This was supposed to be last week’s weekend (6th May) whatsit… App/draft/update confusion.

Further to my previous notes regarding newsletters, I’m going to get ahead of the publication fashion curve and carry on posting here, in what may turn out to be the online writing equivalent of sporting flares throughout the 1980s, optimistic that a 70s revival is imminent.

See, though, then it WAS… Now the 20-odd year spin cycle has pushed us into the world of Ned’s Atomic Dustbin reunion tours, so we must, surely, be due something or other else shortly? Surely to god? Things to come: in 2023, Rihanna does guest vocals on track by artist in Year 7 (~12yrs old)… feat. lavish beats – offensive to the ear of all people over 27 – in collision with ragtime basslines and sampled tracks from Trickle Down Theory of Lord Knows What.

Musical exchange has been exercising me this week. I haven’t got time to compile a top ten, sorry, but I’ll remedy that next week. Had a dream about the cultural significance of The Stone Roses, in a weirdly nested, cherished record specific-to-a-small-community lived reality way that I found impossible to pin down when I woke up. It was likely prompted by reading Junglist…

Super time capsule evocations of culture with minutiae of dress codes, cigarette brands, etc. Also probably prompted by recent reading (twitter & elsewhere) of people wrestling with the issue of having their love of The Smiths’ music tainted by Morrisery holding problematic views, as if Roland Barthes never wrote anything about such a notion.

That and the ongoing recurrence of recurrent stylistic revisitations, remixes, recycling… musically and textually, a tip of the hat to jdevans, who reminded me of a FIZZY post from a few years back… I never got round to a “proper” write-up of that gig, although the original post probably qualifies as a proper write-up tbf. I got quite a bit out of the Steve Ignorant autobiography I bought on the night, would recommend that.

In a shorter musical cycle of exchange, my long-term music pusher, present at Sunburned Hand of the Man and Sleaford Mods gigs, sent me a link literally just now, for some 1980s South African synth pop comp, Gumbo Fire, which is making great soundtrack to extemporize by.

Had a handful of hospital-related appointments this week, the highlight of which was discovering a relatively recent copy of Reader’s Digest among the magazines in the waiting room.

Such a mainstay of my formative reading years (I Am John’s Sense Of Nostalgia). It read about how I’d have expected. They still pay for jokes readers submit, although it’s no longer Laughter, the Best Medicine, possibly because of killjoy pedantry from the Advertising Standards Authority, so instead it’s called Laugh! Imperative use seemed a bit desperate as an editorial strategy… I thought, hey, there must be some NHS/privatisation analogy in there somewhere, but before I had time to consider it any further I was called in for my thing.

Also saw this:

Laughed my abstract ass off. Sorry for the vague citation, but this was in a magazine article on decluttering I happened upon… which I’m not sure now isn’t synchronicity or just further evidence of The Man jamming my brainwaves.

Had a similar “terrible copy” experience in T.K. Maxx the other week:

I recall my heart wanting very much to sweep these scented abominations to the floor of the shop, with an insincere “Oops”. Sadly, I got distracted by some cheap sportswear, so the sound of breaking glass remains an unquittable dream.

What else? Oh yeah, while we’re smashing the system, witness this marvellous Comrade Peter Rabbit figurine, protesting the wage conditions in McDonald’s:

“What’s stopping you?”

“I notice you ask that before telling me your pay scale.”

Obviously we were in Maccy D’s taking field notes for a sociolinguistic study, “Mothers of invention: late-stage capitalism, parenting and the illusion of choice”, working title, etc.

So, that was the last week or so, anyway. Next week, it’s likely to be five terse lines on how much assessment marking there is to be done at this time of year.