As a certified atheist I am mainly looking forward to 3 days of good food, sleep and relaxation, but I personally have nothing against the seasonal message of peace, love and goodwill to all women and men.
So merry Christmas to all you religious types and may your personal deity do you good. For the rest of us I hope the religious types will abide by the spirit of Christmas and stop shooting and bombing each other.
Just for a bit.
Love,
FB
So last week’s New Scientist attempted to familiarise me with the concept of ‘loop quantum cosmology’. If I get this right (and please, somebody correct me if I am wrong) this theory states that before the big bang our universe already existed: after expanding to its fullest diameter it then shrank back until it reached microscopic volume in which things were pretty dense: 5.1 × 1096 kilograms per cubic metre dense (also called Planck Density) . Now that is even denser than population density in the East End. So when the universe reached that state of density, every thing started anew with a ‘big bounce’.
That of course means that we are all recycled, like a park bench made ouf recycled plastic. A comforting thought, but the creationists will probably have another hissy fit when they find out (again) that the universe is older that 6000 years.
Ok, so it it is thingie. Christmas.
Which has a lot of advantages, e.g. Christmas singles. The best, after Wham’s ‘Last Christmas’ must be Mel and Kim’s “Rockin’ around the Christmas tree”. But I insist on somebody please identifying ‘Curiosity killed the Cat’ as the annoying carol singers.
Please ? It’s been bugging me only 22 years.
Everybody knows ‘Clouds across the moon’. Everybody.
Ok, everybody over 30.
Ok, most people over 40. But that doesn’t matter. What does matter is that when I was 18, this album came out that I just have to have, and if it was just to hang it up on the wall of my room. That cover (a proper LP of course) still defines the epitomy of eighties cool for me. For heaven’s sake, just look at it:
Richard Anthony Hewson did not only have a knack for excellent tunes, he also produced this album immaculately (at least for eighties standards. The current iTunes version suffers from excess white noise and sloppy cutting between tracks). The tunes were immediately hummable, the drum computers sounded positively organic, and even the sax solos weren’t too embarassing. And now it’s finally available again. After I’ve been searching for the blody CD for ever and a day (I even struggled on the marvellous Gemm.com) I received a friendly email from The Rah Band’s webmaster (Richard ANthony? You still alive?) letting me know that Mystery is finally available again. This time as downloads on Amazon and itunes, but that was enough incentive for me. The album sounds as fresh and exciting as 23 years ago: the female vocals still haunting and evocative, and the production and songs still unforgettable.
A must for every eighties fan and conoisseur of electro pop. Get it here!
Back in 2007, Speights Brewery in Dunedin set a lovely idea in motion: transport a pub around the world to supply the Kiwis in London with their beloved Speights. Indeed, a pub was fabricated out of a container, put on a ship and before you could say ‘Good on ya mate’, the little pub was plonked on the edge of the river thames, just around Temple station. Speights obviously thought this was a good idea, and later transferred the whole idea of a Speights pub in London into a ‘proper’ building in Essex Street, just around the corner from the High Court. Being an associated Kiwi living in exile I thought it would be a good idea to pop aorund and have a drink. I was dreaming of a nice, cosy place with some kiwi music and spirit where I could sit and reminisce about the penguins on my front lawn in Kakanui.
Well, I was obviously too optimistic. ‘The Southerner’ is a pub in a basement with cheap looking furniture devoid of character, overlit and soulless. There are some rugby paraphernalia on the wall, and there is indeed the whole Speights range available (and a Mac’s Gold for 3 pounds). In the sixty minutes I was there the music was standard fare without any reference to New Zealand’s vast musical heritage. Barstaff made themselves rare and were not particularly keen to come out and serve. On top of that screens everywhere.
Disappointing, to say the least.
Messaged from the Outhouse 