The Troubled Diva Old Curiosity Box – Item 4.
Mick Micheyl - L'Amour, C'est Comme Le Café (1963) (2.32mb)





Bit of a prototype Margaret Thatcher hairdo, n'est-ce pas?

I know nothing about this EP, other than what you see above. Around 1978, I discovered it gathering dust in my parents' collection - played it - loved it - and have clung onto it ever since. The whole EP is grand, and maybe I'll return to it again at a later date. This is the frothiest, campest, silliest song on the EP - and therefore, naturellement, my favourite.

Update: Sorry - you weren't quick enough. These MP3s are no longer on my server. I generally make them available for a week or so (sometimes less) before substituting them for new ones. Better luck next time!

So, what are you doing over Easter?
(My name is Meg.)

Don’t Believe The Hype!
The Royal Tennenbaums.

Dull, plodding, boring, pointless, largely unfunny, moderately irritating, vaguely depressing. Not even half as clever as it thinks it is. Paper-thin characterisation (worst offender: Gwyneth Paltrow). Angelica Huston and Bill Murray completely wasted. A particularly weak ending, which leaves you with an overwhelming feeling of “So what?” Redeemed only by good art direction, a decent soundtrack, the very occasional funny one-liner, and strong performances from Ben Stiller and Gene Hackman. You’ll either love it (if imdb and Amazon are any accurate representation of popular opinion) or you’ll hate it.

Do Believe The Hype!
The Streets – Original Pirate Material.

Unique, original, atmospheric, evocative, intelligent, instinctive, articulate, frequently surprising, sometimes moving, sometimes hilarious. A spot-on snapshot of contemporary urban/suburban English life. The unrepresentative single “Has It Come To This?” is actually one of the weakest tracks, and is dispensed with early on. The best tracks are saved for the second half, where the album really takes off. Not for everyone, mind. Again, you’ll either love it or you’ll hate it.

Eyup - Google has rolled us all back to the start of February. Thought it had gone quiet around here. Yeesh, did I really look that Blogger-template primitive back then?

It's not just those London Boys who have pop quizzes on Tuesday nights, you know. Last night, we had one of our own in Nottingham. A dirty great big marathon of a pop quiz, as well - nearly three hours long. And guess what? Our team ("Queen Latiflat Is Back" - don't ask) won! By six whole points! Oh, the sheer self-validation of it all!

Reviewing my list of primary multiple identities, I am struck by one particular omission. Whatever happened to Political Mike?

Political Mike’s heyday was in the 1980s. He was the sort of person who would angrily thump the table and shout at the radio during political discussion programmes. He would really get quite fired up about certain issues – anti-apartheid, nuclear disarmament, the miners’ strike, the privatisation of public utilities, Clause 28, the poll tax. Believing that it was important to stand up and be counted, he would sign petitions, go on marches, and DJ at benefit nights.

Political Mike hung around for a while in the 1990s, but you gradually started seeing less and less of him. Nowadays, he seems to be in permanent hibernation. Why is that?

Purely on an emotional level, I still like to identify myself as an unreconstructed 1980s Old Labour Leftie. But I’m not at all sure that this stance would bear up to rigorous testing. For instance: during the London mayoral campaign, someone set up an interactive website which tested your opinions on the key policies of the various candidates – without telling you which candidate supported which policy. I completed the test, and discovered to my astonishment – and horror – that my ideal candidate was Steve Norris, the Conservative. So - for stance, read posture?

Particularly in my guise as Country Mike, I have met a number of people recently who would identify as Conservatives. Annoyingly, they have for the most part turned out to be pleasant, companionable, warm, decent folk. I have therefore had to accept that some Tories can be…well...quite nice. And likewise, that some Socialists can be fairly vile (it’s that patronising self-righteousness that particularly rankles, I think).

However, I should point out that these are old-school, One Nation, knights-of-the-shires Tories, rather than the fanatically Europhobic, hang-em-and-flog-em, wogs-begin-at-Calais, no-such-thing-as-society, the-working-class-are-all-scum Tories. You know – the non-ideological types.

Like me, in that case? Like most of us, these days? Have we all shed our ideologies? And if so, is this idle complacency or pragmatic common sense?

I suppose that what I’m currently feeling is guilt. Nothing new there, then – after all, it is one of my predominant emotions. However, this is a particularly complex form of guilt, even by my standards. It is guilt at not feeling guilt at no longer feeling politically engaged. Are you still with me?

Perhaps it is my civic duty to remain politically engaged – but I doubt it. Maybe that is best left to people with the requisite passion, determination – and articulacy, for that matter. For I was always a poor political thinker. Too easily swayed by the last opinion, I struggled to order my views into one coherent Weltanschauung. Now, I am quite cheerfully capable of holding conflicting views on the same subject without worrying about it too much.

Maybe it is enough that K is doing work (helping to dramatically speed up drug discovery processes) which is demonstrably to the sum benefit of humankind. After all it’s a damn sight more useful than going on a march – or there again, maybe I’m setting up a false comparison. Anyway, one out of the two of us is being The Good Citizen, so hooray for us. And although I cannot make such grandiose claims to social usefulness with my own little job, it is still, ultimately, perfectly respectable work which needs to be done. No shame in that.

So, Political Mike. I have nothing but fond memories of you, but I don’t think you’ll be coming out to play again – at least, not just yet.

Very, very occasionally, a piece of music will physically send shivers running up and down my spine. This hasn’t happened in a long time – until yesterday in fact, when I first played the track Weak Become Heroes from the newly released album by The Streets.

This is a song – or rather, it’s a spoken word piece recited over music – in which the narrator reminisces over his clubbing honeymoon period. It is quite breathtakingly evocative. As some critics have noted, the effect is rather like a musical version of the film Human Traffic.

The second time I played the track, it induced the same shivers all over again. In fact, I haven’t even bothered playing half the album yet – I just keep returning to Weak Become Heroes. Utter genius.

Over the weekend, K arranged for the home PC in Nottingham to be switched over to BT Broadband. This will happen in exactly two weeks’ time. It’s a simple procedure, which will save a fortune in phone bills (that 56k dial-up modem will not be mourned) and ISP charges (12 quid a month to Dircon for the past 5 years – it all mounts up).

Last night though, the penny dropped. “What have I done?” he wailed. “I’ll never get you out of that computer room again now. It’s like I’m adding two inches to your lover’s dick!”

Heh heh heh...

Well, that's OK then! Interesting article/discussion on Net addiction.

Country Mike.

Country Mike wears old button-down check shirts which he has owned for years. These used to belong to Gay Mike, back in the days when he was the Imelda Marcos of plaid. He buys his clothes (fleeces, waterproofs, Meindl boots and thick socks) from outdoor suppliers, most notably Outside in Hathersage. Forget Bond Street - Outside is the only clothing store on the planet which truly intimidates him. It certainly has the most elitist sales assistants.

Country Mike likes long walks through the Derbyshire and Staffordshire peaks. He goes drinking at The Gate (Brassington), The George (Alstonefield) and The Red Lion (Hathersage), but rarely has more than a pint and a half, and is usually home by 9.30.

Country Mike collects late eighteenth century caricatures. He likes fine wine, coal fires and soft acoustic music. He will happily spend up to three hours on a Saturday morning sipping tea and reading The Guardian from cover to cover. At social gatherings, he is usually the youngest person present.

Country Mike is the newest of all the Mikes – only eighteen months old. He is still evolving and defining himself.

Office Mike.

Office Mike tends to keep himself to himself these days. He is a quiet figure in a quiet office. He used to get quite tensed up and panicky about things, but that is all in the past now. He has plenty of relevant technical experience – more than most – and so is happy to spend time dealing with queries from younger programmers. Although somewhat reserved, he is always friendly and approachable, and he tries to make it along to most of the office nights out – where he is usually the oldest person present.

Office Mike has a comfortable existence. He only lives ten minutes’ walk away, and enjoys his walk to work through The Park. No longer required to wear business clothing, he tends to favour smart jeans and his second-best shirts. Sometimes, he is required to spend the odd couple of days in a wind-lashed Portakabin, in the middle of a car park, in the industrial North East. He spends the rest of the time in a spacious, pleasantly appointed, properly air conditioned environment with stunning views over central Nottingham.

At lunchtimes, Office Mike is fiercely loyal to Pret A Manger, for reasons which are not entirely unconnected with the physical attributes of its male employees. On Monday lunchtimes, you will always find him cruising the record stores for the new releases, which he will then spend Monday afternoon playing back on his Discman. In the office, he is usually one of the last people to arrive, and one of the last people to leave.

Office Mike is the most “normal” of all the Mikes. However, Web Mike lurks, Hyde-like, beneath the placid surface of Office Mike.

Gay Mike.

Gay Mike loves a good night out. He has been a familiar face on the Nottingham scene for nearly twenty years now. In the local pubs (usually the Lord Roberts and @D2), he recognises half the clientele. In the local club (NG1), he recognises considerably fewer these days.

Once in a while, Gay Mike will head off for a Big Weekend in London or Birmingham. He will get completely trashed, will dance all night, will flirt for England, and will love every minute of it. Gay Mike can be a right tart when he’s had a few, especially on the dancefloor.

Gay Mike particularly loves dancing – he used to be a club DJ himself, and can enjoy everything from cheesy chart pop, through funky soulful house, to banging techno, and all points in between. He is an…expressive dancer, more so as the night wears on. He sees nothing wrong with mouthing all the words, flinging his arms in the air, and whooping when the beat kicks back in.

Gay Mike has been around the block. He has seen it all. He doesn’t come out as often he used to, but he is definitely still there.

Rockin’ Mike.

Rockin’ Mike is the oldest of all the Mikes. He hasn’t changed much over the years. OK, so he has graduated from the NME to Uncut, but he is still as obsessive as ever, constantly on the look-out for exciting new music.

Rockin’ Mike is not a clothes horse. He wears scruffy sweatshirts, T-shirts and jeans – stuff that can happily get beer sloshed all over it at gigs. Rockin’ Mike loves going to gigs – especially small, intimate gigs by up and coming bands. He drinks pints of cheap lager in plastic glasses, and stands with his Music Buddies on the main floor, safely behind the moshers, but in front of most of the standing crowd, so that he can twitch his limbs a bit when the fancy takes him.

Rockin’ Mike is a close cousin of Librarian Mike, who loves nothing more than filing his CD and vinyl collection in alphabetical order, and keeping his spreadsheets up to date.

Stylish Mike.

Unapologetically materialistic, Stylish Mike likes the finer things in life. Michelin restaurants, upmarket hotels, gorgeous Italian furniture, expensive clothes. He is a consumer through and through – but a discerning consumer, who hates settling for second best. Stylish Mike doesn’t like it if you suggest that his enthusiasms are all about ostentation and conspicuous consumption. That’s not what it’s all about. It is simply that Stylish Mike places a high value on aesthetics. Stylish Mike can be funky and “street” as well – but maybe not as much as he used to be.

Stylish Mike used to wear Prada, but he’s since realised that Prada clothes are poorly made and lack durability (except for the shoes, which will always be divine). He has gone back to Paul Smith in a big way, after a long gap. When he walked into the ground floor of Louis Boston last year, he thought he had died and gone to heaven.

Stylish Mike loves interior design, and is frequently to be found cooing over lovely lamps in chi-chi little stores. He is proud of what he has achieved in his own domestic environment, though this is still work in progress.

Stylish Mike collects contemporary paintings and ceramics. He loves hanging out in galleries and at art fairs. His paintings are, by some considerable distance, the most cherished of all his possessions.

Web Mike.

Web Mike is one of the most gregarious of all the Mikes. He is a networker, who always enjoys meeting new people. A lover of language, he is constantly exercising and developing his writing skills. Through Web Mike, you can get glimpses of all the other Mikes – yet you will never quite get the full flavour of any of them. Although Web Mike is primarily a virtual character, he feels just as real as all the other Mikes.

And then there’s Partner Mike, Arty/Intellectual Mike, Family Mike, and oh, so many more besides. But you've got the general idea by now.

"In times of terror, teens talk the talk". An article from the Washington Post discusses recent updates in US teenage slang, post September 11.
(via Listen Missy)

Ulp. Turning into a music blog. Am not a music blog. Have other interests.
Like...er...um...?
Will get back to you on that.

The Troubled Diva Old Curiosity Box – Item 3.
Zulema - Change (1978) (6.90mb)



Time for a long forgotten Paradise Garage anthem, which is well overdue for some renewed attention. Zulema dishes out the disco fire and brimstone over a thunderous, dramatic, frantically paced orchestral backing. I'm fairly certain that this was a Van McCoy production, but looking at the sleeve and the label again, there is admittedly nothing to support this. I've had this 12-incher since its UK release (on London) in early 1979.

Update: Sorry - you weren't quick enough. These MP3s are no longer on my server. I generally make them available for a week or so (sometimes less) before substituting them for new ones. Better luck next time!

Oh yeah - now I've fixed my scanner, here's the artwork for the Cristina single (sadly cropped - it's only a diddy scanner).

Are you a European weblogger? Do you like music? Are you able to burn CDs? If so, then Midsummernight’s Burn may well appeal…

How bizarre. I seem to have reached a position where I am now dispensing advice on site design to other people, on a fairly regular basis. Why, someone even called me their “web guru” the other day.

Me! Little old technophobic, Luddite, know-nothing me! Who works with clunky old fashioned mainframes for a living. Who hasn’t bought a computer book in living memory. Who couldn’t even explain the basic principles of object orientated design. Who wouldn’t recognise a piece of Java, C++ or Visual Basic if it came up and bit him on the bottom. Who has only just started tangling with CSS (and is now, finally, getting the point of why it is An Unequivocally Good Thing). Who has never even so much as caught a whiff of Dreamweaver, Quark, or anything other than an ancient copy of Front Page (which he tends to eschew in favour of Notepad in any case).

I wish I had a friendly neighbourhood “web guru” of my own, who could dole out friendly advice and show me how to Do Cool Stuff. However, the strange truth is this (and I’ve only just realised it). I actually know more about web design than any of my friends. Which means that everything you see here – every last bit of it – I worked out for myself, entirely unaided.

And you know what? I think that’s quite good going.

K’s aunt and uncle celebrated their Ruby Wedding today. The entire extended family duly gathered round at their house for a quick drink, before heading out for lunch. K’s aunt joyfully unwrapped the presents (goblets, ornaments, dishes, paperweights, mostly in thematically appropriate reddish hues), while K’s uncle dutifully kept the champagne glasses topped up.

In the middle of all this, one of the little granddaughters turned to K’s uncle, a puzzled look on her face. “Why is Grandma opening all these presents?”

K’s uncle: “Because it’s our Ruby Wedding Anniversary. Grandma and I got married forty years ago today.”

Granddaughter: “But I don’t understand. Why haven’t you got any presents then?”

K’s uncle (to the whole room): “DID YOU HEAR THAT, EVERYBODY…?

The Posh Shop has got yet another new assistant. I swear that they must all come from some sort of central casting agency. Once again, she is disarmingly charming, fearfully well bred, boundlessly enthusiastic, stylish in that very particular way that they all have, and very slightly dotty, albeit in an thoroughly endearing way. Once again, I am reminded of Helen Lederer’s character in Ab Fab.

We have called in to pick up a few bits and pieces, and to collect a rather expensive lamp for K’s mother. The new assistant has never met us before, but is soon all smiles and breathless chatter. We are regular customers at The Posh Shop, and I think she has already got the measure of us.

K: “Actually, when my mother came in to order this lamp, she sent my father off on some errands round town - so that he didn’t get to find out how much money she was spending on it.”

The new assistant gaily laughs, tosses back her carefully bouffed mane, and flashes us a bright, conspiratorial smile. “Oh, men! They just don’t understand some things, do they!”

Er…hang on just a minute, missy…

It is K’s first night back from the States. We crack open a bottle of reassuringly familiar Californian Chardonnay, and settle down to an evening of Friday Night Feel Good Telly.

Oh, but what’s this on the Jonathan Ross Show, straight after Liza Minelli (considerably more subdued, sensible – and, it has to be said, wrinklier than on her previous, infamous appearance on So Graham Norton)? Why, it’s the Pet Shop Boys – performing their new single, and my theme tune for the past week, Home And Dry.

“Oh My God!” – I turn to K – “You have to hear this. Listen to the words.”

I should explain that K has always loathed and despised the music of the Pet Shop Boys. Now, he is confused. “But – there’s no irony! Where has the irony gone?”

We are not much given to sentimental moments. But this is one of them.