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Cowboy angel
Wednesday, September 28, 2005

It's amazing to meet up with the man you first gave your heart to thirty years on and discover you still feel the same about him .. and that he is still having visions of you. I'm talking about Bobby of course. What was so touching about No Direction Home (which you can preorder from like you haven't already taped it) was seeing him lose his cherry in every possible way- the way his face changed from puppy fat to sharp faced pussy cat in a dudeish suit as the fame and the expectation reached messianic levels, his face going through all those expressions during press conferences (god those people were stupid) like a man finding himself dropped from space and discovering to his horror that a) everybody thinks you are god and b) you are required to tell them the meaning of life not only through your art but in simple easy to follow instructions. And then there's c) - they don't like it if you won't play the game - which is their game - acoustic, political, liberal. He looked shell shocked - "pressed and hammered". I'm amazed he was able to take the piss as much as he did.
What was also brilliant about this movie was the way you could see young Bob in old Bob - haven't been able to do that for a while cos he's so remote on stage. Here he had that old twinkle in the still blue eyes. His mouth - ah, his mouth.
Some great photos on this site: Found some lovely tiny clips on this site - amateur, underwater and very appealing. I saw his feet. I would wash them with my hair.
5:53 AM   2 comments

Six Degrees of Separation
Thursday, September 08, 2005
Is it impending autumn that is making me feel excited? I don't know. After the fear of the dark comes some sort of submission. Strange things are happening in my surfing. You wonder how Jung would have factored in the internet to his synchronicity theory. This is what happened to me this week. I got an email about a new exhibition by Ian Forsyth and Jane pollard, two artists whose work I discovered earlier this year (check them out at . They did an amazing set of movies showing people talking about the compilation tapes they made for people they were in love with / were trying to impress. It's called Anyone Else Isn't You and it's brilliant, moving, sweet. Completely restores your faith in love and life. So I went to their site and found that their new work was based on the artist Vito Acconci - who I'd never heard of but sounds like a v cool dude who had done all sorts of interesting work in the field of art and architecture. I checked him out on the web and found myself directed to wfmu radio at There was an interesting piece by him there plus another track that intrigued me by a guy called Keith Fullerton Whitman - who makes interesting other wordly electronic music. So I checked him out - and it turns out he's on at the Morden Tower next Tuesday just 35 miles up the road from where I live. God is a DJ and is speaking to me over the ether. I believe. Another side effect of all of this was finding out Acconci had worked with the Cramps - so now I've ordered a dvd of them playing live in a psychiatric ward. Really looking forward to hearing that. Sometimes the world feels full of art, music and inspiration.
There's a lot of excellent music around just now. Missed all the summer festivals but was treated to a flash of the Pixies playing at Leeds via my daughter's mobile. I'm also getting The Decembrists from a friend of mine - odd but compelling. And am loving Maximo Park and the Arctic Monkeys. It's nice to get a bit of regional, innit.
Psyching myself up for another trip to Finland in November - having a new pamphlet published with the mighty Esa Hirvonen and feeling a bit unworthy. Hope I can live up to his standards and that the thermal undies will keep me upright for the duration.
Roll on the fall. Last night, coming back from a wearying few days in Essex, waiting at the station for a lift, leaves rattled across Victoria Road like sovereigns. The sky was moody and dark. I wanna live forever.
2:14 PM   2 comments