Thursday, 29 January 2009

Grace Jones

I watched Grace Jones at the Roundhouse in Chalk Farm last night, and I can confirm that she is an alien. I had an inkling the last time I saw her at the Secret Garden Party, but I thought it best to reserve judgement, given what happened that night. That night was weird. Daniel Paul Wilton said that he enjoyed watching fire poi, and I thought I had shat myself because I could smell sewage. It all turned out fine in the end: I happened to be sitting near the portaloos and Daniel Paul finally called the fire poi performers ‘a bunch of wankers’. He did however go on to believe whole heartedly that he was in Hell whilst watching Late of the Pier, and I ran around asking people whether or not they had ever “considered the possibility of… this!” – ‘this’ would entail a smack on the head with an inflatable hammer, of course.

Let’s not talk about that night too much. What I will say is that despite all of this, my impressions of Grace Jones were not too far off the mark: she is extraterrestrial, and she probably eats most things that aren’t over six foot tall. If she were an earthly creature, she would probably be an enormous locust, or one of those animals that are in to post-coital decapitation. But she’s not a locust, so she just wears absurd hats and a thong and drinks a lot of alcohol, a practice she calls ‘sucking’. She must have gone off stage for a ‘suck’ about ten times during the show. But as we all know, aliens are really good performers, so it was great to watch. Some of the songs are good – the ‘bumper’ one, and a couple of others – but the whole thing is really about watching her wearing a cape and thrusting her biblical crotch around stage.

Another thing that stuck out was that practically the entire crowd was made up of gay men. Understandable really, considering what straight men have to go through during a Grace Jones concert. Gay men can enjoy the spectacle from start to finish, whereas hetero men inevitably think of what it would be like to sleep with her, and this can lead you to dark places. At one point, I tried to explain how she got to be so strong. My theory was that she saps the life force of a man when she sleeps with him, leaving her chosen partner as a frail husk of a man. She gets away with it, just like a light bulb will never be punished for burning a moth.

Sexual fantasies/nightmares aside, she is a great entertainer, and the ideas behind the set and costume design are great – making a massive laser beacon out of her head, creating a hurricane on stage, raising her up in a platform so she looks even bigger etc. etc.

I need to find out more about the alien thing though. Maybe I’ll write a letter to NASA, or develop asparagus syndrome and try and find out myself. In any case, I’ll let you know.

Monday, 26 January 2009

I love Christmas

I realise that most people have already forgotten about Christmas, the birthday of Jesus Christ of Nazareth. 


Now that it's all over, though, what have we learnt from it all? Everyone's running around, either on Oxford Street trying to snap up a bargain, or in a gym trying to work off some of those mince pies, but already we've forgotten what the whole Christmas experience means. We're meant to be more considerate and help each other out, but just one month later, all I see are the same selfish attitudes as before. No one gives a damn about Christmas any more; it's all about glitter, getting drunk, and hilariously ironic presents.

This is why I have decided to post this video, pointed out to me by Jonangelo Molinari, an immensely spiritual and devout man, to remind us of what Christmas means.

I love Christmas.

Friday, 16 January 2009

Monday, 12 January 2009

Pay Back.

For every time some rank guy has tried to come and rub his small penis against you.

For every time you've watched girls basically being raped with their clothes on whilst trying to dance with their friends.

For every time that you've felt self-concious for doing a little bit of a dutty wine because about 10 men are behind you staring at your arse.

The second woman to dance in this video takes it all back.

It's a shame the rest of the girls don't follow suit to this truly brilliant pay back but at least there's someone out there with the bollocks to turn the tables and just face rape someone. My heroine.

Saturday, 10 January 2009

The Greatest Sleeptalker in Recorded History

It's not so strange to talk in your sleep.
Actually my own disclaimer to newbies in duvets is that I sometimes sleep with my eyes open, and I have a friend who can't get through the night without taking off all her clothes. But Dion McGregor - the greatest sleeptalker in recorded history - redefines the parameters of strange things done in subconscious hours. He was a bit of a nomad, an endearing freeloader who passed from sofa to sofa in 1960's New York, fluttering between attempted careers in song-writing and acting ... but it was the work of his subimagination that has left the greatest mark on the world. Have a listen here, or go to Seventeen Gallery on Kingsland Road, sit in a dark basement painted black and listen to a crackling voice tell you to shove a banana up your ass. It's amazing.

Tuesday, 6 January 2009