Sinister: the King is dead, but he's not forgotten

[Dirty Vicar]

It seems like it's been a while. In the meantime I have done so much, but
most of it is of esoteric interest. I went to America for a bit, to observe
the election and play pinball. That was fun... well, the pinball was. If I
was on a roll I would often get scores of over 500,000,000 and successfully
battle the Power of the Twilight Zone, even if more usually the game
literally laughed at my pathetic efforts. I was somewhat irritated by the
election, though, and the way ANTICHRIST is going to spending another four
years in the White House. This is not what Ian Curtis died for.

Talking of death, like everyone else I was saddened by John Peel dying. I
don't live in the UK and have only on rare occasions been able to get
adequate Radio 1 reception, so Peel was not part of my life in the same way
that he was for many of you. I mainly remember him from his occasional Top
Of The Pops appearances, and things like that all-nighter music video
programme he did with the underappreciated John Walters on the night of
another election victory for Thatch. I seem to remember him doing a great
job of compering the (then) NME stage at Glastonbury one year I went too,
which was nice. 

There was a brief period in the early 1990s when I could actually hear Radio
1 properly, and that led to my enjoyment of John Peel's radio magic. The
funny thing is that for all people seem to go on about how he was Cap'n
Indie, the things I most remeember from his programme was world music, weird
electronica, ragga, and general exotica. For all that I did hear fab radio
sessions by the likes of The Sultans of Ping fc and Pavement, the music I
most associate with Peel is the jangly guitar sounds of African pop.

I like the way that Word magazine that's just come out is not afraid to talk
about Peel's nonce shame, something that people have been conveniently
forgetting in the rush to canonise him. This is life.

In other death news, I noticed that Yasser Arafat finally died last week.
Although primarily famous as the leader of the Palestinians, Arafat did
acquire some fame in certain quarters as the bass player with popular 1980s
indie band Felt, going on in that respect to inspire Belle & Sebastian in
much the same way that he inspired countless strugglers against imperialism.
I saw some interesting footage of Arafat from the late 1970s and early
1980s, a period when he still had it. I reckon if he had been killed in
Beirut in 1982 as planned then he would now be as iconic a figure as Che
Guevara and would be staring down from countless student bedroom walls.
Instead he got to grow old and his chaotic and incompetent approach to
administration and negotiation became more apparent. Still, I had no qualms
about signing his book of condolences.

And the struggle continues... here in Dublin the ladies of Dublin are
struggling for their rights, and I'm doing my level best to support them.
They're hosting a lovely festival here called Ladyfest, and in a shocking
break with tradition non-ladies like myself are able to go along to see gigs
where bands not entirely composed of ladies do their thing. Thus far I keep
getting down too late to catch the early birds, but I have greatly enjoyed
Americhord's live techno set, the folk-rock adventures of Katell Keineg, and
especially Pram's space pop. Today I will be going along to see more lovely
ladies play at an all-ages gig which looks like being lots of fun.

So, eh, that's all I've got time for.

your grubby pal,

DV


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