The Glass Walking-Stick

War Horse

2012-01-26T19:35:00.006Z

After watching a couple of small-scale movies at Gloucester's Guildhall ( Midnight In Paris, My Week With Marilyn ) it's time to head back to the multiplex for Spielberg's latest blockbuster, War Horse.

Based on the classic children's novel by Michael Morpurgo, War Horse is a deceptively simple tale of a young boy and his horse. Teenager Albert Narracott ( Jeremy Irvine ) is growing up on a dirt-poor Devon farm on the eve of the First World War with his alcoholic father ( Peter Mullan ) and long-suffering mother ( a wonderfully weary but tough Emily Watson ). His father returns from market one day, having blown his money on a horse which, at first glance, seems totally unsuitable to the hard task of ploughing stony Dartmoor fields. Albert names the horse Joey and takes it upon himself to break in and train the reluctant animal. But even with all Albert's hard work and love for the horse, a combination of ruined harvests and an unscrupulous landlord

( David Thewlis having a great time ) means that Albert's dad ends up selling Joey to the army when war is announced.

The film then follows Joey's adventures as he passes from owner to owner and witnesses firsthand ( firsthoof? ) the horrors of war.

First, Joey becomes a cavalry mount for thoroughly decent chap Captain Nicholls ( Tom Hiddleston, vying with Michael Fassbinder for title of hardest working actor in showbiz ) but then, after a disastrous raid on a German camp, along with another horse - Topthorn - he falls into the hands of the German army. Two young deserters take Joey and try to escape from the front line. Inevitably, they are caught and executed and Joey is then taken in by an old Frenchman and his sickly granddaughter.

Eventually, Joey finds himself amongst the mud, barbed-wire and bloodshed of the Front, again at the mercy of the German war-machine. At this point in the story, now near the end of the war, Albert too is in the trenches, still dreaming of being reunited with his horse. If he can stay alive...

War Horse is a return to old school film-making of the family-friendly kind for Spielberg. You won't find the bleached-out, shaky-cam action scenes of Saving Private Ryan or War Of The Worlds here. Instead you get expansive, wide-screen compositions, with the camera lingering over landscapes like the clouds drifting over the Dartmoor hills. From England's green and pleasant land, to a thundering cavalry charge ( referencing Lawrence Of Arabia's attack on Aqaba ), to the swampy hell of No Man's Land, Spielberg and cinematographer Janusz Kaminski paint their backdrops with the skill of an Old Master.

And in those landscapes they show us people ( and horses ) struggling to stay alive, to get back home, to make sense of it all. Albert and Joey are two of a kind: innocent but headstrong and loyal. They are both buffeted by fate, both lose friends to the war, and their eventual reuniting is as moving as it is inevitable. Spielberg pulls the audience's strings in a way he hasn't since ET but you don't mind: this is a proper, old-fashioned epic which asks you to invest in the characters and leave your modern cynicism at the door. There are so many beautiful moments along the way: Mrs. Narracott's speech about her husband's traumatic experience in the Boer War, the touching friendship between Joey and Topthorn ( who said "Get a stable"? ), the hissing goose that chases after anyone setting foot on the Narracott farm, the luminous French landscapes only miles from the Front, the English and German soldiers uniting to save a trapped Joey, and the titular horse's exhilarating gallop through the trenches.

War Horse is a film that speaks of the horrors of war but also of the importance of friendship, loyalty and love. It's that simple and that powerful...

Soundtrack: Dark And Long, Mmmm Skyscraper I Love You, Surfboy by Underworld

2012: Year Of The Dragon

2012-01-23T19:47:00.005Z

The Chinese Year Of The Dragon starts today...

Hope it's not too hot for you...

Midnight In Paris / My Week With Marilyn

2012-01-18T20:33:00.005Z

Sometimes you need to get away from the multiplex, away from the boy wizards and robots-in-disguise, and away from the twenty-first century altogether.

I've seen a couple of films recently at my favourite venue, Gloucester's Guildhall Arts Centre, a place where I've spent many a night jumping up and down to loud rock music, but haven't frequented as a movie-house. Which was my loss, obviously.

First up was Woody Allen's latest, Midnight In Paris. Although I've been a fan of the Woodster ( as nobody calls him ) for many years, I've never seen any of his movies on the big screen before. I was too young for the glory days of Annie Hall, Manhattan etc. and a lot of his later films haven't really grabbed me. Midnight In Paris, however, is something different: a romantic comedy / drama / time-travel movie (!), somewhat in the vein of his earlier A Midsummer Night's Sex Comedy.

Young(ish) engaged couple, Gil ( Owen Wilson ) and Inez ( Rachel McAdams ) are holidaying in Paris with her awful Republican parents. Gil is a successful Hollywood screenwriter but feels he's just a hack and longs to be a novelist, preferably one living in the Jazz Age of Gay Paree, while Inez is mostly concerned with buying hideous objets d'art and hanging around with her former tutor / lover, Michael Sheen's pompous Paul. One evening, while his companions head out to a club, an inebriated Gil decides to walk the Parisian streets to clear his head, only to find himself picked up by a bunch of champagne-swigging revellers in an old car and somehow whisked back in time to Paris in the '20s. Here he meets a veritable Who's Who of Jazz Age stars: Hemingway, TS Eliot, Gertrude Stein, the Fitzgeralds, Picasso, Dali, Man Ray, and many more. Gil can't believe his luck as he gets to meet and party with his heroes... but he also starts to doubt his sanity. Over a few nights of time-travelling he falls in love with Adriana, muse to the stars, as played by the luminous Marion Cotillard...

Midnight In Paris is a beautifully shot, warm, witty and romantic fantasy. The footage of Paris itself is exquisite ( if a little "chocolate box"-y ) and had me reaching for my passport. Owen Wilson ( an actor I've never been too bothered about before ) is fine as poor, romantic Gil, in way over his head; Marion Cotillard is as elegant and full of life as ever; Michael Sheen is wonderfully slimy as the pontificating professor who meets his match in Carla Bruni's museum guide; and there are some memorable performances from Kathy Bates as Gertrude Stein, Corey Stoll as a testosterone-fuelled Hemingway, Adrien Brody almost stealing the movie as Dali, and a beautifully vulnerable Alison Pill as Zelda Fitzgerald. Although a fairly lighweight movie ( especially compared with some of Woody's more serious works ) Midnight... is not afraid to make the point that nostalgia is all well and good, but it's too easy to idolise the past and forget to live today. Gil sees the Jazz decade as being a Golden Age, but '20s socialite Adriana yearns for the turn of the century Belle Epoque, and when they are both transported further back in time they discover that artists such as Matisse are similarly misty-eyed about the days of the Renaissance. And so it goes.

Last week we again went to the Guildhall ( it's becoming a habit! ), this time to see My Week With Marilyn, the allegedly-true story of a young Englishman's affair with Marilyn Monroe. Colin Clark was a would-be film-maker who got a job with Laurence Olivier's production company in 1956 and wound up working on the limp comedy The Prince And The Showgirl. As Third Assistant Director he was basically "Larry" Olivier's gopher but soon became confidant and lover ( so the story goes ) to the biggest female movie star in the world...

My Week With Marilyn chronicles the disastrous meeting between two schools of acting: the old, theatre-based style of the great Olivier and the modern, "Method" style as attempted by Marilyn. I say "attempted" because Ms. Monroe, at this point in her career, was notoriously incapable of learning her lines or turning up to set on time. The film shows Olivier trying to deal with a Marilyn whose marriage to her third husband ( Arthur Miller ) is on the rocks after only a matter of days, who is constantly doped-up to combat her nerves and insomnia, and who is accompanied at all times by interfering Method guru Paula Strasberg ( Zoe Wanamaker ), much to Olivier's fury.

The scenes of film-making - the Rank studios, union in-fighting, constant delays, tea and biscuits - are a wonderful peek into a drab, post-war, very English movie world, a million miles from Tinseltown. The usual thespian suspects are present and correct: Judi Dench as a warm, ever-considerate Dame Sybil Thorndike, Derek Jacobi as a royal librarian, a feisty Emma Watson as Colin's put-upon girlfriend, and Kenneth Branagh in probably his dream role as England's greatest Shakespearean actor.

But the film belongs, of course, to Michelle Williams as Marilyn. By turns vulnerable, flighty, neurotic, funny, harsh and very sexy, without being the cartoon-Marilyn of a thousand impersonations, Ms. Williams' performance is spookily accurate, and it's only her slightly slimmer physique that stops her from being Marilyn reborn. She perfectly conveys the disconnect between Marilyn's public and private personae ( facing a crowd at one point, she says to Colin "Shall I be her?" as she puts on the Marilyn glamour for their approval ) and her yearning for a family life she was fated to never have. The only weak link here is Eddie Redmayne as Colin. The character comes across as naive and wide-eyed, but still strong in his desire to protect and love the American beauty. However, there is very little else to the character beyond his obsession with Marilyn; and his treatment of Emma Watson's Lucy doesn't endear him to the viewer. He's really there to stare in wonder, on our behalf, at one of the greatest stars of her time...

( While I'm on the subject of the Guildhall Cinema, I'll just mention that this week I went to the first meeting of the Film Focus Group, a monthly meeting to decide which films will be shown at the Guildhall in coming months. I didn't know what to expect, really, but I'm always interested in movies and I'm a keen supporter of the Guildhall, so I thought I'd give it a try. It turned out to be an interesting evening with a real cross-section of people there, from young film students, to bloggers, to former projectionists and amateur film-makers. The ages ranged from early twenties to one very outspoken 81-year old. The selection of films under consideration wasn't too hot, but we watched trailers and debated them, and also talked about ourselves and our interests in film. I definitely enjoyed it and plan to go again next month. )

FF Fridays: Medusa

2012-01-13T21:50:00.010Z

Songs of 2011

2012-01-10T06:39:00.011Z

Ludicrously late I know ( it's an annual tradition! ) ... but here's my pick of 2011's musical delights.

Yet again, female artists have dominated the charts ( these are the UK pop charts I'm talking about here, can't really comment on anywhere else ) which is A Good Thing, especially if they can combat the germ-like spread of boybands like The Wanted, One Direction etc. Surely the world's had enough of these cloned pretty boys? I certainly have.

Probably the most ubiquitous, ever-present song of the year was Lana Del Rey's doomy, haunting Video Games. The first time I heard it I was a bit non-plussed but its retro romanticism grew on me until it became a real favourite. There's been a lot of talk recently on t'internet ( and in the "real" world ) about the lovely, permanently-pouting Ms. Del Rey's "authenticity" or lack thereof. As if that's ever mattered in pop music. What does matter is that Video Games is a great song and is seemingly resistant to the endless streams of remixes that have washed over it. It remains to be seen if the singer herself has any more tricks up her designer sleeves...

For yet another year, everything Rihanna's touched has turned to gold. Or red. For instance:

You Da One

We Found Love ( with Calvin Harris )

Take Care ( with Drake )

...dancefloor-conquering monsters all. Is there no stopping her? Let's hope not.

For now, Rihanna walks that walk and talks that talk, and no-one else comes near.

When it comes to Adele you have to wheel out that word "ubiquitous" again. It's been scientifically proven that, in 2011, nobody in the British Isles was more than 75 seconds away from hearing an Adele song. ( Although I may have made up that statistic it sounds about right. )

While I like Adele's amazing, earthy voice more than a lot of her songs, which are often too easy-listening for my liking, she did bring us these cracking singles:

Someone Like You

Rolling In The Deep

Set Fire To The Rain

Rumour Has It

...which was good of her...

And then there's Stefani Joanne Angelina Germanotta or Lady Gaga to you and me. Last year ( still can't get used to 2011 being "last year" ) saw the diminutive diva launch her second album with more huge arena shows, more outrageous costumes, more wigs, more saxophones ( RIP Clarence ), more everything. And probably more cowbell, too. And these wonderful songs:

Born This Way

The Edge Of Glory

Marry The Night

Judas

Florence and her Machine finally made a comeback with the long-awaited second album, Ceremonials. In a similar vein to Gaga, Ms. Welch confounded anyone who might have expected a more stripped-down sound this time by turning everything up to 11 and then sprinkling the results with cyber-mutant-pixie-dust. Or something. I haven't listened to the album as much as I'd like as it's permanently welded into Sarah's car stereo, but it does sound amazing, especially the head-spinning Shake It Out. Sarah, Sophie and I are going to experience the Machine age later in the year when we go and see Flo and co. play live in Cardiff. And supported by The Horrors, too! Can't wait!

Meanwhile, in the blinged-up, shot-up, spliffed-up world of Hip Hop the biggest, baddest rappers of them all, Jay-Z and Kanye West, teamed up to become a fire-breathing Raposaurus

( Rap-tor? ) that stomped over all opposition with their album Watch The Throne.

I only got round to buying the album itself last weekend, so I'm still trying to take it all in: a dark, powerful set of unconventional songs and raps, with some awesome production and the feeling that here you have two rappers still at the top of their game, still with much to give and to prove, even after all this time. Standout tracks:

Why I Love You

Otis

No Church In The Wild

N****s In Paris

Why is this man covering his ears? Perhaps he's trying to keep his brain in place after melting it with hypersonic Dubstep. This is Skrillex and he's been bringing the noise this year with:

Scary Monsters And Nice Sprites

Breakin' A Sweat

Bangarang

Dubstep is an almost unexplainable subgenre of Hip Hop / Grime / Drum 'n' Bass / whatever you want to call it, and can be the most exciting or most irritating sound around, with its seemingly-random bloops and bleeps and time-changes. James is just getting into Dubstep ( and music in general ) and it'll be interesting to see if he sticks with it.

Also burning up the dance-floors in 2011 were:

Hello by Martin Solveig & Dragonette

Bounce by Calvin Harris & Kelis

Louder by DJ Fresh

Good Feeling by Flo Rida

Go by Delilah

Earthquake by Labrinth ( yes, he spells it like that ) & Tinie Tempah ( can any of these guys spell? )

Youngster by Rizzle Kicks ( great Clash sample! )

Levels by Avicii

"But what of guitar bands?" I hear you say,"Where were they in 2011?"

( Actually that's just the voices in my head talking, but I'll try to answer them anyway... )

It seemed to me to be yet another dull year for guitar bands. I heard lots of bands on the radio - You Me At Six, Band Of Skulls, Bring Me The Horizon, to name a few - who sounded pretty good for the duration of a song, but who I instantly forgot once their 3 minutes were up. One exception were The Vaccines, indie's Great White Hopes of 2011. Their twangy, windswept sound reminded me of The Strokes, The Ramones and The Jesus & Mary Chain, with a dash of very English fatalism... and some cool song titles:

Wetsuit

Post Breakup Sex

If You Wanna

Wreckin' Bar ( Ra Ra Ra )

...they also looked like a proper band, not just a bunch of straight-out-of-Uni chancers...

And they had gratuitous pictures of girl drummers flashing on their album sleeve. What more could you want?

But the best band of the year for me were The Horrors, former Goth Punk revivalists turned purveyors of epic soundscapes, creators of the instant-classic album, Skying. Blending Psychedelia, Goth, '80s Indie and even the dreaded Shoegazing with their own louche attitude and intensity, Faris and the boys make it all look easy. But it isn't. It takes a band of exceptional talent and vision to produce songs like

Endless Blue

I Can See Through You

Changing The Rain

and my favourite song of the year: Still Life

The Horrors were fantastic supporting Primal Scream at the Eden Project ( gig of the year! ) and I'm looking forward to seeing them again, supporting Florence, as mentioned above.

Before I wrap this list up with the now-traditional admission that I've probably missed out loads of good stuff, I'll just give a shout-out to a few random songs that caught my ear last year:

Rope by Foo Fighters

L.I.F.E.G.O.E.S.O.N by Noah And The Whale

Don't Sit Down 'Cos I've Moved Your Chair by Arctic Monkeys

Rewired by Kasabian

Thank you and good night...

The many faces of David Jones

2012-01-08T12:54:00.006Z

Happy Birthday to Ziggy Stardust, Aladdin Sane, The Thin White Duke, Thomas Jerome Newton, The Goblin King...

and David Bowie. All 65 today!

Things I didn't blog about in 2011

2012-01-02T00:29:00.016Z

As usual there were loads of things last year that I never got round to blogging about for one reason or another. As well as films I watched but didn't review ( Captain America, Tintin ) and bands I saw but never mentioned ( Bristol's Punk/Metal sensations Off The Wall ) there were various events and news stories that didn't make it to the virtual pages of The Glass Walking-Stick. So, here's a quick rummage through the drawers marked "Why the hell didn't I blog about this...?"

In August, a couple of days before Sophie's birthday, we visited the beautiful city of Bath. Sarah and I had been there years ago, but the kids had never seen it.

As well as the wonderful architecture, the shops and the Fashion Museum, we had to check out the world-famous Roman Baths themselves.

A fantastic World Heritage site, the Baths are a must-see for anyone interested in the history of Great Britain, from the Roman occupation up to the present day.

Just don't drink the water...

Seriously... don't drink it. You can sample the warm, lime-scale-tasting water in the Pump Room but you'd probably be better off drinking bath water :-)

On a much sadder note, 2011 was the year the world tragically lost the talented but troubled Amy Winehouse. We were on holiday in Newquay at the time and we sat, open-mouthed, as the news of her death came over the TV. I was genuinely moved by her passing

( more than I thought I would be ) and still find it difficult to listen to her music, which I love, but which has had such a dark shadow cast over it in the last year.

The fact that her music could be heard just about everywhere in the weeks after her death didn't help. We were in one of Rick Stein's establishments in Padstow, an up-market, snooty gift shop, and I was surprised to hear them playing all of Back To Black, swear words and all, in place of the usual Enya or whale-song. I thought

( rightly or wrongly ) that this music and this artist didn't belong here, wasn't just background noise to a shopping trip, and certainly wouldn't have been playing if she hadn't just died.

And, as you can tell, it still annoys me...

RIP Amy...

Also in the Summer we went to the Fairford Royal International Air Tattoo. This was the 40th anniversary of the Air Show and was a spectacular, if wet, weekend of awesome hardware and other attractions...

Featuring ( to mention a few ) the B52 Stratofortress...

The Eurofighter Typhoon...

The Pimm's Flight Deck

( jug of Pimm's in evidence - how civilized! )...

We'd bought Sarah's parents tickets to the Air Show as a present for her dad's retirement and, even though the weather was pretty dodgy, we had a great day.

There was even a special appearance by big-nosed Pulp vigilante, The Shadow. I had to get a pic of that one!

Strangely enough, we also saw bootylicious Pop/Soul star Alexandra Burke giving a pretty impressive performance not far from the crowd-line.

This was good fun with Ms. Burke in fine voice, but quite bizarre to be watching a gig whilst also checking out the sky for passing fighter planes...

In the so-called "real" world in 2011 there was apparently a Royal Wedding...

And the less said about that the better. At least we got a Bank Holiday out of it, which we spent at my mate Kev's BBQ, followed by yet another gig by those Chinese Burn boys...

In 2011 we finally got rid of our dilapidated old kitchen ( see above ), which Sarah's had to put up with for 14 years or so. She took great delight in destroying the knackered, hideous old kitchen units, as can be seen below...

You go girl!!

Such fun!

Even James got in on the act, taking it apart from the inside :-)

Here's Sophie, doing her bit...

And here's the new kitchen in all its glory!

Tea and cake, anyone?

Last but not least, 2011 also saw the end of an era as we finally, after much heartache and stress, said goodbye to my Mum's bungalow.

It was definitely a case of mixed emotions as we finally shut the door on The Spinney. Selling the property and dealing with the myriad problems that came with it ( not least being the major subsidence issues that had to be sorted via insurance, tree removal and building work ) seemed to take up all our free time for the first half of the year. Many times we'd thought the place would never sell as potential buyers messed us around, dropped out, and the housing market continued to spiral downwards, while all the time we were chasing estate agents, builders, loss adjusters etc. Nightmare! So, in many ways we were relieved when it was all over but, of course, saddened because another link with the past had gone.

Anyway, onwards and upwards in 2012...

Happy New Year from The Glass Walking-Stick!

2012-01-01T15:02:00.002Z

Here's wishing a happy and healthy 2012 to all you lovely people out there in Blogland!

And keep rockin'!!

Whatever Happened To Steranko Saturdays?

2011-12-31T01:40:00.005Z

No, I'm not bringing them back. I just thought I'd give a quick shout-out to blogger extraordinaire The Groovy Agent who has posted that psychedelic Steranko classic Nick Fury, Agent Of SHIELD no. 5 in its entirety, over at the ever-wonderful

Diversions Of The Groovy Kind...

If you're interested in mind-blowing visuals, hard-bitten super spies, crazy gadgets, cool dames and insane villains with astrology fetishes ( and who wouldn't be? ) ...then check it out!

And, while I'm here, have a great New Year's Eve! Peace, mister!

The Beat / Chinese Burn

2011-12-30T00:02:00.017Z

To finish off what has been a fantastic year for gigs, here are two of my favourite live bands doing their thing in two great local venues. Firstly The Beat at Gloucester's Guildhall...

Ranking Roger and the boys brought the warmth of their Caribbean-via-Coventry blend of ska and reggae to a wintry Gloucester city centre. All the old classics were revisited, bringing smiles to faces and feet to the dance floor:

Hands Off... She's Mine, Too Nice To Talk To, Tears Of A Clown, Stand Down Margaret ( not updated to Stand Down Cameron, unfortunately ), Best Friend and - of course - Mirror In The Bathroom. And, as they say, many more...

The Beat are a highly efficient, purpose-built groove machine, firing on all cylinders. Just try and stand still when they're playing! Go on, I dare you! The rhythms are infectious, the tunes sublime and the interplay between Roger and his son, Ranking Junior, is a joy to behold. Even a strangely "straight" crowd ( the type that probably only go to one gig every couple of years, get absolutely hammered before a note is played, and are ready for trouble as soon as someone looks at them wrong or steps on their toes... ) ...even a crowd like that are helpless before the good time vibes of The Beat and their message of Peace, Love and Unity.

I'd bought my mate Glenn his ticket to the previous week's TV Smith gig as a birthday present, so he bought me my Beat ticket in return for my birthday. Cheers, Glenn!

Jump forward in time to this Wednesday night and Stroud's finest, the mighty Chinese Burn, are rocking Bristol's famous Fleece...

The other bands on the bill are a very promising Kooks / Vampire Weekend-inspired group of youngsters called The Fixed, an uninspiring Punk/Pop/Teen band with the yawnsome name of Area 51, and headliners The Baronesques.

They're an all-girl Rock band with a fairly dated Runaways / Bangles sound, who also do covers of groups like Red Hot Chilli Peppers and The Gossip. Not bad, but not too exciting either. However, from a totally sexist, male chauvinist perspective, the bass player, Becky, is a goddess...

As you can see.

On to another bunch of sexy young things now, the mighty Burn...

Unfortunately, the guys were first band on so that meant only a half hour set with no encores. But what that did mean was a streamlined, "Greatest Hits" set, bursting with the kind of tunes, hooks and energy that got them such a favourable review from Goldblade's John Robb. He knows quality Punk Rock when he sees it...

Here's Ben, one of the most eccentric, charismatic frontmen you'll ever see, recently recovered from falling down between two monitors and nearly off the stage...

And here's Ed and Glenn striking a suspiciously Status Quo-like pose...

And Glenn again, having a great time! When I posted this photo on Facebook he said it "sums up what it's like to play in the Burn really..."

And, to finish, a quick look at the audience, starting with hardcore fans Wendy, Carol, Rob and Helen...

Me, Andy K from the legendary Demob and Noise Agents, and that man Glenn again...

And my rock chick ( for one night, anyway ) daughter Sophie and her boyfriend Jon, who was experiencing the joys of live Punk Rock for the first time. Makes a change from Dubstep :-)

So, another great evening at the Fleece and, on the strength of this gig, the Burn have been offered a support slot with old Punkers 999 later in 2012. Sounds good!

Doctor Who: The Doctor, The Widow And The Wardrobe ( review with spoilers )

2011-12-27T00:22:00.006Z

"Where are we?"
"In a forest in a box in a sitting-room. Pay attention..."

This year's Doctor Who Christmas Special is the now traditional brandy-soaked, mince pie-stuffed collision of sentimentality, good ideas, not-so-good ideas, Christmas iconography and budget-busting effects. With holly on top. And, old seasonal softy that I am, I loved it. ( Sorry, but if you're looking for a harsh, nit-picking fanboy's deconstruction of Steven Moffatt's failings, then, please... look away. )

The story starts with a bravura special effects setpiece, as the Doctor literally becomes The Man Who Fell To Earth, plummeting to pre-war England in a stolen "impact-suit" from an exploding spaceship ( a very impressive CGI wonder, equal parts Star Wars and Hitch Hiker's... ). The Doctor's helped on his way by quintessential, take-charge war-time Mum, Madge Arwell ( Claire Skinner ) and promises to come to her aid if she ever needs him. When her pilot husband, Reg ( Alexander Armstrong ) is lost over the Channel ( doing his best David Niven impression ) it looks like she'll need the aid of her Fallen Angel...

The story cuts to three years later when Madge and her two children, Lily and Cyril, are evacuated during the Blitz and end up in an empty country manor house with an unusual caretaker...

Of course, it's the Doctor, who's doing his best to make Christmas special for the family but ends up, inevitably, placing them in danger. Young Cyril is tempted to open his Christmas present early ( see? that always spells trouble... ) and finds himself drawn into a frozen Narnia-esque forest. But he's not there on his own...

Cyril follows an unseen figure deeper into the forest, while the Doctor and Lily chase after him until they find a lighthouse containing wooden statues of a queen and a king and discover the secret of the forest. Madge, meanwhile, encounters some heavily-armed forest rangers who inform her that the whole, planet-spanning forest is about to be destroyed by acid rain. And so will her family if they stay there...

This story is visually stunning with its locations ranging from the warm visuals of the war-time family home to the frosty forest of "naturally occurring Christmas trees". There's an authentically folkloric feel to the images of the lonely lighthouse, the creaking wooden figures, the life-force "stars" rising up from the trees. That Alexander Armstrong's lost pilot / father will be returned to his family by the end is not exactly a surprise, but it still comes as a suitably heart-warming conclusion to the tale, and the Lancaster's flight through the Time Vortex is typical of the juxtapositions of the realistic and the fantastic that Doctor Who does so well.

The performances of the main cast are fine, Matt Smith again showing his ( and the Doctor's ) natural empathy with children, Claire Skinner and Alexander Armstrong doing sterling work with their admittedly limited roles. Not so good, and my main gripe with the episode, are the characters of the Space Marine-styled forest rangers. Bill Bailey, Arabella Weir and, er, the other one are wasted as some Douglas Adams-inspired characters who are there only for exposition and comic relief, but are a serious misjudgement.

All in all, an enjoyable and visually lovely story which, as ever, probably works best at Christmas when you're quite content to overlook minor niggles ( the way the Doctor is accepted as "caretaker", the lack of a focused threat beyond the impending ecological disaster ) in a haze of post-Christmas dinner good vibes. In that ( Christmas ) spirit I'll give the episode:

4 out of 5 Bow Ties ( or mince pies )

Merry Christmas everyone!

2011-12-25T00:31:00.002Z

Wishing you all a happy and healthy Christmas!

FF Fridays: Have a Fantastic Christmas!

2011-12-23T20:47:00.004Z

Festive FF fun from artists Evan "Doc" Shaner and Michael Cho, courtesy of the Kirby Museum. Check out their Kirby Vision blog here...

Soundtrack: Family Friend by The Vaccines

Joe Strummer in black and white

2011-12-22T19:32:00.005Z

Incredibly, it's now 9 years since we lost the great Joe Strummer.

"All we want to achieve is an atmosphere where things can happen, to keep the spirit of the free world alive. We want to keep out that safe, soapy slush that comes out of the radio. "

"All we've got is a few guitars, amps and drums. That's our weaponry..."

"Well so long liberty, let's forget you didn't show

Not in my time

But in our sons and daughters' time..."

"White youth, black youth, better find another solution

Why not phone up Robin Hood and ask him for some wealth distribution?"

RIP Joe Strummer 21/08/52 - 22/12/02

The future is unwritten

Soundtrack Yalla Yalla by Joe Strummer & The Mescaleros

Joe Simon

2011-12-15T22:54:00.005Z

RIP Joe Simon, legendary co-creator of Captain America...

And many other heroes...

45 rpm

2011-12-14T00:41:00.002Z

...or, indeed, 45 years old

...and I feel fine :-)

TV Smith and The Valentines play the Best of The Adverts

2011-12-11T18:21:00.011Z

OK, this is where any remaining shred of objectivity goes out the window. I've been a fan of The Adverts for nearly 30 years and their debut album, Crossing The Red Sea With The Adverts, is one of my all-time favourite records. Typically for me I got into the band long after they'd disbanded and frontman TV Smith had moved on to his not-hugely-successful solo career.

The Adverts are remembered, if at all, for their topically tasteless 1977 single, Gary Gilmore's Eyes and for the "Punk Pin-Up" status of female bass-player, Gaye Advert. But they really had much more going for them. Tim "TV" Smith was a sardonic, intelligent frontman in an era of often deliberately dumbed-down Punk personalities, as well as one of the finest lyricists to come out of that time. His songs were often ironic commentaries on the UK in general and the Punk scene in particular, dressed up in a unique world-view of crumbling decadence.

So, there was no way I was going to miss the chance to see Smith perform his classic Adverts songs at Bristol's grimy rock 'n' roll emporium, The Fleece. And on my mate Glenn's birthday, too. Perfect.

But would TV live up to expectations? I mean, I would count The Adverts as my favourite Punk band after the Pistols and The Clash; I'd first bought their debut album on cassette when I was a teenager, wore that out , then bought it again on red (!) vinyl; bought every second-hand single I could get hold of; spent literally years hunting for their ( ultimately disappointing ) second album; etc. etc. That's a lot to live up to...

I didn't need to worry. After sinking a few pints in the pub next door ( with a bunch of friends including, bizarrely, Gaye Advert's sister, Wendy... ) and watching a lackluster support set by Charred Hearts, I headed down the front to the sounds of Punk classic No Time To Be 21.

TV Smith is a wired, wizened, lightning-bolt of barely-suppressed energy. With his hair left to go grey and his strange, slow-motion stage moves he's like a Punk Albert Steptoe , albeit a Steptoe singing some of the sharpest lyrics ever, in a voice still clear, strong and distinctive.

The Valentines are a fine, no-nonsense band from Italy who capture the scratchy, slashy sound of The Adverts perfectly. There will never be an Adverts reunion ( the bass-player's retired from music, the guitarist's dead, the drummer... who knows? ) but this lot are the next best thing and clearly love what they're doing. And so does Mister Smith. He treats us to classic after classic, screeching Punk rock bombshells bursting over the crowd...

( That's my copy of the set-list, nicked from the stage. )

I have to admit to becoming quite emotional as the set went on: I never thought I'd hear songs like On The Roof or Newboys played live by their author and I found it quite overwhelming. TV thrust the mike into my face so I could "sing" along to Bombsite Boy and Great British Mistake - my absolute fave Adverts song:

The great British mistake was looking for a way out

Was getting complacent

Not noticing the pulse was racing

The mistake was fighting the change

Was staying the same

The venue properly erupted for the last three guttersnipe anthems, as TV took the Adverts story full-circle to their first single, One Chord Wonders. They encored with Coming In To Land, the title track from his new album ( pretty damn good! ), the festive-but-funny whinge of Christmas Bloody Christmas and Adverts classic Cast Of Thousands.

Here I am at the front of the stage, looking as happy as a dog with two dicks. ( And that's pretty happy! )

And here with the man himself, Mister Tim Smith, who turned out to be a lovely, funny guy, who was quite happy to have a drink and a laugh with starstruck fans like me and seemed genuinely happy that he'd made my day...

Here he is again with me and birthday boy Glenn...

And with the same two reprobates, but with added Punkette glamour from Angie and Carol.

I've heard it said many times that you should never meet your heroes, they'll always disappoint. Well, not in this case. It was a pleasure to meet such a proper gentleman after half a lifetime of enjoying his music. Maybe I shouldn't leave it so long next time...

FF Fridays: Fantastic Four 600

2011-12-09T17:43:00.008Z

FF no. 600 is a 100-page celebration of 50 years of The World's Greatest Comic Magazine. Written by regular series scribe Jonathan Hickman, illustrated by a host of artists and featuring variant covers by the likes of John Romita Jr. and Joe Quesada, it's quite a package.

The main story sees the FF and the Avengers trying to save the Earth ( well, New York ) from an attacking Kree armada. And while the assembled heroes deal with death rays from above and Sentinels in the streets, in the alternate reality known as the Negative Zone, Annihilus is preparing his insect hordes for invasion...

Hang on! The Negative Zone? Isn't that the last resting place of the late, lamented Johnny Storm aka the Human Torch? Well yeah, and as expected this issue sees the return of ol' Match-head to the Marvel Universe. It turns out that Johnny has been resurrected by Annihilus ( life and death being somewhat different in the Neg Zone ) and forced into a gladiatorial arena to do battle with all manner of creepy-crawlies, only to be killed again. And resurrected again. It's a tough life in the Negative Zone.

Eventually, with the aid of some new-found alien allies Johnny defeats Annihilus and his army, opens the portal back to our universe and finds himself back in the main plotline...

( Of course, the images above are by Jack Kirby from waaaaay back in the FF's past, and as previously seen here. )

Jonathan Hickman manages to pull off the inevitable return of the Human Torch with some style and the scenes of insectoid horror in the Negative Zone are suitably icky. Johnny Storm certainly shows rare heroism and determination in his struggles to return to our reality, but it still seems more of a marketing campaign than a storyline to me. However I am intrigued to see where this all leads, so I might drop in on the FF again. So, er, that marketing strategy must be working...

A couple of FF-related links to finish:

Doctor Strange fan Ptor is seriously pissed off about Stephen Strange's appearance in this issue... and I don't blame him...

And, on a lighter note, Steve W talks about robots, gas and the Master Of Planet X...

Soundtrack: Crossing The Red Sea With The Adverts

Two by two

2011-12-07T23:33:00.005Z

Oh, those Suicide Girls

2011-12-06T08:22:00.010Z

Comics Year Zero - 1971

2011-12-05T15:43:00.015Z

My own personal Year Zero, that is... comics themselves have been around a little bit longer. Looking at my collection of beaten-up, torn, often coverless comics from my formative years it seems that 1971 was the year I really got into comics. ( American ones specifically for the purposes of this post. ) I had a few before from 1969/70 ( like Thor no. 181 ) but 1971 was the year my habit really started.

Fantastic Four no. 106 was my first ever glimpse of the FF, predating their appearances in Marvel UK's Mighty World Of Marvel. This was part of John Romita's short-lived tenure on the mag when he had the unenviable task of following Kirby's ground-breaking, 102-issue run. Of course, I didn't know any of this stuff back then. All I knew was I loved the comic! Three superheroes were battling an energy-blasting "monster" ( actually a scientist's son trapped in an out-of-control, experimental suit ) which was rampaging through New York. Meanwhile, another "monster" ( The Thing ) was similarly enduring the effects of a dangerous experiment, midway through one of Reed Richards' periodic attempts to cure him.

Being one of my first ever comics, FF 106 left a lifetime-lasting effect on my eager imagination. While not a "classic" by most people's reckoning it still contains some great Stan Lee dialogue

( "As a scientist you're the tops, Rambow! But as a liar... you're a washout, hear? I can see right thru you!" ) as well as some indelible images: the Invisible Girl desperately trying to contain the "monster" in her force field; the Human Torch absorbing all the heat from the Baxter Building then blazing through the sky to release it in a Nova burst; the Thing in cryogenic suspension, unable to help his team-mates. All good, melodramatic fun.

Meanwhile, Marvel were also publishing double-sized 25 cent "Specials", showcasing classic reprints from the beginning of the Silver Age.

The Avengers were battling Baron Zemo's Masters Of Evil, who really didn't seem capable of holding their own against our heroes, as well as the bizarre threat of the subterranean Lava Men, who were intent on pushing a deadly, sonic-wave-creating "living stone" up through the Earth's crust and somehow destroying humanity. Hmmm. Like a lot of Silver Age stories it didn't make much sense but it was exciting, goofy and dynamically illustrated by King Kirby.

Marvel's Prince Namor of Atlantis was also hitting the reprint trail in Sub-Mariner Special no. 1.

This was a re-presenting of Namor's first solo tales ( fish tails? ) from Tales To Astonish. The permanently pissed-off, arrogant undersea monarch returns to Atlantis from one of his frequent adventures in the surface world, only to find his people have deposed him in his absence and replaced him with Warlord Krang. Honestly, would you appoint a military commander with a name like "Krang"? He's sure to be trouble.

Namor sets out on a quest to find Neptune's Trident which will ensure his royal credentials, encountering en route a giant squid, the dreaded Faceless Ones, a Seaweed Man and many more sub-aquatic menaces. Oh, and the lovely Lady Dorma who looks absolutely gorgeous as depicted by Gene Colan and the much-maligned Vince Coletta.

Over at DC, we find more reprints in the shape, or shapes, of Plastic Man. And if Silver Age Marvel can seem goofy at times, then Golden Age DC is positively mental. The stretcheable sleuth tangles with gangsters, admen and soothsayers, all the while contorting himself into the most ludicrous shapes thrown up by the crazed imagination of Jack Cole. Even though it's all very light-hearted I found some of Plas's shape-changing disturbing as a kid

( I was only about 4 or 5! ), especially the origin scenes where he's splashed by acid and then finds he can stretch his face into any shape. ( That image actually popped up in a very vivid childhood nightmare. Maybe Dr. Wertham was right after all! )

Of course, you can't visit the DC universe without stopping off for some sight-seeing in Metropolis. Unfortunately for Superman, that's exactly what the "Electronic Ghost" does in Superman no. 244, causing chaos at Clark Kent's workplace, Galaxy Broadcasting. ( Yep, that's GBS not CBS... )

Again, this story is no classic but is a perfect example of that era's premier Super-art team, Curt Swan and Murphy Anderson, or "Swanderson" as they were sometimes known. There have been countless different iterations of Supes over the decades but, personally, when I think of the Man Of Tomorrow, it's their version I see.

While the glory days of Carmine Infantino's Flash artwork were over by this point, The Flash no. 204 is still a fine DC Silver Age comic... and check out those groovy fashions on the cover, baby!

World's Finest no. 201 kicks off with one of my favourite covers of the period which is typical of DC's "high concept" approach to grabbing the reader. Upon first glance the astute comic reader is asking him/herself questions: why are our two heroes fighting? Why is Doctor Fate playing referee? Why has this story been kept secret until now?

Naturally, the story doesn't quite deliver on the promise of the cover. The art by Dick Dillin is functional and clear as you'd expect from an old pro, but hardly sensational. The story heads down some vaguely psychedelic pathways as each hero has his mind messed with by the villain( Felix Faust masquerading as Doc Fate ) but the resolution is dull. However, you do get to see Superman being spanked (!) by a giant, imaginary projection of his long-lost father, Jor-El.

Which is nice...

I'll leave you with some Kosmic Kirby Kreations from the pages of Superman's Best Friend, Jimmy Olsen. After jumping ship from Marvel, The King took over this ailing title and injected his own brand of mad concepts, nostalgia and action. Although short-lived it was a hell of a ride, and the concepts and characters such as The ( Cadmus ) Project, the DNAliens and the revamped Newsboy Legion still crop up in the DCU today.

( I am cheating slightly here, as these Jimmy Olsen pages, like the Superman page above, are actually nicked from obscure corners of t'internet. All others in this post - the tatty-looking ones - are scans from my collection. )

Happy 48th, Doctor!

2011-11-23T20:28:00.003Z

Incredibly, it's 48 years since the first sighting of that strange old man and his blue box, in the junkyard at Totters' Lane. Here are the first three incarnations of the Doc, striking an iconic pose for the Radio Times 10th Anniversary Special back in 1973, the year I began to watch the show.

Unsurprisingly, there's tons of Doctor Who stuff hitting t'internet today, including the following goodies:

A trailer and synopsis for the 2011 Christmas episode at Planet Gallifrey

A brief history of the show's origins at the Doctor Who News Page

A very knackered looking First Doctor and friends at Hello, I'm The Doctor

And a lovely Fourth Doctor sketch by the wonderful Dan McDaid

All good, wibbly-wobbly, timey-wimey stuff ;-)

Personally, I've been celebrating Doctor Who Day by watching an irate William Hartnell getting tetchy with the latest bunch of fresh-faced recruits to his adventures - yep, I've been watching

Carry On Sergeant...

SFXy Firemen

2011-11-19T23:21:00.005Z

No, not that kind...

I'm talking about the book-burning, totalitarian kind as seen in Ray Bradbury's famous dystopian novel, Fahrenheit 451.

Firemen in the world of this seminal SF novel are not concerned with putting out fires, but setting fire to books... and sometimes the people who read them. The main character, Guy Montag, is a loyal fireman who is seemingly content in his work of destroying any kind of information or entertainment which doesn't spew out of a TV screen. Until, one day, he begins to question his role in society...

I wrote a mini-review of the book for the SFX website and was pleased to see an edited version published in this month's issue of "The World's #1 Sci-Fi mag."

Here's the full ( less negative-seeming ) version:

Re: SFX BOOK CLUB 69: Fahrenheit 451

It's been probably 20 years since I last read Fahrenheit 451 and, to be honest, I didn't enjoy it as much as I thought I would. Apart from the fireman, Montag, the characters are cyphers and there is little sense of the rest of the world beyond the immediate drama. Saying that, Bradbury's poetic style shines through, especially during the breathless scenes of Montag's desperate escape from the authorities, and the implications of this book-burning society are chilling. The scariest thought is that Montag's society is self-censoring: "It didn't come from the Government down," explains his fire-chief, "There was no dictum, no declaration, no censorship, to start with..."

__________________

And here are Oskar Werner and the gorgeous Julie Christie in a still from Francois Truffaut's 1966 adaptation of the book. It's a strange, cold little film and I'm not sure if Truffaut really related to the subject matter... but it does star Julie Christie. Who is, as I said, gorgeous...

FF Fridays: Words of wisdom from The Thing

2011-11-18T23:14:00.002Z

Yeah Benjy, I've had that kind of week too...

Cute... or disturbing?

2011-11-17T22:26:00.003Z

It seems to be turning into Cat Week here at The Glass Walking-Stick. For no real reason.....

All images courtesy of The Kitten Covers

Moggies

2011-11-16T21:10:00.003Z

Jasper, ready for his close-up...

Hero giving Sarah some quality time for a change...

And Jasper up a tree... looking for birds...

Will he never learn?

The Damned / Adam Ant

2011-11-13T16:55:00.018Z

Two trips down to the Bristol O2 Academy last week, to see living legends / Punk has-beens ( delete as applicable ) The Damned and Sir Adam of Ant.

The Damned were celebrating their 35 years (!) at the Punk Rock coal-face by playing debut album Damned Damned Damned and that difficult 4th LP, The Black Album, in their entirety. Even though I've been a fan of the band for many years and have seen them play live about a dozen times, I don't actually own any of their albums. ( Except for a well-wonky cassette version of Machine Gun Etiquette. ) So I was probably the only person in the packed-out venue who didn't know all the words to all the songs. Not that it really mattered: I was down the front from the first bass notes of Neat Neat Neat, yelling my lungs out to that caveman chorus.

According to Captain Sensible ( seen above in his lovely, fluffy

suit ) they sped through the 31-minute long album in only 29 bruising minutes. Twelve amphetamine-rush bursts of aggression from the ironic Fan Club to the howling Stooges cover I Feel Alright ( originally called 1970 ) via the most punishing version of New Rose I've seen them play. Not bad for guys in their 50s...

After the first set there was a short break when we could recover from the effects of oxygen starvation, intense heat and rugby-tackling Bristol boneheads, before the band came back to dive into the psychedelic, psychotic depths of The Black Album. Starting with one of my favourite Damned songs, Wait For The Blackout, then on through other crowd-pleasers like Lively Arts and The History Of The World ( Part 1 ), the band headed inexorably towards the 17- minute epic Curtain Call. It's like Punk never happened :-)

As ever, The Damned were enthusiastic and clearly having a whale of a time ( which is obviously better than a dolphin of a time... ), the Captain and Dave Vanian taking the piss out of each other and other bands ( the regulation digs at the Pistols / Clash etc. ) and drummer Pinch introducing one song as "A Fart In A Spacesuit" - of course! They encored with Love Song ( yay! ), Eloise ( not my fave Damned song but played perfectly ) and a blistering Anti-Pope. But no Smash It Up? Boo!

And here are a bunch of mid-life-crisis-sufferers prior to the gig. From the left: someone whose name I'm ashamed to say I've forgotten, Rob, Glenn and me, doing my best "will you hurry up and take the picture, I can't hold this smile any longer" pose.

Two nights later I headed back to Bristol in a downpour of almost Biblical proportions to finally see, after 30 years, my teenage idol, Adam "Stuart Goddard" Ant. Yeah, I probably had what we'd now call a man-crush ( or boy-crush... no, that sounds worse ) on Adam back in the day. But it's OK, I'm over it now, I'm not confused, not in denial ;-)

( Bloody Hell, the things that this blog drags out of me... )

Adam's obviously been out of the limelight for a long time and it was a worry for old Antfans like me that he would just be doing this to pay the rent, a Zerox ( if you will ) of his old self. After splitting from guitarist / songwriting partner, Marco Pirroni, the Live Aid fiasco and his well-publicised mental health problems, it had seemed that Adam had retired from the life of a dandy highwayman. Now he was back for a new Ants Invasion... but would it be Wonderful or Nine Plan Failed?

Standing in the O2's bar, surrounded by Punks, pirates and highwaymen of all ages and persuasions, I heard a mighty roar exploding from the crowd and had to force my way down to the front to see Adam and The Good, The Mad & The Lovely Posse hit the stage to the accusatory sound of Plastic Surgery. No starting with the greatest hits here: straight into the pre-fame cult classics. For every pop hit like Stand And Deliver ( manic! ) or Prince Charming ( regal! ) there were at least two of Adam's pervy B-sides and album tracks like Beat My Guest or Whip In My Valise or Lady ( he admitted on stage that Lady should have been the A-side of his first single, not Young Parisians ) ...all together now: "I saw a Lady and she was naked..."

Oh yeah, that reminds me - the band. The Good, The Mad & The Lovely Posse comprise of two drummers ( of course! ), a couple of what look like Californian session musicians from the '90s on guitar and bass, and the two Lovely ladies above on backing vocals and sex-kitten Antics. Never have so many camera-phones been hoisted aloft ( ooh, er! ) by so many blokes at one rock gig before! The band did a fine job of representing the Ants' sound, er... without actually being the Ants. ( But I still miss "Marco, Merrick, Terry Lee..." etc. )

The star of the show, of course, remains Adam, regardless of who's up there with him. Whilst obviously not as energetic a performer as he was back in his heyday, he's still got the charisma, the moves and the voice. And he's also open and funny about the ups and downs of his career. In fact, still a great frontman and still a star. And... still a sex symbol. A surprising amount of 20-something women ( and probably men too ) were literally falling at his feet. One girl next to me stripped down to her bra while she was dancing and later fell over the security-barrier in front of the stage. She said she was reaching to recover her handbag, but I think she was grabbin' for Adam ;-)

Antmusic for sexpeople!

Soundtrack: Beat My Guest, Friend Or Foe, Goody Two Shoes, Dog Eat Dog, Antmusic etc. etc.

11 / 11 / 11

2011-11-11T15:05:00.002Z

Always remember...

Catching up...

2011-11-08T22:11:00.007Z

Regular readers of this 'ere blog ( and bless you for it! ) have probably noticed that the usual, glacially-slow rate of posts has slowed down even further lately. Apart from boring "real" world stuff taking up too much of my time, we've also had PC problems of the dreaded blue-screen variety. Consequently, I'm writing this on Sophie's netbook, trying to get used to a keyboard seemingly designed for a doll's fingers.

So what's been going down in Groove Town?

I've been buying quite a lot of music lately, mostly from charity shops, antique shops (!) etc. Anywhere cheap, basically. Bowie's Station To Station is top of the list, a fantastic album with such great songs as Golden Years, Word On A Wing and the epic title-track, all serving as a bridge ( or train journey, even ) between his "Plastic Soul" period and the experimentalism of the "Berlin Trilogy". A compelling mixture of funk, rock and a European, motorik, feel - not bad for a Thin White Duke who was out of his head on coke at the time...

After falling for The Horrors' superlative Skying ( album of the year, definitely ) I went back to discover their previous LP, Primary Colours, a more abrasive, punkier set of songs, mixing Goth with Psychedelia and some deep vocals from Faris Badwan. All good fun... in an intense and meaningful kind of way, maaan. And it contains Sea Within A Sea, an absolute classic.

One of my fave bands of the '90s were the criminally-underrated Carter USM, Jim Bob and Fruit Bat. Often reviled at the time by the cool kids ( damn those cool kids! ), Carter were - for me, anyway - one of the best live bands of their time, and were responsible for some powerful, passionate songs with unfashionable, pun-filled, socially-conscious lyrics. Sarah and I saw them play live 3 times and each time they were an exciting, involving electro-Punk riot. All the great, angry, energetic singles are here: Sheriff Fatman, Only Living Boy In New Cross, Glam Rock Cops and, as they say, many more...

For a total change of pace, here's the exotic, erotic Kelis, with Tasty. ( I could make some crude comment about that title, but obviously it's beneath a blogger of my refined sensibilities. Yeah, right... ) Over top of a hard-edged, robo-funk production by The Neptunes, Kelis' vocals are an arrogant, sensual come-on from a lady who patently takes no prisoners. Away from all-conquering pop blasts Milkshake and Trick Me, the album drifts at times, but it's well worth a listen.

I've meant to buy Macy Gray's debut album, On How Life Is, for years and now I've finally got round to it. And what a classic it is! A clever mix of retro soul sounds and modern r 'n' b grooves, topped with Macy's unique Tina Turner - meets - Nina Simone - meets - Eartha Kitt vocals, and shot through with an earthy, husky sexuality, it's a slinky, sultry delight. I always think that Macy would be a star of Rihanna / Beyonce proportions nowadays if she had more "conventional" looks, instead of being a self-proclaimed Sex-O-Matic Venus Freak. Luckily, she remains an idiosyncratic, imaginative artist and not just some MTV puppet.

Away from music I've been catching up with a few decent TV shows, which I may have to mention in more detail later: Philip Glenister's labyrinthine conspiracy thriller Hidden; the very creepy and apocalyptic BBC3 horror series The Fades ( got to be one of the shows of the year ); David Attenborough's astonishing Frozen Planet; series 2 of The Walking Dead which is picking up after a slow start; and I've just watched the first ep of American Horror Story which is as mad as a bag of weasels, but is very promising.

On the book front, I've just read Charles Dickens' A Christmas Carol and Ray Bradbury's Fahrenheit 451 ( both for the SFX Book Club ) and have now started Philip Reeve's Fever Crumb, a Young Adult steampunk novel, set in his Mortal Engines world of post-apocalypse London.

And, back on the subject of music, I'm going to see The Damned tomorrow night in Bristol. Yay!

That'll have to do for now. Night all...

UK Subs / Goldblade

2011-11-02T20:25:00.011Z

Gloucester's Guildhall was invaded last Saturday by hordes of Punks, Zombies, Borg and, er, Smurfs as It's Only Punk Promotions' latest Punk All-Dayer brought the Halloween vibe to town.

Headliners UK Subs were on fine form, blasting out old favourites like Warhead, Tomorrow's Girls and CID to an appreciative crowd. Punk legend Charlie Harper showed us whipper-snappers ( love that word! ) that you're never too old to be a rebel, or indeed a down-to-earth star as he hung out in the bar with fans before the show. Bass player Alvin Gibbs was also very friendly and even had time to chat backstage with inebriated 40-something bloggers...

The other "name" band of the night were John Robb's mighty Goldblade, a turbo-charged speed machine of pure Punk 'n' Roll mayhem.

John Robb is surely one of the greatest, but most unsung, frontmen in Rock. An energetic, totally committed Rock 'n' Roll evangelist, John's message is "We're all in this together" and you know he means it, maaaan.

Here he is serenading the Borg Queen, aka Marie, definitely one of the stars of the show...

Also on the bill were Hooligan ( above ), all the way from Dublin, and Meat ( not pictured ) - two pretty decent Punk bands who I've seen go down really well in dodgy little pubs like Gloucester's late, lamented Pig Inn The City, but seemed lost in a larger venue. And the less said about curtain-raisers, Hacksaw, the better. Nice guys but the music's dire.

Local legends Demob ( above ) have reformed again and added their shouty street-Punk to the mix. Sharing a frontman ( Andy K ) and hard-working drummer ( Marcus aka Elmer Thudd ) with the seemingly-dissolved Noise Agents, Demob are a powerful, brutal presence on stage.

( And, in fact, their stage presence was almost totally devalued when I got up with them to yell along to Oi! classic No Room For You. My voice is still knackered... )

And no local gathering of the Punks is complete without an appearance by the fantastic Chinese Burn. Ben and the boys were on fine form, whether crowd-pleasing with old faves like Bullets, unveiling great new songs like Deleted, Depleted And Almost Defeated, or kicking our collective heads in with their berserk cover of Beat On The Brat. Many people new to the band in the audience were mightily impressed, including Sir John Of Robb, who gave them a glowing write-up on his blog, Louder Than War. The big time beckons, guys...

Here's Ben doing his thang in front of the well-spooky Halloween decorations ;-)

One of the highlights of the day were Dun2Def, a very tight, exciting band who also benefit from the kick-ass drumming of Mr. Sticks For Hire, Marcus. And any band with vampires and Smurfs in their lineup can't be bad...

Two cool T-shirts! I just happened to be talking to a fellow veteran of the Punk Wars, Jamie E, who asked me what band I used to play in. When I replied "Death Planet Commandos", he said "What, like him?" And, standing behind me was the mighty Mark, ex-DPC guitarist, wearing a very familiar T-shirt. ( Some of my finest lettering! ) Alright Mark, where's mine...?

Meanwhile, the real action was, as ever, backstage. Here's Ed from the Burn struggling to get at the free beer :-)

The lovely Dun2Def boys...

And a Chinese Burn / Dun2Def mash-up...

The Fabulous Barnes Brothers, 2/5 of the DPC, actually smiling for the camera :-)

My mate Glenn, fending off a combined Borg/zombie attack, somewhere near the Guildhall toilets...

...and here's me, looking a prat in the crowd. ( Still, good photo, Carol! )

After almost 10 hours of Punk Rock debauchery, Glenn and I retreated to Gloucester's Cafe Rene, where we spent yet more time getting merry and chatting with Drumming Man Marcus and some Polish guy called Stan. Crashed out back at Chinese Burn HQ at about 4:00am. Phew! Knackered but happy, ears and voice shot to Hell. Let's do it again sometime!

( Well, next week actually,'cos we're going to see The Damned in Bristol. Yay! )

Happy Halloween

2011-10-31T20:29:00.004Z

FF Fridays: Power Records Book And Record Set

2011-10-28T23:50:00.004+01:00

Who remembers this oddball exercise in story-telling from Power Records? A condensed version of FF #126 ( a re-telling of the foursome's origin and first encounter with the Mole Man ) issued in a set with a dramatisation of the story on a 45 rpm single? All good, corny fun. I've got a copy of this somewhere, as well as two others starring Captain America and Dracula. Might have to dig 'em out...

Here's "The Way It Began", courtesy of Secret Cavern.....

Music Year Zero

2011-10-27T23:02:00.009+01:00

1981 was the year I fell in love with music. Of course, I'd liked a lot of music before then but none of it had really grabbed me. When I was primary school age in the mid-Seventies I enjoyed the Glam Rock of the Sweet, Slade, Bowie and co. as well as the poppier sounds of Abba and 10CC, but I really had little interest in music beyond whatever song took my fancy on Top Of The Pops in any given week. In 1976/7 Punk Rock passed me by ( I'd catch up later ) but, as the '80s dawned, I began to listen to Rock ( Deep Purple, Pink Floyd, Hendrix ) and Two Tone ( The Specials, Madness ) and the vaguely-defined New Wave ( Blondie, Squeeze, Undertones ) and even began to buy some of the stuff. My first single was Pink Floyd's mega-hit Another Brick In The Wall... not the coolest choice, I know, but I still love it.

Then I became an Antperson. Really. Punk underachiever Adam Ant had reinvented himself as some sort of Glam Punk Pirate and was making waves with his ludicrous-but-catchy musical blend of Glam stomp and Burundi beats. Songs like the mighty Dog Eat Dog and Antmusic bowled me over with their freshness and colour and I started drawing Adam's "Warrior Ant" logo on all my school books, bought all the Ants' back catalogue, and, er, wore a feather in my hair...

Adam's 1980 Kings Of The Wild Frontier album was my Bible and, as my musical Year Zero arrived, I eagerly awaited the follow-up. I bought the first single from the album, the title track Prince Charming, in HMV on the day it was released and had to endure the shop assistant's scorn, as he thought me an empty-headed teen pop fan: "Have you even heard this song?" ( What a twat! ) Although, to be honest, Adam's 1981 music wasn't as good as the previous year's - he was becoming too much of a showbiz "entertainer" for my liking - but it didn't really matter. I was now officially a Proper Music Fan. I had begun to buy music magazines ( starting with Smash Hits, progressing to Sounds and Melody Maker ) and was listening to Radio One every spare minute I had.

1981 was also the dawn of the Electropop era. Instead of buying guitars and Play In A Day books of chords, bands were grabbing cheap synthesisers and plundering the works of Bowie and Kraftwerk to create new, electronic sounds. And a lot of crap was produced. But the main movers 'n' shakers of the scene, the Human League, were way out in front. They, like Adam, had ditched their earlier cult sound and look, and were heading for the Pop big leagues. The Dare album was a massive seller, overflowing with classic song after classic song. The League may seem cheesy nowadays as they haul themselves around the nostalgia circuit but, in 1981, they had the tunes, the confidence and the ridiculous haircuts that would propel them to stardom.

Speaking of ridiculous haircuts...

The League's splinter group, Heaven 17, made their debut in 1981 with the wonderful single We Don't Need This Fascist Groove Thang, an irresistibly funky call to arms in a time of worrying Right-wing thuggishness. I bought the ensuing album and enjoyed it at the time but its sound dated as much as the band's ironic, Yuppie image, and it didn't survive my later Vinyl Purges...

Meanwhile, over in the world of Sensitive Boys With Guitars, here's Faith by The Cure. I actually went out and bought this album purely on the strength of a review in Sounds, without having heard a single track. ( Very trusting of me. ) Faith is probably the quintessential early '80s Goth album: doomy, gloomy and claustrophobic. Songs like All Cats Are Grey and The Drowning Man are as atmospheric and pretentious as you'd imagine, but not without their own certain, spectral charm. Little did I know that 6 years later I would meet a young girl called Sarah who was a massive Cure fan, and we would end up seeing the band play live many times...

In a similar ( jugular ) vein, The Cure's contemporaries The Banshees spawned this side-project by singer Siouxsie and drummer Budgie, a percussion-driven e.p. of overheated sexGoth torchsongs. It's all good stuff and, as a teenager, I was seriously impressed by the sleeve photos...

I went through a Heavy Metal phase at the time ( I wore my leather jacket to Punk gigs, my denim jacket to Metal gigs ) and there was no-one heavier than Motorhead. The classic Motorhead line-up were now big stars on the back of the awesome Ace Of Spades LP ( the title track was the second single I ever bought ) and they consolidated this popularity with the ear-destroying live album, No Sleep 'til Hammersmith. It pretty much sounds like having your head stuck inside a washing-machine full of bricks on spin cycle, which is obviously a very good thing. I always wanted to see Motorhead live back in the day, but I saw also-rans like Vardis instead. Which is probably why I still have my hearing today...

The tribal drumbeats popularised by Adam Ant ( which also cropped up in Other Voices from The Cure's Faith ) are given a Post-Punk, artrock twist by John Lydon's Public Image Ltd. on the deeply strange album, The Flowers Of Romance. Lydon and his cohorts blend surreal, nihilistic lyrics, splashes of synth and deep, cavernous drum sounds to spooky effect. "Reptilians... I won't let you in..." indeed! A long way from butter adverts.....

I didn't actually own the above Blue Oyster Cult album back in 1981, but bought it years later. I just had to include it 'cos I love the cover art...

1981's pop charts were certainly diverse! Former Elvis Costello wannabe Joe Jackson ditched his bedsit New Wave ruminations for zoot suits and horns as he put out a wonderful album of Swing-era covers. My Mum bought this album for my Dad, Pete, who loved the Big Band sound of Glenn Miller and the like, but I ended up playing it more than he did :-)

Reap this righteous riff!

As any regular reader of this 'ere blog knows, I'm a major fan of Bruce Springsteen. Back in 1981 The Boss helped out one of his idols, Gary "US" Bonds, by writing and producing his comeback album, Dedication, featuring the retro pop-soul classic This Little Girl Is Mine. A great, swinging r'n'b production with cool, call-and-response vocals and the unmistakeable sound of the E Street Band, this lost classic sounded like a blast of fresh air as it burst from radios in the Summer of 1981...

...my own Music Year Zero!

( If anyone else has similar thoughts on this year or any other year in music, I'd love to hear them... )

Thor, the God of Lego

2011-10-26T20:51:00.004+01:00

It's only fitting for a Viking God to be immortalised in the ubiquitous Danish plastic bricks...

Courtesy of James, our very own 12-year old Lego Master...

( Featuring our UPVC window-ledges standing in for the icy wastes of Jottunheim )

Ash at Bristol O2 Academy

2011-10-22T20:16:00.004+01:00

It's been 2 years since Ash last came this way, on their A-Z Tour, and rocked the good ol' Gloucester Guildhall. This Friday they returned to Bristol for the first time in a long while to play the Free All Angels album in its entirety, plus a greatest hits set. The doors opened at the ridiculously early time of 6:30 so we had missed the two supports by the time we got to Bristol. ( "We" being me and my good mate and fellow Rock 'n' Roll addict, Glenn, of Chinese Burn fame. )

Ash came on stage to a rapturous reception which didn't let up for the entire gig. As it was the opening night of their mainland UK tour, the band must have been happy with the reaction: the crowd were enthusiastic... OK, bloody mental actually... and very, very loud. Free All Angels proved to be a wise choice to play all the way through, being packed as it is with such classic teen-Punk singles as Walking Barefoot, Shining Light and Burn Baby Burn - the latter being the clarion-call which dragged me down the front to be pushed and pummelled in the crush of rabid Ash-fans. The band's enthusiasm and sheer joy was infectious as they blasted through their mixture of razor-sharp riffs, unforgettable melodies and emotion-laden lyrics, invigorating lesser-known album tracks like the Ramones-y Pacific Palisades and World Domination, and the more fragile ballads like Candy and Someday.

Highlights are hard to choose from such a fantastic set, but I'll just mention the anthemic Shining Light, the beautiful Star-Crossed, the heartbreaking lyrics of Oh Yeah, and an absolutely manic encore of Kung Fu. ( The only song which I really hoped they'd play, but didn't make the set, was the peerless Envy. Maybe next time. ) One other song which stands out is A Life Less Ordinary, with the following lyric:

Take me in your arms again

Meet me in my dreams again

So, what is it worth?

I'll sell my soul, what is it worth?

...which a large percentage of the males there ( including me ) were seemingly singing to one person on the stage. Yes, that's right, the lovely Charlotte Hatherley is back with the band, for this tour at least. It's great to see Ash as a four-piece, with Charlotte's effortless guitar solos and keyboards adding immeasurably to the boys' sound, something that seemed missing the last time I saw them. Managing to be both ice-cool and smokin' hot at the same time, whether jamming back-to-back with a grinning Tim Wheeler or just playing away, eyes closed, lost in the music, Charlotte is a joy to watch and listen to. Gratuitous photo follows:

So, a great gig, probably one of the best I've been to in a long time. Hopefully Ash will pass this way again soon. And hopefully Charlotte will still be with them.

On the way out I had to blow 20 quid on a Free All Angels T-shirt and then Glenn and I headed to a pub on Park Street for a quick drink before heading home. Some bland, Maroon 5-type student band were playing, further reminding us ( if only by comparison ) of what a classic Rock band we'd just witnessed in full, ear-shredding, life-enhancing effect. You really can't beat experiences like that...

Soundtrack: Free All Angels, naturalement

Landscapes

2011-10-20T23:44:00.010+01:00

Fabian Perez

2011-10-16T11:56:00.004+01:00

As well as going for a meal at Jamie's Italian, as mentioned in my last post, our other reason for going to Cheltenham yesterday was to visit Whitewall Galleries. We had been invited over by the lovely manager, Rachel, to have a glass of bubbly and have a nose at Fabian Perez' latest collection of artwork, mostly of his signature beautiful women.

Above is "Blue Rabbit Lucy", one of the new collection, and below are a couple of old favourites from Mr. Perez' "Balconies" series.

A taste of Italy in Gloucestershire

2011-10-16T00:26:00.008+01:00

In our continuing quest to eat in every one of Jamie Oliver's restaurants ( starting with Fifteen in Cornwall... ) we had a meal tonight in his Italian restaurant in Cheltenham.

This restaurant, only open since this July, is located in the town's former Courthouse, a lovely Regency building, dating from 1870.

Many of the original features of the Courthouse have been kept, as you can see below. Diners can sit and eat where formerly the juries deliberated, the accused shivered or the men in silly wigs passed sentence. And you can even visit the cells when you navigate the 42 steps down to the toilets... best not attempted after a few ales

:-)

It certainly makes for an unusual dining experience. And the food's pretty damn good too.

If you're in the area ( Regent Street, near the Everyman Theatre ) I'd definitely recommend a visit. Good food, interesting location, excellent service... but... no pizza on the menu?

( And while you're there, why don't you check out Whitewall Galleries too? )

Bloody Hell, I should be on a commission from Cheltenham Tourist Information ;-)

Soundtrack: On How Life Is by Macy Gray

If I spent less time doing this...

2011-10-12T20:45:00.003+01:00

I might have more time for blogging...

( Photos courtesy of Life magazine )

FF Fridays: FF UK

2011-10-07T22:23:00.006+01:00

In 1972 Marvel Comics were looking to expand their presence into the British comics market. After licensing some of their characters to the Odhams' Press Power Comics range in the '60s, they now started their own UK publishing operation to handle reprints of American strips. The first title they brought out was the much-loved Mighty World Of Marvel, home to The Hulk, Spider-Man and, of course, the FF.

I always think I was incredibly lucky to be a Marvel fan in the early '70s because I experienced the Silver Age ( through

reprints ) and the Bronze Age ( through contemporary comics ) simultaneously. And MWOM's early covers were often a meeting point between those two Ages, with new artwork by up-and-coming artist, Jim Starlin, depicting scenes from Marvel's past...

The FF featured in MWOM for a few years, but then were bounced around from one comic to another as the comics industry fell into decline, before finally receiving their own title, the short-lived Complete Fantastic Four. This was so called because each issue featured a "new" FF story ( well, a recent reprint ) and yet another printing of a classic Lee/Kirby story. Even though I predictably thought this comic was, er, fantastic, the British comic-buying public ( what was left of it by this point ) didn't, and the mag soon folded. UK Marvel was still struggling on through a seemingly-endless round of cancellations and mergers ( see this link for a fascinating look into Marvel UK's history ) and the FF tended to get lost in the shuffle.

Marvel UK eventually wound down, leaving Panini Comics to pick up the licence for the Marvel range in the 1990s. The FF eventually resurfaced in the new century with two volumes of Fantastic Four Adventures, in a format virtually identical to The Complete FF. So, as well as Lee/Kirby reprints yet again ( but this time in colour! ) I managed to read some modern runs on the title by the likes of Mark Waid / Mike Wieringo and Mark Millar / Bryan Hitch. Good stuff...

And, as far as I know, FF Adventures is still going strong and, hopefully, staying fantastic :-)

Soundtrack: Station To Station by David Bowie

Doctor Who: The Wedding Of River Song ( review with spoilers )

2011-10-03T22:54:00.003+01:00

"What happened to time?"

"... a woman... "

In an odd, Steampunk London in 2011, where commuters travel by air-balloon-assisted cars and pterodactyls flock over Hyde Park, Holy Roman Emperor Winston Churchill summons his soothsayer to explain why the time is permanently stuck at 5:02pm. The bearded, unkempt soothsayer is, of course, the Doctor.

It turns out that River Song threw a spanner in the works of Time by refusing to kill the Doctor at the appointed time at Lake Silencio. As this was supposedly a fixed point in time, its undoing causes Time itself to start disintegrating. But first, all of Time is happening at once and the Doctor has to deal with the Silence and Madam Kovarian, fix the relationship between the alternate timeline's Amy and Rory ( again! ), marry River, and ensure that he dies at the right time and place. Oh, and he has to wear an eye patch. Eye patches are cool. Phew! Keeping up with all this?

In a similar vein to A Good Man Goes To War this episode is almost overloaded with incident, characters, locations and revelations; it's a hallucinatory thrill ride through Steven Moffatt's labyrinthine imagination. Although it may not all hang together or provide all the long-awaited answers, it's certainly an action-packed, colourful and emotional trip into the ever-expanding Whoniverse.

There are so many great moments packed into this story: the budget-busting alternate London with Dickens being interviewed on BBC Breakfast and Roman charioteers waiting at traffic lights; Mark Gatiss anonymous under a ton of latex as psychopathic, chess-playing Viking, Gantok; the creepy sight of dozens of Silents, hanging like bats from the Imperial Senate's ceiling; the Doctor growing his hair long in an effort to outdo River ( that bit may only be in my head); the Area 52 pyramid; the poignant mention of the Brigadier - and not before time! - as the Doctor realises that Time runs out for everyone, eventually.

There are, of course, problems too. It seems that the audacious, season-long arc plot has left Steven Moffatt with too much to resolve in the last 45 minutes and there are still outstanding questions. Why did the Silence have their own, fake Tardis? What was Madam Kovarian's grudge against the Doctor? What really happened to River and Rory in those Silence-infested tunnels back in The Impossible Astronaut? Of course, Mr. M should be commended for the ambition of this season - it's certainly given the fans plenty to think about and debate - and that can only be a good thing.

And then, there's the controversy of the "Doctor"'s death. Having the real Doctor replaced by the ( Major Spoiler! ) Teselecta at Lake Silencio seems like a massive cop-out. It was cleverly done and quite funny to see a mini-Doc prancing around inside the lookalike justice droid, but emotionally it felt like a let-down. The sacrifice of the Ganger Doctor or the alternate world Doctor might have been more obvious a get-out clause, but it would have felt better to fans who have invested a lot into this plot. My learned colleague, Steve W, makes the well-argued point here that the "death" of the Teselecta is a cheat, after we have been told repeatedly that the Doctor's death is a fixed point in time which must happen. If The Universe or Time or History or whatever passes for a higher power in the secular Whoniverse had to ensure that the Doctor's death came about, then surely this deception would have fooled no-one but the onlookers at Lake Silencio? Perhaps this higher power was watching All-Star Family Fortunes instead?

For all that, I still enjoyed the episode for all its spectacle, the cracking performances of the leads and the final scenes' attempts to reintroduce a sense of mystery into the series and into the Doctor's own character. So, minus a point for the problems listed above, I'll give this last episode of the season:

4 out of 5 Bow Ties

And I'd just like to say that Karen Gillan can even make eye patches look sexy:

Fabulous Forty, Sweet Sixteen, Terrific Twelve

2011-09-29T22:01:00.012+01:00

It's been all birthdays and celebrations around these 'ere parts lately. These three strange escapees from some mad Zooniverse have all been havin' at large...

First of all was Sarah's surprise 40th birthday party at our fave venue, the fantastic Gloucester Guild Hall, specifically the beautiful Cinema Room, formerly the City Council Chamber.

Sophie and I had spent months arranging this and trying to keep it a secret, so we were very concerned that it would all work out. Luckily it did: Sarah had no idea what was going on and was overwhelmed and overjoyed to find herself in the Guildhall, surrounded by friends and family. Once she got over the shock :-)

And now, the conspirators...

Sophie and her mates...

Party-goers...

Kevin and Lyn, my Best Man and his wonderful wife. Could have opened their eyes for the picture, though...

Some of us sneaked off half way through the party to the main hall for a bit of Punk Rock action. Here we are with my mate Glenn

( you know... the Chinese Burn superstar ) and his lovely daughter, Millie, enjoying her first legal drink...

The band were Green Date, top Green Day tribute band, who were pretty damn good, but had to endure a fair bit of drunken heckling from Glenn and I.

It's got to be done...

Two parties for the price of one. What a great night!!

And here's Sarah with her friend Deri who flew in from Northern Ireland for the occasion and really made Sarah's night.

More drunken rabble, this time with added Caz...

Not to be outdone, Sophie decided to have a birthday as well. Funnily enough, she seems to do that every year...

Here she is: Miss Sweet Sixteen...

...with Mum...

... and her mates, posing in our back garden.

And, before we knew it, it was time for James to turn 12...

We spent the afternoon ( last Sunday, luckily after the torrential rain had stopped ) up at Gloucester Ski Centre, hurtling down the slope in converted tyre inner-tubes. What a great laugh! Here's me trying to break my neck...

And the birthday boy spinning down the slope...

... to collapse in a heap at the bottom.

Sophie and her boyfriend, Jon...

And all of us lined up in one last kamikaze plunge...

Phew! That's enough birthdays for now...

I wear an eye patch now...

2011-09-27T23:57:00.004+01:00

... eye patches are cool.

Well, they're certainly this season's hottest accessory in the Doctor Who universe.

This week's Radio Times features interviews with Matt Smith, Karen Gillan and Arthur Darvill, all talking about their unsung heroes of the show. There's also a lovely interview with Sadie Miller, daughter of another of Doctor Who's most beloved actors, the late, lamented Elisabeth Sladen.

Here's a scan of that interview:

The last quote is the one that got me:

"You just have to let grief roll, take its own time. Mum and I were so close and all my memories of her are happy ones. That gives me a lot of peace."

Doctor Who: Closing Time ( mini review with spoilers )

2011-09-26T22:55:00.004+01:00

"I'm the Doctor. I work in a shop now - here to help..."

Mini review. Comedy episode. Low budget. Save the pennies for season finale. The Doctor's visiting Craig ( you know... tubby guy from The Lodger ) and his new baby Alfie aka Stormageddon, Dark Lord Of All. Craig feels like a useless dad. We all get that now and then...

Department store. Very obviously not just Debenham's with a new sign put up. Cybermen in the changing-rooms, the Doctor working the toy department. Robot dogs and silver rats. More scenes in department store. And more. Doctor and Craig searching for alien spaceship. And plot.

Craig discovers his paternal mojo and kills rubbish Cybermen with love. ( No, not with a cyber-STD... )

Closing Time is ( worryingly ) another weak episode in the season that's already given us That Pirate Story. The once-mighty Cybermen are wasted yet again, the plot is virtually non-existent, and there are only blink-and-you'll-miss-'em appearances from Karen Gillan, Arthur Darvill and Daisy Haggard. The relationship between the Doctor and Craig is still funny and charming, but isn't enough to sustain another 45 minutes. Luckily, Matt Smith is on top form: just look at the way he says "...what?" when "silver rats" are mentioned. Priceless.

And then, right at the end, in a chilling scene between River, Eyepatch Lady and the Silence, we remember that this Doctor's story will end very soon. Or will it?

2 1/2 out of 5 Bow Ties.

Oh, and Craig? On the subject of not knowing when to change a baby's nappy, I'll just say "sniff test" :-)

Happy Boss Day!

2011-09-23T18:51:00.006+01:00

Many happy returns to Bruce Springsteen, 62 (!) today. It's obviously been a tough year for the man they call The Boss, with the illness and sad passing of his life-long friend and bandmate, the Big Man, Clarence Clemons.

It's been reported today, on the ever-wonderful Backstreets.com, that Bruce and the E Street Band will get together over the next few weeks to decide the future of the group, post-Clarence. I'm sure whatever they decide will be the right decision.

Anyway, here's a quick gander at some images of Bruce's past, starting with the career-low of the 1990s and the California Rock God look...

The mainstream / pop charts success days of the 1980s, with its Working Man Chic...

And the Hobo Years of the dim and distant 1970s...

And here's Bruce with The Real Boss, his wife of 20 years, Patti Scialfa

Soundtrack: We Shall Overcome: The Seeger Sessions by Broooooce

Bond Babes: Izabella and Famke

2011-09-22T21:55:00.007+01:00

I watched GoldenEye ( 1995 ) recently for the first time in ages and thought it stood up fairly well as an attempt to update the Bond franchise. All the requisite globe-trotting, glamour and action scenes were in place ( including a spectacular tank chase through the streets of Moscow ) and Pierce Brosnan did a surprisingly good job as a smooth-but-tough Bond, especially when aided by such top character actors as Judi Dench, Robbie Coltrane and Michael Kitchen. However, the almost post-modern jibes at Bond's "sexist Cold War dinosaur" persona were jarring - Brosnan would have been a schoolboy at the height of the Red Scare! Interestingly, Bond's embittered former colleague, Sean Bean's 006, looks with hindsight like a precursor to Daniel Craig's rugged, craggy-faced Bond of the last two movies.

Also caught in the crosshairs of the GoldenEye are two memorable Bond Babes. Firstly, Izabella Scorupco as computer programmer Natalya, an innocent witness to a massacre who gets swept along with Bond's mission to retrieve a stolen space weapon.

Ms. Scorupco gives a fine performance of a woman struggling to deal with her world turning to hell in seconds and having to dodge bullets with England's greatest secret agent. And, to be perfectly honest, when the film's pace sagged now and then, I was just happy to gawp like a lovestruck adolescent at her beauty...

On the other hand, we have the wonderful Fammke Janssen playing the ridiculously-named femme fatale, Xenia Onatopp. Only in a Bond movie!! Ms. Janssen clearly relishes the role of the crazed Bad Girl, whose speciality is squeezing the life out of her enemies between her muscly thighs. But what a way to go...

Doctor Who: The God Complex ( review with spoilers )

2011-09-19T19:20:00.007+01:00

"There's a room here for everyone, Doctor... even you."

This week the Tardis Trio find themselves checked into the hotel from hell, where your standard accommodation problems like dirty bed linen and poor plumbing are replaced by rooms filled with your deepest fears, a shifting labyrinth of landings and a horned beast thumping along the corridors. Fawlty Towers this ain't...

The Doctor and the Ponds find themselves among a disparate group of reluctant guests, like David Williams' cowardly Gibbis and stuttering blogger Howie, all being forced to face their own, personal demons, before giving up their faith and their lives to the lord of the labyrinth. The nightmares in the hotel rooms all seem small-scale ( a sad clown, chattering ventriloquist dummies, angry PE teacher ) but they are all geared to pushing the guests over the edge. As the Minotaur claims more and more victims, the Doctor and Amy have to both face their own fears and come to a turning point in their relationship...

While not a classic, this episode is a lot of creepy fun from professional scarer, Toby Whithouse. The seedy, 1980s hotel is a wonderfully garish backdrop to the nightmares ( Weeping Angels, disappointed dads, brutish apes, Cloister Bells... ) and the Minotaur is a triumph of costume design and execution. The ruminations on fear and faith give this story a depth and poignancy when it could have been just a runaround; and there's a standout performance by Amara Karan as another doomed potential companion. David Walliams, however, is mostly wasted as mole-like, cowardly alien comic relief Gibbis and only really shines in one scene when being upbraided by the Doctor. Maybe he should stick to swimming through sewage :-)

The last scenes of the Doctor saying goodbye to Amy and Rory are quite touching... even though we all know they'll be back very soon.

I'm not on the horns of a dilemma about this one:

4 Out Of 5 Bow Ties

Finally, I'd just like to say how satisfying it is for old Fourth Doctor fans like myself to hear that this story's excellent monster is related to corny, pantomime villains, the Nimon - who lived in a Power ( not God ) Complex and were endearingly crap, back in the days of wobbly sets and even wobblier special effects.

Soundtrack: Sorrow, Diamond Dogs and Rebel Rebel by David Bowie

DC's New 52 ( well, some of them... )

2011-09-18T00:07:00.005+01:00

DC Comics' brand new, rebooted universe is now a couple of weeks old and even this jaded old blogger has been intrigued enough by the event to pick up some of the titles. I'm not sure if I've just been sucked in by a successful advertising campaign but the fact is I've walked into local comic shops and parted with cold, hard cash for some brand new comics, instead of back issues for a change... and DC comics at that. I've always been more of a Marvel guy really, with only the occasional trip into the DCU. So what do I make of the new version?

Justice League

is first out of the starting gate and is a strange beast for the beginning of a brave new world. It's set "five years ago" and details the first meeting between Batman and Green Lantern as they encounter a destructive, shape-shifting creature, seemingly intent on destroying Gotham City real estate. Jim Lee's artwork is as dynamic and detailed as ever, but not too self-indulgent, with only one double-page spread, and plenty of kinetic action. Geoff Johns provides some enjoyable dialogue as the Emerald Avenger and the Dark Knight Detective get the measure of each other's abilities:

"What are your powers, anyway? You can't fly. Super strength? Hold on a second... You're not just some guy in a bat costume, are you? Are you freaking kidding me?!"

My biggest problem with this comic is that, beyond the title, the Justice League themselves aren't even mentioned. I can understand the concept of the slow build of the story but, if this story had been told in the Silver or Bronze Ages ( here he goes again... ), this entire 24-page story would have warranted about 3 or 4 story pages as purely set-up for the main plot, the origin of the team itself. I can even imagine this hypothetical story beginning with the League in action against an enemy ( Starro, say... ) for the first few pages and then flashing back to how the characters all met. This all probably sounds corny to today's creators but I'm sure it would be a better hook for new readers, who could pick up this New 52 version of the League and be justified in wondering where exactly the titular team are. And new readers, not 44-year old lifers, are what DC need to keep their business alive...

Action Comics

is an audacious attempt to take the world's most famous, iconic hero back to his roots. This story is obviously set even further back than his last-page appearance in Justice League #1, for this early Superman wears a home-made costume of jeans and T-shirt, with the only concession to superhero chic being a small, almost silly, cape. He is young, idealistic but tough, and unsure of his developing powers, more of a super boy than man. In keeping with the character's early days way back in the 1930s, this Superman is a crusader, rooting out corruption, standing up for the common man, not fighting alien menaces or super villains. The iconic Superman cast of characters - Clark, Lois, Jimmy and Lex - are all introduced to us and each other, and it should be interesting to see how their relationships develop. The script is Grant Morrison at his most mainstream, without his more bizarre concepts or plot twists, but there's nothing wrong with that. The story powers along with some beautifully clean-lined, expressive, Wrightson-esque artwork by Rags Morales. I'll definitely be back for more...

Batgirl

is my first introduction to the work of Gail Simone. I know, I know, where have I been? She's a writer who comes highly recommended ( especially by ace blogger, Colin Smith ) as an important female voice in a mostly male-dominated medium. The story sees Barbara Gordon tackling some particularly brutal criminals, attempting to step out of her police commissioner father's shadow, finding herself a new home, and trying to come to terms with the memory of her shocking assault by the Joker. ( I admit I'm not up on recent DC continuity - I thought Barbara was still confined to a wheelchair. There is some mention of a "miracle" that somehow cured her, but I don't know any more than that. ) The artwork by Ardian Syaf is what I think of as "generic DC", with some decent story-telling but also some dodgy anatomy, while Ms. Simone's script is suitably hard-bitten but refreshingly concerned with a heroine who is racked with self-doubt and nerves. Oh, and the Adam Hughes cover is gorgeous.

Stormwatch

is a team I know little about. I never read the old version of the comic, or even the more well-known follow-on title, The Authority. ( Shame on me. ) I'm vaguely aware of the characters from reading Ellis / Cassady's excellent Planetary and, of course, I know the Martian Manhunter, but that's about it. So I'm left with a story about some mostly unlikeable, globe-trotting characters trying to save the world from an ill-defined alien menace, while fighting amongst themselves. There are a few nice visuals from Miguel Sepulveda, but the story is a disappointment from the usually reliable Paul Cornell.

Swamp Thing

however, is an old favourite character of mine. The issues by

Wein / Wrightson and Alan Moore / various are two of my most-loved comic runs ever, so this new creative team have a lot to live up to. And this first issue is very promising. Alec Holland is now human again and is working for a logging company, trying to forget his superhuman and supernatural past. A spate of mass unexplained animal deaths brings Superman ( the "present day" version we haven't really met yet ) to Louisiana to check up on Holland and to offer support to our disillusioned botanist. At the same time a group of archaeologists uncover something very nasty indeed, which seems to point to the rebirth of old Swamp Thing villain, Anton Arcane.

Scott Snyder writes a very wordy, intelligent script with plenty of fan-pleasing references to old Swampy stories and creators, while Yanick Paquette's artwork is beautifully detailed and often reminiscent of the baroque Starman work of Tony Harris. One to watch, all right.

Animal Man

also brings back an old fave, Buddy Baker, he of the animal powers and fourth-wall-breaking insanity back in the Grant Morrison days. Buddy seems confused these days: is he a superhero, an animal activist or a stuntman-turned-actor? After some lovely, naturalistic domestic scenes, Buddy digs out the old costume to help end a siege in a hospital, but finds his animal powers are causing him problems; he feels stronger than ever but using his powers causes him to unexplainably bleed from the eyes. Which can't be good. And after some disturbing dreams of his family suffering and dying, Buddy wakes to find his daughter Maxine has developed some scary powers of her own...

This is a very promising debut issue, with some alternately scratchy and intricate artwork from Travel Foreman ( that's a real name? ) and a fine script from Jeff Lemire, expertly balancing Buddy's family life with foreboding glimpses of a future, supernatural threat. But the most disturbing thing is probably Buddy's son, Cliff's, haircut - mullet alert!

OMAC

is an update of one of Jack ( King ) Kirby's lesser-known DC characters. It's a very slight story of a rampaging, blue-skinned bruiser smashing his way into the Cadmus Project, DC's multi-purpose secret scientific organisation. Old Kirby Fourth World characters, such as Mokkari and Dubbilex, pop up to try and stop OMAC from reaching the company's mainframe and... doing whatever it is he's doing. This OMAC is a hulking brute, remotely controlled by orbiting AI, Brother Eye, and seems very different from the crusading One Man Army Corps of the old 1970s series. Keith Giffen does his best Kirby impression but it all feels too insubstantial.

And that's all I've read of the New 52 so far. I went to Excelsior Comics in Bristol today, hoping to buy Paul Cornell's Demon Knights ( and maybe a few others ) but it was sold out, and none of the other new titles really grabbed me. There are still a few more first issues to come over the next couple of weeks, so expect some more half-baked reviews in a little while.

FF Fridays: The Invisible Woman

2011-09-16T19:51:00.009+01:00

I thought it was time to spotlight the FF's most-overlooked ( 'cos she's invisible, get it? ) member, Sue ( Storm ) Richards. When the fantastic foursome first appeared 50 years ago, Sue was often seen ( or not, get it? ) as the weakest member of the group, which was obviously a sign of the times. But, over the years, her character was more defined as a strong woman - a wife, a mother, and also an independent and resourceful team member and leader - someone who didn't faint / need to be rescued every ten minutes.

Incidentally, I just thought I'd mention how difficult it is to find decent pictures of the Invisible Woman on t'internet. By which I mean pics that aren't wholly exploitative, tits 'n' ass shots. If you're looking for that pic of a naked Wonder Woman spanking Sue, you'll have to look elsewhere...

Soundtrack: Behind Blue Eyes by The Who

Doctor Who: The Girl Who Waited ( review with spoilers )

2011-09-12T22:18:00.010+01:00

There's nothing more soul-destroying than waiting: waiting for a bus, waiting for exam results, waiting for a Doctor. Amy Pond has done her fair share of waiting already but, in this latest episode, she learns how terrible waiting can really be.

"This facility was built to give people the chance to live. I walked in here and I died."

The Tardis lands on the planet Apalapucia, voted second favourite destination for the discerning intergalactic traveller, and home to "sunsets, spires, soaring silver collonades".....

But of course it all goes wrong. The planet has been infected by the disease Chen7 - deadly to lifeforms with two hearts, like our favourite Time Lord. By the simple act of pressing a wrong button, Amy finds herself in a faster timestream to her companions, seemingly out of reach forever, in permanent quarantine, menaced by white-faced "Handbots" - medical droids whose "kindness" could kill her. The Doctor and Rory frantically try to find a way to catch up to Amy's timestream, the Doctor trapped in the Tardis, Rory living up to his promise to protect his wife.

Amy: "You didn't save me!"

Rory: "This is the saving! This is the us saving you! The Doctor just got the timing a bit out!"

The Amy that Rory finds in the Twostreams Facility is an Amy who has waited 36 years for her rescuers. She has become cold and cynical, a seasoned warrior woman in home-made armour. Rory has to decide: will he save this battle-hardened Amy, or save "his" Amy, meaning the older version will never have existed?

The Girl Who Waited is a terrific episode, a real standout in this second series of the 11th Doctor. The time travel concepts present the characters with tough moral choices and agonising decisions. All three regulars are fantastic: Matt Smith conveying so much sadness in his eyes alone, Arthur Darvill further discovering a strength and anger in the formerly-meek Rory, and Karen Gillan absolutely owning the episode as the two Amys. This story is as great a showcase for her acting range as Turn Left was for Catherine Tate's, and is one in the eye for all those fans still hung up on Billie Piper/Rose - Karen Gillan easily earns a place amongst her predecessors here, alternately tough and tender, wide-eyed and cynical.

And it's a beautifully filmed episode, too. From the stark white, sterile Twostreams facility, to the ornate alien gardens, to old Amy's ramshackle lair, the look of the episode is stylish, filmic, utterly convincing.

I won't let you wait any longer for my verdict :-)

5 out of 5 Bow Ties

Ten years

2011-09-11T12:10:00.002+01:00

Of course the net is awash today with people remembering the awful events of 9/11.

It's strange to think that a whole decade has passed since that terrible day. In some ways it seems like a lifetime ago, in some ways it seems like only yesterday.

Many of us will think back to that September morning and remember where we were, what we were doing, that moment of shock, that dreadful, sinking feeling of realisation.

I was at work at the time, blissfully unaware, working in an office with no radio and no internet connection. A colleague rushed in and said "Have you heard what's happening in New York?" She told me a plane had hit one of the Twin Towers. "What, a light aircraft?" I replied. Of course, it was worse than that, worse than just some random, terrible accident. When the second plane hit we knew, the whole world knew, that this event was bigger, more loathsome, more despicably evil than we'd imagined. The story unfolded throughout the day and, when I was told that the Towers were collapsing, my mind just couldn't grasp the fact. How could they fall? How could this happen? I rang Sarah at home and we talked about how unbelievable, how shocking this news was - she said "You haven't seen the pictures yet..."

Of course, when I got home I watched the news, we all did. Those bright, hyper-real, shocking images repeated over and over, burning themselves into our minds. We grieved for the people of New York, people we never had known and now never could; just the feeling of empathy for fellow human beings caught up in the unbelievable, the unendurable. But the people of New York - and the world - had to believe, had to endure, had to rise up above this darkness.....

I'm sorry if I've rambled here but I just wanted to say that we remember, we will always remember, and love and prayers and hope for the future are wished for all those who lost someone on that terrible day, ten years ago.

Peace...

Le Chat Noir

2011-09-09T00:41:00.005+01:00

For no real reason, other than I think it's pretty cool, here's one of the most famous pieces of 19th century advertising art:

Le Chat Noir by Theophile-Alexandre Steinlen. We've had a print of this on our kitchen wall for years and for some reason I always thought it was the work of Toulouse-Lautrec, even though it's obviously in a different style. Oh well, you live and learn.

The poster advertised the famous Chat Noir cabaret/nightclub in Montmartre, which was a hip, swinging and groovy place to hang out back in the day. When Sarah and I last visited Paris, back in 2007, we stayed in Pigalle, only a few streets away from the modern restaurant which still bears the iconic name and black cat image. We were also right next to all the sex shops, burlesque theatres and the Erotic Museum ( ooh la la! ) - which was all very eye-opening...

And after all that bohemian decadence, here's our very own

chat noir, monsieur Hero :-)

Post no. 500

2011-09-06T22:35:00.007+01:00

Where it all began.....

So I had to think up a name for my blog. I had no real plan of what I was even going to write about. I didn't want to cover just one subject ( like knitting or opera or football ) so the title would have to be non-specific but potentially interesting.....

I just gazed around the room and saw my 1955 edition of assorted GK Chesterton writings and thought "that'll do!" and then I wrote:

"OK, first ever blog. Breathe deeply, focus etc. So, why The Glass Walking-Stick? ( Why the long face? ) I got the title from a collection of essays by G.K. Chesterton, that sadly-neglected ex-titan of English literature. A crusty old bugger who could, and did, write wittily and deeply on any subject under the sun, G.K. is responsible for one of my favourite novels, The Man Who Was Thursday. He rocks! Well, he did: he died in 1936.

"In one of these essays, Chesterton bashes the rich for their snobbish attitudes and defends the poor: "The cultivated people go in for what is beautiful; but the un-cultivated for what is interesting.....One man had a walking-stick made of glass and filled with sweets. If there were children in the house, the preservation of that glass stick has something of the insane sublimity of a religion." It wouldn't last long in our house anyway.

"Glass walking-stick equals something interesting but bonkers? pointless? fun? It could be a metaphor for blogging or I could be talking out of my a***e. ( That's a** if you're American. )

"Anyway, the plan is to witter on about any old random rubbish, whenever I can get my act together. As you can see above."

...but I still haven't written anything about knitting. Or opera. Or football.

( Probably won't start now, to be honest. )

Doctor Who: Night Terrors ( review with spoilers )

2011-09-06T06:33:00.008+01:00

OK, I say "with spoilers" but, as this review is so ridiculously late, I'm guessing most people who want to see this episode have already done so. Night Terrors is one of the most old school Who episodes we've seen for a while, especially coming as it does straight after the brain-frazzingly bonkers Let's Kill Hitler. It tells a very simple story of a young boy who lives in a state of almost constant fear of his surroundings. He's scared of the shadows cast by his toys at night, by the rumbling sound of his tower-block's lift, the old lady shuffling past his window - just about everything. His parents are at their wits' end and are contemplating "calling someone in".....

They don't need to: young George has already called in the Doctor. Somehow, his repeated prayer of "Please save me from the monsters" has reached through time and space and alerted the one man who can help him. The Time Team promptly materialise on George's council estate and begin investigating. The Eleventh Doctor appears even more out of place in this landscape of tower-blocks and bin-bags than his two predecessors, who both spent a lot of time in such familiar surroundings. But don't worry: the story soon drags us back to Steven Moffatt's patented Who landscape of the dark fairy tale.

George has a "thing" that helps him deal with his fears: anything he's frightened of gets put in his cupboard. This cupboard soon turns out to be a Narnia-like portal to another world and its influence spreads throughout the tower-block. Amy and Rory, along with the old dear from next door and the cartoon-nasty landlord, find themselves deposited in a dark, spooky mansion, being chased by blank-faced giant dolls...

"You see these eyes? They're old eyes. And one thing I can tell you, Alex: monsters are real..."

Night Terrors has all the makings of a classic Doctor Who story, but doesn't quite make it. The scenes in the doll's house are suitably atmospheric and the peg dolls are sure to give sleepless nights to countless nippers across the land, but it seems to take an age to get there. The problem with the early scenes ( for me, anyway ) is the lack of a real threat. We see George's fear but have no idea if anything is really happening outside his imagination. Personally, I would have moved the scene of the old lady being pulled into the pile of bin-bags to the pre-credits sequence. This may be an obvious "hook" but at least it would establish that something concrete is happening. It also needs to be said that the father/son bonding story resolution, while quite touching, is getting a bit samey: we've already seen it twice this season. Like the very similar Fear Her perhaps this script needed another draft to give it that extra impact?

I don't want to be too negative about what is an enjoyable little story with some good, creepy images ( at times reminiscent of Jan Svankmayer's Alice ) and which definitely improves with repeated viewing. But I'm not too sure about Amy's new look...

FF Fridays: Marvel Treasury Editions

2011-09-02T21:07:00.006+01:00

When I was a kid I used to love the over-sized Marvel Treasury Editions - they were a wonderful showcase for some classic ( and some not-so-classic ) reprints from Marvel's past. Of course, the biggest draw was that they presented all that groovy Bronze and Silver Age artwork in a super-sized "deluxe limited edition".....

OK, they were still printed on standard 1970's comic book paper

( ie bog roll ) but it was great to see such large-scale super hero goodness ( and barbarian badness in the Conan Treasuries! ) in an affordable format. The FF Treasuries reprinted such all-time classic tales as the Galactus Trilogy ( but an edited version... ), "Captives Of The Deadly Duo" ( FF #6 ), "The Master Plan Of Doctor Doom" ( FF #23 ) and "This Man, This Monster" ( FF #51 and this blog ) .....

These are the only two FF Treasuries I bought ( or my parents bought for me ) back in the day. There was a third volume, but I'm not sure if they were being published in the UK by that point.

I certainly never saw any Treasuries after #16 ( the Defenders issue ).

For further info on that cool, gone-but-not-forgotten format, check out Treasury Comics: The Blog - it's Fantastic!

Doctor Who: Let's Kill Hitler (review with spoilers)

2011-08-29T21:42:00.006+01:00

Team Tardis are back after their Summer break and are instantly flung into one of the craziest Doctor Who episodes yet. Which is really saying something for the Mad Moffatt Era.....

Amy and Rory summon the Doctor ( in snazzy, new green coat ) back from his quest to find Melody Pond, by tearing up a corn-field and spelling out "Doctor" in a crop-circle stylee. They are going to be poular with local farmers. The Doctor, of course, reads about this in the next day's local paper and then pops back in time to meet up with the Ponds and their previously unmentioned, tearaway best mate, Mels. ( Incidentally, it's nice to see that Leadworth is far more racially inclusive than comparable Gloucestershire villages in the real world, although it still can't seem to produce any inhabitants with actual Gloucestershire accents. ) Mels, being chased by the police for stealing cars, forces the Time Trio at gunpoint to take her back to Berlin in 1938 to - seemingly on a whim - assassinate Hitler. And she puts a bullet in the Tardis console for good measure. Have we got the hint yet? She's a baaad girl.....

"Shut up, Hitler!"

The long-awaited appearance of der fuehrer is actually a red herring as Hitler is quickly taunted by the Doctor ( "...the British are coming" ), punched out by Rory and locked in a cupboard for the rest of the episode. It turns out the sudden crash-landing of the old blue box has inadvertently saved Adolf from the murderous intentions of the Teselecta, a Terminator-style, time-travelling robot, controlled by miniaturised people inside its head... and not anything to do with Bo' Selecta! or test cricket.....

As this borderline-insane story twists and turns like a twisty-turny thing, Amy and Rory find themselves miniaturised and trapped inside the Teselecta, being menaced by its lethal antibodies, Mels is shot by Hitler but regenerates into ( SPOILERS! ) Melody / River who, obeying her conditioning by Eyepatch Lady, promptly fatally poisons the Doctor with lethal lipstick ( good name for a band! ) and then goes on a shopping spree in 1938 Munich. But it's the kind of shopping expedition that involves shotguns and semi-naked Germans.....

Mad enough for you yet?

Amidst all this craziness, Moffatt gives us more information on River's past ( or future? ), deepens the mystery of the Silence and provides some unexpected cameos from hologrammatic versions of former companions. Matt Smith is a delight as ever, whether playing cat-and-mouse with a temporarily homicidal River, sprawling across the Tardis floor in his death-throes, or playing the long game by providing a certain someone with a Tardis-blue diary.....

At the end of this cheese-dream-with-extra-pickles of an episode we are somewhere closer to understanding River's timeline ( from Melody to Mels to big-haired archaeologist with no remaining regenerations ) but still asking questions about the Silence and the Doctor's imminent death ( again! ) and probably in need of an aspirin :-)

4 out of 5 Bow Ties

King Of Comics

2011-08-28T17:45:00.004+01:00

Jack Kirby ( 28th August 1917 - 6th February 1994 )

Still the King!!

FF Fridays: "This Man... This Monster!"

2011-08-26T20:26:00.008+01:00

To atone for my shameful lack of blogging recently, I thought I'd start another semi-regular comics feature, as a replacement for the late, lamented Steranko Saturdays. I've made no secret of the fact that my all-time favourite comic book is the Stan Lee / Jack Kirby Fantastic Four. A quick glance at my header picture above

( by the great John Byrne ) only confirms my nostalgic and slightly sad attachment to all those weird and wacky Kirby Kharacters from the Silver Age of the House Of Ideas. And, of course, the fact that the FF is 50 (!) years old this year and eminently newsworthy ( due to the Death Of Johnny Storm "event" ) convinced me to go into a bit more depth about the fabulous foursome and their four-colour fables. ( Can't you tell I've been reading some of Stan's supremely sensational scripts? It's suddenly all alliteration and hyperbole around these parts... )

Above is a cover-scan of my copy of FF #51, probably the most talked-about single issue of the comic. Coming after the mind-blowing spectacle of the Galactus Trilogy, this is a smaller-scale character study which begins with Ben ( The Thing ) Grimm suffering one of his recurring bouts of melancholy.....

Ben's walking the streets of a rain-soaked Manhattan, thinking to himself: "I'll never be human again! I'll live... and die... just the way I am!"

Before long he's taken in by a kindly wood-cutter... sorry... a bald scientist who operates out of his front room due to lack of funds, recognition etc. He offers Ben company and coffee but, of course, turns out to be villainous. He drugs the unsuspecting Thing and, using his handy "duplication apparatus", swaps places with Ben with the intention of destroying the Fantastic Four. He talks at first about his bitter years of being mocked for his theories and how he wants to prove he's the "mental superior of Reed Richards." However, as soon as he turns into a walking pile of orange rocks, he sounds more like an X-Factor candidate: "Now, all his fame... and his power... are mine!"

The fake Thing takes his place in the unsuspecting FF, with even an appearance by an irate, human Ben Grimm failing to uncover his deception. Reed, worried about aliens attacking the Earth

( and, to be fair, that had happened quite a few times over the last 51 issues ) is tinkering with his latest invention, a gateway into sub-space, or the Negative Zone as it is more often known. He plans to dive into this strange, new universe and explore it for the good of mankind. At this point, our ersatz Thing starts to realise that Reed isn't just a glory hound:

"He's tacklin' a job that won't net him a plugged nickel... and he's doing it without any fanfare... or any publicity!"

The "radical cube" is one of Kirby's most memorable machines, a gleaming metal monstrosity which sends Reed on his cosmic trip, prefiguring Clarke / Kubrick's 2001: A Space Odyssey by 3 years:

"Everything is moving faster now! The universe has become a vast kaleidoscope of light and sound!! There's only one explanation... I'm finally approaching my goal! I'm at the very edge of sub-space!"

But, once past the "crossroads of infinity", Reed finds himself being drawn inexorably towards the Earth, where the negative elements of sub-space are destroyed in the positive-universe atmosphere.

( I've never quite figured that idea out. Has nobody on Marvel-Earth ever noticed huge chunks of anti-matter rocks exploding in the upper atmosphere? Or is it invisible to our world, coming from "a four dimensional universe"? More likely it's just a case of Stan Lee trying to make sense of Kirby's outlandish concepts, which often looked amazing but didn't bear much scrutiny. )

Our villain in Thing-form has been charged with reeling Reed back in on a cable ( high tech! ) and knows that this is his chance to leave him to die... but he can't do it. He struggles with his conscience and comes to this conclusion:

"I never did a worthwhile thing in my life!! But now... I've finally got the chance! I can really be Ben Grimm! I've gotta do it! I'll save Richards!"

( Interestingly, the formerly loquacious scientist is starting to talk and think more like Ben Grimm than himself. )

While the fake Thing dithers, the cable snaps, but he grabs the line and is pulled into sub-space. Standing on a piece of asteroid, hurtling to destruction, the un-named scientist realises that his years of envy were wasted on a man who was a far better human being than he could ever have been. Using the Thing's awesome strength he hurls Reed back through the portal to our universe and then sits down on his rock to contemplate his fate. As the real Ben Grimm changes back to his familiar, rocky form and the FF are reunited, Reed sums up this morality tale when he says that the anonymous "villain" may have done and planned monstrous things, but "he paid the full price... and he paid it like a man!"

This may all sound corny and preachy in this cynical age ( and it probably did back in 1966! ) but Stan's philosophy is heartfelt and warm and the story-telling of the Jack Kirby / Joe Sinnott art team is faultless. And I love that cover! With no dialogue or captions beyond the story's title, Kirby effortlessly sets out the drama: Reed trapped and desperate, surrounded by Kirby Krackle, Sue wordlessly pleading, the fake Thing standing immobile, looking lost, drawing the reader in - why is the "hero" doing nothing? It's an object lesson in selling a story with simple but powerful images. Something which, back in the Silver Age, was one of the consistently wonderful features of... The World's Greatest Comic Magazine!

Zoo days

2011-08-26T06:36:00.004+01:00

Just a few of the crazy critters we saw at Bristol Zoo last Monday. I had the day off work as it was Sarah's "special" ( *cough! 40th!* ) birthday and we all had a great time, strolling around the gardens, watching the animals, enjoying the sunshine etc.

However, I must warn you now that the creature in the yellow T-shirt is very dangerous and must not be approached under any circumstances...

Death Planet Commandos: the unofficial reunion

2011-08-16T18:56:00.012+01:00

Last Saturday night Sarah and I hit the riot-torn streets of Gloucester ( it was pretty quiet, actually ) and headed for the glittering palace of rock 'n' roll delights known as The Pig Inn The City. The occasion was the 50th ( surely not! ) birthday party of legendary, ever-young DPC guitarist, Marky Muscles. As well as celebrating Mark's half-century ( again... surely not! ) we caught a couple of great Punk bands, Meat and Two Sick Monkeys ( coming to your town soon... ), and were there for the first, unofficial DPC reunion. Twenty-something years in the making :-)

It was lovely to catch up with the guys after such a loooooong time. Certain people have been suggesting to us that we reform, if for one gig only. It would definitely be fun... but is it likely? Don't know... ( and that's actually an old DPC song title... )

The lineup above is as follows:

cerebus660 ( me ) - rhythm guitar and (very occasional ) backing vocals

Jon B - bass guitar and lead vocals

Mark B - lead guitar and backing vocals

Paul P - drums

( Absent from photo and reunion - Ade - lead vocals )

( Thanks to the lovely Caz for the photos. )

The above is the final lineup of the band formerly known as Primitive and later known as Three-Eyes McGurk and the Death Planet Commandos, or DPC to their friends and enemies. I keep threatening to write a more in-depth history of my time with the band... maybe some day soon...

Anyway, here's the DPC back in the day. To be specific, March the 5th, 1988, Coney Hill Hospital Social Club. Coney Hill was a psychiatric hospital ( long gone now, of course ) and an unusual, but cool, venue for gigs. They often had country and western bands playing, so you would have to move hay bales around the stage to accomodate amps and speakers. This was only the third gig Paul and I had played with the band ( but we were rock stars already! ) and was a benefit for local Hunt Saboteurs - seems like a different world from this 21st century perspective...

We played about 4 gigs at Coney Hill and they were always a good laugh - certainly better than the bloody awful Night Owl gig. We played with other long-forgotten local bands such as Walk The Plank, An Elegant Chaos, Decadence Within...

Here's me, posing for photos in my "Atomic Kiss" Watchmen T-Shirt...

And, from left to right, a Coney Hill patient in red jumper and slippers ( seriously! ) who got up and danced and seemed to know all the words to our songs...

... me, Jon, Ade, Paul and Mark.

Rock 'n' Roll!!

The mild, mild west?

2011-08-10T06:53:00.004+01:00

In the wake of major rioting in London, Birmingham, Bristol etc. my home town of Gloucester experienced its own, small-scale riot last night. While nowhere near the scale of the virtual war-zones seen in London in recent days, this still must have been frightening for residents caught up in the fighting. About 60 people smashed shopfronts, set fire to a derelict college building and confronted riot police, who pushed the rioters back from the city centre and contained them in the Tredworth area of the city, where the disturbance had first started.

Whether this rioting was a result of genuine grievances and anger in an area which has seen racial tensions in the past, or was just an excuse for copycat thugs to go on the rampage just for the hell of it, it's still a damning reflection on today's society. The gap between the "haves" and the "have-nots" grows daily, the bankers still rake in huge profits while the economy nosedives, Murdoch's right-wing media empire still has the monopoly on printed news in this country ( despite the "phone-hacking" scandal ) , prices of everything from food to fuel are spiralling, while a huge section of the populace are constantly being labelled as scum with no future, even as the constant celebrity-worship only reinforces our place at the bottom of the totem-pole...

I'm not condoning violence or rioting but eventually something has to give...

*Phew!* Rant over...

Interestingly, Sophie's boyfriend rang early yesterday evening to say that his dad, a police officer, had warned him to stay out of Gloucester city centre that night. The cops obviously knew it was going to kick off...

Ghost Town

2011-08-09T00:39:00.004+01:00

Tories in power, riots in the streets, economy in meltdown...

2011 or 1981?

Harry Potter And The Deathly Hallows Part Two

2011-08-06T21:08:00.004+01:00

"It all ends..."

For us, Harry Potter's 8-movie-long battle against the forces of darkness ended at the Lighthouse Cinema in Newquay, a brand-new, state-of-the-art movie emporium just a few minutes' walk from the beach. What a cool place!

While we were enjoying sun, sea and sand, Harry wasn't having such a good time. His mentor, Dumbledore, was dead, his school was under attack by Voldemort's hellish legions and - worst of all - the Quidditch stadium was on fire. ( Shame! )

Unsurprisingly, this is the darkest HP movie of the series as our heroes make a last, desperate stand against the snake-headed He Who Must Not Be Named. In contrast to the previous film's glacial pace this last installment fairly zips along as Harry and his gang break into the dwarf-controlled Gringott's Bank, take a wild ride on a dragon's back, meet Dumbledore's cynical brother, confront new Headmaster Snape and finally fight the Battle Of Hogwarts, with some excursions into the spirit world thrown in for good measure. Phew! And then, after all the series' Quidditch matches and teenage angst, it all comes down to a bloody big battle between Death Eaters, giants and Dementors on one side, and schoolchildren and their teachers on the other.

As usual with the HP franchise, my main criticism is poor or muddled ( Muggled? ) story-telling. Yet again, the Deathly Hallows themselves prove to be of little relevance to the plot, a key conversation between Harry and Malfoy's mum is botched, making little sense of later developments, and too many characters are killed off-screen in the final battle. On the plus side, the emotional pay-offs for the main characters work well, with Harry drawing strength from some supportive ghosts before his final battle, Ron and Hermione fully realising what they mean to each other, and even shy Neville getting his chance to shine as he defies Voldemort. The special effects are uniformly excellent, especially in the scenes of Voldemort's army assaulting the school en masse.

It will come as no surprise to anyone that ( SPOILERS! ) Harry wins out in the end and Voldemort dies, even though the cost is high for the Hogwarts survivors. We've come a long way with these characters over the 7 books and 8 films and this is a suitably epic finale but it's still anchored in the familiar themes of friendship, tolerance and courage that have run through the series. There's even a coda at the end, set 19 years later, that effectively brings the story full circle, taking us back to Platform 9 & 3/4 for another journey to Hogwarts.....

Soundtrack: Fuzzy Logic by Super Furry Animals

On the beach

2011-08-02T23:45:00.007+01:00

After various camera-related disasters last week I didn't think we'd have many photos of our recent trip to what Sarah calls "our beloved Cornwall" but luckily I managed to salvage a few.

This is the lovely Watergate Bay, a major surfing beach, just a few minutes drive from Newquay.

Sophie's ready to catch some waves.....

While James is on the lookout for sea monsters. One day.....

The building above houses the Extreme Academy ( for all your surfing needs ) as well as one of Jamie Oliver's Fifteen restaurants. ( That is, the restaurant's actually called Fifteen. He might own a total of fifteen noshing-shops for all I know... )

And here we are, enjoying our breakfast in Fifteen, while still trying to spot those elusive sea monsters.

A very cool, modern restaurant with some excellent

( if expensive ) food. Well worth a visit.

Just make sure you've got a BIG appetite :-)

Soundtrack: Sea Within A Sea by The Horrors.

Cornwall, here we come...

2011-07-22T08:48:00.004+01:00

I've been away from Blogger for a while because we've been incredibly busy with work, finally selling my Mum's house, having a new kitchen installed and visiting Fairford Air Show ( report to follow. )

I'll be away a bit longer now as we're heading down to beautiful Cornwall for a week. Yay!! It's just what we need - a chance to relax without dealing with builders, solicitors, estate agents, loss adjusters, managers etc. etc. Bliss!

See you all soon, hopefully with some cool photos...

Gallows

2011-07-12T23:04:00.007+01:00

Last night UK Punk upstarts Gallows brought their own brand of chaos to Gloucester's Guildhall...

I missed the first support band ( they're called Thirty-Three, apparently ) but caught the next band, Bastions. They make a sound like a passenger-jet full of screaming gorillas crashing on your head, have song titles like Misery King and Nausea, and lyrics like "From the womb spew forth the dogs of war and kill the king." Lovely! To be fair, they are pretty impressive at what they do, which is a kind of Metal endurance test with constant tempo changes and crushing rhythms, and feature a frontman ( I hesitate to use the word "singer" ) who hurtles around the stage as if he's having a heated argument with himself. And losing. Which is all fine but I do wonder why they couldn't also include the occasional hint of..... I don't know, melody? I know I'm obviously an old fuddie-duddie who should be put out to pasture or sent to the glue factory, but I do find this kind of music joyless and sexless, and so lacking in light and shade that the endless aggression becomes a bit..... dull.

Anyway, next up are the tattooed Punk/Metal hooligans themselves, Gallows.....

And the crowd goes mental. The capacity crowd at The Guildhall are instantly drawn into the insane world of Gallows' frontman, Frank Carter. He sings/screams/shouts about how dark it is inside the belly of a shark, how violent London is for young Punks on the make, and how he dreads the night but loves misery. He gets the crowd to sing "Happy Birthday" to his girlfriend down his smart phone, orchestrates the building of a human pyramid on the dance-floor and encourages us to crowd-surf and stage-dive. The Guildhall security guys look daggers at him and pick bodies off the floor. It's all good-humoured, sweat-and-beer-drenched chaos. Frank has the audience in the palm of his hand and they love it. "You guys are the future of music" he tells them. Bless 'im.

The music is rifftastic Hardcore Punk with a Metal edge, recalling bands such as Black Flag and Minor Threat, but with a distinctive UK viewpoint. In fact, Frank's broken-glass-gargling vocals bring to mind early '80s Anarchist Punks like The Subhumans or Conflict, even though the lyrics aren't a million miles away from the more modern, London-nightlife-is-shite songs of Plan B, another tattooed tearaway with a big heart. It's all the more of a shame that Frank is leaving the band after this tour, citing that old favourite, musical differences :-(

It's an intense, intoxicating, celebration of being young, angry and out for a laugh, but not being a bonehead or a fake. It works for certain forty-somethings too.....

How to risk life and limb the Gallows way. It'll end in tears, mark my words.....

6 years on... never forget 7/7

2011-07-07T22:13:00.002+01:00

Green Lantern

2011-07-06T21:13:00.003+01:00

The Super Hero Summer soars on and on...

After the Norse Gods and Mutants of Marvel, the next "long underwear character" to hit the big screen is DC's Green Lantern.

Hal Jordan is a hotshot test pilot who has an on-off relationship with the boss' daughter, a reputation for irresponsibility, and the almost-standard Hollywood father issues. When dying alien Abin Sur's power-ring seeks out his successor to join the universe-spanning police force, the Green Lantern Corps, Hal is chosen as a potential recruit. Forced to confront both Earthbound and alien-born enemies, Hal has to prove worthy of the Corps and realise that with great power comes great responsibilities. ( Hey, wrong film! )

Green Lantern, while enjoyable, is a very by-the-numbers super hero movie, with nothing particularly new to bring to the table. Ryan Reynolds is better than I'd expected as brash hero Hal, while Blake Lively ( as love-interest Carol Ferris ) and Peter Sarsgaard

( as mad scientist Hector Hammond ) are fine, but don't have enough to do. Far better is Mark Strong as head Lantern, Sinestro, who is all sneers and pride and is obviously being primed as turncoat/villain if there should be a sequel.

The action scenes are effective, with Green Lantern's rescuing of an out-of-control helicopter being the best example of the power ring's will-power-created "constructs" in action, and the final battle with alien entity Parallax being similar, but superior, to the defeat of Galactus in Fantastic Four: Rise Of The Silver Surfer.

The film comes into its own when the action relocates to Oa, home planet of the GL Corps and the blue-domed Guardians Of The Universe. The expansive CGI landscapes and huge crowds of assembled Lanterns make a refreshingly different backdrop to a super hero film, after the familiar cityscapes of the Batman and Spider-Man franchises. Hopefully, if there is a sequel, we'll see more of the green-screen wonders of the DC universe.

Green Lantern isn't a classic movie by any means, but I'd rate it Three Out Of Five Power Rings as it's just good fun, which surely counts for something when the biggest super hero film of recent years is the overrated and terminally serious The Dark Knight.....

And in the interests of "fun", here's a typically goofy Silver Age GL cover by the Green team supreme, Gil Kane and Murphy Anderson. They really don't make 'em like that any more :-)

Soundtrack: various '90s flashbacks by Portishead, Smashing Pumpkins, and Massive Attack

Happy Independence Day...

2011-07-04T21:16:00.005+01:00

...to all our friends across The Pond.

Have a great 235th Birthday, America! And stay classy.....

Prom Night: School's out forever!

2011-06-30T19:13:00.004+01:00

Sophie's Prom last night:

Starting with some back-garden posing...

Then, the arrival of friends and transport...

And then it's paaartaaay time!!

I'm sure you'll agree with my biased view that Sophie ( and her friends, of course ) looked absolutely lovely as they headed off to celebrate the end of school and exams.

( She's doing it all again tonight as it's her boyfriend's Prom this time. Somebody might be a wee bit tired tomorrow... )