Golden age of avant-rock comes to Camden

Saw Sonic Youth on Friday night at The Roundhouse, playing Daydream Nation in its entirety as part of the Don't Look Back series of shows. Pretty great stuff,and a reminder of when indie was all about experimentation, noise, the avant garde and rejecting the mainstream.

Dropped into the Hawley Arms afterwards to be swiftly reminded that indie's now almost entirely about shittily-dressed sub-Alex Zane types, dismal guitar pop and Top Shop women on the hunt for famous people.

My article about the gig, and the general idea of putting alt legends on the nostalgia circuit is in today's Guardian

Declaring war on ugly marketing

This Thursday night Neil Boorman will be appearing at the ICA to talk about the ethics of advertising, alongside documentary genius Adam Curtis (The Trap, The Power of Nightmares etc) and some guy from the Mother creative agency. It's all in aid of Boorman's new book Bonfire of The Brands, which sees him burn a load of designer goods, and then live without them.

Believe me, this was no mean feat for him; I've known Neil a long time, and he was mad as a devil for anything with a label. Peace to the Westwood perforated leather jacket and Nikes with all flames up the side, a'ight?

Smooth 80s soul jam of the day

Princess' Say I'm Your Number 1 got to number seven in the UK charts in 1985. Bit of lightweight pop from EFTE's childhood which, with hindsight, sounds like a note-perfect electrosoul jam that Joyce Sims would have been proud of. Great video with Princess (aka Desiree Heslop) throwing down with her bra out around The British Museum, Hyde Park, an open-top bus and the BMX-infested Westway. Love him or hate him, Peter Waterman was on top of his game for this one.

Essex: Where they do things a little differently

Spent last weekend down in Mersea Island (above), a partially connected island off the Thames Estuary, about ten miles from Colchester. Beautiful, rugged coast, plus some weird geological condition where everything seems to grow to insane heights very quickly. My friend's vegetable gardening was giving up four-foot high rhubarb, more spinach than you could handle and the world's shiniest onions. Seriously, it's like Dig For Victory crossed with Day of The effin' Triffids down there. The place seems to have some kind of microclimate, and sustains a large vineyard; it also plays host to a large scooter/skinhead rally every autumn.

Here's me and Mrs EFTE enjoying the bleak English seaside with our friend's son. Knackered old boats, grey skies and some strange vegetation; does it get any more traditional?

Dogs win prizes

A nice bit of found photography from Mrs EFTE. All we know is that the dog was called Lady Jane, she's looking in a celebratory mood after claiming the cup, and that she's sitting on some properly nasty 1970s carpet.

CRACKIN' SKULLZ THIS SATURDAY NIGHT

London's finest hip-hop, 80s soul and ignorant bass night takes over The Legion on Old St tomorrow. 8pm-2am, free.

The God-like genius of Andrew Neil

Like right-wing media types with fuzzy hair and a taste for the good life? Then check my piece for The Guardian on modern day legend Andrew Neil. He's on his summer break from The Week at the moment – somewhere vulgar like Monaco I like to imagine – but the show returns in September.Judging by the 'comments' below the article I'm not the only one with a sneaking soft spot for Brillo…

Power electronics v Psychedelic folk

Excellent new issue of Wire featuring a lengthy interview with creepy old industrialists Whitehouse (pictured above, onstage, looking really happy to be deafening a load of angry men), and a superb primer on British psychedelic folk featuring everyone from Steeleye Span to Comus. The Whitehouse piece is by David Keenan, whose book England's Hidden Reverse is considered a nigh-on indispensable guide to the whole Death In June/Current 93/magick scene. Whitehouse are definitely one of those bands who are a lot more interesting to read about than listen to: I saw them play at The Garage in 1996 at Live Action 69, and I can honestly say I've never seen such a pack of repressed homos in one room in my life.

The Folk article also includes John Martyn. Here he is tearing The Old Grey Whistle Test a new one with just his acoustic guitar and a massive Echoplex unit.

A bad end to a bad night, 1985

Interesting community seems to be building up on YouTube with people posting various recordings of the old 'closedown' segments from regional British TV (before the days of all night telly). This very subdued one is from Granada TV the night of the Heysel Stadium disaster. To his credit, the host segues pretty seamlessly from "A backstage look at the famous Moulin Rouge nightspot in Paris" to giving out the emergency numbers for people who didn't know whether their relatives were dead or alive. Wisely, they close down without the usual Granada jingle at the end.

Why British pop music needs to get off the past's nuts

Following on from the previous Luke Haines-related post, he pops up again in this article of mine from The Guardian. It's generally bemoaning what a narrow view bands take when they're referencing the past (when there's so much interesting, gruesome stuff to draw on). It originally ran in 2005, so some of the Libertines* references might seem a bit out of date.

* For younger readers, The Libertines were a particularly shitty band that a load of morons thought were the new Clash for about six months.

Luke Haines strips it down

An acoustic studio version of '1967' by national treasure Luke Haines from around the time of 'How I Learned To Love The Bootboys'. Great cello work, and Haines sports a fine pair of headphones, apparently liberated from the BBC Radiophonic Workshop in the late Seventies.

Some rare live Joy Division

Joy Division are such a fucking lazy reference point for bands/journalists that it's easy to forget how incredible they were. Basically, when any band nowadays get compared to them, what they or the writer means is 'the singer wears a tie and does a stupid version of that jerky dance.' That's it.What's almost certain is that any band who genuinely did sound like them nowadays wouldn't even get a record deal.

Bah. Anyway, press screenings start tonight of Control, Anton Corbijn's biopic of Ian Curtis which had very favourable reviews from Cannes. I'm too late to catch tonight's screening, but will report back as soon as I've got a review.

In the meantime, enjoy this excellent Super-8-with-sound footage of them tearing through a couple of tracks in an Altrincham pub in 1979. Nice to see something other than the so-so clip of them on Somethin' Else that gets endlessly recycled…

P.S. You can also check Scott King's excellent artistic tribute to Joy Division here. It's a bit like Stella Vine - if she wasn't a talentless cunt and if she ever stopped sucking up to famous people and using obvious symbolism.

The near-death lunacy of Noel Edmonds

Noel Edmonds' Late Late Breakfast Show was eventually taken off-air when that guy died during some ill-advised bungee jumping stunt. However, as the following clip perfectly illustrates, the show's cavalier attitude to safety made it a miracle it hadn't happened sooner. The basic premise is that members of the public tried to jump over a line of cars at Santa Pod, using regular crappy road cars. The first attempt falls badly short and the car wipes out into the crowd – probably because they're not stunt drivers, and it's absolutely pissing it down with rain. Undeterred, they run the stunt again, this time really screwing up, mangling the car and leaving the driver hideously injured. The most notable aspects of the clip are John Peel (commentator) audibly bricking it, and Edmonds' gleeful disregard for safety. Although all that said, it certainly makes for better entertainment than the kind of dross we get on Saturday nights nowadays…

Lost Film Classics: Radio On

Chris Petit's early Eighties road movie, Radio On is now available on DVD. There's a very good review of it here at the new Brithack film reviews site. I think the author's a little harsh on the film, but it's definitely worth checking. Superb use of Bowie and Kraftwerk throughout it.

Harry Potter is a c*nt

Following on from my piece in last week's Sunday Telegraph, I went on BBC News this morning to explain why adults (like these losers, above) shouldn't be reading Harry Potter books. Interview seemed to go well enough, apart from the fact that contrary to what I'd been told by the booker, I was put up against a very articulate, enthusiastic seven year old. Honestly, fucking BBC - if they're not dicking the Queen over, they're trying to make EFTE look like a hater of children (which I am, but that's not really the point).

Also, spent an enjoyable few minutes kicking it with Simon Fanshawe in the green room. God, I'm a hack sometimes.

The king of British crime

Having constantly seen him referenced by David Peace and other people who generally don't suffer fools, I finally read Derek Raymond's He Died With His Eyes Open at the weekend. First published in 1984, it's a near-flawless piece of British noir touching on sex, the suburbs, alcoholism, murder, casual racism and the occult. The novel perfectly conjurs up the shabby, semi-derelict edge of early Eighties London, but avoids slipping into standard hardboiled territory thanks to the very moral (almost tender) core that Raymond gives his protagonist.

Raymond himself was pretty remarkable; an old Etonian who slipped the moorings of his class and upbringing and went into a life as a criminal, pornographer, peasant labourer and sporadic novellist. Predictably enough, he sold almost nothing for most of his career, although achieved a good deal of interest towards the end of his life. I seriously cannot recommend him highly enough to you.

Original pervert

Interesting article here about John Lindsay, pioneer of British porno cinema. Lindsay founded most of Soho's bongo clubs, was constantly in and out of court, and won several landmark obscenity trials. Most recent reports seemed to suggest that he's completely renounced the grumble game and now lives quietly in Kent. There's also some screen grabs etc over here courtesy of the ever-reliable Bgafd.

Classic UK soul...

Absolutely killer clip of David Joseph's Hi-Tension performing their eponymous track on Top of The Pops in 1978. Kid Jensen on the introduction, and the band appear to be performing in the crowd which I'm sure wasn't the norm on TOTP. There's a great long version of this song on the 12"; I lucked out in a FARA Romanian Orphans charity shop recently and got that, along with a 7" of their (superior, in my view) British Hustle single. Pretty much anything by them's recommended though.

"I'm bad, I'm nationwide"

Not only here, but now in America. The great women at Missbehave magazine have hired me to write a couple of pieces for them, and even found time to give me and Dan Stacey's club night, Crackin' Skullz a nice plug. Their mag is like a cross between Vice and XXL, and is probably the only women's mag in existence that doesn't make you feel mildly suicidal. Their next issue includes my indispensable European Guide To Sex Pests.

Pop Music and Class

This article of mine originally appeared in The Guardian, examining the relationship between pop music and class. Includes, Joy Division, Skrewdriver, Mud and the late, great, Biggie Smalls. May he rest in crazy peace…