"The Great Journey of Life continues"

Hello, Dear Reader. How are you? So it's been a while since our paths crossed and I hope that all is well in your field. The reasons for our avoidance? Well, that can be boiled down to the fact that I'm trying to do three things at once presently (PhD, seminar teaching, work for Disney) I have very little free time. I've not even had the chance to begin to appreciate the wealth of Cult TV I received for my birthday. Ah, I look forward to a few days engaging with these programmes over a whiskey and lime. Nice.

Anyways, below are some photos of my travels and escapades over the last few months. I hope you enjoy them. If not then that's fair enough. There were supposed to be a couple of Kieran included here, but due to her request they have been excluded. Instead you get the usual photo of Newton Abbot clock tower, just without the tale concerning the Portreath of Newton Abbot, as I'm sure you've heard that enough times by now. Ages ago, I was going to heavily criticise the NME's 'Cool List' for the forthcoming year, but as I could only think of about five people I'd put on such a list I didn't bother. If anyone is really that interested, I can impart that information, but it's not that important in the grand scale of space and time.

The Grates playing live @ Cardiff Barfly. Needless to say, they were fantastic.

Patience from The Grates. The coolest woman in rock.

Meeting Alana and Patience from The Grates after they'd played in the Barfly, and looking rather pleased about it.

Ed attempts to impersonate Kenneth Williams. It's still not as good as my Don Corleone. Or Sean Connery. Or Ali Campbell. However, I now get violently attacked for doing these impressions when in the company of this man.

C-Rod after one too many Magners. I think by this point the conversation had passed on to some rather coarse subject matters.

Newton Abbot Clocktower. I expect they've closed that branch of the Alliance and Leicester by now, and don't ask what's probably become of that woman...

Tom, Laura and Kaz.

Enjoying a night out with Kaz and Tom. I honestly can't remember how long it'd been since I saw them both but it was, as usual, a pleasure.

Darren does his best impression of Elvis.

A manly hug from The D.A.Z. on my birthday. We went to an Italian restaurant that was run by a stereotypical Italian chap. I think he thought we were famous for some reason.

"Apathetic Bloody Planet"

I was going to write a blog tonite, but the truth is I'm too tired and not feeling witty/profound/pretentious/angry/fannish enough to talk about anything of any great consequence, and as there's no-one on Messenger or MySpace to annoy whilst doing it, as much as I enjoy the company of iTunes, I'm gonna go and watch Twin Peaks.

As Agent Cooper says, you should give yourself a present at least once a day.

Thank You, America

The title of this post isn't meant as a direct allusion to an Alanis Morissette song. The truth is I can't stand that Thank You track (you know the one, in the video she's stood naked in Times Square as a load of traffic buzzes around whilst she see's how many long words she can fit into a song). Nonetheless, my thanks go out to the people of America who, perhaps, have finally seen the light. When The Idiot stole the election in 2000 I didn't, to be honest, know much about what was going on. I was too young to remember any of the other US presidents, but I do remember that during my teenage years I became an admirer of America not only because one of my personal heroes, Michael Stipe, came from there and always had something interesting and unexpected to say (usually regarding American politics), but because the place really did seem like somewhere to aspire towards. OK, so I'm now just beginning to learn that life under Clintion was still no bed of roses (and some of his military decisions such as those related to Kosovo were questionable to say the least), but during that time there was always a sense of dignity projected about the place (if we overlook the Lewinsky affair, that is).

When 9/11 happened, it scared the hell out of me. However, over the ensuing years what really came to scare me when I started to learn about what was going on was that America had somehow allowed some backwards, red-neck Idiot firstly buy and the bully his way into power. To me, it was the equivalent of putting a character from Sesame Street in power, although that's an insult to Cookie Monster and Count Von Count. Then in 2004, after a holiday where I became fascinated with the election build up and it's coverage on US CNN (believe me, if you've never seen US CNN I can't recommend it highly enough, it really is so horrid that you have to keep watching. I wonder if 'Anderson Cooper 360' is still running...), I was so sure that The Idiot wouldn't get a second term I was literally bowled over when he got back in. I was almost physically sick when I heard the news.

So now, I offer my thanks to the American public for seeing the light and weaking the grip of The Idiot from power. Hopefully these next two years will work as an example of how American society can get itself back on its feet and actually benefit those least fortunate, so that scenes like those evidenced in New Orleans will not be seen again (I realise this is an impossibility due to the imbalance of global power and the poverty of the Third World, but you would at least think that in the alleged 'most developed country in the world' such images would never appear); that innocent people won't be sent on a war to settle a grudge that dates back to The Idiot's Father and the early Nineties, and that innocent people in occupied countries may stop dying as a result of this so-called 'war'; that the American education system may wake up once more and realise that Evolutionary Theory and scientific fact are widely revered for a reason, and that the whole of Enlightenment thought wasn't for nothing; that people deserve a minimum wage which allows them to live above the poverty line, and that stem cell research does not involve growing clones of people.

I hope in time America will look back at The Legacy of The Idiot and try and work out how it ended up in the mess it presently is, as probably the most disliked nation in the history of the world. Then again, in a world where David Hasselhoff is voted 'The Most Popular Man on the Planet', perhaps we should all adopt the approach of Germaine Greer and just call everything rubbish.

CyberControl's Top 5 Post US Mid-Term Election Songs:

CSS - Alala
The Grates - 19-20-20
The Bluetones - Surrendered
R.E.M. - Radio Free Europe
The Long Blondes - Once and Never Again

Resurrecting Your Cult Icon

So, Dear Reader, where to start. Should I apologise that I've not written anything here for ages? Possibly, after all I did promise last time a full celebration of a certain Keane record. This, however , is not that review. The reasoning for that is that I've come out of the place I was in where I spent the weekend listening to said record and to review it in my current mood wouldn't do justice to the record's subtle nuances. Fear not though, as soon as I get in that place again such an article shall appear, as the strength of the album doesn't suddenly wither away. In all honesty, there's one song on Under the Iron Sea that is very important to me at the moment, but again there'll be more of a reasoning behind that when I get around to it.

Skirting around apologies for not posting, the truth is I've been really rather busy at the moment. PhD life means that there's always a lot to be reading, thinking about and discussing. Outside of work I have been busy, and a brief summary of this would be: saw the Cooper Temple Clause in Cardiff Union and they're still wonderfully snarly; almost killed by being pushed out in the middle of the road by a 'friend' whilst down at Cardiff Bay; enjoyed a very silly meal out with some friends (the meal itself wasn't silly, the conversation was completely off the wall though); discovered the wonders of decent Earl Grey and/or Darjeeling tea; fiddled around with (and was visibly in awe of) the life-size Cyberman voice-changer helmet; refined my PhD idea so that it's more or less what I want it to be; went to see The Grates support The Young Knives; met Patience and Alana from The Grates (the former is thoroughly lovely, the latter being really cool and friendly) and was so blown away from the experience that I couldn't tell you what The Young Knives were like; spent a week trying to rationalise how exactly in four months The Grates have become my favourite band; enjoyed Torchwood; been thoroughly skint; had a wonderful Eighties-twinged night out with one of my closest friends; joined the local committee regarding climate change; been told I'm something of a cult icon to my closest friends; suffered from god-awful Man Flu (seriously, I thought it was Meningitis at one point); thrown a successful, yet rather sketchy and heavily ironic Halloween party; rejoiced in Doctor Who's second triumphant year at the National Television Awards.

So that's the past then, what of the future? What does that hold? Well, hopefully some photos of some of the above-mentioned events; the more than welcome reunion with Ed, Kieran, TJ, Laura and Karen in Cardiff; starting a new job working for The Disney Store (don't laugh, I can't stop doing so myself); more Torchwood; papers to write and presentations to give for my PhD, and probably a good deal more random silliness at any given moment. Am I in a good place at the moment? Well, it's not quite the post-Grates high, but it'll do. There are other places I would possibly like to be, but they're completely unachievable for one reason or another. Oh, and I seem to be getting more and more intrigued by the music of Sigur Ros, it's just very expressive sonically. I promise the next post will be less 'me me me', Dear Reader. This has been a little egocentric. Finally, we'll end with an old classic:

CyberControl's Top 5 Mind-Bogglingly Amazing Albums That Make You Not Want To Buy Another Record for the Next Fifty Years:

The Grates - Gravity Won't Get You High
Keane - Under The Iron Sea
The Bluetones - The Bluetones
The Cooper Temple Clause - See This Through and Leave
Interpol - Turn On The Bright Lights

Brief, but More to Follow

Ladies and Gentlemen, after spending a weekend in its company I feel I have to take this opportunity to let you know how wonderfully brilliant Keane's Under The Iron Sea album is. I'm going to provide a full justification for this shortly, but it really is perfect. Watch this space...

Equalisers, Indecision, and Stagnance

Well, what a difference a couple of minutes can make to your general state of being. A few moments ago,this post was going to begin with a doom-laden moan about how my beloved Exeter City were never going to get out of the Conference after losing at (one of my mortal enemies) Grays Athletic. Why are Grays Athletic mortal enemies of mine? Well, first of all they're from Essex, so that immediately puts them on the backfoot. Then there's the small fact that they beat us three times last season. Then add in the fact that they've an ex-Torquay United goalkeeper and they really don't have a lot going for them. However, as with the Stevenage game earlier in the season, Billy Jones' last gasp equaliser has completely changed my outlook. So stick that in your shopping centre-sized pipe and smoke it, Grays supporters!

Right, footy banter over and done with, on to more serious issues. The truth is, Dear Reader, I don't really know what to talk to you about as there seems to be so much I could talk about, and yet at the same time there's so little. The problem is I've been spreading myself a little thin by blogging here and on MySpace. As a result you either have to come up with two sets of mind-bogglingly brilliant observations on a weekly basis, or post the same thing there and here thus appearing as not having enough original ideas. However, MySpace appears to me to be too full of people being cool and striking Indie postures for me to be a little geeky and discuss things Who related at great length, such as the news that Mavis from Coronation Street is going to be in Season Three. Bizzare! I wonder if they could get Derek, with his paper-clip topped van, to appear as well? That'd be immensely cool. Oh, and the esteemed Mr. Mark Gatiss has moved from being a writer for the series to being an actor in the series. Surely that, however, was only a matter of time. Oh, and how rubbish was the finale to Season Two of Lost?

I could further discuss Season Three, but I like the way the production team is keeping its cards closer to its chest this time around. I could discuss that I'm rewatching all of Season Two at present, and enjoying it a lot more second time around. I could discuss how things are going in Cardiff, the fact that everyone here is really friendly, approachable and are probably some of the most inspiring and fascinating people I've ever met. I could equally write an appraisal of one of the four brilliant albums that have taken up residence in my CD player, but I can't choose which one to discuss first. I'm tempted to discuss the forthcoming DVD release of the last Tom Baker stories/first Peter Davison stories, but that really does require a full post in itself.

Instead, I'm going to focus on an article I found online yesterday concerning the best songs to play at an Indie club night. I have to say I found the list rather unoriginal and tiresome. The top-rated song was the bloody Arctic Monkeys (surprise surprise), and whilst 'Mr. Brightside' rightly came in second, the rest of the list was your usual suspects, such as the bloody awful Kooks and the song that, if you believe most people, saved British music from whatever it was doing previously, 'I Predict a Riot'. I suppose I shouldn't be surprised by the songs on the list, but my attitude to DJing was to try and play some new stuff mixed in with older, lesser heard songs so as to give people a little bit of range and open their eyes to stuff that's been overlooked by the histories constructed by the NME. The point I'm trying to make is that if you keep to the 'established classics' then every single night you go to becomes pretty much the same, just in different surroundings. Despite the attempts to differentiate the nights in Cardiff, they're all basically an ironic name (either lifted from a cult film character or a popular song) that plays the same stuff in a different order. And if you go along to too many of them you get the impression that the Indie scene is becoming stagnant and begin to lose interest in it. So, Dear Readers, I'd ask people to be brave, take a risk, and play some forgotten classic/overlooked anthem/something you like and no-one else does. You never know, you might get some eejit like me come and congratulate you or enquire as to who it is you're playing, thus opening their eyes to a new favourite band.

CyberControl's Top 5 Anthems from the Undergraduate Days

Queens of the Stone Age - No One Knows
The Coral - Dreaming of You
The Primitives - Crash
The Cooper Temple Clause - Panzer Attack
The Libertines - Up the Bracket

Forever Blue

The Bluetones, Cardiff Barfly, 22nd September

Ten years ago a record was released that, despite debuting at Number One in the album charts, remains criminally overlooked in both discussions of the Britpop era and recent British music history. Cruely dismissed upon release as being 'sub-Stone Roses', at a time when The Stone Roses had taken about five years to decide that a) they thought they could be Led Zeppelin and b) they all hated each others guts, this record featured a picture of that eternally flightless bird, the peacock, on it's front cover: an image that captured the tone of the whole album. It was an album for all those who didn't get the girl, those who couldn't find the right words to say to that girl, those who had been trodden on by the world (including those closest to them) and were quietly, poetically, plotting their revenge despite knowing that they'd never get it. It was an album for those who didn't want to pretend they were a cockney, who didn't have the wit and irony to celebrate and criticise the culture they found themselves in, and who had grown tired of the bickering, drug-taking Gallaghers, partly hollowed by realising that there was no meaning behind what a 'Champagne Supernova' actually was. It was a record for the nervy guy in the corner who was liked but never deemed that important. Nonetheless, this was a record of hope, as encapsulated by it's title, 'Expecting to Fly', captured perfectly in that front cover image image, and transmitted through the lyrics and music.

It's now ten years since that record, and whilst all the other bands mentioned above have either come and gone, disappeared up their own artistic anal passages, or become comedic parodies of themselves, The Bluetones remain. They never conquered the world, they never sold millions of records. In short, they became that image that graced their debut album sleeve: an animal that, despite it's aspirations otherwise, is often forgotten although fondly recalled, and never soared to the heights that perhaps it'd imagined.

What they did get was a dedicated fanbase. This is demonstrated by the sold-out audience of devoted followers of the Blue Army gathered together on this bright-yet-cold Cardiff evening, who are treated to a run through of a the old classics ('Slight Return', 'Soloman Bites the Worm), fan favourites ('The Fountainhead') and slightly obscure B-Sides ('Blue') mixed with new material from their forthcoming album, simply entitled The Bluetones. Does everyone enjoy it? Hell yes! Whilst the biggest cheers are reserved for the hits, all material is well recieved and the band clearly enjoy being back together and playing live again. What is remarkable about The Bluetones is how little they seem to have aged over the past ten years, for whilst Scott has grown himself a beard, and Eds has lost a bit of hair, Mark and Adam still look as fresh-faced as they did when they could still get in the pages of the NME.

The new material demonstrates a return to their jangly, reflective, early work, with 'Surrendered' demonstrating this well, whilst new single 'My Neighbour's House' is a tour de force through harmonious, melodic indie-pop. We get the usual random facts attached to certain songs that we've come to expect over the years ('Slight Return' is introduced as being 'the cabbies favourite'), and it all rounds off with the kind of song that sums up The Bluetones' career, 'If...'. With every new album you momentarily wonder 'if' this is going to finally be the time that it all clicks for them. However, part of you melancholically realises that, deep down, they're forever going to remain as grounded, and yet loved, as that flightless bird. Hopefully though, they'll still be around in another ten years though.

V for the Future

And so, it's now time to draw our quadrology to a close. Despite what you might think, that last post was not meant to be the glorious conclusion. It was instead getting something out of my head that had been lodged in their for a good few days, and aside from going outisde and shouting it out or writing it on my wall in some form I couldn't think of a better way to let it out. Bit like an annoying itch that needs a scratch. Still, it allowed for me to celebrate how great Idlewild are at putting their finger on abstract feelings once more.

The truth is, I'm not really sure how to bring our quadrology to a satisfying conclusion. It could end up like 'The Caves of Androzani', then again it could end up like 'Planet of the Spiders' (Obscure Who-related reference). Eitherways, all the things that could possibly be talked about, such as getting drunk in the back of a Ford Fiesta, kidnappings, inappropriate comments, faux-Led Zeppelin songs called 'Get Yr Arm In, Hairy Woman', and so on, seem both a little old and a little idiosynchratic: the kind of jokes that were hilariously funny at the time but when you try and explain them to other people just come across as a little lame. As a result, we're not looking backwards this time, but instead looking to the future with a sense of optimism and hope, which is always important. There'll always be the memory of a weekend in Stafford, followed by some days in Teignmouth, Newton Abbot and Exeter that won't be forgotten easily.

It's been a good week. Still quite busy as there has been a lot to catch up on that got pushed aside what with finshing my Masters dissertation. As a result, I feel as though I could do with an extra week before this whole PhD malarky starts up on Monday. Nonetheless, I'm getting a real sense of 'returning home' just walking around the Bute building once more and the fellow postgrad students all seem cool. I still can't get my head around the fact that I'm actually going to achieve what I always set out to, as that's a little freaky. I suppose in that respect it's better that I've not had much time to let this all sink in as it may confuse me further.

So, to the future, Dear Readers! If I had a glass of wine handy I'd propose a toast, but it's still a little early in the evening for that. Let's hope that the next three years are as much fun as the last three at Cardiff Uni were.

CyberControl's Top 5 Songs for the Start of a New Adventure:

Gomez - 78 Stone Wobble
Idlewild - A Modern Way of Letting Go
The Grates - Sukkafish
The Bluetones - My Neighbour's House
R.E.M. - Gardening at Night

A Statement

"If I know, what I know,
Losing isn't learning to be lost.
It's learning to know when you've lost."

(Idlewild, A Modern Way of Letting Go, 2002)

Right. Glad I've got that out of my system. That lyric has been running around my head for about the past five days and I've been wanting to make it explicit. So there we are. It's out there now. Make of it what you will.

V for Visual

Craig, Stu and Myself sat in my tent on Saturday morning, awaiting the beginning of the V Festival. As you can note, everyone was very happy at this point in space and time.

And, despite the rain, all the smiles remained as the party made their way into the arena for a weekend of musical frivalties

Evidence of the Glow Sticks! Unfortunately, due to the lack of a substantial dance tent there was no chance to properly throw some shapes, but nonetheless this is Stu enjoying The Grates with some glow sticks.

Feeding Time (Lord)

A photograph taken during the aforementioned Barbeque Incident. I think it's important enough to warrant capitalisation now, Dear Readers. It was that much of an abomination.

Keane doing a very good job at being the best band of the whole weekend. I can't remember which song they're playing here...

...however, this was them definately playing 'Try Again' as, from memory, this was the only song they played where Tom played the piano as well. I think...

This is Beck playing on the Main Stage on Sunday. Unfortunately these photos are the only decent ones I have of bands playing at the festival, as I was too far back to get decent shots of people such as The Grates, Rufus Wainwright and The Beautiful South. Ah, the problems of using disposable cameras!

Three weary travellers awaiting to depart on the Monday morning. Note how the tone of the body language has drastically altered from the jovial looks of everyone seen earlier. It seems as though eye contact can barely be made between all members of the party.

"Hello. I'd like to talk to you about The Conservative Party."
This, Dear Readers, is the visualisation of an ongoing joke about Conservative Politicans. My Dad thinks its a work of comedy genius, but I think he's being a little over the top. It's supposed to be an impression of David Cameron.

David Cameron visits The Ness in Teignmouth. Unfortunately, it's not The Family Ness, as that would be cool, but they've not been spotted in Devon since the mid-1980s when a group of disgruntled fishermen attempted to sell them at the local fish market.

To fully appreciate this joke, you have to be familiar with the picture that adorned Morrissey's last single, which saw the singer looking disgusted at an ice cream. This, is a rather half-hearted attempt to recapture that image.

The pavement near the seafront in Teignmouth, accompanied by Craig's trainer. What a dedicated follower of foot fashion that man is!

I thought this man was dead. Instead, it turns out he works in a rather salubrious pub in Teignmouth that used to be frequented by Muse and looks like he should be in Metallica. Wierd.

Newton Abbot Clock Tower, looking quite picturesque in the early morning sunlight. It's not like that come the night, as there's usually some tramps and people having drank too much hanging around it. However, I did once meet the Portreath of Newton Abbot outside of the Clock Tower. Now, I never realised Newton Abbot had a Portreath and was quite impressed, continuing to ask him how one became the Portreath of Newton Abbot, which he duly explained. When I asked him if he'd ever been to Castrovalva, he looked very confused and walked away.

And finally, my Dearest Mother. Quite what she's looking so pleased about is beyond me but she'll be astounded there's a photo of her on the Internet. Good old Mumsy.

V for Very Good

So here we are. Not only is that a nice foreshadowing of comments to come but it also marks a certain frankness to this post, which is supposed to be the sequel to the last, and hence the second installment of our quadrology. Now the law of sequels states either you have to build on and develop the narrative universe in new and exciting ways, developing character and so on, or that you throw a load more money at it, increasing the scope and explosions but losing the heart of the original and making everyone forget how good it was in the first place. Judge for yourself, Dear Readers, where this one falls.

Let's be honest though, the last post went on for a bit and whilst it was nice to review all of the artists it may have been better to have just offered the edited highlights. As a result, that's what you'll get this time. Sunday brought some much needed hilarity to the non-music proceedings, due to the rain dampening the spirits of all involved. This hilarity emerged in the form of the worst attempt at a barbeque I've ever had the pleasure to witness. Not only was said barbeque supposed to demonstrate that a pizza could be cooked in such a manner, but it was also supposed to demonstrate the ability of other foods suitability to barbequing, including amongst others pitta breads and cereal bars. In honesty, it was the biggest shambolic embarassment I've ever seen as one of the party (and I'm not gonna name names as I feel they should escape with at least a little dignity) attempted two pitta breads stuffed with marshmallows (only for one to end up on the grass) and one cereal bar were placed on said cooking implement. When these failed, said individual lost interest and then seem astounded that you could barbeque a sausage roll. Sometimes, Dear Readers, words fail me...

On to the music, and Sunday brought high expectations due to the quality of the bands playing on the Main Stage. Before that could happen though, there was enough time to be re-aquainted with KULA SHAKER who were making a welcome return after their unexpected split in 1999. There's something immensely satisfying about hearing songs you loved when you were growing up, such as 'Tattva' and 'Hey Dude', again, and although their new material was solid and typically them, the biggest cheers were reserved for the old classics.

The rest of the day was spent camped out in front of the Main Stage for various bands. THE MAGIC NUMBERS were pleasent enough if rather twee and forgetable, whilst BLOC PARTY did their utmost best to prove why everybody has been quietly going crazy about them. Intriguing guitar work? Check. Nervy, edgy lyrics displaying a sense of modern paranoia? Check. Great stage presence? Check, and whilst the material from last album Silent Alarm was best recieved by the crowd, new song 'Waiting for the 7:18' - written about experiencing the London bombings last July - displayed a level of poignancy as it covered such communter habits as escaping to Brighton for the weekend. In short, the song proved a touching and harrowing experience at the same time. Probably why they played it first.

The came KEANE, and they blew the socks off me. In all honesty I wasn't expecting them to be the best band of the weekend. Not because they're not a good band, but given the piano-led nature of their stuff, and the other bands playing, they didn't jump out at me as much as some of the other acts. How wrong I was, as they were truly fantastic. Playing a set that mixed the hits from Hopes and Fears with most of the new album, Under the Iron Sea, the undoubted highlight was soaring ballad 'Try Again', for whilst the biggest cheers were reserved for the singles, this song was performed with such intensity it was captivating. A number of people also seemed to have new single 'Crystal Ball' lodged in their head afterwards as well, judging by the amount of melodic humming that followed their performance.

Next up was BECK, complete with puppets and the usual array of innovative strangeness that comes to be expected from one of his live shows: songs start, stop, mould into others, get played in different ways and the general sense is that this is organised chaos at its best. The set consisted mainly of material from last year's (great) Guero album, but added in the expected classics ('Devil's Haircut, 'Where it's At) and a few newies to keep everyone interested. The wierdest moment of the festival had to be the performance of 'Clap Hands' however, which consisted of Beck singing, whilst his band sat around a dining table playing the accompanying precussion on cutlery and glasses of water.

After three great performances, surely it was time for RADIOHEAD to lay waste to everyone else and reaffirm their status as the greatest band, and live act, around at the moment. You would think so, but unfortunately there was something distinctly workman-like about their performance. Whilst in no ways bad, it just lacked something to kick it off. The largely 'Greatest Hits' set gave a feeling that the band were simply going through the motions and, whilst the stuff off The Bends and OK Computer is always warmly recieved, the relative lack of stuff from (in my opinion the most interesting record ever recorded) Kid A was disappointing. Sure, when songs from this album appeared it was great: 'National Anthem' was suitably chaotic, 'Idioteque' as fascinatingly cold as it is on record, and 'Everything In It's Right Place' reaffirming its place as their most enigmatic (and best) song. One thing that was strangely comforting about Radiohead's performance was that, between the end of the main set and the first encore, the entire crowd broke into a simultaneous chorus of 'For a minute there, I lost myself' as though it was some form of national anthem, confirming the general sense of anomie existing in these times. This may be Yours Truly reading too much into a chance occurance, Dear Reader, but it gave me a strange feeling of being part of something and yet totally isolated at the same time. If only they'd have played 'Let Down'...

And so, CyberControl's Top 5 Bands (and songs) of the Festival were:

1. Keane (Try Again)
2. The Grates (Inside Outside)
3. Rufus Wainwright (Hallelujah)
4. Bloc Party (Waiting for the 7:18)
5. Radiohead (Everything In It's Right Place)

Right, enough of the music, now time for the pictures!

V For Vitality, Virtuoso and Valiant

"In an interstellar burst, I am back to save the Universe"

(Radiohead, 1997)

A rather bald statement to make, Dear Readers, but fear not as service has now been resumed. What shall then follow over the next few days is a review in four parts. A quadrology if you like. And, like the Alien quadrology, the first two will probably be excellent, the third thoroughly depressing, and the final installment a little bonkers and all over the place. Or maybe not. This has been my experience of the last two weeks, ranging from feelings of slight mania and recurring jokes about Germaine Greer, David Cameron and Morrissey through to feelings of uselessness, introspective self-reflection and the questioning of your own sanity. In short, it's been the usual emotional rollercoaster a trip to Devon usually brings about. And yes, there's even photographic evidence to support it.

So we begin with the V Festival that took place over the weekend of August the 19th in Weston Park, Staffordshire, although if you'd have read any of the reviews or watched any of the television coverage you'd have been forgiven for believing that it only took place in Essex. Anyways, the trip up to V can largely be forgotten, aside from noting that spending twelve hours in the confines of a Ford Fiesta is enough to send Yours Truly thoroughly out of his tree (you see Dear Readers, I started questioning my sanity within a day of being back associated with the West Country). I don't know if you've ever seen the classic episode of One Foot in the Grave entitled 'The Beast in the Cage', where Victor Meldrew ends up stuck in a Bank Holiday traffic jam on the Motorway, but that is the immediate reference point. At one point I was willing to recreate R.E.M.'s Everybody Hurts video and just abandon the car and walk off across the neighbouring fields. I still think the reasoning for this comes from over-exposure to such 'classic' songs as Paul McCartney's Mull of Kintyre (in my opinion, the worst song ever recorded) and The Frog Chorus.

Anyways, after pitching a tent in the dark and the rain on Friday night, Saturday brought the expectation of watching some bands, even though the main acts to be looking forward to were playing the next day. The continuing rain meant spending the entire weekend in Wellys (and, if I don't mind saying, looking terribly nonchalant with it), and a continual threat of downpores to dampen the spirits. This luckily was not to be the case. The music began in light drizzle over on The Other Stage with a band called KEITH. Keith is a terrible name for a band. It's the kind of name you give to a comedic old guy in a sitcom (or maybe that's just my love of the dark genius of Marion and Geoff?). Keith (the band) had won a competiton on Channel 4 to open the festival this day and their lack of experience and nervousness duly shone through. Too many times their drummer resorted to bashing the hell out of some cow bells, or the singer swearing and encouraging the crowd, whilst their songs, although pleasent and energetic, were ultimately forgetable.

It was then time to drag my compadres into the Carling Union Tent to witness my New Favourite Band (TM), THE GRATES. In short, they're absolutely fantastic. An Australian three-piece consisting of guitar, drums and vocals, their very line-up reminds you of the Yeah Yeah Yeahs. The key difference being the delivery since they lack all the New York art school posturing and agonising necessity to be insanely stylish and cool. Instead, they have an irresistable charm and innocence, which hides a much darker, coarse subtext in most of their songs, and in singer Patience they've an undisputed star in the making. She throws herself around the stage with such joyous enthusiasm that you can't help but be sucked into their world. The set showcased their album 'Gravity Won't Get You High' well, with my personal faves 'Inside Outside', 'Science is Golden' and '19 20 20' being saved for the end.

With a broad smile on my face, and some rather tasty food in hand, it was time to make the journey back out into the rain towards the main stage to take in THE DANDY WARHOLS. In short, the Dandys are everything The Grates are not. They swagger on stage, ignoring both each other and the crowd, start playing their instruments at different times and gradually come together to start playing a song. In honesty, the set is peppered with such recognisable tunes as 'Get Off' and the crowd-pleasing 'Bohemian Like You', but the can't-be-assed delivery, lack of energy and 'How long have we got left?' comment before set closer 'Boys Better' ultimately produce a distance between the band and the audience.

The SUGABABES appear onstage polished, in more than just the vocal department, pleasing the crowd with a few hits but before too long its back into the dry confines of the Union to witness JIM NOIR, an upcoming singer-songwriter in the Badly Drawn Boy quirkiness style. Noir appears on stage with his band, accompanied by a selection of lamps and garden Gnomes, singing songs about losing your football, computers, and playing music in the key of C. It's an entertaining, pleasent and melodic thirty minutes that culminates in recent single (featuring a video with a man taking on a 10ft fall chicken) My Patch that gets the whole crowd singing along.

Back out into the rain then to witness a band I thought I knew nothing about, DELAYS, on the other stage. One of the best things about a festival is introducing, or being introduced to, great bands by your mates and this was a case of that. A good few times their melodic harmonies and sunshine-drenced synths make you forget that you're stood in the pooring rain, whilst other songs suggest a darker, more epic, U2-esque feel to some of their new material. All this whilst accompanied by some spot-on falsetto vocals from the singer. Although the crowd were most behind recognised hits such as Long Time Coming and Nearer than Heaven, the other material proved popular hinting at a gathering fanbase for the Southampton band.

Over on the main stage, HARD-FI seem to be throwing the rock and roll kitchen sink at the audience to underline how great and down to earth they are. Truth is they're neither. Singer Richard flits between cliche (regularly telling us he 'doen't believing how great this weekend is'), appeals to being 'like the audience' (tedious reminders that they also used to work in unsatisfying jobs), and entries from the F**k Dictionary liberally to underline how horrid they actually are. Seen as though I only caught the last four songs, and three of them were their hit singles, the rest of the set must have been something dreadful as what I witnessed was crap.

There's something about being at a festival that, in my experience anyways, means you end up hankering for a bit of nostalgia in the late afternoon/early evening period. It seems that just as everyone else is preparing for the evening's acts to raise the bar a bit further, I end up requiring something secure and dependable, and what with all these new acts I'd exposed myself to over the course of the day, the chance to see GOMEZ was more than endearing. That and the fact they were playing in the indoor JJB Arena, rather than being stood out in the (incresasingly cold) rain. Now Gomez are a dependable live act. I've seen them three times now, and they've never disappointed. If anything, the sizeable crowd, the reaction they recieved, and their obvious disappointment at only being given forty minutes to play, meant they should have been on later and for longer somewhere else. Having said that, the reason that they're such a dependable bet is because a) they're great musicians that obviously enjoy playing together live and b) they like a bit of a party. Despite the unfamiliarity of their new material, it was warmly recieved by the crowd, the classics never disappoint with Whipping Piccadilly firmly documenting that great feeling you get when you do something totally random like jump on a train and see where it takes you.

Remaining in the cover of the JJB Arena, it was time for the crowd to suddenly age a good few years as THE BEAUTIFUL SOUTH emerged to a thoroughly warm reception. Unfortunately, the popular opinion of Hull's Second Finest Band these days is that their a bit old and a bit dull. True, their new material has been a bit patchy as of late but that hides the fact that they've got one of the most intellegent, biting, yet poignant lyricists this country has ever produced in Paul Heaton. What's more, the crowd seem to lap up his presence, constantly chanting his name and hanging off his every word. The set wisely consists mainly of their best known material, but the presence of fan fave 36D (the song that says more about contemporary feminism a lot better than anything Germaine Greer could ever come up with) is more than welcome. Elsewhere, Don't Marry Her provides a welcome bit of tongue-in-cheek humour and You Keep It All In is greeted rapturously. Shame there was no Song For Whoever, but a great time was had by all.

RUFUS WAINWRIGHT. Does that name mean anything to you, Dear Reader? Aside from his sister's hauntingly beautiful duet on the new Snow Patrol record, and a rather hazy recollection of one of his album's being reviewed on Newsnight Review, I knew nothing. When his equiptment, consisting of a piano and an acoustic guitar, was set up I didn't know what to expect. What was experienced was the most mesmerising display I've ever had the privilege to witness. For one guy to hold the stage with such presence for fifty (too short) minutes was amazing, and whilst I knew none of his material I was at convicned by the end that I needed to hear more. Midway through he covered Leonard Cohen's Hallelujah and I, like a lot of people, thought no-one would ever match the haunting quality Jeff Buckley's version captures. I always liked to be proved wrong, however, for this was a very special, intimate performance.

So it was time for the evening's headline act to be seen, and whilst Morrissey flounced around in his typically airy, self-deprecating manner on the Main Stage, and Razorlight turned the arrogance levels up to eleven elsewhere, the promise of some snarling, raw anger and the best frontman in contemporary music proved too much of a draw. However, THE COOPER TEMPLE CLAUSE were victims of problems from the word 'Go' tonight. Gordon Strachan once said about a humiliating Celtic defeat in Bulgaria that death would be easier than that particular night, and unfortunately that same analogy would apply to the Coopers tonight. Their set was delayed by the previous band over-running. It took an age to set up their trademark wall of electronic equiptment. When the intro music (sounding suspicously like the intro to personal fave New Toys) jammed the signs weren't good. Then the wall of electronics shorted out mid-song leaving them stranded and having to wing the set. The Same Mistakes was started and then abandoned about thirty seconds later as the bass gave up. In honesty, it was testament to the band's resolve that they didn't just walk off and abandon it. Many other's would have. Still we were treated to new material in the shape of Damage, Head and Homosapien which all displayed their trademark snarl. And the sight of lead singer Ben Gautry stood perfectly still, illuminated by a single low red light, brooding in a mix of intensity, passion and anger as he sings is worth the problems since his vocals (and their delivery) literaly ooze authenticity. It was just a real shame that all the other elements were against Team Cooper tonight.

A Silence Falls

Just to quickly let you know, Dear Readers, there'll be a temporary hiatus of all things Bronze Medal for the next couple of weeks whilst I take an extended leave of absence. Yes, it's time for me once more to return to that 'delightful' place of origin, Newton Abbot, and see what it has to hold for me this time. It surely can't be any worse than the last trip back, put it that way.

So by the time normal service is resumed many things will have passed: my recent trip to Manchester will (unfortunately) be a memory; the trip to the V Festival, complete with glowsticks and a worryingly small number of tents, will have come and gone meaning I'll have seen Radiohead live for a second time (v. excited about that); my Mother and my Gran will have aged by another year; Ed and Kieran will have experienced a night in Newton Abbot; hopefully, the Savages will also be around so that more hilarity can be experienced there, and at least one evening will be lost to pints of Diesel (that's local cider with the unfortunate ability to inflict immediate amnesia on the person drinking it) . Who knows, maybe the Universe will have worked out what's fundamentally wrong with it by the time normal service is resumed? I've been getting quite worried by all of this war in the Middle East and imminent threat of terrorist attacks. Never forget Dear Readers, there is always hope.

So, that's a nice upbeat note to leave things on. I wish you all well for the next couple of weeks, and I shall hopefully return, with photographic evidence, from my travels.

If not, avenge my death.

Here We Go Again

Ha ha! So to my amazement someone left a comment here about my Who-related rant. I do apologise for the last post since it was a bit unfocused. Still, opportunities to discuss DVD releases and mention Timelash in a celebratory, yet ironic, manner are always few and far between. Anyways, now attention turns to far more serious things, since we are on the eve of another nine potential months of false optimism, occasional flashes of brilliance, but eventual disappointment. Yes, on Saturday the football season kicks off, and Exeter City once again set off on their noble quest to drag themselves back into the Football League.

Apart from this time I'm being a lot more realistic, a bit like after England going out of the World Cup acting as a sobering realisation of just how rubbish a team is. You see, Dear Readers, last season we should have been promoted. We had the players, the manager, the momentum, and a general sense of optimism coming from ending the season as the league's form team and, of course, that unforgetable draw at Old Trafford in the FA Cup. For the first half of the season, this was the case. We flew through to Christmas, achieving some great results and being second in the league. There's a certain irony that I saw the 4-0 demolition of Aldershot on Boxing Day and tricked myself into believing that we were certainties for promotion. Two days later and Alex Jeannin's left foot did what it rarely did in two years with us: scored a goal, therefore condeming us to defeat against Hereford. From there it fell apart. Spectacularly. And to make matters worse, Torquay didn't get relegated either.

Over the summer, we lost our manager (although some might say this was a good thing). We've also lost our Cult Hero, our club captain and a few other people along the way. We've replaced them with ... well, the players haven't been adequately replaced and the manager is some unproven person with only experience of managing a university team. Although the acquisition of Adam Stansfield from Hereford is welcome, he can still fail. After all, I had high hopes for Craig Farrell last year and he didn't perform. Consequently, I don't expect us to win at York on Saturday. I don't even expect us to win our first home game next Tuesday against Forest Green Rovers, seen as though history is against us there. Some might well accuse me of being pessimistic and, truthfully, I'd agree with them. The only thing is after three years of being overtly optimistic and ending up disappointed I've decided for a different approach. Plus, it's always nicer if you've got lower expectations and they're exceeded. So let's hope I'm proved wrong. Let's hope this is the Grecians year and, more importantly, let's hope that if we do get ourselves up there the usual vertigo doesn't set in. Oh, and while we're hear, let's hope for an end to the good start to the season being experienced by Torquay and Argyle.

CyberControl's Top 5 for (tentatively) approaching the new season:

Kasabian - Empire
Boy Kill Boy - Suzie
Roddy Woomble - My Secret is My Silence
The Cooper Temple Clause - New Toys
Idlewild - Live In a Hiding Place

Why?

Oh dear, Dear Readers, can it really be true? Is someone somewhere in the depths of the BBC sat there laughing hysterically at the trick that they've just pulled? Are people really sat in their houses, gathering their pennies together in a desperate attempt to pool their resources and purchase the abomination to the left of us? Yes, Dear Reader, someone somewhere thought it would actually be a good idea to release Mark of the Rani on DVD. However, what makes it worse is the way in which they're pitching this to the public, under such statements as 'a Historical Epic' and 'the Introduction of a Classic Doctor Who villain'. Ladies and Gentlemen, advertising lies. Please, listen to the words of someone who more often that not triumphs Eighties Who for its tackiness, and avoid this piece of rubbish. If you want to see a better, similar story then buy The Visitation. If you want to see Who at it's most dreadful best (yes, I'm fully aware that's an oxymoron) then go to eBay, type either 'Timelash' or 'Warriors of the Deep' into the search and buy yourself a cheap VHS copy of either of these.

"Surely it's not that bad!" I hear you crying in defence, Dear Readers. The answer is, I'm afraid, that it is. What's wrong with it? Firstly Pip and Jane Baker are about the worst writers the series ever saw in the history of the programme. When a CV contains such 'illustrious' highlights as Terror of the Vervoids (yes, it was the first story I ever saw and gave me nightmares when I was four. Nowadays it gives me nightmares that it gave me nightmares), The Ultimate Foe (probably the biggest load of nonsense from a period characterised by a load of nonsense) and, lest we forget, Time and the Rani (camp, dayglo rubbish featuring Bonnie Langford and Kate O'Mara playing Bonnie Langford) I think you get the picture. If there were any justice in the world they should be locked in a cupboard marked 'Let's Not Talk About This' and left to gather dust somewhere.

Secondly, so much of the story is complete arse. There's people being turned into trees, a baby T-Rex, something to do with Luddites and Eric Saward's by now tedious tendency for tying things into actual historical events. You know what, it's that nonsensical that I can't remember what the motivation of the Rani actually is. Aside from that, you get Anthony Ainley not having learnt anything from Planet of Fire and so still coming across like a pantomime villain, Nicola Bryant's dreadful costume and Kate O'Mara trying to out-do Anthony Ainley in the 'Who Can Overact the Most' competiton (as you probably gathered, no-one in my opinion will beat Graham Crowden in my opinion). I'm going to stop as this will just turn into one long rant against the story and I don't want it to be that. What I'm trying desperately to understand is why the BBC would choose to release this, unless their trying to show fans of the new series (who the classic DVDs seem inherently marketed towards at present) that this is about as low as you can get and to be thankful for what you have at present.

However, as a result of this grievance, I offer a slight variation on an established tradition by positing CyberControl's Top 5 Classic Who Stories That Should Be Out on DVD:

5. Timelash - Oh, it's nonsense! It's such appauling nonsense that it needs to be out on DVD for people to laugh at. To my knowledge the only Who story to be that underlength that it requires the worst twist possibly in the history of narrative. It's got the (always amusing) Paul Darrow in it trying to be intense, a pointless cameo by H.G. Wells and a pathetic looking torture device made from tin-foil. Worrying thing is I've worked out a nice documentary you could add on to this as a DVD extra. Yes, I have too much time on my hands.

4. Kinda - Given my great admiration for Season Nineteen (yes, including Time-Flight) the delay of this behind The Visitation seems strange. In equal places creepy, wierd and moving, it features some great ideas, some great acting from Janet Fielding, a possesed old Imperial and one of my favourite moments in Who history: when (the now deranged) Hindle emerges from his fort and discovers one of his cardboard subjects is broken he disparingly shouts at the suggestion that the 'person' could be glued back together "You can't mend people!" Never a truer word spoken. Oh, and then there's the huge paper-mache snake...

3. Image of the Fendhal - Arguably the series' last genuinely creepy story, and certainly the last of the Seventies Gothic turn. The image of the skull with the glowing eyes still unsettles me to this day, and when it all goes a bit bonkers at the end of Episode Three it's a great pay off: a possesed woman and some large, worm-like creatures, and the idea of mankind being the breeding ground for a greater intellegence all make this an often overlooked piece of brilliance in a period approached negatively by most of the fan community.

2. The Greatest Show in the Galaxy - During Sylvester McCoy's period, when they got it wrong, they got it wrong spectacularly. However, when they got it right, they made some of the best stories since the early Eighties. This is such an example. Arguably a comment on both the programme's status within the BBC (the Doctor forced to perform three Gods of Entertainment for his survival) and on the programme's fans at the same time, it's twists and turns are great, Ace is used well and the shot where the Doctor destroys the Circus is amazing.

1. The Sea Devils - The Master watching 'The Clangers' whilst in prison! Sinister, iconic creatures with cool, Seventies guns emerging from the sea wearing dresses! Some really great episode cliffhangers, especially the one with the diving craft returning empty from its mission! This story has it all and, when repeated on BBC2 in the early 90s, hooked me into the programme. For many years I've tried to perfect drawing a Sea Devil. For many years, I've failed. However, nostalgia aside, if this doesn't come out on DVD soon I'm gonna have to buy the video.

Superior Quality Recordings

Right then, in celebration of the fantastic news that the Lads are heading out on tour again in the latter quarter of this year, and as quite rightly predicted by my good friend - the esteemed Savage McCee - this post is dedicated to one of my favourite bands of, well, the last twelve years: The Bluetones. Although their blend of truthful, heartfelt, melancholic lyrics and jangly, harmonious guitars never conquered the world, they 've consistently managed to absolutely nail my experience of life. Consequently, they've had a profound impact on both the outlook and guitar-playing skills of Yours Truly since the youthful days of Bluetonic in 1995. What follows then is a brief taster of some of their best lyrics from the past four albums. I hope you enjoy but in all seriousness just go and listen to all their albums as there are many more gems within.

"Sometimes, I smoke, I drink and I ponder
Can work wonders
When you're down, it takes your frown, and turns it around
And you, when you try, and make a difference
You're so different, to when I try and just die"
(If..., 1998)

"And if you remember me in a while, that's enough
And if you remember me and smile, that's enough"
(One Speed Gearbox, 2000)

"Can't be bought, and you can keep tomorrow
Can't be saved, there ain't no flies on me
Can't be caught, the plague that ate your soul can keep away from me"
(Are You Blue or Are You Blind, 1995)

"I keep my thoughts in little boxes
Boxes underneath the bed
Under the bed with your photograph, and the image is fading"
(Never Going Nowhere, 2003)

""The future is dead", that's what you said
"It's all in your head, you see
Not mine, I'm fine, I've arrived""
(4-Day Weekend, 1998)

"And now my heart's bisect
With eighteen-carrat gold regret"
(Marblehead Johnson, 1996)

"There's no heart you can't melt within a certain little smile
And no challenge should be met without a little charm and a lot of style"
(Bluetonic, 1995)

"Any fool can see that I'm a bad example"
(Ames, 1998)

"Oh, if you'd seen with these eyes and lived with these lies"
(Vampire, 1996)

"Baby's talking, it's what she does best/I'll just sit and agree
Firing insults glide out on her breath/Mostly about me
She says "Can't you look past the mirror sometimes? Take a look at your peers!
Stretching out all their half-assed ideas, into half-assed careers"
(Tiger Lily, 2000)

"I gained a stone cold fright
When it was put to me
Deep down, everybody you meet wants to knock your teeth out"
(Serenity Now, 2005)

"What can I say about being profound?
It's a game that we play, it goes around and around
I shall stick to the rules, but I won't suffer fools
No, I won't lose the plot, and I won't lose my cool
Can you see what I've done? Can you see what I do?
It's not really unique, but it's hopelessly cool
But these are my descisions, these are my mistakes
And I'll fall down again, if that's what it takes"
(The Fountainhead, 1996)

The Shape of Things to Come

The above is an artist's impression of what can broadly be called 'the shape of things to come'. Admittedly, the artist who drew it is not up to much. You wouldn't really employ them as a Court Illustrator on this evidence, would you? Nonetheless, the above illustration is a vision of the future as its supposed to represent me, in my trademark Tom Baker-esque hat, with a couple of glow sticks, in the Dance Tent at the V Festival. Now you may rightly ask why I'm going to partake in such an experience but I just feel as though it's something that needs to be done. At the same time, one of the fellow festivalgoers is a dance music fan (he was once known to occupy a 'Sphere of Dance', whatever that might look like) and I feel it's only right to endulge in such pleasures. As a result, I hope to be able to bring you the actual version of the above sketch at a later date but for now this will have to surfice. By the way, did you know it's impossible to actually buy just one glow stick? Instead you have to buy a box of 1,000! I mean, who in their right mind actually needs 1,000 glow sticks?

Aside from that it's been another funny week, where I seem to get the feeling that I'm going around in circles and getting nowhere with my Dissertation. It's almost as though I've hit a brick wall and completely lost the plot of what it is I'm wanting to talk about which is worrying. I'm sure it'll come together again soon but for now it all seems a little pointless. I just seem to spend the days idling the time away watching videos and DVDs, and at the end of them I feel as though I'm still unsure of what it is I actually want to say about them, or that some smart person will along and completely dismiss what I'm trying to say. Hmm, sorry if this sounds like a little bit of a whinge, it's not supposed to. It's just that I can't really talk about it to anyone, and my housemates are (rightly) unsympathetic to someone who just watches TV for long periods of the day.

I've been looking at my music collection recently as it needed a bit of a tidy-up and have had the pleasure of revisiting either some songs I've completely forgotten about, or albums that I didn't 'get' when I first acquired them. The best example of this would have to be Do The Collapse by Guided By Voices. I bought this record mainly because I heard the track 'Hold on Hope' on Mark and Lard's show years ago (it's got a great chorus hook of Everybody's got a hold on hope/ It's the last thing that's holding me), and then got a recommendation of them when I bought a couple of old R.E.M. records online. This was years ago, and my first impression of the record was that it was really underwritten and a bit pointless (there are seventeen songs and the album lasts about 45 mins). However, since I've become more knowledgable about the whole American College Rock scene, I've decided it's a great, quirky little album concerning obscure aspects of American culture. I think. Anyways, the guitar parts are quite innovative, varied and inspiring so that always helps.

CyberControl's Top 5 Songs of the Moment:

Shed Seven - Cry for Help
Longpigs - She Said
Keane - We Might As Well Be Strangers
Guided By Voices - Mushroom Art
Spiritualized - Won't Get to Heaven (The State I'm In)

Viking Renaissance

This, Dear Readers, is a call to arms. It is a call to reclaim a forgotten group of historical figures and propel them back in to the cultural zeitgeist in a (possibly ironic) way similar to the recent reclaimation of other historical tribes such as the Romans and Pirates. Yes, Dear Readers I am proclaiming a return to the popular imagination of those bearded Norsemen who wore silly hats that looked like a coconut with two demon horns sticking out of each side, rode in longboats, and enjoyed a bit of rape and pilage: the Vikings. For too long now other, predominantely evil sea-faring groups have enjoyed the limelight by themselves. Subsequently, I proclaim a campaign to place the Viking back in his rightful place. It may not be easy, but I call for your support.

The plan is thus: firstly, we need to get the image of the Viking back into the public memory. For this I think the best thing that can happen is this. Firstly, like the Pirate, the Viking needs to be reclaimed on the Interweb, so there have to be such things as Viking Podcasts, ironic 'Ask a Viking' films on YouTube and so on. The web is always looking for its next big gimmick and I see no reason why the Viking cannot surfice. Secondly, use it for your themed nights out drinking. All it takes is a few groups here and there to go out dressed as Vikings, proclaiming certain Viking things such as long boats and wielding plastic axes, and the image will soon be copied by the masses. From here, we can build a solid base to work from. Possibly we need some Vikings included in a band-of-the-moment's music video, similar to the way Gwen Stefani reclaimed the Pirate a little while ago. Moreover, I would call for a Hollywood movie that celebrates and ironises the Viking in a similar vein to Pirates of the Caribbean. Who knows, maybe we could get Bill Murray to take the lead in Vikings of the Norse or something similar? Perhaps we could even get ZZ Top involved to provide a tie-in song for the soundtrack? And perhaps we could even launch it under the tag-line of "Go Norse. It is Hairy there"? OK, maybe the last idea needs some work but you get the idea.

So join me Dear Readers, lend your support to the Viking Renaissance, and together we can propel them back into the public conscience.

Strange Days

What a strange few days it's been, characterised by a building sense of melancholy and loss. What's even stranger is that you don't really realise it's happening until it passes. It started on Friday with the anniversary of the bombings of London. Now, it might appear a bit strange to think that, living in Cardiff, something like that could affect you. However, due to working for Directory Enquiries I unfortunately managed to experience most of it first-hand and it was less than pleasent. I remember people phoning up for the numbers of hospitals and places of work where their loved ones were supposed to be, unsure of whether they were even alive or where they were supposed to be and so on. That sense of uncertainty and panic was mixed with the sudden realisation that the people I knew in London might have been involved, so it was a pretty horrible feeling even though I wasn't there personally. Moreover, seeing the reports of people one year on and the memorials got under my skin for some undefined reason.

That sense of melancholy had a touch of disappointment added to it, due to the failure to find a new place to live. I suppose in all honesty I was quite looking forward to moving somewhere new but it now appears we're staying put. However, I can't believe the state of some of the places that are available for rent here. By far the worst was a place where the whole wall of one room was visibly damp, and just left there for everyone to see. Then there was a place with an elevator in it! I mean, who really thought that was a good idea (well, wheelchair access, naturally, but...)? Did manage to spark a memory of that movie Three Men and a Baby momentarily as I'm sure there was a lift in that. Did it have a rather elaborate painting outside of it? Come to think of it, how did the men come into possesion of the baby? And why? Sorry, I'm digressing. The point remains though that you would think that landlords would actually take a bit of pride in the presentation of their places to prospective tennants.

So couple this with the end of Who, and traces of academic cabin fever (i.e. sitting in your room thinking a lot, which eventually makes you go out of your tree as you get caught up in theory), and I was left possesing a feeling that's been more than a little strange. However, glad to report that normal service has now been resumed. Unsure where it went but, hopefully, it won't return. Perhaps I put it in the wardrobe with the Wardrobe Monsters, I'm sure they'll find a use for it.

Speed of Light

Hello, Dear Readers. What a strange time this currently seems to be, when there are so many things going on that at the moment that you feel as though you've not really got the time to dedicate yourself to anything other than that which is really important to you. So there'll just be a brief mention of England's less-than-glorious exit from the World Cup. At the time, I wasn't surprised as I'd been saying for a while that the first decent team they had to play would see the end of them. However, Portugal proved to be less than decent, and that didn't stop my final reaction to England's exit being a mixture of anger and disappointment at the fact that, when it mattererd, the team didn't perform for one reason or another. All that's left now is to hope that Italy win the tournament as they're playing good football. However, as the law of averages always proves, the best team never wins. If the team that played the best football won the amount of games they deserved, Exeter City would at least be in the Championship. Or is that just my own, completely unbiased opinion coming through?

I'm writing here from a position of safety it has to be said. I'm afraid, Dear Readers, that I have recently ventured in to the world of 'MySpace' despite being warned that it was full of fifteen year-old Emo kids with Fall Out Boy hoodies and ringtones. However, having toyed with MySpace, I have to admit it's not all it's cracked up to be. There was no chance to download the free music I was expecting, and instead all I'm faced with is mad Dashboard Confessional fans and obscure Cardiff-based metal bands wanting to add me to their mailing list. I got as far as trying to add Idlewild to my contatcts and then found the idea that Idlewild could suddenly become my 'Friend' both immensly cool and terrifying at the same time.

What also of the series finale of Who? How amazingly brilliant is it going to be? What is the Black Dalek? What is the Genesis Ark? How great was Army of Ghosts? How greatly did it restore your faith in both the scope and scale of the series, and RTD's writing? I can't wait for the final episode it's fair to say. Plus we have a new companion already recruited, although she won't be in the Christmas Special. As well, we have rumours abound about returning villains for next season: The Ice Warriors. I'm a bit ambiguous about that news to be honest. Whilst their name as 'Ice Warriors' was suited for their first story (they were in the Antarctic after all), the stories featuring them after that one made no reference to their 'icy' status. In short, I'm not sure what they'll do with them, and think either The Sontarons, The Sea Devils, The Silurians or maybe even The Borad (?!?) would be better for a return.

Just a quick note to say that things may go a little quiet around here in the next few weeks due to the fact that I'll be moving house soon. Unfortunately the time has come to depart this grand, open, if damp-ridden and cold-in-winter, palace. It won't be a sad departure as hopefully we'll be living somewhere even better, where I'll have a less gackily-shaped room that doesn't involve walking around crouched over in places. Oh, and somewhere where I can attatch a few posters on the wall would be nice.

Finally, I've started playing the guitar and writing once more! Hurrah! Well, whilst this may not be of any significance to you Dear Reader, it's something I've been meaning to do for ages. Since my old band broke up I really seem to have lost my way with music. However, I've decided to start writing songs again and try hard not to hit what I call 'The OK Computer Wall'. Basically, that train of thought works by listening to something really groundbreaking and then thinking, 'There's no way I could write anything like that, and if you can't better what's the point?'. A rather defeatest viewpoint I think you'll agree. Thus, the influences and frames of reference are staying firmly it what I know I can do well: R.E.M., Idlewild, and The Bluetones for now. Watch this space...