Someone, somewhere, in springtime has got the foggy notion into their head that 'soda' is not known as 'pop'. What piffle. In my country we have known 'fizzy drinks' as 'pop' for year upon year, for time out of mind. (That time wasn't bad; at least, not entirely, or not necessarily.) My editor, who looks always ahead, will approve when he learns that I have finally broken my duck, cast aside my musical backwardness, and moved on into the glittery pop future. Yes, I'm getting into The Carter Family. Could the Carters' song 'Single Girl, Married Girl' have been an inspiration for Lush's 'Single Girl'? Was there any inspiration for Lush's 'Single Girl'? Le Winship talked about Victoria. I know what he means. I think I do. The geezer Miller remarked that there had been a debate on Costello, and why he is bad. I read this list more closely than you think, and I don't remember such a debate. Did PJM perhaps have it on his own, with only his pals Pedro and Gonzalez for company and meek contradiction? Anyway, EC is not bad. From where I'm standing (but I'm not) he is probably still the world's greatest songwriter; the greatest to emerge in the last 30 years, anyway. This reminds me of the tangles that one can get into when thinking about things like 'the best songwriter in pop', etc. Should such battles royales include Bacharach, McCartney, Wilson, Harrison, Jagger, Townshend, King? Where is the cut-off point that separates Great People Who Belong To The Hall Of Fame and People Who Are Still In The Running For Thoughts Like Best Songwriter In The World Today? See, I would still put EC in the latter category, though he's starting to push it. B&S fans will be glad to hear that I think he is, or was, or has been, vastly more talented than the talented geezer Murdoch, who probably agrees with me. This may all sound like rambling nonsense without point. But Painted From Memory doesn't. Give it another try. The geezer Miller punctured the silliness of the J&D title with his references to the Coulthard and King. For some reason I really enjoyed them. The references, I mean, not so much the geezers themselves. It was vintage Miller. I have sometimes thought that someone should take 2,000 words or so to explain what is good and funny about the geezer Miller: because there is something there in his sentences that none of us have ever troubled fully to pin down. And if we don't, who will? Oh, of course - the big readership that his Daisywheel publication will get him. David Thomson, who is almost as brilliant as Elvis Costello, and even older, says that there's a difficult realization that one must come to about Cary Grant: namely, that besides everything else, he was the finest and most important actor in the history of the cinema. Is that true? I like him in The Philadelphia Story, where he seems to me to have a sort of clown's or chorus's role. Alcoholism has something to do with it: Brick in Cat On A Hot Tin Roof has a similar detached quality, as I remember. Jeez, I hope he's actually called Brick. It's the drink, see. Decimates the memory. Clive Tyldesley doesn't drink. You can tell, cos of the way he talks about one memorable night 700 days ago so ceaselessly, after promising not to talk about it. Big Ron tonight: 'Giggs has got it out of his street and roared with it'. But did Ron really say that, or did we fabricate it from his half-heard mumblings? Maybe Ron is actually a sort of sonic canvas which enables his auditors to be more linguistically colourful than they'd otherwise be. E99 said that Cazza was beautiful. I don't know about that, but he did once buy me a cocktail, and I have never forgotten. It's the drink, see. Helps the memory. People talked about Iron Maiden. Nick Dastoor will be irritated to hear that I find Iron Maiden revolting and worthless. Lia and Lee, or rather one of them, said that London was really great, and that they wanted to hear more about it, etc. I say: just tell us more about Texas. I'm sure it's a darned sight more interesting. Thomson - I had forgotten - also tells me that Grace Kelly only made six pictures. Can that be right? And how many were great? No, it can't be right. Someone check. I expect Lloyd Cole knows, or failing him (but I never fail him), Joan Didion. An interview early in chickfactor#10 ended with the mysterious words 'the Hamptons'. I have never known what these meant, but have never got round to the simple expedient of asking. And now I don't need to. Channel 4 are showing a documentary called Manhattan On The Beach which is about - the Hamptons. The Hamptons are a bunch of beaches and houses, or something. Hang on, I've forgotten. I think I might need to watch that programme again. It featured a somewhat unsavoury entrepreneur from Weybridge, who still seemed to belong in Weybridge even when he was in the Hamptons. I mean no slur on Weybridge in saying that. Possibly great poets have come from Weybridge. I think it was Sam Walton - but if it was someone else, apologies - who used sinister to announce his romantic progress with the gal Agnes. I have decided to follow suit and use sinister to announce that I may have written my last song. That was two days before All Tomorrow's Parties, so it's not really news. It's the end of soda, though, if not the death of pop. Mooro - I almost forgot - is one of the few people who can quote the Foxgloves and still leave the Foxgloves wondering for a while what he's on about. But we get there in the end. As usual, Big M, you were right. He does look good, doesn't he? I mean, she. __________________________________________________ Do You Yahoo!? Yahoo! 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