The ever ambitious Gorgie Boys a la Jonny Marshall, Marten Claridge et al have created the world's first all colour supporter's magazine Always The Bridesmaid!
Packed with absorbing articles, classy cartoons and humour, ATB is probably the best fanzine in the world. Classy, artistic and literary there is no better buy around, who you gonna read...Chick Young, Jim Traynor, nah...not if you have a brain. Founded in 1990, the metamorphoses of this Gorgie Road zine has taken it to the top of the fanzine pile. Get your copy or people will laugh at you! Have a peep at www.theheartsfanzine.com
SERGIO
Tuesday, 6 February 2007
Sunday, 4 February 2007
MY FAVOURITE TRACK OF THE WEEK
Eels Losing Streak (From the album Blinking Lights and Other Revelations)
'Wished that I was dressed better ' is my favourite line from Eels Losing Streak from his classic double album opus Blinking Lights and Other Revelations. And, those of you who know me will no doubt nod wisely and know why I resonate with this sadly, melancholic line.
This is so - birthplace Geeksland - with a central character who is suddenly shedding his losing streak and asking 'Was I wrong about the world?/ It's a beautiful place.'
What I love about this cut, however, is the busy little piano riff and that wonderfully understated bass - it's just sort of there in the background furtively worming its way through time and space. It's actually a jolly little ditty with a smashing soaring little crash after the verse and pre-entry to the chorus. It has a carnival feel, laced with sad, minor chords, which drive it along through some astoundingly direct lyrics. In fact it is a fairly simple song with all the contradictions and complexities of really great music.
'Always felt like giving in/To the feeling I can't win' is where we have all been with our ex-girlfriends -ex-boyfriends-ex-wives- ex-husbands and the dreaded bank teller with the ripped face and dyed hair. Like a refugee from a Stephen King horror novel there she is behind her computer, smiling - I'll rephrase that - grinning, the bloody axe under the counter, unseen by the hapless customer.
"Good morning how can we help you today?" inflated cheesy grin, tilt head 45 degrees.
"Oh yes, I wonder if you'd mind awfully pretty girl if you would be so good to change this cheque for cash?"
Whoomph - head chopped off..."Eh...no, sorry we don't do cheques on a Saturday morning...read the small print freak! Next!"
You know who I am talking about...
SERGIO
'Wished that I was dressed better ' is my favourite line from Eels Losing Streak from his classic double album opus Blinking Lights and Other Revelations. And, those of you who know me will no doubt nod wisely and know why I resonate with this sadly, melancholic line.
This is so - birthplace Geeksland - with a central character who is suddenly shedding his losing streak and asking 'Was I wrong about the world?/ It's a beautiful place.'
What I love about this cut, however, is the busy little piano riff and that wonderfully understated bass - it's just sort of there in the background furtively worming its way through time and space. It's actually a jolly little ditty with a smashing soaring little crash after the verse and pre-entry to the chorus. It has a carnival feel, laced with sad, minor chords, which drive it along through some astoundingly direct lyrics. In fact it is a fairly simple song with all the contradictions and complexities of really great music.
'Always felt like giving in/To the feeling I can't win' is where we have all been with our ex-girlfriends -ex-boyfriends-ex-wives- ex-husbands and the dreaded bank teller with the ripped face and dyed hair. Like a refugee from a Stephen King horror novel there she is behind her computer, smiling - I'll rephrase that - grinning, the bloody axe under the counter, unseen by the hapless customer.
"Good morning how can we help you today?" inflated cheesy grin, tilt head 45 degrees.
"Oh yes, I wonder if you'd mind awfully pretty girl if you would be so good to change this cheque for cash?"
Whoomph - head chopped off..."Eh...no, sorry we don't do cheques on a Saturday morning...read the small print freak! Next!"
You know who I am talking about...
SERGIO
TALES OF DARKER KILLINGBECK
TALES OF DARKER KILLINGBECK
Late one stormy, rainy night, in a shadow-filled corner of the Transylvanian Dog and Duck Inn near the market cross in the village of Darker Killingbeck, a plot is hatched. Several shady characters clutching bottles of Bud and Millar Genuine Draft or pints of Caffreys, Boddingtons and Bloody Marys are huddled together whispering in the gloom.
"Why don't we arf a blog me artys," Suzie, puffing happily on her white clay pipe asks as her eyes dart between her colleagues.
"Hey, that's a really good idea," The two Gordon's nod in stereo. "Good idea that, so it is. Aye it is so it is, eh Stacey. Aye, eh Stacey?"
"Aye, I'm in!" Mar whispers, a red Fez on her head. "Just like that"
"Me tae" Says Sally winking at Suzie and placing a finger to the side of her nose.
"Why don't we vote" Suzie says.
But before anyone could say another word, the door flew open and trawlerman Vincent appeared in the pub.
"There be a wild yun squalling in an albatross eye o' a starm oot ther yonder barman!" He said approaching the bar.
"Is that a pint o'heavy then?" The barman - big Jim Hill - asked frowning and raising his eyebrows.
"That thar o the feeshies doon there happy in Davy Jones lacker ther."
"Whit?" the whole pub says together.
"Aye" Trawlerman Vincent nodded. "A pint of heavy, ur ye deef, tsk, tsk."
Gathering his pint and guarding it jealously while eyeing everyone in the bar suspiciously, Vincent joined the others assembled in the booth in the corner.
Eventually everyone voted to have the blog and the name 'Exile On C Street' was selected. Over the weekend a few rules are introduced. It is only for people who work from the Ayr Careers Centre in Carrick Street, it belongs to all those therein and everyone is entitled to post anything they want and they will all be given the usernname and password to allow them to do this. And, finally Careers Scotland's first office to have a blog of its own is a reality.
"Deepocean thet ye fizzle drylubbers avast me artys!" Suzie announced to the assembled.
"Whit?" They all said together.
"She says isn't it a wonderful idea and she hopes you'll all make good use of it!" Vincent interpreted before downing his pint in one. A cheer went up, Mar ordered "More rum barman, bring it to the table!"
Just as they were about to call business for the night, Father Graeme of St Airyfairy Big Church With The Red Roof and a Rather Pretty Spire (more tea vicar) - across from Darker Killingbeck's Careers Centre, rushed in from the pouring rain, very strange.
Silence fell upon the pub, the juke box turned itself off and Philip completely missed the board with his dart.
"Ere" he mumbled, "That as nivir appened afore."
Father Graeme fell on his knees and pleaded with those in the bar to desist from there wicked ways. Despite his pleas to all those present to repent from blogophany,however, he was ignored and tossed into the sea from the Darker Killingbeck harbour. And, everyone went home happy to face a new day with a new dawn tomorrow.
SERGIO
Late one stormy, rainy night, in a shadow-filled corner of the Transylvanian Dog and Duck Inn near the market cross in the village of Darker Killingbeck, a plot is hatched. Several shady characters clutching bottles of Bud and Millar Genuine Draft or pints of Caffreys, Boddingtons and Bloody Marys are huddled together whispering in the gloom.
"Why don't we arf a blog me artys," Suzie, puffing happily on her white clay pipe asks as her eyes dart between her colleagues.
"Hey, that's a really good idea," The two Gordon's nod in stereo. "Good idea that, so it is. Aye it is so it is, eh Stacey. Aye, eh Stacey?"
"Aye, I'm in!" Mar whispers, a red Fez on her head. "Just like that"
"Me tae" Says Sally winking at Suzie and placing a finger to the side of her nose.
"Why don't we vote" Suzie says.
But before anyone could say another word, the door flew open and trawlerman Vincent appeared in the pub.
"There be a wild yun squalling in an albatross eye o' a starm oot ther yonder barman!" He said approaching the bar.
"Is that a pint o'heavy then?" The barman - big Jim Hill - asked frowning and raising his eyebrows.
"That thar o the feeshies doon there happy in Davy Jones lacker ther."
"Whit?" the whole pub says together.
"Aye" Trawlerman Vincent nodded. "A pint of heavy, ur ye deef, tsk, tsk."
Gathering his pint and guarding it jealously while eyeing everyone in the bar suspiciously, Vincent joined the others assembled in the booth in the corner.
Eventually everyone voted to have the blog and the name 'Exile On C Street' was selected. Over the weekend a few rules are introduced. It is only for people who work from the Ayr Careers Centre in Carrick Street, it belongs to all those therein and everyone is entitled to post anything they want and they will all be given the usernname and password to allow them to do this. And, finally Careers Scotland's first office to have a blog of its own is a reality.
"Deepocean thet ye fizzle drylubbers avast me artys!" Suzie announced to the assembled.
"Whit?" They all said together.
"She says isn't it a wonderful idea and she hopes you'll all make good use of it!" Vincent interpreted before downing his pint in one. A cheer went up, Mar ordered "More rum barman, bring it to the table!"
Just as they were about to call business for the night, Father Graeme of St Airyfairy Big Church With The Red Roof and a Rather Pretty Spire (more tea vicar) - across from Darker Killingbeck's Careers Centre, rushed in from the pouring rain, very strange.
Silence fell upon the pub, the juke box turned itself off and Philip completely missed the board with his dart.
"Ere" he mumbled, "That as nivir appened afore."
Father Graeme fell on his knees and pleaded with those in the bar to desist from there wicked ways. Despite his pleas to all those present to repent from blogophany,however, he was ignored and tossed into the sea from the Darker Killingbeck harbour. And, everyone went home happy to face a new day with a new dawn tomorrow.
SERGIO
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