George Benson’s Breezin'. There’s always been a jazz funk fusion blend to my musical tastes, etc. It’s the perfect album to signal the start of early summer. I may even dig out my Soul Boy plastic sandals to complete the look. Martinis ahoy! Or cheapo Lidl lager, as is more likely to be the case…
Budgie! Gang of Four! That’s quite a cast list. High hopes, etc. But Christ, this was shit. The alarm bells should have been sounded with ‘folk rock duo,’ It’s wishy washy to the extreme. The Dire Straits cover did for me. I’m surprised I survived to track 8.
⭐ ⭐
I couldn’t be arsed to swim. It involved too much activity: a bicycle ride to the pool, the actual swim, and then a bicycle ride back to base. No ta, especially so with rain threatening around the Estuary Wilds. And so a walk instead. Live to walk, walk to live, etc.
I had plenty of podcasts loaded up to keep me company - the usual shit: Forest Focus, Novara, Never Strays Far. Podcasts and putting in the strides is something of a thing around these parts. It’s rare now to notice someone who isn’t wearing a pair of AirPods whilst they are out plodding away.
The route was pretty random, and pretty much made up as I went along. I headed out along the Estuary, always a good start. The water was choppy with the wind blowing down the Muddy Banks. Rowing for earlier in the day had already been cancelled.
Both sides of the sea wall have seen significant overgrowth in recent weeks. Some stretches required a little delicacy when passing through. I wouldn’t fancy running along here with all the thorns poking out to scratch away at my BEAUTIFUL sleeve ink.
I reached the Creek. I headed up towards Alresford. The plan was to walk through the centre of the village and back to Weird Wiv. But this would have meant walking along the road with rush hour approaching. I’ll give that one a miss.
I went a little cross-country, having hung around for a short while inside the burnt out shell of St Peter’s. It was pretty magical with the bright sun illuminating the walls of the old, abandoned building. A decent walk. I’ll swim tomorrow. Yep.
We rocked up at the Table of Dreams, only to find a father sitting on it, and his son stomping around on the table and metallic net. wtf.
The little shit was taking great delight in jumping up and down. He wasn’t challenged over his behaviour. The entitled, middle-class tosser.
I strode up, expecting a confrontation. Instead they both disappeared. SEE YA. Don’t come back, etc. Some people.
This messed with my mind. As did the wind. I tried to play a power game. This was not an afternoon for spin. I succeeded, to an extent. A 5-1 defeat is not as deflating at it might sound. I did push her all the way. Yep.
Whenever I get invites to shitty 70’s themed ‘party’ nights, I often think of turning up with an un-groomed moustache, a battered leather jacket and a handful of Can albums under my arms. The ‘party’ will consist of sitting on the floor together, having a smoke, and listening to the magnificence of Can. If anyone dares to speak then they will be asked to leave the ‘party.’ I bloody love this group, and especially this album. It grooves away without being funky. It speaks to you without actually saying anything. Stick you Abba shite up yer arse.
⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐
“Something unexpected happened yesterday when they announced yet another delay to HS2. I lost interest, because I might be dead before it opens.”
Arf. via Diamond Geezer.
“Someday you’re going to tell your kids that we once used a social network that limited your writing to 500 characters and didn’t allow styling, links or titles. What was it called Daddy? Bluesky. And people thought it was great. Why? They might have been taking drugs.”
via Dave Winer
Uplifting indie pop, with a slightly darker edge. I still love Gepetto. It tells a story, creates an atmosphere and gets you singing - the three main things I look for in a pop song. The rest of album is standard, to decent. It doesn’t quite make the bold move over the edge to become something great. But it’s worth revisiting.
⭐ ⭐ ⭐
He’s a one. But WHAT a one.
“The left is a force that must be listened to, rather than swindled all over again”
Owen Jones in The Graun
A Forest hat-trick: a black T, a vest and a beanie. What am I suppose to do when the club drop an end of season 50% off sale? The black T is interesting. It’s knitwear, and not a straight forward T as I was expecting. I quite like it. Northern Soul vibes. The vest is purely for tattoo PONCEING. The beanie is a skate style that surprisingly suits my egghead. We came SO close to Three Stars on the Badge, Comrades.
A stunning four star album. I’ve been wanting to listen this in detail for some time now. Yer man Robert Elms always bangs on about it. I felt I knew it most of the tracks anyway, seeing as though he often drops them on BBC Ldn. It’s perfection. It captures Benson’t own transition from acclaimed jazz guitarist to something a little more soulful. I can’t decide where his talent lie: guitar or vocals? Both are stunning. A very smooth album that has set me up for the summer.
⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐
