6 best songs and 1 instrumental

these are my favourite songs ever/now; (in no order)

1.Interpol - PDA
2.Meneguar - House of Cats
3.The National - All the Wine
4...And You Will Know Us By the Trail of Dead - Mark David Chapman
5.Wolf Parade - I'll Believe in Anything
6.Fucked Up - Crusades

and

1.Explosions in the Sky - The Moon is Down

fucked

doomed. we're all fucking doomed
sometimes its really hard to really see a point, to it all. I exist sure but i'm only going to stop, one day. and so is every fucking person I care about. How do you cope with it? what's the fucking point? Me and everyone who's good is only going to die anyway and then that's it. it's all over. So what really is the point? I know life's a gift but I just don't wanna go through the pain. Maybe its what I need if I'm ever gonna learn.
we all fucked.

its on again

death seems pretty optional 'til
its a heartache and a room getting smaller
and there's little else to grasp on
and everything hurts

but maybe its the only way you'll
be able to ever cope again
and grow and carry on living
(grow and carry on)

and I knew I wasn't over this
every night its the same I think
the same thoughts every night.
Those ones that scare me to death

and somehow its worse with you,
when I think about how one day
one of us we'll be gone and the
suffering will start again

I know i'm told that I worry way too much
and that this is the sad reality
but I still can't put it out of my mind
and I can't say how I'll feel when I
finally lose someone I love.
Until then I'll wait and believe that
death doesn't effect me;
as scary as that is.

T in the Park

So this weekend I went to the country's second biggest yet strangely under appreciated festival T in the Park in Balado, Kinross, Scotland. For those who don't know, it as a festival sits just in between Glastonbury and Reading/Leeds in line up choices, and to be fair the whole scale of the affair was quite something (choices of 3 or 4 big headliners on the Saturday and Sunday is pretty impressive with; Rage Against the Machine, Kaiser Chiefs, Ian Brown and Interpol one night and R.E.M, the Prodigy and Primal Scream the other).

Sadly the event has been slightly marred by the death of one 32 year old man of "illness" (we presume alcohol poisoning) and another who was brutally stabbed but seems to be making progress; our best wishes go out to him and his family. This is pretty sad because, despite the facade of getting into the festival grounds on Friday morning, this was one of the best organised and most pleasant festival experiences I've had (literally pissed all over Reading/Leeds for comfort and atmosphere and people not being wankers).

Anyway all this aside here was my experience of the festival and the awesome amount of diversity going on:

Friday: Not a lot happening on this half day, it took a couple hours to fight our way in and to top it off no one of interest in performing til 11 o'clock. Wondered around a bit, began weekend drinking, usual crack. Chemical Brothers kick proverbial ass with their set, and the Futureheads are also great but perhaps deserve a bigger crowd.

Saturday: Long wait til the festival really gets going, and my does it when it huts. But until 4pm we still have to wait for the first band of interest, Lightspeed Champion. Toilets are getting grim but I can't help wonder how good natured everyone is being about it all. Lightspeed put on a very good performance to kick off the festival for me (8/10) with a girl drummer who is both hot and ridiculously good at drums. WIN. Shame the same can't be said for Biffy Clyro whom have officially lost their way. One hoped a homecoming show would mean a greater choice of songs but they still opted for new songs and not only that, badly played new songs (3/10). The Hold Steady gets things moving again nicely though with their Tom Petty/Bruce Springsteen branded alt-rock, mostly by having a fantastic sound (7/10). MGMT unfortunately turns out to be one of the more annoying performances as the relatively small Pet Sounds tent is filled with radio 1 listening idiots for their one and only visit to that tent. The band themselves are OK but also kinda over zealous on the prog-rock and using back-tracks for the "hits" (5/10). So, everyone predictably empties out and thus missing one of the performances of the weekend in Band of Horses, whom have a fantastic sound and tight performance but one of the more endearing acts of the weekend (8/10). Call me biased but Fucked Up are the best band in the world right now. After convincing the rest of my group to go see them luckily they didn't let me down. In fact, this may have been their best yet for me and they ripped through 7 songs in 35 minutes with ear splitting volume and as usual a fantastically tight performance. The band aren't a bit disheartened by the mostly empty tent they play to (about 50 people at the most) and in fact use it to their advantage by playing in the little crowd that were there. awesome (10/10). After 15 minutes of Rage Against the Machine I gave up when they played a disgracefully slow version of 'Bombtrack' and left the old has-beens to it to see Interpol play probably one of their most intimate sets for quite sometime. I bumped into the drummer of Fucked Up on my way and freaked him out a little by remembering his name from a previous chat in Leeds a few months back; he was as charming as ever though. Interpol was an odd one, seeing as no-one seemed to hype them up too much this time, which was probably a good thing because it gave people a chance to be surprised as they went for a mostly singles based set but from equal tracks from every album. I knew it was worth leaving Rage though when they closed on a terrifying version of 'Roland' (8/10).

Sunday: Much busier day today, kicking off with My Morning Jacket who were, good but not great as they went for a mostly new album oriented set (6/10). Battles were great but let down by a poor sound that seemed insistent on not letting John Stainer's always incredible drumming be heard. Weird scenes when some of the crowd treated 'Atlas' as a lad rock sing-along, but 'Tonto' and 'Race:In' were out of worldly (7/10). Unfortunately had to miss British Sea Power in favour of Battles, but next up on the Kings Tut stage were Vampire Weekend who in a slightly bigger tent than MGMT the day before manage to fill with complete idiots too. Weekend's set was solid with pretty much the best of their debut being played and played well, but, they felt miles away and well over three quarters of the crowd were only paying attention when 'a-punk' was on, and even then they struggled (7/10). Luckily for us, Yeasayer went on an hour late meaning they didn't clash with their New York Afro-beat rivals and, were completely necessary after the drudgery of people at Weekend. Yeasayer give the other punk rock performance of the weekend and destroy the small Futures Tent without even trying or being hindered by the poor turn-out. By complete contrast of what had just happened, they played a passionate and energetic set which, due to the use of electronic instruments in their live performance, reminded me alot of Animal Collective. Not what I was expecting, but fantastically executed (9/10). Then the day flew out of proportion for a while; perhaps it was the copious amounts of cider but Justice in the dance tent followed by the National was by far the greatest moment of the weekend. Justice literally blew people away kicking open their set with album opener 'Genesis', the cross illuminating in gold as the music blasts through their 18 Marshall cabs and ripping through such fantastic songs as 'D.A.N.C.E' and 'DNVO' (10/10). The walk from that tent to Pet Sounds was one of hyperactivity as the pue hysteria that just took place sank in as we left a very dark tent out into the open air; jumping over many obstacles of drugged up guys and girls to get through. When we arrived at The National, they'd just began 'Start a War' a crux in their set for sometime now and from there just took off. The National just gave what every other guitar based rock band of the weekend couldn't; brilliantly executed songs, a massive almost orchestral sound, and a really exciting energy and connection between all the players involved (8 in total) that was almost scary to watch. Here The National challenged perceptions and their peers whom were also in attendance (Interpol, R.E.M) and thus took the festival to a special place even if for just 50 minutes (10/10). By contrast of what had just prevailed, Kings of Leon and Holy Fuck both seemed a bit cagey by comparison; both were good, and perhaps if both on the previous day could have left more of an impression, but neither could keep up to the standard or how high the bar had just been raised by two pretty similar acts. All that was left then was for R.E.M to close the festival; a choice that had us debating into the early hours with the conclusion that, perhaps they weren't the best choice if you wanted a band with a huge supply of "bigger songs" to close the festival, but that you couldn't fault them for their performance or really their pretty varied set choice. Yes all but 'Everybody Hurts' were there as far as big singles go (although they didn't look massively bothered about playing them) and yes, newer material had to feature; there is an album to push after all. But that took up approximately half the set, leaving the rest to be old gems that perhaps would have been better placed at an actual R.E.M gig rather than a main stage festival appearance; but that is who R.E.M are and at least they still gave most of the fans what they wanted so it wasn't like it was an entirely selfish show, more of an agreement between the band and the audience to allow balance and thus keeping the integrities of both parties (8/10).

Phew. So that was my T in the Park experience. Conclusions would be; MGMT and Vampire Weekend and inexplicably over hyped and leaves the question of "why them and not the national or yeasayer?", there was something for everyone to enjoy and at least by having both acts like Battles and Amy Winehouse it kept unsavoury types separated and finally that, going to festivals that are so nice and well behaved it's a little bit unnerving; particularly when you consider the size of the thing. Will I go again next year? depends on the line-up, however if it continues to be one as varied as this year and as pleasant, I don't see why not.

its been a while

but you understand I've been up for a few hours and now its 9:22 am:

I don't trust art school kids cuz I can't tell whether they're being genuine or not; my experience of artists are far-away people who either down-dress or go completely zany but always have little goatees. I don't like art that much anyway, most of it doesn't seem to effect me much; guess I just don't see life in that way.
Anyway, me and my mates often go to this bar that's designed for students at the art school (which is kinda beyond me anyway because why you'd want to study something like art in Norwich I'll never know) and they rarely ask but if they do its cool cuz a couple of my mates do study here and they are allowed guests. And I mean, we certainly look the part. I know the borderlines of how young people dress are pretty blurred anyway but we, looks wise anyway, fit in with this lot; tonight I'm wearing my yellow/blue tablecloth check fred perry (£25 at the worlds biggest vintage market; tk maxx!!) and black girls drains; and this is a look you can find pretty easily with this crowd.
We go to do this thing called "the three oranjeboom challenge" which is basically us just buying cans of this cheap Dutch beer of the same name three at a time and giving off the impression that we're really good at drinking or something (also it's the only place that stocks Desperado's, you know that beer and tequila drink?) and we often get comments from people saying this; really though we just think we're funny when we know we're not. I also go because I like the place itself; its set in what used to be one of the many churches in the city before we more or less gave up on religion entirely in yet another apathetic (or worse atheist stance led by the biggest hypocritical cock end of them all Richard Dawkings who take people like my dad in and do exactly the same thing they accuse religion of) move by the people of Norwich; and this makes it large and lofty and spacious. There are chairs and couches everywhere and a stage with a pool table on it (bar rules 1-10 in multi-coloured chalk on a board nearby) and a large paper zepplin presumably made by one or many of these students. There's also a few paintings hanging around but its unclear who actually made them which doesn't help my dilemma or distrust any more and these are OK. On one wall (its actually an alcove to both the entrance and fire exit to the place) there are bottle after bottle of jagermeister (all empty) lined up on the edge (we think they're stuck on because it would be a health hazard otherwise but we can't help but throw things at them to see what happens - nothing yet).
And as for the students, well, I generally don't feel a lot for them (probably linked to their art I geuss) there's a lot of them and they're less annoying than the "average" student and it's constant desire to get in your face and drink a lot and be "wacky", but they're just there, and I guess that's fine. I mean some of the girls are very attractive and stuff and a couple are even a little mysterious (these potentially are the only true artists of the group) but that's about as noteworthy as it gets. So when I don't feel much for the students I can't help feeling much about their "work". It seems to me that there's way too many "artists" around at the moment. A quirky quick-fix which I guess isn't hurting anyone but inflating a lot of egos (not that this bunch will show that, they're sly like that) and I guess that's what modern art was founded on. It's just that there's so many of them claiming to do it I guess. When I used to go this college in the city for people all around the surrounding areas the kids who took art then weren't very artistic or interesting (mind you, barely anyone at that college were particularly artistic or interesting - it's amazing I found any decent people there at all) and now some of them have kept this pseudo dream up by going to Art School and getting full blown diplomas in something that's supposed to be expressive.
I guess this is what all this stems from; back in high school I was all excited and fresh faced about being able to take Music as an actual subject. And some of it was OK; mostly when we were allowed to let rip and just jam in our own little collectives and for that age and time, it was fine. But when they actually started to try and teach us shit about %90 of us didn't want to know. Most of this was out of a dislike for the bumbling teachers and the material they tried to force feed us, but for me personally it turned out to be more of a protest. I got increasingly dissatisfied with the course as it went on because, at the same time, I was going home and finding all these new exciting bands and carried the torch of punk rock that little bit further and basically realised that I didn't learn anything from sheet music or classic composers or even the teacher's pitiful attempts at trying to teach "modern music" (I read in the paper not so long ago that they want to include 'Britpop' as part of the syllabus to appeal to that key 14-16 yr old demo. - which is hilarious is my view because it means suggesting that britpop was indeed ever a relevant or important shift in music and not ripping other stuff off shamelessly) I learnt from life experiences and finding sounds for myself and then expressing them in my playing of an instrument (Bass Guitar, since you asked).
And so basically all I got from those two years (which for any 14 to 16 year old is hardly plain sailing as it is anyway) was the idea that "you can't teach stuff that is supposed to be a personal expression or people's opinions" (this later re-appeared in my life at that aforementioned college when I took on it's awful "Sociology" course). And when I see my peers, people my age walking around an arts school hanging out with each other and not doing much else I generally don't trust them. Because it must mean that they've bought something I consider complete bullshit (of course, one or two of them will be using it to their advantage and therefore winning and I say kudos to them but at this current moment in time it's pretty hard to tell because I have to try and socialise with these people so I don't bother witch-hunting).
So I don't really trust art school students, but then again, who the fuck died and put me in charge?

boston is the reason I'm feeling so blue

I've never been to Boston but I would like to.
I've heard Fall Out Boy quite like American Nightmare lyrics.

This morning I woke up
in suburbia
went to school to early and
took too many tests
Bored by fifteen
liked seeing my friends though

Got out, sixth form
some kids left but I
never cared much for them
Still the same friends I
always had, don't need
anyone else.

We've all dated once or twice,
this circle thinks its got
high aspirations, working at NU,
selling insurance for the rest of my life,
to people who did nothing
at all with their lives

And i'm still annoyed because
I'm still here, but at least I
can climb above the suffocating
breath you throw at me everyday;
I walk around and see nothing but
empty faces, empty hearts.

I know it not all you people's faults
cuz when you live in such an
uninspiring place i'd expect you
to be dull and average;
"We work all week and then we
drink all night and we get by"
but it don't mean that I
still can't be frustrated.

The Second Passage

He decided to walk back into town. After the fire stopped reining, he just sat there for a bit, taking everything in. He wasn't upset, not yet anyway, just peaceful. He could have walked back out into the country, but the thought of mere countryside didn't appeal to him. Not yet anyway.

So he walked and walked back to where he came. A slightly different way, but more or less the same. The sky was still on fire, and burned a mighty orange, with streaks of a blackened grey stretching long across the skyline. So were some of the bigger buildings in the distance, in town. That big square castle on top of the only hill, which he always accused of as being really "dull for a castle" was on fire. So was the big clock tower, he could see that. The Roman Catholic cathedral seemed ok though.

The streets were pretty much deserted. He walked down one of the main streets, the same one he had started on a couple hours ago. There still seemed to be a lot of noise and chaos for a street that had just been apparently obliterated. Car engines were still running, the chip shop still had a pungent smell, and a lot of distressed birds flew about the place, trading one building for another. He looked ahead and saw that there had been quite a pile up of cars outside the street's shops. at least 5 or 6 cars had tangled together in a knot in the middle of the road, with some blood and parts strewn across the scene; one of the cars was even on fire. He couldn't see any bodies though.

He decided, like the birds, this street was a bit too distressing and turned left at the next corner on a uphill residential street. He lived in a similar area to this. Not very far away from this one actually, one of those more eccentric suburbia's just outside the city centre rather that more out towards the country side. These were mostly built up of those Georgian to Victorian era houses that were bunched together in large clusters and were originally built as quick as possible in order to maintain the industrial revolution. It was pretty amazing they still stood as strong as ever, given people couldn't even build new houses that stand longer than a year any more. He thought about all the families and history that still live on in these houses; none were particularly important individuals but as a force were apart of one our most defining eras; funny how now all that was left to show for this heritage was multiple amounts of students, just as overcrowded as those families were all those years ago.

It was a lot more peaceful now, even that eerie tension in the air and in the wind seemed to have dropped. He imagined it like any other sunny winter's afternoon. He walked up and over the hill of the street, and back down it again. Walked and walked. He looked in the windows of the abandoned houses. He imagined people there. People living their normal lives. Maybe they weren't so selfish after all. He imagined seeing a kid, only a few years younger that himself, riding a bike delivering papers to all the different houses that looked the same.

He turned left onto a much bigger street. Still just houses, but the road was wider and there were large skeleton like trees up ahead. He walked past a large funeral services shopped. "Heh" was all he could say, and he was getting mighty sick of using that laugh about everything. Beyond the large building, there was a long alleyway. "Strange," he thought "I've never known these to be here before.". The alleyway stretched out far; must have run parallel with the road, and had tall, old fashioned black street lamps with what looked like lanterns at the top of each. The road was brick paved, was neither too narrow or wide and the walls were made of garden fences and garages. He felt compelled to walk it.

So with a turn, he walked right down the middle of the brick alleyway, studying the graffiti on the garages and the fences as he walked. It looked even more deserted here, the sun shone from the low right, starting to fall off the face of the earth for the night. A cold wind bled from the West, blowing his scarf and hair. The alleyway, with it's old fashioned street lamps reminded him of old footage from World War II Germany; people hiding in their houses while soldiers marched through the back alleys. School wasn't that far in the past after all. It looked like a bomb and fell on the place. This was no longer heartland England in the 21st century.

There was a right turn at the end of the long alleyway. This was only short, but it lead to a road, and directly opposite, the alley way continued. However, there was a large white van blocking the next alleyway. So, instead, he took a detour down a road which he guessed ran parallel with the alleyway too. He quickly found another entrance to the alley and headed straight into it. This one was similar to the last, except this time trees creeped over the fences and the garages; the sun hid behind them. He stood there for a second, until he thought he could hear laughter. He wasn't sure if it was the wind or his mind playing tricks, but, no, really, he could hear laughter. Child's laughter at that.

He craned his neck to the left, to the end of the alleyway where the van had sat. He still saw the back of the van, but just behind it, he could see children playing. Children, about 4 of them, 2 girls, 2 boys, playing with a ball, and laughing. Ghosts. He decided they must be ghosts. No one survived such a brutal punishment. No one except him.

He began to turn, and was about to start walking in the opposite direction, when he saw white flakes, falling from the sky. Snow... "Odd" he thought, it sure didn't seem cold enough to be snowing. He looked upwards; not a cloud in the sky. Just a sun sitting on the edge of the oblivion and a sky getting darker by the minute. And it still the "snow" fell. Heavier by the minute. Then he realised. This wasn't snow, impossible. This was ash. This was the remnants of the buildings and the people that once lived here.

He preferred imagining it was snow. Snow from his childhood. Snow from better times. There was nothing more peaceful than snow. He continued walking, down the darkened alleyways. He was about to reach the end when, he spotted something to his right. A cat, sitting on top of one of the rows of garages. This was no ghost. This was the real thing. It was an orange/grey fluffy thing which started back at him with cold, uncompromising, yellow eyes. This was a cat of experience, he'd seen what had taken place today, and wasn't that surprised by it. He stopped in front of the cat and they looked at each other for a while. He tried moving towards the cat, but it didn't budge, just followed him with his staring eyes. When he offered a hand, the cat still refused. After a moment he sighed and gave up and walked away, walked to the end of the alley and back onto the road. He was now where the tall trees where that he'd seen before; he had done 3 parts of a full square, it would seem.

He began walking towards the sinking sun, it was practically night now. Walked in the shadow of these huge trees, hundreds of years old and wise. Then, suddenly, he stopped. Nothing happened for a moment, he just froze. And then, started crying. There was a flood of feelings and emotions about everything that had just happened. The honeymoon period was over, this had been fully realised.

"I've got to get out of here" he sobbed.