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Thursday, August 18, 2005

Help The Aged

Rooster!!!I'm not at all happy with all this Britpop being 10 years old shite (here, here and here). It's not because I reckon Britpop really got going with Parklife and Definitely Maybe, both released in 1994, or because it was a pretty crap label for a handful of disparate bands. No, it's because it makes me feel so god damn old. Shit label or not, I was well into it, Blur t-shirt, Supergrass poster, Oxford red DMs, fringe, Menswear gatefold debut vinyl, crush on Justine from Elastica, subscription to Select magazine, NME every Wednesday morning. It converted me from the 'weird kid in the corner with shit hair who listened to gay music', to the 'weird kid in the corner with Jarvis Cocker hair let's see if he'll copy us his Gene CD'. I used to tape the Evening Session off the radio every night, and every fortnight or so I'd compile all the best bits onto a C90 and flog them around school. That kept me in sausage rolls, bets and Shed Seven 7"s for a couple of years. I felt a bit lost musically when moving to Uni coincided with the death of Britpop (arguable but I reckon around the time of Princess Di's death and The Verve's Urban Hymns). I wonder what Echobelly are up to now.

Another fantastic Test match up at Manchester. I was watching it along with nearly half the TV watching public on Monday evening, another dramatic climax. As I was chewing on my nails praying for that last wicket, I almost got nostalgic for the days when following the Ashes was a damn sight easier on the nerves, the only puzzle being when on day three would England collapse and end up losing by 8 wickets or 200-odd runs. Apparently cricket shirts have been outselling football ones three to one just lately (I hope they aren't all the Henmaniacs of two months ago jumping another bandwagon - where are all the rugby fans of a couple of years ago?). Looking forward to Trent Bridge though now.

I didn't make it to Rich's barbeque on Saturday, but me, our kid and Scottish Dougie did pop round after closing time to help him clear up those full beer bottles. It was about three when we staggered away. Cheers Rich.

Stav.

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