All in Column
Season 2 of Nick Kroll and Andrew Goldberg’s Big Mouth on Nythflex is just as funny as the first. It also goes way out into the field across every line you could draw for it and just keeps running, special parts flapping in the wind. The established wisdom is that it’s funny because it’s about puberty and puberty is funny.
Like all great science fiction, the technology, space ships, A.I and alien lifeforms are somewhat incidental; they are a contact and mirror to hold up though which we might better view ourselves. The atmosphere may be different, the language ever-changing but some aspects of human nature remain.
Stålenhag’s juxtaposition of the familiar and the strange is just as great as I thought it would be and that found fiction aspect works superbly in conjunction with his narrative through-line. Both ‘eerie’ and ‘nostalgic’ are being thrown about with total accuracy. It is an imagining of present and a future much of our own making and one that we are perhaps thoroughly incapable of escaping, even if we wanted to.
Joyce True’s portraits and vignettes are the perfect complement to Young’s witty, naughty advice for ‘the man who knows he’ll never have biceps’ like Arnie. As dissapointed as that once made a much younger, more gym-faring me, I’ve come to terms with it and that must be a healthy thing.
Look at this book. Look at this tiny, tiny book. How shall I furnish an empty house with the like of ‘Six Fairy Tales’? Hockney, the brothers Grimm and I need to have a serious chat. Also, I desperately need to Tracy Island a miniature bookmark for that is what shall make my heart to soar.
‘Live at The Star Club, Hamburg’. That album is seminal [there’s actually a copy in the post], it’s just…not necessarily a redeeming piece of music should you have married your thirteen year old cousin? Possibly while still married to your second wife? I mean, it’s a really wild record and maybe you just call yourself Bird Man and people forget.
I was informed - quite accurately as it turns out - that ‘Cheap Thrills’ by Big Brother and The Holding Company (1968, CBS) is about as close as I’m gonna get to nabbing that elusive performance by Janis Joplin of ‘Piece Of My Heart’ from The Woodstock Experience on vinyl.
Remember those disposable cameras you used to buy in the airport? The ones now reserved for wedding tables and hen parties; those that occasionally…how do I put this? Go missing and then turn up years later in time capsule fashion with all kinds of nostalgic and “compromising” material squirrelled within?
This is ‘Hot Hits 16’, pressed in 1973 by EMI as part of their Music For Pleasure series. It’s two sides of just really, really great and/or interesting covers of everything from ‘You’re So Vain’, through ‘The Jean Genie to ‘Roll Over Beethoven’. Again, they are covers and not the original artists but that isn’t always a bad thing and is often a refreshing thing.
The new season - the fifth of its name, in case I might have your attention - of Bojack Horseman has been up on the Northflux for just long enough, should you love to both laugh and cry simultaneously. I maintain that everything about this show is gold for the reflective manic depressive and that is exactly what I require.
Paula Yates’ musical drawers are very funny, very tongue in cheek and…illuminating? Both Bob Geldof and Frank Zappa are most impressive (yes, in that way), as are Lemmy Ace Of Spades and Ted Nugent. Bowie/Ziggy and Elton John’s shots might be a little too close for comfort and I’m not certain that we needed those particular angles? As for McCartney, I think there might be such a thing as cheating here.
While the studio has no name as of yet, we would like to proffer, ‘The Hollow Beneath St Mary’ as an option. It’s basically an abandoned crypt and possibly our natural environment. The tools have been tended to, the iron is hot and my body is…ready?
Anya Silver was 49 and I think it’s entirely reasonable to say that’s too young. I certainly feel that way. I have a few of her books at home on the top shelf and I climb there from time to time, curl up among some dust bunnies and rest in the half light.
I reley didn’t want to also be the one saying this - as well as every other sweating native right now - but it’s hot. Like, really hot. Like trouble-breathing-moving-eating-sleeping-existing hot. I understand that it is similarly, if not more so uncomfortable elsewhere in Europe Land but we are not accustomed to nor built for this degree of warm.
From what I understand, it is no uncommon thing for people to feel like they were born a little late. This is not merely a tail-end Millennial thing either. I mean, it absolutely is that but it is also a malaise capable of afflicting people at various points along their respective tortured timelines.
No Man’s Sky NEXT lives and from what I understand, may in fact necessitate welcoming that piece of software back onto my PS4 hard drive. I recall making the space required the other evening but worry that my launch PS4 shall by no means be up to the task.
It is Friday and I might be dying. How would I know? Is this what death feels like? It might be. All I can know for sure is that I crashed on a wood floor last night - the resonating sensation of which might mean I had either the best or worst nights sleep I’ve had in years.
The new part arrived late last week and is currently being fitted by Andy The Technomancer as I type this. Much in the same way that a piano being tuned or bells being hung are fascinating processes to watch, this is simultaneously arcane and voyeuristic. As for the Rosita, she is lain disembowelled about the listening room floor.
That one could always have it worse is usually true; that we could be so much better to one another, even more so. It’s been a week of ups and downs and buoyancy control is difficult when it requires much the same elemental composition needed just to get out of bed in the morning, function and remain standing until it's time to lie down in a dark room for six hours and not talk to anyone.