About A Girl

There are only three things in the world that I hate, and one of them is Bono.

The tax-dodging crooner recently commented that music has become too "girly", proving once again that no amount of philanthropy can offset being a cunt.

Not only does this comment seem strange coming from a man whose own music is so bland, I also think Bono is harking back to a time that never really existed. I'm going to use words like "girly" and "manly" not because I think they mean anything but in order to address this topic using Bono's terminology. Or Bonology.

As long as there's been rock music, there's been "girly" rock music. And that's pretty much what's made it good. The Rolling Stones were one of the first great rock bands, but were they particularly "manly"? Mick Jagger was a slinky dancer with maracas. Keith Richards was wearing his girlfriends' clothes. I'm not saying this undermines their masculinity in any way, I'm saying the idea that rock music was ever macho is a myth. They were popular because they appealed to everybody.

Maybe he means hard rock. But Kiss wear ridiculous make-up and Led Zeppelin songs are all about Lord of the Rings. After racking my brains for a manly rock band all I can come up with is Steppenwolf, and that's just because I only know the one song and it's about motorbikes.

The band Bono uses to illustrate his point is Pearl Jam, as though long hair, plaid shirts and singing about emotions is the height of testosterone. If you can't see the femininity in grunge then you might consider removing your fucking sunglasses.

Kurt Cobain was a poetry-writing kid who became seriously depressed when his music gained popularity among the kind of jocks who used to beat him up because he didn't meat their standards of masculinity.

I think this is why I find Bono's comment so offensive. It's indicative of a small-minded attitude, a kind of dogma that seems antithetical to a genre that I love for its inclusiveness. But I'm not sure Bono understands rock music. Which explains why he's so shit at it.

First It Gwyneth Then It Taketh Away

My string of monthly blogs was recently broken when I managed to smash my laptop screen (that'll teach me to watch M. Night Shyamalan movies on YouTube), but I have to come out of hibernation to comment on one of my favourite subjects: Goop. 

The pseudoscience website where magicians are physicians has come in for a fair share of criticism lately, "fair" being the operative word. First, the medical community criticised the brand for recommending placing jade eggs in your vagina. Then NASA had to step in to address false claims made by Goop over so-called "energy stickers". Then last week, an advertising watchdog complained about the company's deceptive marketing. And those are just the tip of the lettuce.

Head-in-a-box actor Gwyneth Paltrow hit back at her critics yesterday, when she had this to say on her friend's podcast:

The website recently attacked OB/GYN and awesome Goop critic Dr Jen Gunter for swearing, but I guess it's ok when GP does it because she's paying them.

Anyway, Gwyneth thinks that when people call her out for disseminating misinformation it's "so deeply unfair," because apparently she's becoming the Donald Trump of... whatever the fuck it is she does. How dare you hold me to human standards of decency. Don't you know who I am? I was in Mortdecai.

She continues: "I wish that people would actually like read the article or do their homework." They're scientists. They have done their homework. Dr Jen Gunter? Done her homework. NASA? Done their homework. That's kind of the point. 

You know who hasn't done their homework? The shamans, spiritualists, medical mediums, dumpling enthusiasts, psychological astrologers, integrative structural specialists, pelvic floor authorities, herbalists and go-kart specialists who write for Goop. And yes, those are all taken from the website. I collect them on post-it notes and stick them on my computer at work. Because yes, I do like read the articles.

Paltrow, however, does not - at least according to her recent appearance on Jimmy Kimmel, where she admitted: “I don’t know what the fuck we talk about!” It's possible that she was joking. It's also possible that she wasn't, and that she has as much contempt for her audience as one might expect from someone who was in Mortdecai.

To Gwyneth Paltrow, a hypocrite is just some sort of healing stone you might put in your anus. It doesn't matter what Goop says, as long as the revenue and snake oil is flowing. There is no lie too big for Goop to print, no product too useless to flog, and no methods too low to do so. 

"Your work stands for itself," adds Paltrow. Who was in Mortdecai. 

Twitter Patter

"Of course, I'm no expert" - no-one on Twitter.

— Adam Kay (@amateuradam) May 17, 2017

There are only three things in the world that I hate, and one of them is Twitter.

I've been spending a lot of time on Twitter recently, and it's doing my fucking head in. I think it's the way every tweet - at least all the ones that get shared - is constructed according to one of just three or four templates. For anyone to get a joke on Twitter, it has to be written like a joke on Twitter. And I find it really depressing when everyone speaks the same.

Some of these lazy Twitter joke constructions include:

Dear... 

As in "Dear 2016. Please stop killing celebrities. Sincerely, the world." I don't know if it's supposed to cute, or funny, or why you'd bother reaching for your phone to add to the endless slew of identical tweets. Dear people who write tweets like this. Please stop.

Your daily reminder that...

I saw one recently that said "Your daily reminder that pineapple, in fact, goes on pizza." It got 310 retweets. Like the previous one, this is just a way of prefacing one's tedious opinion in a way that's been sanctioned by the dullards of Twitter.

Me:... Also me:...

This comes from the Evil Kermit meme, which is essentially about internal conflicts. On Twitter, people say things like: "Me: I have to get up early. Also me: Watches Netflix until 3am." Hahaha, people are so complex! Sorry, not complex. Boring.

I had more of these, but the problem is clearly that I am an old person complaining about the way kids talk on the internet. Who cares? I'm just jealous that my tweets never get any reaction, because they're massively unfunny and mostly to do with Star Trek. 

But while I'm here, here are some miscellaneous tropes that I'd ban if I became dictator of Twitter - or Louise Mensch, as she's known.

Memes, threads, lol used ironically, "lads", lol used sincerely, arguing with trolls, retweeting Katy Hopkins, and shortening the word fascism to "fash".

Here's DJ Shadow.

Because I'm Worthless

There are only three things in the world that I hate, and here are three more of them.

Everyone is justifiably annoyed at that idiotic Pepsi advert, when clearly the most effective way to advertise Pepsi would just be to say it's cheaper than Coke.

But when you live at the cinema like me, you see worse adverts than that every day. So here are three more shitverts - shampoo edition!

1.

The first shampoo with a brain. More than can be said for whoever came up with that.

2.  

Shoulders carry the promise of late nights you'll never forget. Catchy. They'll all be yelling that one in the playground.

3. 

An advert supposedly championing inclusivity and difference that exclusively features conventionally attractive people. Facile slogans about self-confidence do not change the fact that as a cosmetics company you're in the business of telling people to look better.

On that angry note, I'll leave you with a Jane's Addiction song about showering.

Beware the Ides of March

As you know, I love everything in the world, with the exception of three things. One of those things that I love is the Grateful Dead.

Looking back on this day in history, 15 March is a significant date for a number of reasons. For starters, it's the Ides of March, which was the day in 44 BC when Julius Caesar was stabbed in the base of the Curia - ouch! More recently, it's also the birthday of two of my favourite people: Grateful Dead bassist Phil Lesh and genius filmmaker David Cronenberg. Long live the new Lesh! Plus, the movie The Godfather was first released on this day in 1972, directed by Deadhead Francis Ford Coppola - after seeing a Grateful Dead show in 1979, he was inspired by the rolling thunder effect of the two drummers, and enlisted them to play on the Apocalypse Now soundtrack. Which brings me to the point: on this day in Dead history, the band made one of their more bizarre appearances back in 1969.



Picture the scene: you're invited to The Black & White Ball at the San Francisco Hilton, a fundraiser for the San Francisco Symphony. A group of hippies shamble onto the stage, plug in their instruments and unleash a cacophony of baroque psychedelia and a song about trying to sleep with a 17-year-old girl. 

They were never invited back.

The complete setlist is uncertain, but what exists is this electrifying recording, taped by countercultural icon Owsley "Bear" Stanley - more on him another time. The tape begins with a fairly shambolic version of Otis Redding's Hard to Handle, which they'd never played live before, and by the sounds of it, never practised much either. Things pick up with Good Morning Little Schoolgirl, a perfectly acceptable subject to sing about in the '60s, before the boys launch into their typical 1969 run of Dark Star -> St. Stephen -> The Eleven -> Lovelight. And it's glorious - particularly The Eleven, a song I've written about before. Despite a cut in the recording at the start of the track, this is up there with the best they ever played it - an electric dose of colourful improvisation in 11/8 time. Just imagine going to a black tie event 28 years ago today, and being confronted with that.

The Slogan

There are only three things in the world that I hate, and here are three more of them.

It's time for another month of awful adverts - terrible tagline edition!

1. 

Not only does this Coke advert feature the worst song ever recorded, it also includes one of the worst slogans: 'Taste The Feeling.' Gross. I think 'Tasty Feeling' would have made more sense.

2.

Speaking of not making sense, Stella Artois appear to have adopted the nonsense tagline: 'Be Legacy.' Even worse is the way alcohol adverts are now obsessed with telling us their founder's backstory, as though anyone cares about booze beyond: "Will it get me drunk or not?"

3.

This type of ironic voice-over does cause in me the kind of visceral reaction I associate with Subway, but I also think 'Keep Discovering' is a blatantly bad slogan for a sandwich shop. In fact it's probably the worst possible slogan for a sandwich shop, except maybe: 'Our sandwiches are full of blood.'

I'll leave you with Somewhere in the Between by Streetlight Manifesto, an album celebrating its 10th anniversary and still one of my favourites.

Fried Neckbones

There are only three things in the world that I hate, and here are five more of them.

I'm talking about adverts again. But aren't there worse things to be worrying about? Yes.

1. 

I'm no advertising expert, but I have seen every episode of Mad Men, and I'm pretty sure it's a bad idea to keep repeating that there are chicken beaks in your food. What I take away from that advert isn't the actor pretending to be a 'food quality inspector', but the thought that there are definitely 100% guaranteed chicken feet in McNuggets.

2.

Similarly, I'd avoid phrases like "We are thoughtless" or "We are cruel" when trying to make people trust me with their money. Just a thought.

3.

I couldn't find the particularly awful Dove advert I was looking for, but this one suggesting that you can shower in 13 seconds is either very stupid or aimed solely at Quicksilver from the X-Men.

4.

There's something not quite right about this one. I can't put my finger on it. Is it the eerie sci-fi music? The creepy whispered voice-over? Oh I know, it's because it's an advert about HEATING CHILDREN'S ARSES.

5.

And the award for the world's most cynical advert goes to Amazon Prime! Congratulations Amazon, you win a trophy full of sick.

Here's Santana.

3 To 1

There are only three things in the world that I hate, and one of them is people making the same tedious observation about 2016 being a bit rubbish.

Speaking of things no one cares about, here (in no particular order) are my top 3 albums of 2016.

The Mountain Will Fall - DJ Shadow

This year I got to see one of my musical heroes play live, and DJ Shadow did not disappoint. In fact he was one of the best live acts I've ever seen, with incredible visuals surrounding him. I even shook his hand, so if anyone wants to touch my hand in turn please do let me know. Shadow's new album The Mountain Will Fall sees the trip-hop pioneer continue to push himself into new realms of electronic music, with hip-hop, jazz and euphoria vying for space on the record. The album also gave us one of the best music videos of the year:

Gore - Deftones

In 2016 I finally got to see Deftones, and they also turned out to be one of the best live acts I've ever experienced. Their music is bludgeoning, beautiful and completely transcendent, all illusatrated on their new album Gore. Not only is the opening cut Prayers/Triangles an amazing way to start an album, the track Doomed User is one of the best songs they've ever recorded. I still don't have a clue what Chino Moreno is singing about most of the time, but I can highly recommend running while listening to Deftones; it's like being chased by wraiths.

Three - Blue Man Group

It was always my dream to become a Blue Man (like my other hero, Tobias Fünke) or one of their neon-clad drummers. They're best known for their internationally phenomenal live shows that combine music, comedy and technology to explore a variety of ideas, including otherness as represented by these blue-skinned outsiders. But they also produce highly innovative studio records using many musical instruments of their own invention, often involving hitting PVC pipes to create a strange, melodic, percussive sound. Three is so-called because it's their third album and the Blue Men always appear in threes, and it features more of the same rhythmic alien rock. Enjoy!

The Eleven

"Nobody likes jazz that much... even the guy playing it had to take drugs!"

As you know, I love everything in the world, with the exception of three things. One of those things that I love is songs in 11/8 (or 11/4).

Where would we be without the number 11? Danny Ocean would be bereft of a crew. Spinal Tap's amps would have nowhere to go. [Insert football player - do not forget to come back to this] would have to run around with a different number on his football jersey. But most of all, we'd be without these 5 groovy songs written in the time signature 11/8 (or 11/4) just to be difficult.

Eleven Four - The Dave Brubeck Quartet (1962)

With the possible exception of Stephen Hawking, nobody knows time like Dave Brubeck. The cool-jazz pioneer seemed allergic to straightforward time signatures, resulting in classics like Take Five (which is a pun) and saxophonist Paul Desmond's Eleven Four (which is not).

Eleven - Primus (1991)

This typically disonant track by bass-driven avant-garde rock band Primus showcases Les Claypool's muscular bass riffs, Tim "Herb" Alexander's rolling drum beats and Larry LaLonde's screaming guitar work, with non-conformist lyrics and time signatures.

I Say a Little Prayer - Aretha Franklin (1968)

Although originally recorded by Dionne Warwick, it's Aretha Franklin's version that reigns supreme thanks to soulful vocals and melodic arrangements. The chorus uses an 11-count, proving that it's not just for pretentious jazz and druggy metal.

Whipping Post - The Allman Brothers Band (1971)

I think this blog is really about my music taste being all over the place. In any case, Gregg Allman's blistering Whipping Post riff is written in 11/4 and is well worth a listen if you have 23 minutes to spare. No? Fair enough.

The Eleven - Grateful Dead (1969)

Because I'm incapable of writing a blog or holding a conversation without mentioning the Grateful Dead, check out the scorching beauty of this psychedelic masterpiece and its trippy lyrics. I'm not entirely sure what a "jingle bell rainbow" is, but I'd very much like to find out. 

An honourable mention goes to Hey Ya! by OutKast (2003), for being (presumably) the only number 1 single with an 11-count. The Mario Kart 64 (1996) results screen music also demonstrates the versatility of my favourite time signature. 

A better blogger would have listed 11 examples. Or at least published this blog on the 8th November. Or even just explained what 11/8 actually means. But ironically, I don't have time.

   

It doesn't make any sense!

There are only three things in the world that I hate, and one of them is adverts that don't make any sense. 

No, we do not get dressed every day. We're not in the army.

No, we have not forgotten about TalkTalk's mass negligence. And no amount of pandering is going to trick us.

No, Adam and Toni are not taking part in a social experiment. They're taking part in an advert.

Here's Kyuss. 

Sick Sad Lidl World

There are only three things in the world that I hate, and here are three more of them.

This year, cinema adverts have been almost as bad as the films themselves. For example...

1. 

This one annoys me because he abandons his car in the middle of a traffic jam. Red Bull might give you wings but clearly not brains.

2. 

I think I remember going to that club when I was at uni.

3. 

Lidl are doing a series of passive-aggressive adverts in which fake customers pretend to voice concerns about the origin of the company's produce, only to have the supermarket wake them up at some ungodly hour, send them out to sea and confront them to prove a point. I'm trying to get involved:

I'm concerned about where @Lidl get their Panda Cola. I hope it's not from real pandas.

— Dan Meier (@MiniMeier) September 12, 2016

Here's Incubus.

Digging In Your Nails

There are only three things in the world that I hate, and one of them is goop (((again) again) again).

It was with mixed feelings, therefore, that I read last month's news that Oscar-winning pseudoscientist Gwyneth Paltrow was separating (though she'd probably call it "consciously uncoupling") from her crypto-fascist lifestyle website goop. 

On the one hand, this will likely result in less bullshit, and a reduction in the amount of bullshit in the world can only be a good thing. On the other hand, what am I going to blog about now?!

Does this spell the end for articles such as this piece calling for yoga to be taught in schools? It actually gave me a flashback to the time my PSHE teacher tried to make us meditate as part of an ill-advised "relaxation" session, which my friend Shaun and I failed to take seriously and ended up having to write sarcastic letters of apology to the teacher. "We are sorry we were too relaxed during Tuesday's meditation lesson..."

Or this article about nail beauty for children, which starts with the unbelievable sentence: "It’s the rare child—male or female, beauty-involved or beauty-indifferent, young or old—that isn’t delighted by a pedicure or manicure."

Admittedly, everything I know about kids could fit on a child's fingernail, but I'm sure children don't care about their nails. Why do you think they're always biting them? It's not for the taste. For a child, it's hard to imagine a worse day than a trip to a Beverley Hills manicurist, followed by an hour of yoga and then all back to Gwyneth's for a gluten-free dairy-free shepherd's pie. 

But gp lives in a bizarro world, and I might just find that I miss my weekly window into her organic cauliflower brain.

Here's Big D and the Kids Table.

Laughing Navy Types

There are only three things in the world that I hate, and here are three more of them.

I went to the cinema last night (Star Trek Beyond AKA Mission Impossible in space) and winced my way through another set of insipid adverts, three of which were...

1. 

To reiterate, this was before a Star Trek film. It doesn't exactly scream Starfleet.

2. 

Because nothing says sexy and sophisticated like Are You Being Served?

3.

#YouKnowItsSummerWhen McDonald's makes you feel sick outdoors.

Here's Donald Fagen:

Beer

There are only three things in the world that I hate, and here are three more of them.

I just went to the cinema (Elvis & Nixon - better than Batman v Superman) and accidentally sat through the adverts because TFL got me there on time, the bastards. These were 3 of the worst.

1. 

There were not 1 but 2 separate Coke adverts, in case there was any danger of going a whole day without seeing any Coca-Cola advertising. This one has something to do with football and intimidating night-time rallies. If my country ever does call, tell them I'm not home.

 2. 

All McDonald's adverts present a bizarre version of the "restaurant" that does not and has never existed. Personally speaking, I can't remember the last "good time" I had in a McDonald's... what year did they have Pocahontas toys in Happy Meals?

3.

If you're sick to death of twee fucking ads / and pray those smug arseholes are hit by a cab / or maybe dismembered by huger killer crabs... there's a beer for that.

Here's Reel Big Fish.

Mistress of the Salmon Salt

There are only three things in the world that I hate, and one of them is goop ((again) again).

It's time for another round-up of bullshit from everyone's favourite former actor, spiritual guide and pseudoscientist, who doesn't appear in the new Captain America movie as she and Tony Stark have consciously uncoupled.

A few years ago, it was reported that the company was hemorrhaging money (the same company that gave Gwyneth a £350,000 salary plus an interest-free loan of £29,200). Since then, every article has been a barely concealed advert. For instance, this piece about a $700 juicer, which opens with the line: "Mention at-home juicing to anyone who’s really tried it and the first thing that inevitably comes up is the nightmare of clean-up." Unless you put the lid down.

Next, goop helpfully provides some Mother's Day gift ideas, ranging from $650 slippers to a $10,500 bracelet (above). You know, for Mother's Day. 

Some of the other items in the goop shop include a $73 wooden spoon and 1oz of salt for $10 (left).

The bullshit continues with this enlightening piece about beauty companies who chant and play music to their skincare products. Why? I have no idea. But goop is convinced, inviting us to "consider the fact that people bless food all the time," as though that makes it anything other than certifiably insane. 

GP has form for this sort of thing, having previously championed the idea that being mean to water can affect its molecular structure. So it's not the first time her risible beliefs have landed her in hot water (sorry).

I'll leave you with Blue Öyster Cult. Try playing it to your exfoliating cream.