tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15730632798244259772024-03-04T22:39:39.370-08:00Borrowed & BlueI've decided to post a short mix of songs that would fit on one side of a C90, every day, or as often as I can.
The songs will all be songs I have heard for the very first time that day.
They will be from all genres and from all histories of recorded music.
I will provide no information about any of the songs or the artists who wrote them, other than the year in which they were released.
It's done for love.borrowed & bluehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04885513319709387104noreply@blogger.comBlogger63125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1573063279824425977.post-29926252219314656442009-07-04T14:50:00.000-07:002009-07-04T14:56:12.603-07:0004.07.09<div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3561/3389496419_01f306a77a.jpg?v=0"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 395px; height: 393px;" src="http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3561/3389496419_01f306a77a.jpg?v=0" alt="" border="0" /></a><a href="http://www.mediafire.com/?jyuio2xcyym">borrowed & blue 04.07.09</a><br /></div><br />Lost the years for this one as well. But it is mainly Seventies. And joyous.borrowed & bluehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04885513319709387104noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1573063279824425977.post-90723659178037737252009-06-21T11:52:00.000-07:002009-06-21T12:19:26.571-07:0021.06.09<div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3376/3326915322_6669cd2fd5.jpg?v=0"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 387px; height: 383px;" src="http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3376/3326915322_6669cd2fd5.jpg?v=0" alt="" border="0" /></a><a href="http://www.mediafire.com/?zyngigmmnyi">borrowed & blue 21.06.09</a><br /><br /><div style="text-align: left;">Words from the titles of the albums these songs are from: <span style="font-style: italic;">Forever, Electric, Moanin', Alight, Statement, Weather, Sun, Demons, God, Tomorrow, Messages, Milk.</span><br /><br /><ul><li>1973</li><li>2008</li><li>1956</li><li>2008</li><li>2008</li><li>2006</li><li>2007</li><li>2000</li><li>1996</li><li>1996</li><li>1994</li><li>2003</li><li>2003</li><li>1993<br /></li></ul></div></div>borrowed & bluehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04885513319709387104noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1573063279824425977.post-48610355703035396952009-06-20T08:21:00.000-07:002009-06-20T08:42:39.824-07:0020.06.09<div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3560/3365041287_a29ea263a5.jpg?v=0"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 392px; height: 390px;" src="http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3560/3365041287_a29ea263a5.jpg?v=0" alt="" border="0" /></a><a href="http://www.mediafire.com/?m2jyyytnaif">borrowed & blue 20.06.09</a><br /><br /><div style="text-align: left;">The cat's name is Crazy Cat.<br /><ul><li>2007</li><li>2007</li><li>?</li><li>1990</li><li>2004</li><li>2008</li><li>2008<br /></li></ul></div></div><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div>borrowed & bluehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04885513319709387104noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1573063279824425977.post-8353537753555392012009-06-16T13:33:00.001-07:002009-06-16T13:49:19.693-07:0016.06.09<div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3019/3326078157_685b63dc73.jpg?v=0"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 392px; height: 390px;" src="http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3019/3326078157_685b63dc73.jpg?v=0" alt="" border="0" /></a><a href="http://www.mediafire.com/?mfnmwkmfgdm">borrowed & blue 16.06.09</a><br /><br /><div style="text-align: left;">More sound to soothe things, that doesn't make anything better, but that just puts things in your head that aren't thoughts for a while.<br /><br /><ul><li>2003</li><li>2007</li><li>2003</li><li>2000</li><li>2002</li><li>1998</li><li>1991</li><li>?</li><li>2004</li><li>1995<br /></li></ul></div></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div>borrowed & bluehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04885513319709387104noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1573063279824425977.post-4572847407195120782009-06-12T09:20:00.000-07:002009-06-12T09:28:19.135-07:0012.06.09<div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3386/3326914984_21dc7fce21.jpg?v=0"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 389px; height: 387px;" src="http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3386/3326914984_21dc7fce21.jpg?v=0" alt="" border="0" /></a><a href="http://www.mediafire.com/?nimwzxzmz3n">borrowed & blue 12.06.09</a><br /><br /><div style="text-align: left;">Lost track of what the years are for this one... it does however contain:<br /><br /><ul><li>prolapse-inducing drone metal</li><li>lascivious, ethereal Seventies discopop</li><li>MOR emo</li><li>prog acapellas "mashed-up" with improvisatory guitar scrawls</li><li>a post-punk band trying to do proper pop</li><li>folk</li><li>chanson industrial</li><li>David Fucking Cross<br /></li></ul></div></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div>borrowed & bluehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04885513319709387104noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1573063279824425977.post-65154477858677474892009-05-19T13:04:00.000-07:002009-05-19T13:49:04.111-07:0019.05.09<div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3613/3470971044_201be25587.jpg?v=0"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 394px; height: 391px;" src="http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3613/3470971044_201be25587.jpg?v=0" alt="" border="0" /></a><a href="http://www.mediafire.com/?mtnlemo5wxd">borrowed & blue 19.05.09</a><br /><div style="text-align: left;"><br />Don't call it a comeback.<br /><br /><ul><li>1983</li><li>1969</li><li>1968</li><li>1973</li><li>1968</li><li>1973</li><li>2003</li><li>2004</li><li>1995</li><li>2007</li><li>2003</li><li>1997</li><li>1997</li><li>2001<br /></li><li>1991<br /></li></ul></div></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div>borrowed & bluehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04885513319709387104noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1573063279824425977.post-87983332923487727072009-02-23T16:15:00.000-08:002009-02-23T16:27:00.006-08:0023.02.09<div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3457/3274655633_9e743311a3.jpg?v=0"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 384px; height: 381px;" src="http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3457/3274655633_9e743311a3.jpg?v=0" alt="" border="0" /></a><a href="http://www.mediafire.com/?4tnggggmwii">borrowed & blue 23.02.09</a><br /><br /><div style="text-align: left;"> <p class="MsoNormal"> </p><p style="text-align: left; font-style: italic;" class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">At night the stars burn so brightly that their sudden, fiery descent seems inevitable. I fear they will aim straight for me, scream into my skull and burn out my eyes.</span></p><div style="text-align: left; font-style: italic;"> </div><p style="text-align: left; font-style: italic;" class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">I can never go home again. I need to patrol the streets.</span></p><div style="text-align: left; font-style: italic;"> </div><p style="text-align: left; font-style: italic;" class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">To stop us from all from falling into the sea.</span></p> <br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">RE:ACTION</span><br /><ul><li>2006</li><li>1982</li><li>1975</li><li>2007</li><li>2008</li><li>2003</li><li>2005</li><li>1939</li><li>1952</li><li>2008<br /></li></ul></div></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div>borrowed & bluehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04885513319709387104noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1573063279824425977.post-55910374160211065852009-02-07T10:02:00.000-08:002009-02-07T10:47:53.350-08:0007.02.09<div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3476/3194503775_1a5edecbfd.jpg?v=0"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 381px; height: 380px;" src="http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3476/3194503775_1a5edecbfd.jpg?v=0" alt="" border="0" /></a><a href="http://www.mediafire.com/?emdy2dnnnzo">borrowed & blue 07.02.09</a><br /><br /><div style="text-align: left;"><div style="text-align: left;"> </div><p style="text-align: left; font-style: italic;" class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">Trees are just tall ships without sails</span></p><div style="text-align: left; font-style: italic;"> </div><p style="text-align: left; font-style: italic;" class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">X-rayed into the sky by my camera</span></p><div style="text-align: left; font-style: italic;"> </div><p style="text-align: left; font-style: italic;" class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">Is a dream I once had</span></p><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><span style="font-weight: bold;">RE:ACTION</span><br /><ul><li>1962</li><li>1963</li><li>2008</li><li>2000</li><li>1980</li><li>2006</li><li>2008</li><li>2001</li><li>2007</li><li>2002</li><li>2007</li><li>1970</li><li>?<br /></li></ul></div></div>borrowed & bluehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04885513319709387104noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1573063279824425977.post-1254341180926323762009-02-05T13:56:00.000-08:002009-02-05T14:22:10.096-08:0005.02.09<div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3509/3212527589_41f7061517.jpg?v=0"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 390px; height: 388px;" src="http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3509/3212527589_41f7061517.jpg?v=0" alt="" border="0" /></a><a href="http://www.mediafire.com/?twjkyhtmi4z">borrowed & blue 05.02.09</a><br /></div><p style="text-align: left; font-style: italic;" class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: left; font-style: italic;" class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">You cut me with your fringe, you stab me with your eyes.</span></p><div style="text-align: left; font-style: italic;"> </div><p style="text-align: left; font-style: italic;" class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">When you dance you’re a clockwork killing machine.</span></p><div style="text-align: left; font-style: italic;"> </div><p style="text-align: left; font-style: italic;" class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">Don’t call me again.</span></p><br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">RE:ACTION<br /></span><ul><li>2006</li><li>1986</li><li>2007</li><li>2007</li><li>2005</li><li>2008</li><li>2006</li><li>1999</li><li>?</li><li>?</li><li>1984</li><li>2005</li><li>?</li><li>1967</li><li>2005</li><li>1975</li><li>2007<br /></li></ul>borrowed & bluehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04885513319709387104noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1573063279824425977.post-45621447033167397892009-01-31T13:05:00.000-08:002009-01-31T13:34:06.760-08:0031.01.09<div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3387/3231533257_7a297578f7.jpg?v=0"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 390px; height: 388px;" src="http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3387/3231533257_7a297578f7.jpg?v=0" alt="" border="0" /></a><a href="http://www.mediafire.com/?dzbfqqe5jwg">borrowed & blue 31.01.09</a><br /></div><br /><p style="text-align: left; font-style: italic;" class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">The tritone paradox is an auditory hallucination – a kind of aural version of the Necker Cube. A pair of Shepherd tones (sets of octave-related sinusoids, with amplitudes scaled by a fixed bell-shaped spectral envelope based on a log frequency scale) are played sequentially with an interval of a tritone. This interval is interpreted as ascending by some people, and descending by others.</span></p><div style="text-align: left; font-style: italic;"> </div><p style="text-align: left; font-style: italic;" class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">Interestingly, different populations and cultural groups were shown to favour different interpretations. Native speakers of Vietnamese heard the paradox differently from native English-speaking Californians. This is explained by different populations tending to favour different points around the chromatic circle as central to the set of ‘higher’ tones.</span></p><div style="text-align: left; font-style: italic;"> </div><p style="text-align: left; font-style: italic;" class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">As this hallucination is powered by a tritone, it has a relationship to the diabolos in musica (literally, ‘the devil in music’), the dissonant tritone interval which was interpreted as ‘evil’ by the <st1:place st="on"><st1:country-region st="on">Vatican</st1:country-region></st1:place>, and was allegedly banned from church music following Guido of Arezzo’s foundation of the hexachordal system. Church musicians found to be exploiting the dark energy of the interval were officially excommunicated.</span></p><p style="text-align: left; font-style: italic;" class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: left;" class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-weight: bold;">ACTION</span></span></p><ul><li><span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-style: italic;"><span style="font-weight: bold;"><span style="font-style: italic;"></span></span></span>1972</span></li><li><span lang="EN-GB">2005</span></li><li><span lang="EN-GB">2006</span></li><li><span lang="EN-GB">1977</span></li><li><span lang="EN-GB">2007</span></li><li><span lang="EN-GB">1977</span></li><li><span lang="EN-GB">1983</span></li><li><span lang="EN-GB">1986</span></li><li><span lang="EN-GB">1984<br /></span></li></ul> <div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div>borrowed & bluehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04885513319709387104noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1573063279824425977.post-61643928507021037442009-01-24T11:17:00.000-08:002009-01-25T14:09:10.412-08:0025.01.09<div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://farm2.static.flickr.com/1127/3174298679_b808e0fe75.jpg?v=0"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 395px; height: 394px;" src="http://farm2.static.flickr.com/1127/3174298679_b808e0fe75.jpg?v=0" alt="" border="0" /></a><a href="http://www.mediafire.com/?1xlmzgkynhd"><span style="text-decoration: underline;">borrowed & blue 25.01.09</span></a><br /><br /><div style="text-align: left;"><div style="text-align: left;"> </div><p style="text-align: left;" class="MsoNormal"> </p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left; font-style: italic;"><span lang="EN-GB">When I was a child I used to dream that at night a malevolent force would manifest itself in my room and tell me that if I told anyone about its visits to my room then it would kill my parents. The dreams were so intense and vivid, and because I don’t recall them as being connected to sleep as such – just my room in the second house we ever lived in, after dark, when everyone else was in bed – I can’t even configure them as dreams in my memory.</span></p> </div><br /><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-weight: bold;">RE:ACTION/ACTION<br /></span><ul><li>1970</li><li>1961</li><li>1984</li><li>2007</li><li>2004</li><li>2006</li><li>1999</li><li>1994</li><li>1972</li><li>1978<br /></li></ul></div></div>borrowed & bluehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04885513319709387104noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1573063279824425977.post-33685875300197213192009-01-18T13:11:00.000-08:002009-01-18T13:27:41.808-08:0018.01.09<div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3102/3174172253_b6742dd133.jpg?v=0"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 382px; height: 382px;" src="http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3102/3174172253_b6742dd133.jpg?v=0" alt="" border="0" /></a><a href="http://www.mediafire.com/?eteuhwyzzhi">borrowed & blue 18.01.09</a><br /></div><br />I'm interested in starting up a new project, purely out of fun and the love of making things, and I really want to find preferably non-musician female poets, spoken word artists or singers to collaborate with.<br /><br />What I propose is that you send me a wav file (quality or length isn't important, and it can be recorded using just a PC mic, iPod or phone if necessary) of you reading, acting out or singing your writing, whether it be monologue, stream of conciousness, poem, diary entry or part of an acapella song. It can be funny or sad, abstract or literal.<br /><br />I will take your contribution and set it to music, creating 3 potential arrangements. I will then send the 3 files back to you and you'll pick the one you like the most. This 'song' will then be uploaded to a blog created specially for the project, where everyone or no one can listen to it.<br /><br />I have a sort-of working-title for the project, but it shouldn't really be thought of as a band or anything (unless it's an imaginary band), just an experiment to see if strangers can make music together blind; an experiment in sound and randomness.<br /><br />The music isn't strictly post-rock, and I don't generally write song-based structures, more abstract mood pieces using electronics, acoustic and electric guitar, pedals, oscillators, glockenspiel. The reason why I'm interested in collaborating with female artists is because I often like to use quite harsh or unusual sounds and textures, which I think would be counterbalanced in an interesting and non-obvious way with female vocal. I also just really prefer girls voices to guys voices.<br /><br />If anyone is at all interested in this then please message me because I think it could be loads of fun and really rewarding.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">ACTION<br /><br /></span><ul><li>2006</li><li>1974</li><li>1993</li><li>2006</li><li>2003</li><li>1995</li><li>1975</li><li>1970</li><li>1975</li><li>1996</li><li>1993</li><li>1991<br /></li></ul><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div>borrowed & bluehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04885513319709387104noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1573063279824425977.post-91078843869652365302009-01-11T16:43:00.001-08:002009-01-11T17:02:17.976-08:0011.01.09<div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://farm2.static.flickr.com/1045/3174172265_e0087dbb24.jpg?v=0"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 397px; height: 396px;" src="http://farm2.static.flickr.com/1045/3174172265_e0087dbb24.jpg?v=0" alt="" border="0" /></a><a href="http://www.mediafire.com/?0xmazj3yzdw">borrowed & blue 11.01.09</a><br /><br /><div style="text-align: left;"> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">PANEL 1</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">Picture: “Woman with bullwhip up her fanny.” A barcode-shaped dash in the dead centre of the image, containing the text.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">Text: What was happening in my life at the time that Fabulous Muscles was being made was frankly the worst time of my entire life.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">PANEL 2</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">Picture: “A machine gun pointing into a bold Iraqi dawn.” barcode-shaped dash in the dead centre of the image, containing the text.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">Text: My dad had committed suicide, I was living in a very dangerous neighborhood… </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">PANEL 3</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">Picture: “Tumescent stiffy disinterestedly pulled by some beefcake.” A barcode-shaped dash in the dead centre of the image, containing the text.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">Text: …I was working at an impoverished school where my favorite student was repeatedly molested by his brothers… </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">PANEL 4</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">Picture: “Uniformed bestetsonned grunt pushing up for a squat thrust.” A barcode-shaped dash in the dead centre of the image, containing the text.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">Text: …I was totally broke, I was drinking out of control (maybe that is why I was broke)…</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">PANEL 5</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">Picture: “Blindfolded child in vest perhaps sat on the knee of the great dictator, maybe just dimly aware of the pederast behind the viewfinder.” A barcode-shaped dash in the dead centre of the image, containing the text.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">Text: …my best friend had betrayed me twice and I was cutting my face with car keys.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">PANEL 6</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">Picture: Profile view of a human brain (possibly slightly tilted, diagonally, not flat 2D-looking). Driving through the brain diagonally from top-right to bottom-left is a spear. The background is a flood of zeros and ones, appearing as if on an old school (think 80s films) computer green-screen.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">Text: I would say that Xiu Xiu for me has the function of being a place to put feelings that would, have and do otherwise put me over the edge.<br /><!--[if !supportLineBreakNewLine]--><br /><!--[endif]--></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">PANEL 7</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">Picture: Silhouetted form of a man/person, kneeling, facing the user. Their form is completely black but their eyes gleam. Inserted into their skull, on either side of their head, are two electric coils with wires trailing off. In the background-right of the panel there is a laptop (on a table?), the screen displaying scrolling zeros and ones.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">Text: At the risk of sounding morosely self aggrandizing, I have a hard time dealing with about almost anything and Xiu Xiu allows me to turn manic and self destructive tendencies into something else.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">PANEL 8</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">Picture: Same shot as above, but with a crack appearing in the head of the black-shaped person, and the two halves coming apart slightly (still all in black, with the same powerful gleam in the eyes) and garish streams of neon colours unfurling out of the crack. The background of the picture, playing on the computer green-screen motif, should now be green-screen waveforms (like a WAV file being played, possibly with a few zeroes and ones intermingling behind it?).</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">Text: The impetus comes from what is happening in my life. From dark, negative sexual feelings and violent impulses and actions and from relentless self hate and from shame and from horror at how I have acted. </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">PANEL 9</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">Picture: Shot from above and to the side of the cracked head, close up. Here the crack is a visible jagged crevice, the neon colours unfurl and fill the rest of the panel.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">Text: Horror at what sex can be, horror at how desirable that horror can be, horror at unquantifiable mean lusts.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">PANEL 10:</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">Picture: Bottom corner of a bed, sheets ruffled. The Elifrede Jelinek novel Women As Lovers, a white hand next to it. Maybe a white rose next to the hand and book. Everything here, in contrast to the last panel, is very serene and soft – whites or other very soft, pale pastel colours.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">Text: The novel is about, or at least my reading of it, how far one will allow oneself to be destroyed by and for love. </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">PANEL 11</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">Picture: The lap of a naked male sitting on the edge of the white-sheeted bed, sitting cross legged (genitals not visible, maybe the crotch-area would be seen as slightly ‘out of focus’, with his hands and knees in focus). In one hand he holds a white rose, the stem of which is pressed against the outstretched forearm of his other arm.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">Text: How socially a woman can be told to think of the idea of love in and of itself regardless of how the opposing object of said love beats them and is disgusted by them… </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">PANEL 12</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">Picture: Close up of the arm and rose. We can see here now that he is pushing the thorn of the stem into his arm, that it has caused a small, but deliberate, red scratch.<i style=""> Note: the physiology of the man in these pictures should denote a tense, locked-up feeling</i>. Also still quite like the idea of this being quite soft focus, pastelly and serene, except for the strong, new deliberate line of red.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">Text: …and is careless to them and to fight for love to endure for love to push forward through hell for the idea of love, blindly. </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">PANEL 13</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">Picture: Extreme close up of previous shot. The scratch is longer now. The image should look as though the man has just stopped digging the thorn into his skin, that his physiology has relaxed slightly – the rose therefore is not digging into but resting between the man’s hand and his arm, not-quite parallel (it’s head should be tilting towards) to the bloody scratch. The furthest petals of the rose overlap the fresh scratch, and its blood seeping colours a pretty spot of the petal red.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">Text: …to be told to need the idea so much that health and reality do not exist. </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">PANEL 14</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">Picture: The lower legs and feet of the man, still cross-legged. The bedroom floor. The lower part of the bed. The laptop on the floor (suggest making it a white macbook) is creeping into view in the bottom left of the panel, its screen is partly visible. Note: the Word document that the laptop displays, and which various parts of the text are visible depending on the positioning of the screen in the panel reads: <span class="q"><i style="">Loneliness isn’t being alone, it’s when someone loves you and you don’t have it in you to love them back… ‘Do you want to see my panties?’ is the last thing I will ever say to you. ‘I want to finger every teenager I see,’ is the last thing you say to me. Don’t make fun of my night out.</i><o:p></o:p></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span class="q"><span lang="EN-GB"><o:p> </o:p></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span class="q"><span lang="EN-GB">PANEL 15<o:p></o:p></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span class="q"><span lang="EN-GB">Picture: Close up on the laptop, slightly from above, bottom corner (left?) edge of the keyboard against the floor, a different section of the screen and the text visible. A small spot of red blood on one of the letter keys, a topless, discarded bottle of Liquid Gold on the floor next to the keyboard.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span class="q"><span lang="EN-GB"><o:p> </o:p></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span class="q"><span lang="EN-GB">PANEL 16<o:p></o:p></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span class="q"><span lang="EN-GB">Picture: Extreme close up of the bottom right of the laptop screen and top-right keyboard. The last part of the text should be strongly visible here.</span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">PANEL 17</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">Picture: The head and upper torso of the man, looking away from the viewer, at a blank spot on the white wall in his room. His hand should be to his mouth, perhaps picking at the corner of his mouth, as if nervously thinking. His form is in the left-hand of the frame. The wall is bare and white. Behind him in the left of the frame could be an oak dresser, with a vase of white roses on top. In the right of the frame the top of his bedhead is visible (see this as being a metal frame).</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">Text: As a person for whom gender dysphoria comes in and out of play it is an incredible work to read being a male and propagating some of those things upon women (in a way that I am ashamed to admit I have not as much with men I have been with) but feeling like a female inside and relating to those themes in a turned around sort of first hand way. </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">PANEL 18</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">Picture: Straight-on view of the metal-frame bedhead (drawn in black, thinking of iron) pressed against the wall. Above the bedhead is a slightly out-of-focus family portrait. Tied to/around both of the bedposts is a thick black strap. These two thick, taut straps descend forward and downwards to something out of shot on the bed. <i style="">Note: the bedhead grid stretches fills from left to right of the panal, the family picture is at the top of the frame so should be slightly cut off. The black straps are the strongest, most salient and ominous element in the picture.<o:p></o:p></i></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">Text: It is about the desperate, insane, out of ones hands personally and socially downward careen that the conception of love is or can be. </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">PANEL 19</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">Picture: Back to lap of naked man, but this time with POV swivelled round slightly so we can see what is to the other side of him on the bed. His hand is laid against the naked back of a body laying face down. <i style="">Note: think pretty much just the back of the person, of indeterminate gender (although it is a male), should be visible at this point. <o:p></o:p></i></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">Text: It is very confusing to be newly in love in a positive way but to have a suspicion of it and a guilt regarding it.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">PANEL 20</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">Picture: Back to the POV showing bedhead, but this time lowered, so that we see the body who is tied facedown to the bed. The POV of the viewer therefore should be as if we were above the body’s thighs. We can see his naked bottom, his back, with the hand resting on it, a mop of black hair, face down where his head is (and arguably not totally visible, gag straps around his head – also black), and his wrists each raised slightly above his form – strapped to the bedposts.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">Text: ‘I Do What I Want When I Want’ is a love song and a song about being afraid of being in love but finding a person who despite all attempts to ruin things on my part is too wonderful not dive headlong into. I think love songs that are truthful are amazing, any song that is truthful is. It is less about trying to avoid writing a love song and more about trying to avoid being in love but finally being unable to deny that it is staring me in the face. </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">PANEL 21</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">Picture: The head of the bound person. His lover’s hand on his head, as if lovingly tousling his hair. The straps of the gag going down across his face should be visible here, if not the gag itself.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">PANEL 22</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">Picture: Profile of the above shot. POV is as if the viewer were kneeling next to the bed, very close to the man’s face. His face is facing downwards, but here the gag and some facial detail is visible, as is the man’s eye – open. The bottom half of his lover’s face is visible as he bends down to whisper into his ear, his lips are parted. From his lips, instead of words, comes one single musical notation (a quaver?)</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">PANEL 23</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">Picture: Extreme close up of the singing man’s lips, profile as before, no longer singing – closed (as if to kiss?).</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">Text: The person who the song is about is someone with whom I had and have a B&D relationship with and 2 years after becoming involved in that way we have since proclaimed for each other.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">PANEL 24</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">Picture: Directly from above, looking down from the ceiling at the scene – bed, laptop, singing man now sitting up again, the hand again on the bound man’s back.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">Text: I think that any sex, any physicality can be knife to the throat. Gayness, in our case has nothing to do with it. </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">PANEL 25</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">Picture: As above, but with the singing man now looking directly up, at the viewer. This is the first time we have seen his face.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">Text: People's perceptions of gay sex can be what you are saying and we have used that imagery but we have used description of submission and domination in relation to hetero sex as well. </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">PANEL 26</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">Picture: As above, but with the man looking straight down, as if staring intently at the bed sheet. His hand is now raised above his lover’s back, curled tightly into a fist.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">Text: I think there is too much of a knee jerk equivocation to the cock as terrible spear.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">PANEL 27</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">Picture: from POV of <i style="">other</i> side of the bed, close, as if the viewer is kneeling again. The frame should encompass probably the upper part of the bound man’s bottom at the edge of frame left, his head should be partly cut off from frame right – just a bit of black hair visible, no facial details. In the centre of the frame, his lover’s fist has violently smashed through and into his back, up to the wrist (as if attempting to punch through and clutch his heart, from the back). Red blood splashes high from the wound. The first should be right inside the body (think DL in Heroes), the blood should be vivid and colourful.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">PANEL 28</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">Picture: Same as before but close up on the fist, still in the back. The blood has settled on the man’s back now, and out of the wound and into the air is seeping twirling strands of the same neon colour used in the early panels.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">Text: I think that the heart as grenade is more spot on. </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">PANEL 29</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">Picture: same POV as frame 25, this time twirling neon colour beginning to flow upwards from the wound, filling the room. The punching man’s head is once again turned towards the viewer, his lips once again slightly parted, his eyes gleaming as in panel 7.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">Text: Any genders heart.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">--</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">(not sure about this frame)</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">PANEL</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">Picture: Reprise of panel 6, except with the zeros and ones replaced by the flooded, twirling colours, perhaps more pastelly and subdued now. No spear. Overlaid on the brain is perhaps the outline of two male faces kissing softly.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><i style=""><span lang="EN-GB">Note: Had an idea that this reprise of images would be smaller than the introduction, just all five frames in a horizontal line in one panel.<o:p></o:p></span></i></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">PANEL 30</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">Picture: “Blindfolded child in vest perhaps sat on the knee of the great dictator, maybe just dimly aware of the pederast behind the viewfinder.” A barcode-shaped dash in the dead centre of the image, coloured neon pink, no text.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">PANEL 31</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">Picture: “Uniformed bestetsonned grunt pushing up for a squat thrust.” A barcode-shaped dash in the dead centre of the image, coloured neon pink, no text.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">PANEL 32</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">Picture: “Tumescent stiffy disinterestedly pulled by some beefcake.” A barcode-shaped dash in the dead centre of the image, coloured neon pink, no text.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">PANEL 33</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">Picture: “A machine gun pointing into a bold Iraqi dawn.” A barcode-shaped dash in the dead centre of the image, coloured neon pink, no text.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">PANEL 34</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">Picture: “Woman with bullwhip up her fanny.” A barcode-shaped dash in the dead centre of the image, coloured neon pink, no text.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB"><br /></span></p> <span style="font-weight: bold;">ACTION<br /></span><ul><li>2007</li><li>2000</li><li>2006</li><li>1978</li><li>1977</li><li>2001</li><li>2004</li><li>1991<br /></li></ul></div></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div>borrowed & bluehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04885513319709387104noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1573063279824425977.post-52827747556353117872009-01-07T15:35:00.000-08:002009-01-08T06:14:17.638-08:0007.01.09<div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3085/3174172255_a26d3c7afe.jpg?v=0"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 389px; height: 389px;" src="http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3085/3174172255_a26d3c7afe.jpg?v=0" alt="" border="0" /></a><a href="http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3085/3174172255_a26d3c7afe.jpg?v=0">borrowed & blue 07.01.09</a><br /><br /><div style="text-align: left;"><div style="text-align: left;"> </div><p style="text-align: left; font-style: italic;" class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">I’m in love with the heart-shapes in your name.</span></p><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">ACTION</span><br /><ul><li>1998</li><li>2005</li><li>1988</li><li>2007</li><li>1968</li><li>1974</li><li>2001</li><li>2005</li><li>1987<br /></li></ul></div></div>borrowed & bluehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04885513319709387104noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1573063279824425977.post-90502469017502730002009-01-04T04:39:00.001-08:002009-01-08T08:58:20.636-08:0004.01.09<div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3248/3131374092_7e5a46a3cb.jpg?v=0"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 383px; height: 380px;" src="http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3248/3131374092_7e5a46a3cb.jpg?v=0" alt="" border="0" /></a><a href="http://www.mediafire.com/?n2zont2iyn0">borrowed & blue 04.01.09</a><br /><br /><div style="text-align: left;"><span>I fucking KNEW there's absolutely no call for bending your SECOND AND FOURTH fingers into impossible chord-shapes in real life Paramore. I'll just settle for grinding out the excellent Sara-era-Erase Errata-like clunks and scrapes that the game makes when you fuck up.<br /><br />e|----------------|---------------|-----------------|-----------------|-----------------| B|----------------|---------------|-----------------|-----------------|-----------------| G|----------6-6-6-|---------------|-----------------|-----------------|-----------------| D|----------7-7-7-|-7-7-7-7-7-7-7-|-----------------|-5-5-5-5-5-5-5-5-|-7-7-7-7-7-7-7-7-| A|----------4-4-4-|-5-5-5-5-5-5-5-|-3-3-3-3-3-3-3-3-|-3-3-3-3-3-3-3-3-|-5-5-5-5-5-5-5-5-| D|----------------|---------------|-3-3-3-3-3-3-3-3-|-----------------|-----------------| e|-----------------|-----------------|-----------------|-----------------| B|-----------------|-----------------|-----------------|-----------------| G|-----------------|-----------------|-----------------|-----------------| D|-7-7-7-7-7-7-7-7-|-----------------|-5-5-5-5-5-5-5-5-|-5-5-5-5-5-5-5-5-| A|-5-5-5-5-5-5-5-5-|-3-3-3-3-3-3-3-3-|-3-3-3-3-3-3-3-3-|-3-3-3-3-3-3-3-3-| D|-----------------|-3-3-3-3-3-3-3-3-|-----------------|-----------------| Pre-Chorus (They taped over your mouth…) e|-1---------------|-3---------------|-5---------------| B|-1---------------|-3---------------|-6---------------| G|-3---------------|-5---------------|-7---------------| D|-3---------------|-5---------------|-7---------------| x2 A|-1---------------|-3---------------|-5---------------| D|-----------------|-----------------|-----------------| e|-12-13-12------13|-12--------------| B|----------13-----|-----------------| G|-------------12--|-----------------| D|-----------------|-----------------| A|-----------------|-----------------| D|-----------------|-----------------| e|-----------------|-----------------| B|-----------------|-----------------| G|-7---------------|-7---------------| D|-7---------------|-7---------------| A|-0---------------|-0---------------| D|-0---------------|-0---------------| Chorus (Nothing compares to..) e|---------------0-|-----------------|-------------0---| B|---------------5-|-----------------|-------------5---| G|---------------5-|-----------------|-3-----------5---| D|-0-0----3-3----5-|-----------------|-3----0-0----5---| A|-0-0----3-3----3-|-----------------|-1----0-0----3---| D|-0-0----3-3------|-----------------|------0-0--------| e|---------------0-|-----------------|-----------------|-----------------| B|---------------5-|-----------------|-----------------|-----------------| G|---------------5-|-----------------|-3-3-3-3-3-3-3-3-|-5-5-5-5-5-5-5-5-| D|-0-0----3-3----5-|-----------------|-3-3-3-3-3-3-3-3-|-5-5-5-5-5-5-5-5-| A|-0-0----3-3----3-|-----------------|-1-1-1-1-1-1-1-1-|-3-3-3-3-3-3-3-3-| D|-0-0----3-3------|-----------------|-----------------|-----------------| Post-Chorus e|-----------------|-----------------|-----------------|----------------|-----10--------| B|-10-11-10--------|-----------------|----10-11-10-----|----------------|---------------| G|----------12-10--|-9-10-9----------|-------------12--|-10--9-10-9-----|---------------| D|-----------------|--------12-10-10-|-10--------------|------------12--|-10------------| A|-----------------|-----------------|-----------------|----------------|---------------| D|-----------------|-----------------|-----------------|----------------|---------------| Verse (Well if you wanna play it like a game..) e|-----------------|-----------------|-----------------|-----------------| B|-----------------|-----------------|-----------------|-----------------| G|-----------------|-----------------|-----------------|-----------------| D|-7-7-7-7-7-7-7-7-|-----------------|-5-5-5-5-5-5-5-5-|-7-7-7-7-7-7-7-7-| A|-5-5-5-5-5-5-5-5-|-3-3-3-3-3-3-3-3-|-3-3-3-3-3-3-3-3-|-5-5-5-5-5-5-5-5-| D|-----------------|-3-3-3-3-3-3-3-3-|-----------------|-----------------| e|-----------------|-----------------|-----------------|-----------------| B|-----------------|-----------------|-----------------|-----------------| G|-----------------|-----------------|-----------------|-----------------| D|-7-7-7-7-7-7-7-7-|-----------------|-5-5-5-5-5-5-5-5-|-5-5-5-5-5-5-5-5-| A|-5-5-5-5-5-5-5-5-|-3-3-3-3-3-3-3-3-|-3-3-3-3-3-3-3-3-|-3-3-3-3-3-3-3-3-| D|-----------------|-3-3-3-3-3-3-3-3-|-----------------|-----------------| Pre-Chorus (They taped over your mouth…) e|-1---------------|-3---------------|-5---------------| B|-1---------------|-3---------------|-6---------------| G|-3---------------|-5---------------|-7---------------| D|-3---------------|-5---------------|-7---------------| x2 A|-1---------------|-3---------------|-5---------------| D|-----------------|-----------------|-----------------| e|-12-13-12------13|-12--------------| B|----------13-----|-----------------| G|-------------12--|-----------------| D|-----------------|-----------------| A|-----------------|-----------------| D|-----------------|-----------------| e|-----------------|-----------------| B|-----------------|-----------------| G|-7---------------|-7---------------| D|-7---------------|-7---------------| A|-0---------------|-0---------------| D|-0---------------|-0---------------| Chorus (Nothing compares to..) e|-----------------|-----------------|-----------------| B|-----------------|-----------------|-----------------| G|---------------5-|-----------------|-3-----------5---| D|-0-0----3-3----5-|-----------------|-3----0-0----5---| A|-0-0----3-3----3-|-----------------|-1----0-0----3---| D|-0-0----3-3------|-----------------|------0-0--------| e|-----------------|-----------------|-----------------|-----------------| B|-----------------|-----------------|-----------------|-----------------| G|---------------5-|-----------------|-3-3-3-3-3-3-3-3-|-5-5-5-5-5-5-5-5-| D|-0-0----3-3----5-|-----------------|-3-3-3-3-3-3-3-3-|-5-5-5-5-5-5-5-5-| A|-0-0----3-3----3-|-----------------|-1-1-1-1-1-1-1-1-|-3-3-3-3-3-3-3-3-| D|-0-0----3-3------|-----------------|-----------------|-----------------| Bridge (Rock and roll..) e|-----------------|-----------------| B|-----------------|-----------------| G|-----------5-----|-----------------| D|-0----3----5-----|--------8-8-\----| x8 A|-0----3----3-----|--------8-8-\----| D|-0----3----------|--------8-8-\----| Final Chorus (Nothing compares to..) e|-----------------|-----------------|-----------------|-----------------| B|-----------------|-----------------|-----------------|-----------------| G|-------------5-5-|-5-5-5-5-5-5-5-5-|-3-3-3-------5-5-|-5-5-5-5-6-6-6-6-| D|-0-0-0-3-3-3-5-5-|-3-3-3-3-3-3-3-3-|-3-3-3-0-0-0-5-5-|-5-5-5-5-7-7-7-7-| A|-0-0-0-3-3-3-3-3-|-3-3-3-3-3-3-3-3-|-1-1-1-0-0-0-3-3-|-3-3-3-3-4-4-4-4-| D|-0-0-0-3-3-3-----|-----------------|-------0-0-0-----|-----------------| e|-----------------|-----------------|-----------------|-----------------| B|-----------------|-----------------|-----------------|-----------------| G|---------------5-|-----------------|-3-3-3-3-3-3-3-3-|-5-5-5-5-5-5-5-5-| D|-0-0----3-3----5-|-----------------|-3-3-3-3-3-3-3-3-|-5-5-5-5-5-5-5-5-| A|-0-0----3-3----3-|-----------------|-1-1-1-1-1-1-1-1-|-3-3-3-3-3-3-3-3-| D|-0-0----3-3------|-----------------|-----------------|-----------------| e|-----------------|-----------------|-------------0---| B|-----------------|-----------------|-------------5---| G|---------------5-|-----------------|-3-----------5---| D|-0-0----3-3----5-|-----------------|-3----0-0----5---| A|-0-0----3-3----3-|-----------------|-1----0-0----3---| D|-0-0----3-3------|-----------------|------0-0--------| e|-----------------|-----------------|-----------------|-----------------| B|-----------------|-----------------|-----------------|-----------------| G|---------------5-|-----------------|-3-3-3-3-3-3-3-3-|-5-5-5-5-5-5-5-5-| D|-0-0----3-3----5-|-----------------|-3-3-3-3-3-3-3-3-|-5-5-5-5-5-5-5-5-| A|-0-0----3-3----3-|-----------------|-1-1-1-1-1-1-1-1-|-3-3-3-3-3-3-3-3-| D|-0-0----3-3------|-----------------|-----------------|-----------------| e|-12b---12-12b-12-|10-12b-12-10-10--|-13----------10--|----13-12-13-15--| B|-----------------|-----------------|----10-11-10-----|-13--------------| G|-----------------|-----------------|-----------------|-----------------| D|-----------------|-----------------|-----------------|-----------------| A|-----------------|-----------------|-----------------|-----------------| D|-----------------|-----------------|-----------------|-----------------| e|-13-15-17-18-17--|-18-22\----------| B|-----------------|-----------------| G|-----------------|-----------------| D|-----------------|-----------------| A|-----------------|-----------------| D|-----------------|-----------------|</span><br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">ACTION</span><br /><ul><li>2002</li><li>2003</li><li>2003</li><li>2001</li><li>2006</li><li>2006</li><li>2001</li><li>1978</li><li>1990<br /></li></ul></div></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div>borrowed & bluehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04885513319709387104noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1573063279824425977.post-86159559739461897322008-12-27T09:30:00.001-08:002009-01-08T08:59:01.396-08:0027.12.08<div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3282/3066275862_435eb05a38.jpg?v=0"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 405px; height: 404px;" src="http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3282/3066275862_435eb05a38.jpg?v=0" alt="" border="0" /></a><a href="http://www.mediafire.com/?ynztzudia0t">borrowed & blue 27.12.08</a><br /><br /><div style="text-align: left;">I suppose one thing that made 2008 different from other years for me is that this year I bought some instruments and started faffing about with sounds, for fun, out of boredom. It was mostly all crap. But fun to do. It'd be kind of great if everyone had a go at making stuff, because it's such fun to do, but there should kind of be a law that you're not allowed to play it to anyone else, or talk about it, ever.<br /><br />Today I was bored and google image-searched pictures to put into the ID3 tags of the crap I've recorded; each picture thematically illustrates an individual 'song'. I wonder how obvious it is by reading the pictures what the music sounds like.<br /><br /></div></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhMU4SdZJkxlssx9iPNFawDVYlvda0ATCMS8dq3Q52ExVIpmTecAVXIBY1HlEaJp39mIp817d3LVflRFa_o6Y0WVf9kHo725tIGnumfhHmTOUQCRTYwSnxzE0y_nDdw3ktRMeHK8Fguzg/s1600-h/Space+Jam+-+Front.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhMU4SdZJkxlssx9iPNFawDVYlvda0ATCMS8dq3Q52ExVIpmTecAVXIBY1HlEaJp39mIp817d3LVflRFa_o6Y0WVf9kHo725tIGnumfhHmTOUQCRTYwSnxzE0y_nDdw3ktRMeHK8Fguzg/s320/Space+Jam+-+Front.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5284529380595686882" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtJ7oH9KmvXV_c3M_GvY19zRzHwS2uxAO2mZgtK_Lsz0zCVf3EmWUWcFAtEyWFiUZC-V93e-Lv7YYXA77cCUp_JyHd7LsIMXZN2vBtA3LxcEdzed2LkoN7iHFAYY47_zSjdaKvk7NvPOQ/s1600-h/killer-7-20050419110853956.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtJ7oH9KmvXV_c3M_GvY19zRzHwS2uxAO2mZgtK_Lsz0zCVf3EmWUWcFAtEyWFiUZC-V93e-Lv7YYXA77cCUp_JyHd7LsIMXZN2vBtA3LxcEdzed2LkoN7iHFAYY47_zSjdaKvk7NvPOQ/s320/killer-7-20050419110853956.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5284529227403383378" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQUJbBQOcFCpoQpCCCKMMSARRqwOhxV-lKBRWG4QUz4XjxlnkTVUSShNuUlcNF3MnMwywEDtdC9ic6x5KrPJuVln2S71ytNHhTLZy2Jo824eN-452Vxd6AM5rG8cF3cc6ZbtHqFPfrdMY/s1600-h/xxxexodus.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 308px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQUJbBQOcFCpoQpCCCKMMSARRqwOhxV-lKBRWG4QUz4XjxlnkTVUSShNuUlcNF3MnMwywEDtdC9ic6x5KrPJuVln2S71ytNHhTLZy2Jo824eN-452Vxd6AM5rG8cF3cc6ZbtHqFPfrdMY/s320/xxxexodus.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5284529070905591634" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqbRlRCxKD-ZKypcbI-_w8b_Qd3n9Q9A2DLUyY8wWMHKH9s8zXMTS6r8a4cYzk-5Fa4wjMRi80pdmhd2dO8hyphenhyphenvIKEHVRH0O8KMBic5RVfzd6tL-wbFbfFzy2fab3ZU6sviWz4sCuoduw0/s1600-h/SpaceJam_14.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; 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display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjn0raVzfRi_W9BZNJVcNXdHDByj3HrmSj_U1JLKDltz-BjqvRLdejWYgNY3toLcV1gFtQKGIUc1SvIVqArVaMAlVO4NRwoc7mZi0n8Wahyphenhyphen1IevpLd_CcMfNOkJHrbRZOAQXFQiJkPutwA/s320/6a00d8341c65e553ef00e5501c46198833-800wi.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5284523706190116786" border="0" /></a><span style="font-weight: bold;"><br />ACTION<br /></span><ul><li>1979</li><li>2001</li><li>1982</li><li>1988</li><li>2008</li><li>1970</li><li>1969</li><li>1974</li><li>1956</li><li>2005</li><li>1998<br /></li></ul><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div>borrowed & bluehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04885513319709387104noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1573063279824425977.post-35291320792418354002008-12-26T10:37:00.000-08:002009-01-08T09:08:24.138-08:0026.12.08<div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3039/3096334152_36dcde37f1.jpg?v=0"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 386px; height: 384px;" src="http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3039/3096334152_36dcde37f1.jpg?v=0" alt="" border="0" /></a><a href="http://www.mediafire.com/?gjgmnvm3tyo">borrowed & blue 26.12.08</a><br /><br /><div style="text-align: left;">Spent Christmas day being introduced to what will by now surely be the great xmas tradition of our times: Guitar Hero. It's somewhat depressing to think that I've spent infinitely more time trying to master the fake guitar-wrangling game's intricacies than I have the Boss DD-3 Digital Delay pedal I bought myself as an xmas present.<br /><br />And it's embarrassing. How utterly crap I am on anything above beginner level. I can't even do Paramore. Fucking Paramore! They're, what, 12? Have they even learnt the F chord yet?<br /><br />But it's so satisfying. Being able to belt out Raining Blood (Raining Blood is HARD. Hard in real life and hard in fake life. I've always resisted learning how to play it properly because I don't want to undo its skin-tearing magic) though, or the death-from-above whammy-divebombs and guitar-tire-screeches in White Zombie's Black Sunshine, while a cartoon character you poses and preens like a bastard in an exploding-with-colour dream-gig (the kind of gigs I'd always imagine would happen in the beginning years of this century - with loads of over-the-top stage action and hologram-like effects). Satisfying in a way that playing the real guitar in your living room isn't.<br /><br />It sounds better for one thing. I sound <span style="font-style: italic;">shit </span>when I play guitar. To the extent that the last few things I recorded weren't even music at all, but lazy noise-improvisations, exercises in trying to make as many stupid non-guitar noises as possible and collaging them into an ugly imploding mess. It also finally, smugly rams home the point that <span style="font-style: italic;">you can't even do Raining Blood in a computer game</span> and, therefore <span style="font-style: italic;">YOU WILL NEVER ACTUALLY BE IN SLAYER THE TIME TO ACCEPT THIS IS NOW.<br /><br /></span>I began my xmastimeoff with two vague projects: learn riffs from the recent Decibel Top 50 Greatest Riffs In Extreme Metal and work on my book proposal. So far I've managed a couple of lame attempts at Am I Evil (Diamond Head) and Black Coffee (Black Flag).<br /><br />Everything else is over-eating, held-down-past-your-stomach stress, a constant expenditure of reassurance and comfort to those around you and a sick, gnawing feeling growing around the hole in my middle that I'm fucked, I'm useless, another year gone and I've wasted myself.<br /><span style="font-style: italic;"></span><span style="font-style: italic;"></span><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">ACTION</span><br /><ul><li>1998</li><li>2004</li><li>2007</li><li>2001</li><li>1995</li><li>1985</li><li>1974</li><li>2005</li><li>1982</li><li>1978</li><li>?<br /></li></ul></div></div>borrowed & bluehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04885513319709387104noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1573063279824425977.post-57066191316075507012008-12-23T15:40:00.000-08:002008-12-23T16:10:57.687-08:0023.12.08<div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3098/3123035234_9cf1ee6aa6.jpg?v=0"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 397px; height: 396px;" src="http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3098/3123035234_9cf1ee6aa6.jpg?v=0" alt="" border="0" /></a><a href="http://www.mediafire.com/?zhz5wvhzlwn">borrowed & blue 23.12.08</a><br /><br /><div style="text-align: left;"> <p style="font-style: italic;" class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">I should say that before I missed you I missed the skies from our home and I missed them instantly. Back home the skies were huge and blue and implacable, skies to drown in. Here the very air seemed to choke on itself and I almost feared to look up at the sky in case I angered it, and those heavy, straining omnipresent duvets of dark cloud and smog rush down at me to smother me. And then I missed you like I’ll miss a decent coat a month from now.</span></p><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">ACTION</span><br /><ul><li>1977</li><li>1975</li><li>1973</li><li>1980</li><li>1978</li><li>1971</li><li>1970</li><li>2007</li><li>?</li><li>1998</li><li>2007<br /></li></ul></div></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div>borrowed & bluehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04885513319709387104noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1573063279824425977.post-82617933877482279112008-12-20T12:25:00.000-08:002009-01-08T09:09:36.311-08:00borrowed & blue get happy<div style="text-align: left;"><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3276/3065445259_3d1a2dcddd.jpg?v=0"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 393px; height: 391px;" src="http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3276/3065445259_3d1a2dcddd.jpg?v=0" alt="" border="0" /></a><a href="http://www.mediafire.com/?0mkzybmzmhi">borrowed & blue get happy</a><br /></div><br />Happy music is treated with some suspicion by music fans. Dark is easy. It's EASY to do pain and sad and suffering because not only do people relate to it, they <span style="font-style: italic;">crave</span> it. People don't want to be elevated from their day-to-day conditions, or if they do, it's only because they revel smugly in knowing that someone, somewhere on the end of their iPod headphones, has got it worse than them. Whenever 'happy music' is mentioned, sneered words like 'Christian' eventually follow (as if Christianity wasn't the most blatant pain-and-suffering-fetishising model ever).<br /><br />I use happy music in the same as I use angry music: as a source of energy. I use it deliberately as a drug. To bring me up, to take me out of myself, to shoot my soul hard-and-fast out of my ribcage until it becomes something bat-winged and beautiful and something not like me.<br /><br />In my teens and early twenties I had something approaching similar to what people blanket-term 'agoraphobia'. I found it hard to leave the house, integrate or hold conversations with people, partly what scared me was what I didn't know who I was when I was doing these things, and for a long time I could only get through it by a) pretending, being someone different and b) (and crucially) being drunk. Around that time I invented a mix CD which I used for a bit as a crutch to enable me to work through these things. When I walked down the street I'd blast it out very loud through my crappy CD player (much louder than iPods let you crank stuff these days). The opening track was the almighty 'Where Eagles Dare' by The Misfits, and the CD featured similarly sonically-invulnerable moments like Nine Inch Nails' 'Wish' or Dead Boys' 'Sonic Reducer', but the most effective tracks were actually tunes like 'I'm Alright (Theme from Caddyshack)' by Kenny Loggins. You can't walk down the street and listen to the theme from Caddyshack and not feel a thousand times better than you did when you left the house.<br /><br />Despite being someone who - I'm told - doesn't look very happy most of the time, I have a natural bias towards happiness - which people are often quick equate with inanity or banality - in pop songs, and a bit of a distate for angst, which normally seems a bit crass, obvious or insincere in musical expression. Happy music makes me feel better about the world in the same way that bright colours and moulded plastic do. The only thing that worries me about my affinity for it, is the way that I pursue the most aggressive, bizarre extremes of the genre, and overdose on it in a way that makes the effect giddying and intoxicating. It can make you feel drunk and deranged. It'll make your head spin and you'll see stars.<br /><br />For Christmas, I thought it would be fun to do a compilation of the most aggressively-happy songs <span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 153);">borrowed & blue</span> has put out so far. You probably won't like it.<br /><br /><br /></div>borrowed & bluehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04885513319709387104noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1573063279824425977.post-74195746228528942082008-12-14T06:15:00.000-08:002009-01-08T09:11:32.432-08:0014.12.08<div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3163/3066288090_a3933217cd.jpg?v=0"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 396px; height: 394px;" src="http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3163/3066288090_a3933217cd.jpg?v=0" alt="" border="0" /></a><a href="http://www.mediafire.com/?yodmmymjw2j">borrowed & blue 14.12.08</a><br /><br /><div style="text-align: left;"> <p class="MsoNormal"><i style=""><span lang="EN-GB">We met once in Leeds, and once in <st1:place st="on"><st1:city st="on">Derby</st1:city></st1:place>.<o:p></o:p></span></i></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><i style=""><span lang="EN-GB">I’ve seen you twice on the streets here, in four years.<o:p></o:p></span></i></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><i style=""><span lang="EN-GB">The last time we locked eyes and threat-dared each other to acknowledge. Our composure was magnificent. In the way that in <st1:place st="on"><st1:city st="on">London</st1:city></st1:place> you’re statistically never more than four feet away from a rat, I wonder as we shuttle through the city how far away I am from you.<o:p></o:p></span></i></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><i style=""><span lang="EN-GB">We’re like rats, miles and metres apart, entwined by our trails. Rooting each other out, sensing danger like stink.<o:p></o:p></span></i></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><i style=""><span lang="EN-GB">When this whole ship finally sinks into the slime, I hope it will comfort you to know that we went down together; always scurrying, always hiding.</span></i></p><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">ACTION</span><br /><br /><ul><li>1999</li><li>2004</li><li>2002</li><li>1972</li><li>2006</li><li>2007</li><li>2007</li><li>1987</li><li>1977</li><li>1977</li><li>1985</li><li>1990</li></ul></div></div>borrowed & bluehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04885513319709387104noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1573063279824425977.post-51062593913202874282008-12-13T08:48:00.000-08:002009-01-08T09:31:42.401-08:0013.12.08<div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3033/3065445677_658cb971ec.jpg?v=0"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 382px; height: 379px;" src="http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3033/3065445677_658cb971ec.jpg?v=0" alt="" border="0" /></a><a href="http://www.mediafire.com/?0r1a1mmmhjz">borrowed & blue 13.12.08</a><br /><br /><div style="text-align: left;">Haven't done one in ages but thought I'd play with some <span style="font-weight: bold;">ACTION </span>mixes. Whereas the <span style="font-weight: bold;">RE:ACTION</span> series is an experiment in scouring the underbelly of unpopularity - to see if you drill right down to the most insignificant, unloved music, what sort of odd, unexpected and utterly singular places you end up sonically, the <span style="font-weight: bold;">ACTION</span> series is designed to present our own, slightly Satanic, view of what pop music is. The <span style="font-weight: bold;">ACTION</span> mixes comprise songs whose function is to reach as many people as possible, by whatever means possible.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">ACTION</span> mix:<br /><ul><li>1992</li><li>1992</li><li>2008</li><li>1972</li><li>1985</li><li>1981</li><li>2006</li><li>1984</li><li>1988</li><li>2003</li><li>2006<br /></li></ul></div></div>borrowed & bluehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04885513319709387104noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1573063279824425977.post-50537616131939838362008-12-12T04:50:00.000-08:002009-01-08T09:33:16.247-08:0012.12.08<div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3182/3096334284_ee89abc84b.jpg?v=0"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 397px; height: 395px;" src="http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3182/3096334284_ee89abc84b.jpg?v=0" alt="" border="0" /></a><a href="http://www.mediafire.com/?rxz3ytdnyz0">borrowed & blue 12.12.08</a><br /><br /><div style="text-align: left;">Sometimes when I don't remember that I'm 28-years-old and I have a job and a flat and a nice girlfriend and a free time-decimating commute, I like to think about bands. Until probably relatively recently, I'd always wanted to be in a band, and saw that goal in terms of personal progression as bigger than the other milestones that tell you you're not fucked up anymore, like getting a girlfriend or a job or a nice place to live. Being in a band, I thought, must be like being in a gang - you'd feel amazing all the time. Those kind of feelings soured over time, I think from just hanging around bands too much.<br /><br />But sometimes, I still have ideas for things that would be a good band, and it gives me sympathy for the kinds of people - like Stuart Murdoch - who before they were in bands would make up fake bands and send in details of their imaginary gigs to the NME listings pages.<br /><br />Currently my favourite idea for a band is two guitars, alternating between flange and distortion, detuned (but nothing too heavy and obvious, maybe like E flat), flanking a singer who would render all of the basslines as rapid bleeps on a distorted Casio. Vocals would be the high-register girl-barks I loved in Xerox Girls, Disco, Help She Can't Swim or The Brownies.<br /><br />The music would sound like:<br /><ul><li>Got The Time by Anthrax</li><li>Breaking The Law by Judas Priest</li><li>Last Caress by The Misfits</li><li>Fuel For Hatred by Satyricon</li><li>The Pentagram Burns by Satyricon</li><li>18 And Life by Skid Row</li></ul>I can't decide if there'd be a drummer or not.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">RE:ACTION<br /><br /></span><ul><li>2008</li><li>2008</li><li>2006</li><li>2006</li><li>1987</li><li>1987</li><li>1980</li><li>1981</li><li>1982</li><li>1978</li><li>1982</li><li>1981<br /></li></ul></div></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div>borrowed & bluehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04885513319709387104noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1573063279824425977.post-69771876695702945372008-12-08T13:55:00.000-08:002009-01-08T09:34:29.472-08:0008.12.08<div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3205/3078281126_b5680caf4d.jpg?v=0"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 397px; height: 395px;" src="http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3205/3078281126_b5680caf4d.jpg?v=0" alt="" border="0" /></a><a href="http://www.mediafire.com/?4zimnzmnnzm">borrowed & blue 08.12.08</a><br /><br /><div style="text-align: left;"> <p style="font-style: italic;" class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">Turquoise hexagon sun. You are invisible. A boy I knew once told me about a talisman he had. The talisman was for restoring his head to a better place, an instant hit of lucidity and preternatural calm. To conjure his sacred place he had to create a symbol in his mind. Once the symbol was complete, then it would white-out his mind like a flash going off or a lightbulb exploding and he would be there. The tools to create the talisman were three words.</span></p> <p style="font-style: italic;" class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p style="font-style: italic;" class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">Over time I managed to develop my own talisman. You are invisible. I realised that I didn’t need geometry, colour and shape to draw something in my mind; I could just wish my body away.</span></p> <p style="font-style: italic;" class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p style="font-style: italic;" class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">I believe I am being punished.</span></p> <p style="font-style: italic;" class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p style="font-style: italic;" class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">I have wished my body away many times.</span></p><span style="font-weight: bold;">RE:ACTION</span><ul><li>1995</li><li>2007</li><li>2008</li><li>2005</li><li>1980</li><li>2007</li><li>2007</li><li>2006</li><li>2005</li><li>2008</li><li>2006<br /></li></ul></div></div>borrowed & bluehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04885513319709387104noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1573063279824425977.post-33349676743562079902008-12-07T05:45:00.000-08:002009-01-08T09:36:06.921-08:0007.12.08<div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3207/3077455441_eff1a3036e.jpg?v=0"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 380px; height: 377px;" src="http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3207/3077455441_eff1a3036e.jpg?v=0" alt="" border="0" /></a><a href="http://www.mediafire.com/?iztdhtewomv">borrowed & blue 07.12.08</a><br /><br /><div style="text-align: left;">Nothing to do with this mix, but today toying with an idea for a Pavement mixxtape.<br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Name Artist Composer Album Grouping Genre Size Time Disc Number Disc Count Track Number Track Count Year Date Modified Date Added Bit Rate Sample Rate Volume Adjustment Kind Equalizer Comments Play Count Last Played My Rating Location</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Major Leagues Pavement Terror Twilight Indie 4966052 204 5 1998 27/10/2008 14:02 27/10/2008 14:05 192 44100 MPEG audio file 7 30/11/2008 13:55 G:\My Music\iTunes\iTunes Music\terror twilight\05 major leagues.mp3</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Stereo Pavement Brighten The Corners Indie 4499462 187 1 1997 27/10/2008 13:24 27/10/2008 14:05 192 44100 MPEG audio file 6 30/11/2008 14:14 G:\My Music\iTunes\iTunes Music\pavement - brighten the corners\01 - stereo.mp3</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Gold Soundz Pavement Crooked Rain, Crooked Rain Alternative 4268293 159 1 1 7 12 1994 10/06/2008 05:46 02/10/2008 22:55 211 44100 MPEG audio file 6 30/11/2008 13:58 G:\My Music\iTunes\iTunes Music\pavement - crooked rain, crooked rain\07 gold soundz.mp3</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Here Pavement Slanted & Enchanted 5661778 235 9 27/07/2007 13:46 02/10/2008 22:43 192 44100 MPEG audio file 6 26/11/2008 16:08 G:\My Music\iTunes\iTunes Music\Pavement\Slanted & Enchanted\09 Here.mp3</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">The Hexx Pavement Terror Twilight Indie 8189144 339 10 1998 27/10/2008 14:18 27/10/2008 14:57 192 44100 MPEG audio file 6 28/11/2008 13:25 G:\My Music\iTunes\iTunes Music\terror twilight\10 the hexx.mp3</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">From Now On Pavement Westing (by Musket And Sextant) Indie Rock 3014915 123 10/06/2008 05:14 04/10/2008 11:54 192 44100 MPEG audio file 6 30/11/2008 16:28 G:\My Music\iTunes\iTunes Music\01-westing by musket and sextant(early recordings)\13-from now on .mp3</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Two States Pavement Slanted & Enchanted Indie Rock 3100267 107 10 1992 27/10/2008 16:20 31/10/2008 09:17 226 44100 MPEG audio file 5 30/11/2008 14:15 G:\My Music\iTunes\iTunes Music\1992 - slanted and enchanted\10 - two states.mp3</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Debris Slide Pavement Westing (by Musket And Sextant) Indie Rock 2834385 116 10/06/2008 05:21 02/10/2008 22:55 192 44100 MPEG audio file 5 30/11/2008 13:47 G:\My Music\iTunes\iTunes Music\01-westing by musket and sextant(early recordings)\16-debris slide.mp3</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">01 - we dance Pavement Wowee Zowee: Sordid Sentinels Edition 4376327 182 27/10/2008 13:34 27/10/2008 14:05 192 44100 MPEG audio file 5 26/11/2008 11:30 G:\My Music\iTunes\iTunes Music\wowee zowee sordid sentinals cd1\01 - we dance.mp3</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">grounded PAVEMENT Wowee Zowee: Sordid Sentinels Edition Unbekannt 6161389 256 5 27/10/2008 13:41 27/10/2008 14:05 192 44100 MPEG audio file 5 28/11/2008 13:12 G:\My Music\iTunes\iTunes Music\wowee zowee sordid sentinals cd1\05 - grounded.mp3</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Fillmore Jive Pavement Crooked Rain, Crooked Rain Alternative 10512757 400 1 1 12 1994 10/06/2008 06:03 16/06/2008 00:47 209 44100 MPEG audio file 00000812 00000617 00001D8D 00001ABE 00052E94 00052E94 00006522 00007098 00052E94 00052E94 4 28/11/2008 16:53 G:\My Music\iTunes\iTunes Music\pavement - crooked rain, crooked rain\12 fillmore jive.mp3</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Raft Pavement Crooked Rain, Crooked Rain: L.A.'s Desert Origins (Disc 1) Rock/Pop 5630309 214 15 2004 31/10/2008 13:00 31/10/2008 15:02 208 44100 MPEG audio file 4 30/11/2008 13:51 G:\My Music\iTunes\iTunes Music\15 - raft.mp3</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Shady Lane (Krossfader) Pavement Shady Lane Alternative: Indie Indie Rock 3929631 157 1 1997 13/07/2007 08:17 10/06/2008 00:26 200 44100 MPEG audio file 4 30/11/2008 13:45 G:\My Music\iTunes\iTunes Music\Pavement\Shady Lane\01 Shady Lane (Krossfader).mp3</span><br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">RE:ACTION </span>and momentum forever&ever<br /><ul><li>1971</li><li>1970</li><li>1989</li><li>1992</li><li>1988</li><li>1978<br /></li></ul></div></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div>borrowed & bluehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04885513319709387104noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1573063279824425977.post-66218379646071069122008-11-30T07:29:00.000-08:002008-12-07T06:49:03.571-08:0030.11.08<div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3017/3065444769_4a833a3140.jpg?v=0"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 394px;" src="http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3017/3065444769_4a833a3140.jpg?v=0" alt="" border="0" /></a><a href="http://www.mediafire.com/?lzjmnzglkjh">borrowed & blue 30.11.08</a><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /><div style="text-align: left;">Congratulations to comrades <a href="http://www.20jazzfunkgreats.co.uk/wordpress/">20jazzfunkgreats</a> and <a href="http://thequietus.com/">The Quietus</a> for caning the gongs at the Record Of The Day awards on Thursday!<br /><br />The award for least-read blog and most consistently-dropped music journalist goes to...<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">RE:ACTION</span><br /><br /><ul><li>1997</li><li>2007</li><li>1987</li><li>2008</li><li>1997</li><li>2006</li><li>1979</li><li>2008</li><li>1994</li><li>1980<br /></li></ul></div></div>borrowed & bluehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04885513319709387104noreply@blogger.com0