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...

Rose-Tinted Theories

"And like that, she was gone"

OK, so I realise that that quote was made in a different context (and actually about a male character) but it somehow seemed like a good choice. Yes, Dear Readers, as you're probably aware, we have just two weeks left with Rose Tyler in the TARDIS, and I for one shall miss her presence. I'll hold my hands up and admit that I was amongst the "What the hell are they doing casting her?" brigade when the news was announced, but it's always nice to be proved horribly wrong. And how Billie has done so. Whoever would've thought that two years down the line we'd be so fearful of her departure. I can pinpoint exactly the moment when I knew everything was going to be alright: The Unquiet Dead, scene where the Doctor and Rose are trapped in the basement and she turns to him and says "We go down fighting, yeah?". Brilliant. Anyways, goodbye Billie, all the best for the future and you'll be missed in the World of Who.

So in light of Rose's imminent departure, and as I know none of the spoilers, I thought I'd add my little thoughts as to what might happen to the character. They shall be classed under the headings 'The Obvious', 'The Gruesome' and 'What I'd Do'. That way you can evaluate what my responses and add your own comments.

The Obvious

The obvious way of handling things is that Rose sadly dies. Whether this be saving the Earth or in some horrible manner is open to interpretation, but it seems the fairly straightforward way to handle things. You see, this way it means that Rose can (theoretically, this is SF remember) never return and the Doctor can go back to his angsty, thoughtful self a la Series One. This time it'll be a bit more emotive though, as we'll all know why he feels that way and empathise with him. Those of us who remember the Old Days may well have felt it hard to empathise with the loss of the Time Lords, as they were corrupt, boring people and (Omega aside) weren't a great loss to the galaxy. However, the chance to see Tennant constantly calling up that sense of loss in the Doctor that Eccleston managed last year seems a tantilisng prospect, as I've really enjoyed those scenes where he feels responsible for someone's death (i.e. Scooti in The Impossible Planet).

The Gruesome

Rose becomes a Cyberman! A horrible way to go (and a slight cop-out seen as though they've already done that with Alternative Jackie in The Age of Steel) but what a great reaction shot that would make, the Doctor having to realise what has become of her! Of course, there's always the possibility that she doesn't become a Cyberman but instead becomes something else (not giving any spoilers away), but the basic premise that this essentially good-hearted character becomes something inherently evil is a nice idea.

What I'd Do

OK, wild theory time but what I'd do is this: it was mentioned in Love & Monsters (shudder) that Rose's file was in Torchwood somewhere under the heading of 'Bad Wolf' something. What if Rose were to be committed to scientific/medical research in some way? Imprisoned by Torchwood (don't forget, Captain Jack is on modern day Earth and it's plausable he could have told of the 'Bad Wolf' scenario) and unobtainable, the organisation plans to experiment on her to gain the secrets of the 'Bad Wolf'. We've already seen that Torchwood are a bit power mad and willing to kill to further the progress of Earth in The Christmas Invasion so I reckon that'd be a really cool thing to do. Imagine the final scene where the enemy is defeated, only for Yvonne and some guards to drag Rose off somewhere and leave the Doctor helpless! That'd be immense, and allow for the return of the character, perhaps even in some elevated version.

You see, I should be writing for the series...

So. Central Rain

"I'm Sorry..." (R.E.M. 1984)

Slightly obscure title for this post Dear Readers, but given that the above lyric is the main hook from the song that gives this post its title, I felt it was adequate. Quite frankly, I feel as though I must apologise, and whilst this apology is for something that I had absolutely no control over, I know that for some of you this is your only encounter with the World of Who and so I must both celebrate and defend it.

OK, I'll stop being cryptic. In short, Love & Monsters was terrible. It was that cringeworthy that I almost turned it off after twenty minutes. I couldn't believe what I was seeing. It was childish and embarassing. Poorly executed, acted and handled. It made Timelash look like Citizen Kane (OK, some of you know I view Timelash in quite high reverence just because it's that bad, but you get the point...). However, this criticism is not because I didn't "get" the episode, as has been the accusation launched at some people who have shared the sentiment. I more than "get" what they were trying to do, and in fact thought that it sounded like a good idea. Why not take an average man who has encountered, and become fascinated with, The Doctor and see what the effect of this encounter would be? I mean, Boom Town last year asked a similar question about consequences, and I thought it made for a great understated and thought-provoking episode.

The key difference here was that Boom Town seemed to have thankfully learnt the lessons of 'Where the Slitheen Went Wrong'. Out went the silly comments, the fart jokes, and were instead replaced by some interesting and welcome characterisation. This, however, felt like a complete regression. The Scooby Doo sequence at the beginning was toe-curlingly bad. The character ending up on the Abzorbaloff's arse equally so. The lead performance of Marc Warren was just wet, meaning that you didn't care about him. Additionally, and disappointingly, RTD's writing was lazy. Last week we see Rose getting the troops together against the oncoming Ood, this week she can't remember what colour bucket to pick up. Unlikely? What's more, it's established that the group of characters were (relatively) clever. Surely one of them would have noticed the pattern that every time Victor Kennedy asked one of them to stay behind, they disappeared. It would've just taken someone to have gone "Hang on. There's something funny going on here" and it would've made more sense. Not "Oh, I've forgotten my phone!". That's what I mean by lazy writing.

However, there were two positives. Firstly, Shirley Henderson came out of it more than alive. It's a shame she ended up as a paving slab, as she was thoroughly great throughout. In fact, this was about the worst episode Billie has had in the two series, and as she's going (more on that later to the time) someone like Shirley would be a great replacement. Having said that, why not take a talking paving slab in the TARDIS? I mean, Tom wanted a talking cabbage. Secondly, there was a funny joke. I love the idea of the Slitheen's lenghtily-titled home planet having a twin with a one syllable name. That's the kind of ridiculous nonsense I like.

Shame the rest of it wasn't.

Cyber Control's Top 5 to try and blank out Love & Monsters:

Geneva - If You Have to Go
The Young Knives - She's Attracted To
Snow Patrol - Chasing Cars
R.E.M. - So. Central Rain
The Kooks - She Moves in Her Own Ways

Soldeed!

All hail Graham Crowden! Surely one of the greatest, and funniest, supporting performances in the history of Who. He gets far too much bad press for his overacting in Horns of Nimon, and quite frankly it's unfair. It's hilarious, and given the level of immagination that went into other areas of the script (a security guard who just shouts "weakling scum" a lot! And as if the idea that people won't pick up it's based on the Greek story of the Minotaur isn't clearly signified by having the aliens look like Minotaurs, they decide to spell the name of all the characters in that story backwards!), I'm not surprised he got away with it. I mean, who came up with the idea of sacrificing three perfectly good cliffhanger endings (the revelation of The Nimon! Romana's abandonment! The immanent destruction of the TARDIS!) for that thrilling shot of ... Tom hugging K-9. For some reason Crowden's portrayal of Soldeed reminds me of what might happen if Chris Morris got involved with a story...

Sorry, dear readers. This post is piffle. I just had to update this site and couldn't think of anything else off the top of my head.

'Arthur Dent' Moments

'Arthur Dent' Moments (n.)

Occasions when you are confronted with trying to understand those immediately around you (whether acquaintances or otherwise), but are unable to do so. Whether your incomprehension is due to your own lack of concentration, or the amount of alcohol consumed by members of the party, or other reasons, is irrelevant. However, you are left with the feeling(s) of a) complete bewilderment, and b) the overwhelming need for a cup of tea.

Usage: "I just didn't know what was going on, or what I was supposed to do. It was a real 'Arthur Dent' moment."

Beauty, Brilliance and Bitterness

As a committed reader of TBM (and yes, we do have them) rightly noticed we have been doing a little programming recently! I realise that sounds rather technical and all, so I must admit it was nothing special; more a cut and paste job of some existing code, but it looks nice nonetheless. Anyways if you glance across to your right you'll see some rather cryptic links to sites that I personally find interesting and I hope you will too, Dear Readers. Right, on with discussion of the titular themes of this post...

Now, I'm fully aware that naming a record as 'beautiful' may well come across as slightly absurd, since it's not usually a word us humans attatch to inanimate objects. However, in this instance I'm going to keep the word as I think it describes perfectly a favourite record of mine that I've recently rediscovered: Crowded House's Together Alone. From the combination of pedal steel and acoustic guitars that begin album opener 'Kare Kare' (written about the beach that recording sessions for the album backed on to), through to the engaging, personal nature of closing track 'Together Alone' - complete with Aboriginal chant and tribal drums - its the kind of album that really draws you in and positions you as though your sat there with Neil and the guys as they take you on this wonderous journey of perfectly-written and pitched MOR rock. However, the associations of 'MOR' seemingly degrade this record, since Matchbox 20 this isn't. For starters, it's dark in places: 'Private Universe' and 'Walking on the Spot' dealing with the need to be alone and the break-up of a relationship respectively. And whilst 'Black and White Boy' allows the band to show off their rock credentials, 'Distant Sun' remains, in my opinion at least, one of the greatest songs written (NB: There's a funny story involving this song and myself from my Uni days. If anyone wants to know more then drop me an email).

Whilst the brilliance I mention above could be applied to the aforementioned record, it is instead reserved for discussion of Mark Gatiss' excellent contribution to Who on Saturday, The Idiot's Lantern. I've stuck my neck out a few times since its transmission and labelled it the best episode since they brought the whole programme back, and the reasons for this shall be explained momentarily. It was, however, without doubt the best episode since The Parting of the Ways. So what made it so good? Firstly, the story was expertly pitched, plotted and written. It felt as though it had crammed a lot, but not too much, in to its forty-five minutes. The main thread involving 'The Wire' (Maureen Lipman providing one of those pitch-perfect guest roles where they don't overplay it (a la Mr Lumic) and treat it seriously), an adversary perfectly suited to both the historical setting and the medium of television itself, was excellent since it not only involved both The Doctor and Rose, but allowed both of the characters to do what they do best, and allowed Tennant to do something more than act a bit smug for the whole episode. This was supported by the thread involving the break-up of a family home, exposing the darker side that runs beneath that idealised, nostalgic view of the 1950s remembered by films like Grease and such programmes as Coronation Street. Moreover, this thread allowed for a nice character moment from Rose at the end, telling the lad to go after his father. Additionally, Euros Lyn's direction was superb, accentuating the oppresive feel of the 'family' home. Oh, and nice links to The Ring and King Kong in solving the problems.

Finally, and I do realise this post has gone a bit, the bitterness I mention is in relation to Keane's rather fab new single, Is It Any Wonder? In short, I didn't realise they had it in them! On the evidence of their debut album, Hopes and Fears, and the appearance of the guys in interviews, they come across as the kind of band who are great at writing reflective ballads that ascend above the usual crop of their peers (Embrace, and The (dreadful) Feeling, for instance), but this newie shows us there's another dimension to them. Bit like when you listen to The Bends and realise Radiohead can one minute offer something as wondeful as 'Fake Plastic Trees', and then in the next breath snarl at you with the power of 'Just'. All in all an intriguing, and impressive, return.

Happy Birthday, Bronze Medal!

OK, so this is a couple of days late, but it's time that we wished this haven of all things Indie, Tea and Time Lord its first happy birthday. Yes, Dear Readers, it was one year ago on Tuesday that The Bronze Medal took its first steps into the world with a post called 'An Unearthly Child'. At that point, I was unsure how long things would last but we've made it a year! We're now about 8th on Google if you search under the terms "Bronze Medal", "Idlewild" and "Cyber Control" (look, I was bored one night) and have reached that age when we can take our first steps in to the world, and begin rejecting our inheritance of Gormenghast (mental note: stop making jokes that only you, and about two other people, understand). Anyways, if you'd like to leave any wishes of good luck for the future of this glorious refuge from the world, they'll be much appreciated.

It seems only right that on our birthday, we take a look back at some of the things we've learnt over the past year. Firstly, it suddenly struck me yesterday that paying for black bin bags is actually just throwing money away. Why can't they be free? If you stop and think about it, it's probably the most pointless use of money ever! Also, something I strongly believe, and can account for from personal experience, is that call centres do not work, to either the people working in them or the people having to speak to someone within one. On the side of the worker (sounds a bit socialist, eh?!?), people don't like to be reduced to statistics. It may be wonderful to be able to pour out such statements as how many times you pressed delete over the past week and train you on typing, but it makes you feel as though you are constantly being watched. And that's what is happening. It's quite alarming to suddenly be asked one day why you disappeared for eight minutes the previous day, and somehow you feel a bit embarassed admiting you couldn't deal with it anymore. So in short, they don't just reduce you to a statistic but they invade on your privacy as well. One of the main things that distinguishes humans from the other wonderful species on this planet is our ability for compassion, understanding and tolerance. Unfortunaltely call centres erode this. Moreover, for the person calling, the fact you end up talking to someone who has just completed three weeks of intensive training means that no-one really knows what they're talking about. They're simply reading from a pre-prepared script that erodes individuality. Finally, due to the pressures placed on the people working inside them, you end up having to deal with people as quickly as possible, thus reducing all interaction to a transaction. Thus, look up 'dehumanising' in the dictionary and you should see 'call centres' listed there.

I've also become increasingly fascinated by the subject of time and temporal theory over the last year or so, to the extent that a friend remarks that I'm the only person they know who uses the phrase "space-time continuum" continually and in a serious manner. I just think it's such a fascinating thing though. To think that at any moment in the above-stated continuum you have the ability to mould that into what it is, the fact that this abstract thing can at times move so quickly and yet move so slowly at others, and that you're the only person experiencing time in that way at that moment. It's truly fascinating.

Personally though, its nice to be at this point in time. There are certainly some things to look forward to in the future, not least the fact that I appear to be reaching my career goal. Suppose I should make it public that for the next three years I'll be living in Cardiff, undertaking my PhD and teaching first-year undergraduates in my old department. That's actually quite scary when you stop and think about it as its one hell of a responsibility, but I'm quite happy to think I'm gonna have another three years in the Bute. In fact, a big cheesy grin has just come over my face.

Finally though, I want to thank everybody who reads this for reading it. Your support and enthusiasm is very much appreciated and keeps the thing going. Oh, and a very Happy Birthday to Mr. Edward Easton for the forthcoming weekend.

Cyber Control's Top 5 Records to Celebrate Our First Birthday:

The Young Knives - She's Attracted To
The Zutons - Pressure Point
People in Planes - Narcoleptic
Maximo Park - Going Missing
Snow Patrol - Chasing Cars

Capturing the Market

The Rakes, Cardiff University Solus - 11/05/06

There is, to all intents and purposes, a golden rule to playing live: you open with an anthem, play another one mid-way through your main set, and finish it all with another. On tonight's evidence, The Rakes have learnt this golden rule, opening with the 90-second ode to status anxiety, 22 Grand Job, dropping anomie-toned, O.C.-featured, chant Retreat mid-way through and finishing it all off with the punk rock (and FIFA 2006-used) Strasbourg. This implies a key point about The Rakes though: how far they've come in the past twelve months. About this time last year they played to a mildly enthusiastic Barfly crowd as part of Xfm's (sadly failed) experiments with this fair city. Since then they've troubled the chart three times, and managed to whore themselves out to various student-friendly licencing opportunities. Not that this means they've sold-out. Oh no, The Rakes have grown into something more confident and popular, whilst maintaining that dirty, distorted energy that so many bands seem to leave behind in the equally dirty, grimy toilets of the indie club circuit.

Whilst The Rakes seem to anchor their set in 'classic gig' way, they seem to have (thankfully) ignored the usual consequence of 'classic gig' formula: that things have a tendency to drop between these high-points. This is because the band are relentless. Everything is played at breakneck speed, so that the crowd is constantly pogoing around for their lives, even to the more reflective tracks like Binary Love and We are all Animals and the new stuff that no-one really knows. And whilst those not at the front are furiously jumping around as their lives depended on it, those sandwiched into the railings at the front are doing their utmost to immitate Alan's trademark dance moves.

If you asked me to remember the set-list, I couldn't. It was that good that all of the songs seemed to bleed into each other, although I remember being pleased when they played (personal favourite) Violent. There also has to be a passing comment on the rather ace support from The Young Knives, apart from all I can remember about them now is that recent MTV2-friendly sngle Here Comes the Rumour Mill is just as good live as on record, and that the singer looks like Mark from Peep Show with longer hair.

So then, ladies and gentlemen, The Rakes have grown in stature and status and, on tonight's evidence at least, cornered the ears of the current batch of undergraduates around the country. If they could quickly write a song about the lecturer strike, they could well have a number one on their hands, but then again, they're a bit too cool for that. Even if I still maintain their guitarist looks like (the genial) Stan Cullimore from The Housemartins...

The Magic Number

"No more. No less. It's the magic number"

What number am I talking of, dear reader? Why, that'd be three of course! Immortalised as having magic powers by De La Soul (and, I think, some form of hippy band in the 60s or 70s before that), influential in the naming of this website, and now the number of BAFTA awards the Good Time Lord picked up at the weekend. I'm ecstatic, quite frankly! Over a year ago, before Rose was transmitted, and I was a nervous mix of hope and fear for it all, I said that what I really wanted was for us to get recognised in some form, and if that could be a BAFTA that'd be ace. There it was, a silly pipe dream that I thought was never possible. Now, twelve months down the line, we didn't just get one! Oh no, we got three of the things: one from the industry for being ace, one from the viewers for being ace, and one for having the best writer in television attatched as Executive Producer (my close pal RTD, I doubt he remembers me, but he probably remembers the hat). So there we have it! Industry and viewers on our side! Enjoy it whilst it lasts, as I'm sure that somewhere someone is viewing it as further evidence of the debasement of culture (a sci-fi show, the best thing on television? But where is the single play? I can hear them now...) and sharpening up the knives for some form of backlash. However, for now at least, the offices of BBC Wales have something that designates Who as the bestest thing on telly, and it makes me proud.

Dunno if I'm going to get the chance to write again before Saturday, so if I don't just a quick note that the Cybermen are back this weekend! Apart from the fact their not from Mondas! Nor are they from Telos! They're from an 'alternate Earth', and they're the devious creation of Trigger from Only Fools and Horses! Who sits in a wheelchair! No, in all seriousness I'm glad they've turned their back on the whole backstory/continuity thing, or else we'd have ended up with something akin to Attack: all geeky sub-references that only mean anything to those three people in the audience who were/are that bothered about the history of the Cyber Race. Quite frankly, all you need to know is that they're big, they're metal, they're very rational and they basically take the idea of replacing malfunctioning human organs with replacements to the extreme. Oh and they should utter the immortal phrase of "Yes, Leader".

Aside from that, little to report of any consequence at the moment. Just plodding along with life and writing things, clutching the new Snow Patrol quite closely as it's very good. A bit floaty in places, but a real grower that contains four or five set piece songs that deserve to be heard.

Cyber Control's Top 5 to Take Your Mind Off the Return of the Cybermen:

Snow Patrol - Chasing Cars
Panic! At the Disco - The Only Difference Between Suicide and Martyrdom is Press Coverage
Snow Patrol - Make This Go On Forever
Idlewild - Satan Polaroid
Snow Patrol & Martha Wainwright - Set the Fire to the Third Bar

Patrolling the Airwaves

Snow Patrol, Cardiff University Great Hall - 03/05/06

Not so many years ago Coldplay seemed to corner the market in indie balladeering, and grew to become one of the biggest bands in the world. Now with the welcome news (last album notwithstanding) that Mr. Martin is taking his over-infalted ego off somewhere for a few years, if there's any justice in this world Snow Patrol should amicably fill that gap in the market. They've made one hell of a new album in Eyes Open and in singer Gary Lightbody they have someone to match Martin in morals but completely overshadow him in that important area of personality. He jumps on to the stage with such an enthusiasm and energy before even playing a song that its hard not to get behind him, and he's down to earth. This band have had to work hard to get here and so appear genuinely grateful for their chance, something Gary makes clear tonight before launching in to the wonderful An Olive Grove Facing the Sea (also known as the kind of heartbreaking ballad they've always written but didn't get the promotion at the time).

Tonight's show is perfectly pitched between Snow Patrol's two successful albums: 2003's Final Straw and newie. They mix up the two at will so that a favourite is always around the corner, and this is seen in the opening few exchanges, as Chocloate and Spitting Games are played energetically at the beginning of the set to get the crowd firmly on their side. After that, it's a nice mix of the familiar and not-so familiar, with new tracks Hands Open and Shut Your Eyes sounding like they'll occupy iPod's for the next few months. The obvious highlight of the new stuff though has to be the beautiful Chasing Cars. If Colin Murray reviewed Run as 'the kind of music that children should be concieved to', then surely Chasing Cars goes one better. Its quite possibly the most simple, honest love song this genre has produced, certainly in the last few years. Elsewhere How to Be Dead remains a firm crowd pleaser, and new track Make This Go On Forever adds an interesting, piano-led change to proceedings.

They could have left it with just the main set and it would have been amazing, finishing as they did with the aforementioned Run and current Top 10 troubling anthem You're All I Have (possibly the best end to a set that's come from the current outcrop of young, Indie bands?), but a touching Open Your Eyes and a hectic Tiny Little Fractures meant that the crowd went home with both their eyes, and their hearts, open to the new kings of all things introspective and emotional. A warm welcome back.

New New Bronze Medal

And so we return!

Hello once more, Dear Readers! Fear not, we are still in residence here, just that things have been rather hectic what with the amount of work that has not decreased since the last time we met. I wouldn't mind if I'd done absolutely nothing, but I've worked and worked and worked on things and seem to be getting nowhere. It's just NOT coming together, and thats annoying! It seems either I'm really not getting things, or I'm making things far too hard for myself, or a mixture of both! Eitherways its not particularly good.

I expect you're all dying to hear my opinions on the New Who (or should that be the New New Who?!?), and I hope the following comments on New Earth will provide an introduction. I was planning a big review of each episode, with full analysis and such, but at the minute I haven't got the time or energy to do so. So I duly apologise for that, and can only offer to improve as time progresses onwards. In summary though, I have been exceptionally impressed with all three episodes so far: Tennant and Billie are firing on all cylinders, the stories are fantastic and more ambitious than last year. I can only speculate about how far the series will go because, as we know from last year, they just got bigger and bigger as the season went on! The special effects have been great by and large, a few of the more ambitous effects still look a little unbelievable, but it's still the most unique thing on TV in my opinion. Let's just hope it gets that BAFTA when the time comes...

There are things I wanna talk about, as they may help me calm down and take them in, but I can't at the moment as I don't wanna tempt fate and blow them. Suffice to say that they're the reason why I seem a strange mixture of happiness and nervous adrenalin at the moment though.

New Earth

An ambitous, well-realised, if rather busy beginning to the new series. In short, they tried to do too much in the one episode. What with the hospital itself, Cassandra, the Plague Carriers, the Face of Boe and the Cat Nurses there was just a little too much going on, and it was only after the second viewing that I managed to take it all in. The problem was that a lot of the main narrative thread - the horror of the Plague Carriers and their subsequent release - was lost as it came too late on and wasn't fully realised. Not that it was badly directed, quite the contrary, just came and went too quickly.

The humour was there though! I couldn't stop laughing at the ongoing joke about the shop! And I liked the bits with the lift and disinfectant as well. The constant swapping of Cassandra into various bodies got a little tedious after some initial funny exchanges (I'm thinking of when she first transferred into The Doctor's body especially), but was, in the end, essential to her realising what had to be done. The Face of Boe stuff was 'text-book enigmatic', and sets things up nicely for their next encounter. All in all a solid, if busy, start to the season, and a great place to lift off from!

I've Started Something I Can't Possibly Finish

In homage to Morrissey, as he does seem to be everywhere on the (decent) music channels at the moment due to his really rather good new single, I thought I'd name this post. It does, however, sum up the way I feel at the moment. I decided to write one long essay for one of my current modules, electing to do 5000 words comparing two contemporary novel-to-television adaptations, and putting my own spin on the question by using Gormenghast and some hideous BBC (yes, dear reader, those two terms don't sit easily together in my head either) adaptation of Doyle's The Lost World. However, the problem is I really don't know where to start with it, and I'm putting my self under a lot of pressure to get it done as I've still got 3000 words on an essay that I've neither decided on, nor have much interest in, as the titles are a little dull. That's probably why I'm undecided about it come to think of it.

Anyway, I digress. The problem I seem to have got myself in is that I've got so much to write about, and so much I feel I should write about, I really don't know where to start. The only thing I'm sure of is that I need to start writing. However, paradoxically, I don't want to start writing as it's only going to confirm in me that I really don't know what my angle is yet. To make matters worse, I decided today that I should probably read the source books as well, meaning that I splashed out fifteen quid on the entire Gormenghast trilogy and have therefore created more work for myself. You see, dear reader, neurosis and fear of failure are not easy things to live with.

I'm also getting far too excited about both the launch of the new series of Who (on the 15th of this month, more on that next time) as well as my return to Devon next week for an old friend's birthday. In short, the time that I had clear to do some writing has become full with too many thoughts buzzing around my head. I hate this. I wish I could concentrate on the things that I should rather than the silliness in my head.