. someone who can act, dance and sing). By golly, these judges are dim (one said “Are we in agreeance?”!) and seventeenth rate. And there's a severe over-abundance of use of the phrase "Bring it!"...which doesn't even mean anything! And the talent? There is indeed little of it. Hmmm. It's completely purposefully demeaning to these folk...who are doing all this for the grand prize of...wait for it...$500! Seriously, really not worth it...but quite amusing to watch in a slow moment.

As for adverts...today my comment shall be upon Venus Vibrance. (I just got an e-mail from 'metatatically Tidwell'! I hate these auto-spam-porn things that I constantly get sent, but I daren't open them to try and stop it, in case they are virus-y things...I know little about computers!). Anyway, the razor...

The advert tells us that “Inside every woman is power”. And the message here is?? That you can unleash it and be powerful...so long as you have smooth underarms? And what's with the whole vibrating razor thing? How does that help? Surely it can only be intended for one specific use? Just make sure you don't get the wrong end...maah!

My last musing/query for today is about the term 'the dog's bollocks'. Why is that a good thing? I mean, I'm sure dogs like them, but surely dogs' bollocks are something that humans invariably get rid of? Imagine if the shoe was on the other foot! Dogs' bollocks are not, I shouldn't imagine, very attractive...human ones certainly leave a lot to be desired! I really just don't get it. Anybody got an explanation? I so can't be arsed Googling trying to find out!

I'll leave you, for now, with a quotation...from Kath and Kim...a generally amusing show, but this time it actually made me laugh out loud (and I was sitting on my lonesome)...

“I'm gonna cook your favourite dinner tonight – rack off lamb”...superb!

Right...I'm off on my jaunts! Southampton, then Manchester, then back down to Kent...pray my little car gets me to all of these places and back! It's just had a full service and MOT (£250-something...even though it only needed my brake fluid changing and the headlamps realigning...or summat...rip-off merchants!), yet it's still chugging and making funny noises...cripes!

Last thing...honest. I could have had a tenner for free the other day. No, really. The guy in front of me at the cash point walked off without taking his money (how dumb is that?!). I, like the Catholic-ally (even though I'm not) honest good citizen I am, raced after him to consociate it with its rightful owner. Did I get a 'thank you'? Did I heck as like...all I got was a “Jesus, I'd lose my head...”. Zip. Should've pocketed it!

Current Music: Old Crow Medicine Show - O.C.M.S./Sam Baker - Pretty World

A 'gayer' writes...

I have just found out about openoffice.org...wow! I have done without having Microsoft Word on my computer for so long...I didn't know it could be so easy! This is exactly the same...and free (and where I typed this blog)!

So...onto what I am really here to write about. And that is marriage.

I am sick of it.

One of my good friends is getting married in two weeks time (the hen 'do' was this weekend, but I am too skint to go to both, so missed out, unfortunately. And I'm not sure my car's well enough to get me down to Southampton for the wedding...it's making some very funny noises...hmmm). Another, in the same group of friends, got married last August, and another texted me yesterday to say she got engaged this week.

Is it something about being 27? A load of school peeps I have recently caught up with on Facebook are getting married this year as well.

And here's me, continually flying solo...I haven't had a proper relationship in about 6 years! Is it just easier for straight people to pair off? Am I too picky? Am I too shy about meeting people? Or are they just (collectively) starting to panic? They are all a lot more worried about this whole ageing business than I seem to be. Hmmm.

Whilst I am happy for all of these friends, it just brings home to me that I am likely to end up a lonely old spinster who goes through life without companionship! Even just some mindless fucking now and then might be nice! If they have all already found the one, how come it's been so long since I've even found a one??

Ok, so, admittedly lesbians are a hard bunch to fancy...my choices are much more limited than a straight person's I guess...and the pool I have to choose from generally doesn't seem worth bothering with!

But I am beginning to wonder if it is just me, when everyone else is finding somebody significant! Perhaps it has something to do with the fact that I just don't come into contact with many gay women. If it was men I was after, well I'm in contact with straight men every day, so there would be more opportunities...it's just that I really don't fancy having to settle for a willy in my life!

And so, as time moves on, I am becoming the only one who doesn't have a 'plus one' on their invitation, the only one who turns up alone and is the singleton in the group. The old maid of an auntie in the corner! And that's not much fun...ok, it's alright for now, at this age, and with friends I'm comfortable with and have known a long time, but it's going to wear thin eventually, eh?

I don't single myself out for being gay...it's just one facet of who I am. Who I sleep with (or not, as the case seems to be!) has little bearing on other things. But it is singling (ha ha) me out without me wanting it to!

Even if I was straight, I am not one to tow the line...I don't personally believe in marriage...and don't get me started on civil ceremonies...baloney!

Ok, rant over for now I guess. One last thing (and, as per my usual form, completely unrelated)...why, in the supermarket, can you not buy caramelised cashew nuts? Why do they have to come hand-in-hand with peanuts? I'm not a fan of peanuts, and it seems silly to buy a packet only to eat the cashews and then throw the rest away. Even they have paired up on me!
Hang on...perhaps this is linked. Perhaps the Miss Right out there is the one who wants the peanuts and not the cashews??

I learnt a new word...

Sesquipedalian.

Look it up...does exactly what it says on the tin!

And all due to my new found addiction (yes, you may have gathered that they are frequent, but short-lived! Tee hee) to riddle games.

Check out http://www.lautman.net/riddlesofriddles/ for some fab ones. and you could also try http://udiy.org/web%20riddle/.

This is of course, should you have the time, the patience, and very little else to do!

The waxing and waning...

At the moment, I am feeling that my life is definitely in a waning period. Whilst it was waxing, albeit sluggishly, enough for me to get back to work and try to be a useful citizen (and ensure I still had some money coming in to pay the mortgage!), things now don't seem to be going to any sort of plan. Or certainly not any plan of my knowledge or formulation…and as I don't believe in divine beings and so forth…

I am managing to get to work each day, this much is true [Edit: Since I first wrote the start of this, I've now been off work for a week...I managed one further day!]. And it doesn't even feel as 'skin of the teeth' as it did there for a while. But, unfortunately, with success (if you could call it that; simply the ability to hold down a 9-5) comes obstinacy from every other area of my life…it has created such difficulties with everything else. Kick-back I guess.

My house is now back to being what the intellectual might term 'minging', I am finding myself increasingly alone and, when any interaction with others is called for, this seems to be fraught with tensions. Perhaps it is time for me to just crawl back under my rock? Ok, so it offers few solutions, but at least it has a familiar scent.

("I now believe that depression is not a 'psychiatric illness'. Depression is a coping mechanism, a withdrawal within oneself when reaching out to others has become too painful, too risky. Depression is an unhappy place to be, but for the person who suffers with it, depression is the lesser of two evils." - Terry Lynch)

This once would not have been enough. Now even the basics are too much. It used to be that I (at least felt I) could valiantly take on anything that was thrown at me (sometimes literally!), and even lick the edges of the bowl. As I have travelled through the corridors of time, I seem to have misplaced one of the ingredients!

The help I have been screaming for, aloud for some six years now, silently for much longer, has been a devil…it hasn't even bothered with the disguise. Not exactly forthcoming, there was, latterly, at least some perceived light at the end of the tunnel. And even though this light was an intrusion, it was apprehensively welcomed as what can only be, long-term, a good thing, something which will, finally, allow me to flower.

I have waited a year, patiently, as instructed. I have had many difficulties, yet have remained polite. Then I was told that the year was going to slip to two, next to two and a half…somebody out there is desperate to keep me on the bottom of the pile…and I'm not even talking metaphorically. Finally, a knight (or knightress?) in shining armour, sword snicker-snacking through the undergrowth, showing me the path…and yet I find myself still waiting.

My head is just about above water, but I really don't have to squint much to make out the obstacles, snares and nasties in the murky depths below. I wave solemnly as I see various aspects of the life I want to live float past, just out of reach. I am treading water, unable to swim against the current…and I know my legs won't hold out forever.

The darkness closes in, reliably as night follows day, follows night, follows day, around me…and I find that I am still alone. The air is heavy, not enough to breathe freely, and as I gasp and splutter I wonder, sometimes, if things would just be simpler if I let myself go with the current…let it take me where it wants, let the water have my lungs.

But I am too proud…and such a good swimmer!

And the make-up is applied so meticulously, in such a practiced way, that the cracks don't even show any more. But if people can't see for themselves the dark recesses, the shadows that follow me around, or hear the creaking of the walls closing in around me, all my strength in trying to hold them up, then how do they know to help? My voice barks loudly, the meaning of what I say ignored, trampled, misunderstood.

This idea of walls is something that, in my little brain, I often return to...the best analogy that I can find is that it often feels like I'm sitting on a cold stone floor of a bare room, in which the walls are painted black. There is a rope attached to each wall, and I've got to keep my grip on all of them, or the walls will fall in around me. But I'm struggling to hold onto all of them, and even if I just let one go...kablam! I feel them slipping. Or, you know in films, like Indiana Jones, where the walls are gradually inching closer, threatening to squash you? Well, I don't have the strength to hold them back and keep them at bay.

If I could just grab the string of a passing balloon, the shiny, swollen hope it offers carrying me off to new worlds beyond the horizon; new worlds where troubles drift away and I can learn to be someone new. But even balloons are so flimsy, so vulnerable and unpredictable…

Eventually, I will sink, limp, down…coming to rest in some undiscovered underwater cave…dark and fearsome. And I will drown or grow gills before they find me! My limbs with atrophy, and what they find will not be identifiable as human…if indeed it even started out that way.

I ebb with the tide…and ebb..and ebb…

Your words, your ways…they have changed me. I have strength in that I am still here. But it is strength enough only for survival…not for life, not for union, not for joy. I was not built to be Atlas and my shoulders cannot withstand the pressure bearing down upon me.

It was supposed to be that I would be free without you…set out until the barren moorland became a blossoming meadow. But I didn't get enough light, and it stifled my growth. I don't know how to cope with the world that is not you…that is all I have learnt. The weeds have been plucked, but the roots remain, undisturbed, festering. And it grows apace, underground, undetected.

And so, surreptitiously, your punishment continues…

This parrot is no more! Gigs and sundry gabblings...

Another weekend, another blog.

And so, to Friday night. A friend and I went to see Nanci Griffith at the Sage…the fourth consecutive Austinite (Austinian? What are you called if you are from Austin? Texan! From the more specific environs of Austin…) I have seen. And she was great…she didn't set my world alight, but she was great. Did I mention I need to go to Texas (and that this has only recently dawned on me)?

The keyboard player, one James Hooker, who has been with her some 20 years, was excellent. He looked a bit like a rock n roll vicar…you can just imagine, in some cheesy film, him sitting down to the church organ of a Sunday and surprising the congregation by blasting out some choice boogie woogie. Or, as my step-mum believed Neil Diamond to have sung, perhaps he was more of a Reverend Blue Jeans ('Forever in Blue Jeans'!).

Nanci herself looks like your mum. Well, maybe not your mum. But like everybody's mum in a Sally Field-esque kind of way. And she has a little girly voice when she speaks. Her discourse seemed mostly to be about 'Pops', her step-father, with whom, I would say, she had an unhealthy fascination! Ok, so he did sound kind of cool, but she was singing songs about how beautiful he is etc. etc.

The second song was John Prine's 'Speed of the Sound of Loneliness' (my favourite lyrics of which are 'You come home straight and you come home curly'), and she also did a great cover of Ruby's Arms by Tom Waits. Now, I have never really liked Tom Waits…to me, his voice sounds a bit like someone dragging their nails down a blackboard (or chalkboard if you want to get all overly-PC about it!)…too gravelly and atonal. I can put up with the nasal offerings of Bob Dylan and the 'unpolished' (but somehow so beautifully emotive) warblings of Willie Nelson, but Tom Waits is just a step too far. I am, however, as with Randy Newman, unable to knock his songwriting abilities. And so a cover in a more audibly palatable incarnation was warmly welcomed.

She also did a great number dedicated to Loretta Lynn, the central lyrics of which were 'If you can't find a friend you still got the radio'. Lovely idea, but fat lot of use…although music really has been the thing to pull me through some of my darker times. Of course, she also did her torch song, 'From A Distance', which I'm almost ashamed to admit gave me goosebumples (well, some people call them goosepimples, others goosebumps, so I thought I'd take the middle ground!).

We were in the centre of the 7th row, so really rather good seats. To whoever was 8th row, centre…thanks for the constant arrhythmic tapping on the back of my seat!

My pal missed the encore courtesy of her bladder, but Ms Griffith did a great a capella ditty, which I presume from the lyrics was called 'Road to Aberdeen', and 'Well Alright' by Buddy Holly (who I have always loved!).

And her bassist, it would seem from the introductions (I may have misheard!), was apparently called Elana Rockwood!

On Saturday, I headed down (on my own) to catch the tail-end of the outdoor (free) Americana music. Holly Golightly was on at 5.00pm, who I was really pleased to be seeing again. I'm not quite sure how you'd describe her 'style'…50s/60s-influenced rockabilly? This is the second time I have seen her gratis (the first time being last year's Freevolution festival on the Quayside)…I will pay for a ticket one day! The setting was lovely…Performance Square, as it is called, outside the Sage…an area where they have built some stepped seating (including some grassy ones), the backdrop of the stage being the Tyne and Newcastle. Still, there was something that just felt a little bit strange about it all, although I'm at a loss to put my finger on it. Given recent precedent, perhaps it was just that she doesn't come from Austin??

The best line, in a song with which I am unfamiliar (she has released about a squillion albums, including a newish one which I have not yet investigated), was "I wanna kiss you, hold you, squeeze you til my arms fall off"…or at least something in that vein, anyway.

I hung around for a little while to catch the start of Richmond Fontaine, but it was mighty chilly and I had neglected to take a coat with me, so I didn't last much longer. As I was heading back through the Sage, on my way home, I passed Holly Golightly, who was just standing nonchalantly, not being bothered by people at all, enjoying the music herself. No I am not, in general, a stalker of (relatively) obscure musical artistes, so I didn't bother her either!

Sunday, and again solo, it was the Laura Veirs gig…it seems you couldn't give tickets away! I had one spare in the end, and the gig itself wasn't exactly jam-packed. She was being supported by local band Cedar Noir, who are partially made up of people I know. I don't think I've ever seen them live before, however, just Lucy (the drummer) in various other outfits (as in musical outfits, not clothing!). The best of the original songs they played, in my opinion, were 'Strangers' and 'Good Friend', and they also did a great cover of Patsy Cline's 'She's Got You'…with electric guitar, bass, drums, yadda yadda.

Laura Veirs was excellent. She looks so ordinary and unassuming. It was just she and her guitar (well, and some nifty gadgetry…like when I went to see Imogen Heap…something where she could record snippets of her voice, guitar, whatever, and have it play on loop as if accompanying her, whilst she sung and played over the top. Forgive me for not understanding the technicalities). I was very pleased that she did 'Jailhouse Fire' and 'Through December' from her album 'The Triumphs and Travails of Orphan Mae', as this is my favourite (and first purchased…that generally remains the favourite, in my experience) album of hers. She was to see Kris Kristofferson (who she'd never heard of!) that evening, and generally 'hang out' with Lucy and Gemma…you guys are SO rock n roll! ;o)

The only thing which I have failed to mention about my weekend happened on Friday night, after the Nanci Griffith gig had finished. My friend and I headed across to the Pitcher and Piano…no big news from there. Then it was on to the Yard (open late, and my friend is picky about where she goes!)…no big news from there either (the only thing of note is the fact that now, due to the smoking ban, there were loads of people outside on the pavement, glass in hand…I heard three break in just the time I was there!).

Finally, as seems to be the culmination of (almost) every evening out in recent memory, we repaired to The Dog (formerly The Barking Dog). For those of you not familiar with this establishment, it would seem that it is called 'The Dog' for a reason…namely the appearance of most of its clientele! It truly is a dive of a bar, but the drinks aren't too expensive (as with most of the gay bars), it is open later than most places (until 2.00am) and they do a good line in karaoke…it is often very amusing, as it is often tympanic membrane- (read: eardrum) shatteringly bad!

Julie and I spent a great part of our time there outside in 'smoker's corner'. Now, The Dog being The Dog, they have not provided such things as awnings or patio heaters, or indeed anything at all…it is merely a case of standing, glass in hand, on the pavement outside. And this was working out fine until, what seemed all of a sudden, there was a major kick-off. Two men were involved in some sort of skirmish…one of them then smashed a bottle or glass on the floor, pushed the other down onto it, and proceeded to kick him in the ribs and then, even worse, to kick his head SO hard against the wall.

It truly was awful…I didn't dare look at the man left on the floor as the man who had committed the assault sauntered off (yes, sauntered…he didn't even bother to run)…suffice to say that he was still unconscious when they carted him off in an ambulance. I telephoned the Police (who then called for the ambulance too), as no-one seemed to be doing much. When they arrived I, like the good citizen I am, gave them my name and contact details, and a description of the man who had assaulted the other. They didn't seem to be all that bothered.

I just hope the man is alright…I have no way of knowing, or checking.

I'm sure there is going to be an increase in the number of such events, with people on the streets, holding glass, increasing due to the smoking ban. Frankly it's quite scary, particularly in terms of potential homophobic attacks.

Worrying stuff.

From the pen (or keyboard) of Goldilocks...

The title for this blog is entirely irrelevant to any of its contents. It's just that I had porridge for tea the other night, as I had nothing else in and couldn't be bothered leaving the house! It made me think that, whilst being a grown-up and having to deal with life head on (it really just doesn't work out if you try to ignore it, and its obligations, completely) does have its drawbacks, there are also the perks…such as having as many shovels of sugar as you like, with no-one to tell you it will rot your teeth! Small blessings etc. etc.

There was a stage, aged about 14, where I would talk about naming a child of mine Porridge…jokingly, naturellement. This was primarily because I find it to be such an amusing word. Porridge was to be a daughter, and I was to christen (or at least name; I personally don't believe in all that deity hype) her younger brother Spam. Chortle. A friend of mine at the time decided that she would name her children Polly, Esther, Kurt and Anne, in that order…so that when she called them in for tea, she could screech "Polyester Curtain". This stuff could only be conceived by the minds of 14 or 15 year olds eh? Like on those 'come on, be a teacher, we dare you' adverts…the stuff the teenagers say seems vaguely annoying to watch as an adult, but I bet, behind the scenes, they are wetting themselves over the 'in joke'. I kind of miss all that sometimes…when everything seemed so hilarious.

All this because of a bowl of porridge! It was posh M&S apple, raisin and cinnamon porridge…but it still required a good dose of sugar to help the medicine go down.

So, I went to another gig last night. This time it was Ruthie Foster, again at The Cluny. I'm seriously considering moving to Austin (well, not really, but I would like to pay those honky tonks a visit)…she is the third consecutive act I've seen at The Cluny that comes from there…must be something in the water!

I didn't know a great deal about Ms Foster before going to see her, to be honest. I just thought she sounded worth checking out…both from what the Jumpin' Hot Club had written about her, and from listening to the tunes she has on her My Space page (seriously, how did we, musically, survive before this?). And worth checking out she was. Five of us trundled along (I had to flog two tickets in the queue, as two people had pulled out…I'm totally going to resolve not to be the chief ticket-buyer in future…the problem with that is it means I often don't get to go to the things I want to), none of us with any very well-formed idea of what she might be like.

I would summarise it as kind of bluesy-soulish (yes, very specific!)…she has a great gospel voice that sounds sort of like Bettye Lavette, only less weathered. Somewhere between Tracey Chapman and Aretha, if you can imagine that. She proclaimed a love of Sam Cooke whilst on stage, and that is fine by me! She also told stories about meeting Odetta (the woman has an amazing voice…seriously, if you haven't heard of her, you must have a listen…she's a folkish singer from about the 1950s…even Bob Dylan has sited her as an influence) and Jessie May Hemphill.

She did a cover of 'Oh Susannah', which was lovely, but un-sing-along-able, and an accomplished Lucinda Williams cover. The latter is on the cd which I bought, which has some great cuts, including some consummate originals by Ms Foster herself, the best being 'Heal Yourself' and 'Mama Said'. I didn't hang around to meet this one, as she looked to be deep in conversation...even though we'd bonded stage to floor over Sam Cooke.

I didn't catch the name of the man that was supporting. He was an Aussie fella who played some great slide guitar. He sung Leadbelly, Robert Johnson and 'Stagger Lee'; but there was something a bit annoying about him when he talked between songs. The audience seemed rather underwhelmed.

This gig coincided with the end of the Ouseburn Festival. I like the Ouseburn Festival. I missed it, however, this year, as there was no-one who wanted to go along, and I was mostly asleep anyway! For those of you who haven't been, it's a nice, relaxed, sitting outside drinking in the sun (if there is any!) kind of affair, round some jolly pleasant pubs offering live music, stalls, 'activities' and suchlike. It's probably my favourite pub 'crawl' in Newcastle round there – the Tanners, Cluny, Tyne, Cumberland, Free Trade…even the Ship is better than the average watering hole. Steve and Ben, who came along to the gig last night, have never been before, so I'm thinking a lazy day's Saturday boozing may be in order soon…just to get them acquainted with the locale, you understand.

Round there, there are plenty of places where you can sit outside, should it be sufficiently clement and, perhaps, should you be a smoker. I have been thinking, however, that now would be a great time to invest in shares in companies manufacturing awnings and patio heaters…there will be an awful lot of pubs having to think up novel ways of not just having you standing outside on the street corner in the rain cluttering up the place!

Speaking of rain…I still haven't told you about the Unknown Pleasures thingy at the Lowry on Salford Quays have I? The one at which New Young Pony Club and Gossip were playing. I arrived chez Tom early, and Tom is notorious for being late…in summary, I had to sit in my car and wait for him to get home for about an hour and a half! Thankfully, I had anticipated this (although my bladder had not…I was so glad when he eventually arrived home!), and therefore had brought a book with me ('Still Life with Woodpecker', Tom Robbins – I shall include some choice quotations further down the page).

We made it to the Quays (after me sending Tom back in for his umbrella-ella-ella…it was pissing down! On which note, is society as a whole just suffering from some massive aberration? I am the only person I know who doesn't think that that song is really rather super indeed) in okay time…I always panic far too much about being late. We didn't see a great deal of New Young Pony Club, unfortunately, as we were in a bar outside the Lowry Centre itself, and there had been huge, opaque, metal barriers put up so that those who didn't have a ticket couldn't see in…spoil sports. We actually did have tickets, but had decided to have a wander in between bands…and then couldn't take our pints from there into the main site. Anyway, we heard them and managed to catch the end of them on stage...they were good (I understand that this word is not especially ebullient…I was just a little unmoved by the whole day to be honest…the sound system was poor and I didn't feel any kind of 'buzz' within the audience. Anyway, moving on…)…very young and bouncy (in the physically active on stage sense!).

Next up were The Horrors, who I pretty much knew I was going to hate even before they came on stage; just from the few things I have read in the press about their frontman's antics…all a bit 'oh, I'm so cool and trendy, but I don't care' Pete Doherty-ish…the frontman is called Faris Rotter for fuck's sake! I'm so glad I wasn't a young'un when this whole 'emo' thing was going on...is going on. I think Tom put it best when he said "It's like seeing five Russell Brands all on stage together".

This, my friends, is not a good thing.

Whilst we are (or at least I am) talking about Tom...I was listening to Sunny Sweeney (yes, again) the other day. She does a cover of the song '16th Avenue', which contains the lyrics "There's cowboys, drunks and Christians / Mostly white and black and blue". I have always thought that this was fairly ludicrous...but then I factored in Tom.

Tom is a skinny wee Scotsboy with vaguely ginger leanings. He is so pasty that his skin is, in fact, see-through...and therefore he fits the 'blue' category nicely. The song was obviously written as a nod in his direction...there isn't generally a lot out there in terms of blue rights.

But I digress...back to the intended rant. Gossip were up last, and I was very much looking forward to seeing them. Beth Ditto is one helluva firecracker ("on the fourth of July...[she'll] make your mama beg, [she'll] make your daddy cry" tra la la la la) and, from the (videoed) live performances I have seen she can holler and prance like a good 'un. And she didn't let us down...she strutted and (ha! Sorry to interject again...there's a song currently playing on Radio Free Texas, as I type this, called 'Beer Goggle Blues'...I love country music!!) yawped, wailed and sweated.

Yet, sadly, we were still let down by the sound system...even though she sung her lungs out, bless her little cottons. 10/10 for effort...but, unfortunately you could often barely hear her over the band, except on the quieter numbers. I think their cover of Aaliyah's 'Are U That Somebody' was possibly the show-stealing moment, and I was pleased that they did Fire/Sign, as that's one of my faves. Yr Mangled Heart and Coal to Diamonds, from the latest album, were also grand. I think I'm going to have to try to get to the tail end of Manchester Pride, the day after my friends' wedding in Hampshire though...I feel like I need to see them live again in order that I can appreciate it more.

Oh, and we saw Lee out of Hollyoaks…yes, all the big names were there!

So, as you will see from above, I am still listening to Radio Free Texas most evenings (I am properly addicted to an online game called Joywords, http://www.joytube.com/joy-words/, so I'm here quite a lot...I am such a Scrabble geek! I also had about a day's worth, all told, of addiction to a game called 'Pico's Sim Date', but that's by the by)...I have been introduced to Old Crow Medicine Show (well, reminded to check them out, anyway...I am currently loving their song 'Wagon Wheel'...it's on my MySpace profile right now...having even been good enough to replace a song, by Renegade Rail, called 'Fat Girls and Weed'! You might also want to have a listen to Adam Hood's song 'Play Something We Know'...very catchy), Sam Baker, BlacktopGYPSY, Spivey Crossing, and some suitably upbeat cheese ('Nashpop') called 'Hard To Be Good In Texas' (Candy Coburn).

Next weekend, music/gig-wise, looks set to be a stormer. Friday night it's Nanci Griffith, Saturday a day of free, outside, Americana music (including Holly Golightly), then Sunday Laura Veirs, who, I think I have probably already mentioned at some point, is being supported by folk I know...well done them! (I think I may have to learn to stop over-using the comma! And perhaps the exclamation mark for that matter). Unfortunately Hayseed Dixie are also playing on Sunday, so I'll miss them...it would maybe be possible to catch both them and Laura Veirs (she is on in the afternoon), but I don't think my pal Jules can afford it (I am also rather skint, I just do my best to ignore the fact), and I really can't think of anyone else who'd be interested in going along to that...I'll catch them next time!

Now to the brief, yet customary, section about television advertising. I don't believe that I have had a good rant about the Nationwide ads yet? You know the ones...with the tubby, smarmy gentleman who is generally a bit of a...banker. Fnar. These are, in my opinion, rather foolish. To my mind it makes one associate incredibly bad service with Nationwide themselves...anyone with me? The 'Nationwide: Proud to be different' slogan at the end is just not enough to dislodge the connection that has been made in my little brain...I will always believe that man to be a Nationwide employee...you know, like Howard in the Halifax adverts?

The only other comment-worthy advertising for now is Sheila's Wheels...seriously, if you happened to have a car crash, how embarrassed would you be to have to produce your "bonzer" insurance documents? Perhaps that is the intention behind it...you are so scared that someone might laugh at you for getting your cover from Sheila's Wheels that you make extra specially sure you never crash. Or perhaps it's to stop the person you've crashed into socking you...they're too busy pointing and guffawing instead? Just a thought.

Nearly there now...

As promised above, some snippets from the Tom Robbins book I have just read...I thoroughly enjoyed it in the most, however did get a little sick of the 'oh I'm so quirky and witty' metaphors towards the end. Here's a few corkers though:

- "this is the cherry on top of the cowgirl";
- "I have a black belt in haiku";
- "red hair is caused by sugar and lust";
- "I leased the Charles Bukowski Suite in the Been-Down-So-Long-It-Looks-Like-Up-To-Me Hotel";
- "the sky hung low. It was the colour of moles";
- "...very expensive white carpet…whiter than a toothache";
- "as ruddy and indiscreet as a plastic sack full of hickeys";
- "In the clear desert night, the stars were as wild as popcorn".

Whilst we are quoting, I shall leave you with these words which I heard on (that most educative of media!) the TV recently:

"The past is history, the future's a mystery, the present is a gift…that's why it's called the present".

Live it while you can I say! Grab it in both hands and shake out all that loose change.

Currently addicted to: Body Shop Brazil Nut Body Butter (it smells fantastic!).

Gettin' my hawnky tawnk awn!

Last night I went to the gig that I have been boring all of you about for months...Sunny Sweeney.

It was fantabulous...splenderiferous...perhaps even supercalifragilisticexpialidocious! I had THE best time.

Getting to see Ms Sweeney was not without its hitches...first my pal Julie cancelled on me (and John almost had to...something to do with silage and rain and such Farmer-like matters). Then I was running late and had to ask John to come and pick me up. When we finally got there, literally as we were stepping over the threshold into the Cluny, I realised that I'd left the tickets on my living room coffee table! We made it back to the Cluny after a swift round trip back to Gateshead to collect said tickets...lucky one of us was driving!

Support was in the form of Mary Jean Lewis...the niece of a certain Mr Jerry Lee (although not the one of 'The Nutty Professor' fame). She had a lovely alto voice and even sung a Loretty number...and a Willie Nelson one ('Angel Flying Too Close to the Ground')...she was indeed very pleasant to listen to, if a little under-inspiring. I shall not be bandying about the superlatives here...I shall save those.

Ms Lewis told us that she was too old to be standing up playing her keyboard, requesting a stool...yet apparently she wasn't too old to be wearing bunches. There is a note of derision in my tone here, but it is mostly based on jealousy...I would love to be able to wear bunches, but I think, aged 27, I might look a bit of a fool!

Anyhoo, cracking on. I used this interval to purchase myself a Sunny Sweeney t-shirt. Well, more of a vest/tank top thingy really. I shall wear it with pride. Maybe I'll start working up my own collection, en homage to Sunny's penchant for Merle Haggard t-shirts (she's up to 36, as she proudly told us during the gig)...although I may just leave that schtick to her (she was wearing a George Jones t-shirt on this occasion...more of that later).

I then dutifully queued for the bar, where I was asked by the man in front of me (who had been talking to me for a few minutes by this point) if I was Sunny Sweeney. My response was "Erm, no...she is prettier, more petite, blonder and more Texan! And also likely to be wearing a Merle Haggard t-shirt"...he seemed quite nonplussed. It was from this vantage point that I saw Ms Sweeney herself walk through the room...twice, and got ever so excited with the anticipation of it all!

Finally, Sunny and band came on stage. I think I was the only audience member to actually let out a whoop when she walked on! They started with a great song that Sunny does on her album, which is called 'Next Big Nothing' (the song, that is; the album is Heartbreaker's Hall Of Fame). From this point on I was lost in singing along, tapping, wiggling, and so on. As you will well know by this point, I never dance...yet I didn't stop moving the whole time they were on...not exactly dancing (there wasn't room for that anyway), but it was like I had caught some sort of jitterbug! And my jaw quickly took to aching, as I simply couldn't keep the Cheshire Cat smirk from my face.

I could almost have sworn that, early on in the show, Ms Sweeney smiled straight across at me (and what a winning smile it is!), but convinced myself I was just being silly. Then, between numbers, she picked me out of the audience and asked me if I was her MySpace friend!! God bless you MySpace...even all your accompanying bugs n' quirks n' things! I was mortified!

Of course, I will admit that I was also overjoyed. After that point I kept getting really paranoid, as I kept making accidental eye contact, and was even mentioned again as her MySpace buddy...I began to feel a bit like some obsessive stalker...particularly as I knew all the words!

The band were excellent...really tight, especially considering they are relatively newly formed and therefore haven't been playing together for all that long. Special mention goes to the man (Craig Smith) who made it out of the Orkneys to play geetaw up there with Sunny...and who stood in very nicely for Jim Lauderdale on 'Lavender Blue' (oh, and who also told some really rubbish joke that I now forget...it was one of those "A something walks into a bar..." jokes). They also did a cover of Folsom Prison Blues...all hail the late King Cash!

The set (well, the encore) was ended with the humongously catchy 'If I Could', also on the album, and which I have sported on my MySpace page a couple of times...and, in fact, did until yesterday (following some Luscious Jackson and then Leonard Cohen's 'I'm Your Man'; I'm ever so eclectic...again, more of this later).

John and I then made a swift exit stage left for a well deserved nicotine fix (yes, yes, a dirty habit, I know) while I waited for the crowds to disperse a little before going and saying my hellos to Ms Sweeney et al. When we got back in the bar we were hanging back and kind of loitering around, waiting for a gap, when Sunny came across to meet ME!!!!!!!!!!! Oh my!

I was so starstruck! I was sweating and fawning, rambling and fawning...in summary, a giggling, and did I mention fawning, nervous mess. It was like...you know when you are talking to someone you fancy and you just end up seeming like a wally? I got so nervous I didn't know what to say! I am such a nidiot (sic). Never will I be that cool chick...I was, am, and it seems will always be, just some dumbass. Oh dear.

Anyway, Sunny was lovely...a really sweet, down-to-earth woman (this is a woman with 5000+ MySpace friends, who actually recognised me, messages back and even remembered what previous messages had said!)...real purdy, with some beautiful baby blues and a hella sexy Texan accent (and I don't do blonde, or petite...or, come to think of it, generally pretty either for that matter!). She signed both my cd and the poster that I'd previously stolen from the Cluny (see a previous blog)...which I'd remembered to bring along, even though I'd forgotten the tickets! I'm particularly proud of the cd...I was joking about how I felt like a stalker, so she has signed it, "To my favorite stalker! HA HA!". We talked (or at least I tried to talk) for quite a while, I was introduced to the hubby and the guitar player, and I generally giggled and fawned some more.

Then I admitted that I didn't know who George Jones was. I was roundly admonished and ordered to get my hands on a 'best of' cd (I was even encouraged to download it illegally if needs be...he is that important!)...which I have now obediently done...it arrived today from Amazon. I like it. His voice is somewhere between Willie Nelson and Roy Orbison...it's even a bit Everley Brothers (although I'm not sure whether Don or Phil...tee hee) on the earlier numbers. I realised I already knew 'He Stopped Loving Her Today'...but my favourite on the album (The Essential George Jones: The Spirit of Country...I couldn't find the exact one recommended...perhaps it's a US-only release?), at least after the one listen through I've had so far, is 'Bartender's Blues'...I like 'Golden Ring', 'Her Name Is' and 'The Door' too.

On which note, apparently he is the former husband of Tammy Wynette (sorry if I sound like a philostine saying this...give me a break, I come from Middlesbrough, and, in my defence, can converse on many different types of music, not just country...perhaps I should brush up my knowledge of country music a little though eh?). I made the faux pas, having seen the cheesy Wynette biopic as a kid, of asking if he was the one that beat her? This didn't seem to go down too well...oops!

I decided last week that I wanted a Southern (American, that is) girlfriend...that was in a conversation about Beth Ditto's fabulous Arkansas drawl. Perhaps I'll up sticks and move to Texas?

Speaking of Beth Ditto...I'm off down to Manchester to see Gossip tomorrow. It's the culmination of the Manchester International Festival and I 'won' some (free...yay!) tickets in an online ballot. New Young Pony Club are playing too. So I'm going to stay with my pal Tom and get to see Ms Ditto shake her thang in person...should be good. And I'm not back at work until Wednesday. She also presented the Friday Night Project last night (yes, I know I am terribly sad being in on my own of a Friday night)...I think this whole fame shebang has come on rather quickly and she seemed a little out of her depth, bless her. The only other real point of note is that Justin Lee Collins was wearing a Hugs Not Drugs t-shirt...like my shoes! I love those shoes!

Back to the wonderful Ms Sweeney. So, not only has she introduced me to George Jones, but also, via her blog for CMT, Adam Hood (now my current MySpace tune) and http://www.radiofreetexas.org/. The possibilities are endless! From an evening's listening last night, they play some great stuff, and should introduce me to a load of bands/artists I haven't heard before. There's not much call for local country radio in Gateshead...and I always forget when Bob Harris is on Radio 2. Incidentally, she also writes a great blog on MySpace...she is an amusing, intelligent, normal woman. I've already mentioned that before I think. Seriously though folks, check her out, give her your support. Her name's going to be right up there with Loretta's and Patsy's one day. She's at:

http://www.myspace.com/sunnysweeney

Right, I'm off to pack my bags for the Texarkana (via Dollywood!)!!

Mmmhellooo...

Betty Butterfield is a southern talkin' momma, an overweight, prescription drug-addled, chain-smoking, tongues-speaking woman of the Lord. Her mission in life is to find the church of the Christian faith which caters best to her needs. She knows that she is devout; it would seem that she is just not sure who to be devout with. Betty has visited them all looking for something that clicks - Mormon, Pentecostal, Quaker, Roman Catholic, Scientologist...the list goes on. She has yet to find something that quite meets her stringent criteria, which would include the attire of the congregation at large and parishioners who will bring a casserole round to your trailer when you are feeling a little under the weather. Ms Butterfield is rather ill-equipped to deal with life beyond her front porch...particularly should she run out of Xanax. She has trouble with her monthlies, is the widow of a monster and simply can't figure out those supermarkets. All in all, her tool belt of life is pretty sparsely stocked.

Oh...and it's a man.

Or at least, Betty is played by a sunglass-bedecked man in smeared red lipstick. He goes by the name of Chuck Knipp; himself apparently a practicing Quaker...and homosexual. Think Divine and John Waters.

It is all delivered in a direct to camera monologue, a la this new fad for YouTube vlogging (such a terribly ugly word). It's worth a shufty...Betty can be very (unintentionally, for Betty at least) amusing, coming out with such gems as:

"I have got to quit smoking. Oh my God, it's got to the point now to where I go to church and start speaking in tongues and wheezing at the same time".

Your best bet is probably just to type her name into YouTube, however there is a website which archives many of her video rants. That's at:

http://bowerbird.typepad.com/mmmhellooo/

(But the videos come up in tiny Quicktime format...at least they do on my PC...I may be missing something with regards how to enlarge them; I am not exactly a technical genius!).

You can also read more about Betty's creator Chuck Knipp, should you wish to, at:

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Chuck_Knipp

There you will find that Knipp also has a more famous creation, a cousin perhaps to Ms Butterfield, named Shirley Q. Liquor. I'm afraid I don't kow much about this one, other than that Knipp 'blacks up' and drawls in a southern cotton-picking kind of way. It all sounds a bit controversial for my liking. I'll stick with Betty.

Enjoy!