Arcadian Rhythms - Synonymous with the Development of Sliced Bread

Sorry bout the lack of posts of late. A wearying mix of family stuff, too many gigs and the death of the inimitable Richard Whiteley has kept me from my beloved blog. Also I've been hatching plans for my imminent return to academia; inertia, meaninglessness, forlorn self-pity...and that's just the planning process. But the wonderful Arcade Fire have kept me in high spirits. You'll love them. I promise. Now go check them out or I'll be round yours pronto

Fintan Connolly....The Hooker with the Heart of Gold

Contemporary Irish life is crying out for films dealing with the complexity of modern relationships and the massive changes that have transpired over the past 15 or so years. Unfortunately, this yawning chasm of awfulness simply doesn’t cut it. Set in noughties Dublin, it features some excellent cinematography, and makes great use of both the brilliant, orchestral light that so brings Dublin to life and the new yuppie breeding ground that is the IFSC. However, while Tokyo gave us Lost in Translation and Paris gave us After Sunset, Dublin has given us a film that even the most ardent mother could not be proud of. Looser than a Moore Street traders tongue, and about as charming as the murky Liffey waters upon which the story is set, it fails to either shed light on the intricacies of the human condition or excite knowing glances between lovestruck couples looking for a mirror of their own situation. Our bumbling hero Conor (Aiden Gillen reminds one of Colin Farrell sans looks, charm or talent, and acts like a moody adolescent throughout, while his femme fatale, the haughty, well-to-do Michelle (Renee Waldron) delivers one excellent line – having been made aware of her boss’s cruel intentions, she retorts, ‘I’ve got a boyfriend and his name’s FUCK OFF!’ Priceless – and spends the rest of the film indulging in the most hilarious attempts at on-screen lovemaking since Angeline Ball got her kit off in Bloom. The characters toy with your sanity. The storyline seems like a pointless, sickening collage of mind-numbing small talk interspersed with terrible terrible sex scenes and the dialogue…not since Ted and Dougal entertained Father Stone has there been such stilted awkwardness. While on one hand, Fintan Connolly should be commended for trying his best, one is reminded of Sean Connery’s immortal line to Nicholas Cage in The Rock…’Your best? Huh. Losers always whine about their best. Winners go home and fuck the Prom Queen.’ Set your standards a little higher Fintan and show us what you’re made of!!

hmmmmm...

I've generally taken the 'heal the world' utterings of Bono and his ilk with a large pinch of salt. In fact, if I was pressed on the issue, I would generally refer to him as a sickeningly reprehensible c**t seeking - quite successfully I must admite - a gilt-edged berth in the history books. Now I'm not so sure.
This deal that is being struck between the members of G8 and the world's major lending institutions - and for world's major lending institutions read evil, life-sucking suited bastards that make Dick Cheney seem like Barney the Dinosaur - could go a long way towards tackling global poverty. The BBC says so. I generally fall in line with the Beeb. But still I'm sceptical.
Gestures made by the Wealthy West towards a Third World crippled by our crapulence and greed are generally just that - gestures. The type you make when you see a funeral passsing before you. You assume a solemn, sympathetic guise, but you don't REALLY care because the person is unknown to you. We tend to rejoice when deals such as this one are mooted, because we feel like our men in suits are making the world a better place. I am no expert in this area, but I did do pass maths for two years, and to me, 40 billion dollars seems like very little when you consider that total economic activity in this fair isle, i.e., one of the smallest small cogs in the western wheel, amounted to twice that.
I imagine this deal reaching the public domain was not in any way harmed by the involvement of Bono, Geldof et al. So I will withold my venom and follow proceedings. If my best suspicions are validated, then it will be off to Killiney for some playful Bono badgering. If not, well I'll be forced to eat my cape.

Rules for Happy Living

Heard this on FM 104 this morning, really cheered me up. Apparently the immortal John Peel had his own version which he recited to the crowd at Glastonbury a couple of years ago, if anyone has the words for that, let me know! Later dudes!

The Straw and The Camel's Back

Check out www.christiangallery.com(sorry bout lack of link, computer being v bold today.). The only question is, what emotion does this inspire more within you: fear...or pity??

Weezer-Licking Good

Once upon a time there was a boy. This boy loved music. One day in 1994, the boy was given a tape by a friend. He listened to the tape, and he liked what he heard. The songs were about guys called Jonas, teenagers going just like buddy holly, cleaning up, finding jesus, going on holidays...lots of fun stuff. The boy wondered who the band was. The band was Weezer.
Time passed. The boy grew into a student, and after much revelry, he headed on a J1 visa to New York. Having got there, he found out, much to his delight, that Weezer would play a concert while he was there. The boy missed that concert. His best friend's evil girlfriend laid claim to his ticket. There was nothing he could do.
More time passed. The boy never really got over the disappointment of missing Rivers and the boys in action. Until now. Because last night, Weezer came to Ireland. The boy went along. And the boy LOVED what he saw.
To be honest, I don't really listen to Weezer much anymore. I don't really need to. Their songs are wedded to my soul. You can know a good song by how infrequently you have to listen to it. Last night, en route to Vicar Street, listening to the blue album for the first time in over a year, it struck me that throughout that year, I had constantly been humming each and every song...over and over an over. That is the sign of great music.
Their sound was awesome. Not once did they venture out of kilter with each other. And the new songs, especially 'We Are All On Drugs' can square up to any songs on any other Weezer album. My only criticism is that they didn't play either 'Keep Fishin' or 'Holiday.' But beggars can't be choosers.
I find myself going to less and less rock gigs. Time and money always seem to get in the way. But I'm glad I went to Vicar Street last night. I'd been waiting to see my heroes for years. And they didn't let me down. Thanks Rivers, Brian, Scott and Patrick. You brought tears to my eyes. Long live Weezer

'Dear daddy, I write you in spite of fears of silence.
You cleaned up, found jesus, things are good also I hear.
This bottle of stevens awakens ancient feelings...
Like father, step-father...
The sone is drowning in the flood! yeah yeah-yeah yeah-yeah!' Say it Ain't So