Time for my personal verdict on David Bowie’s studio albums (and one or two honorary ones), after a month of re-listening, listening for the first time, and listening properly for the first time. Ratings are Rolling Stone-style, out of five stars. Anything given three stars or more I’d happily listen to again; four stars or more I’d listen to a lot. Two or two and a half, I’d listen to on a good day. I have no plans to listen to Tonight ever again, especially as its two decent songs are on Nothing Has Changed.
A stab at a revamp of the archives page. A work in progress.
Tom Ewing on MP3s in 1999. “All a URL and thirty minutes wait away.”
My Nottingham friends and I spent Saturday night showing each other amusing YouTube videos. All of my links were ones I’ve posted here before—Matt Mulholland, the “Dancing in the Streets” musicless video, Adam Buxton’s Bowie clips, the Jurassic Park theme on melodica—but some of theirs were new to me, and we uncovered some more good ones:
The Brett Domino Trio had somehow completely passed me by. Their cover of Sexy and I Know It gives a good idea of their stuff. Buck Rogers (by Feeder). Jurassic Park Theme (with Lyrics). Hey Ya! on a Skoog. What Would You Do (If a Shark Started Eating You). How to Make a Hit Pop Song, Pt. 1 and Pt. 2.
And I don’t think I’ve ever linked this one here: Adam Buxton’s I Am James Bond.
My posting-every-day resolution may well fall at the thirtieth hurdle. I’m visiting friends over the weekend, and don’t want to spend our time together hovering over a keyboard. Queueing up posts in advance goes against the spirit of it, too. So... we’ll see.
A moment of Twitter synchronicity from yesterday.
Hail, Poesie! thou Nymph reserv’d!
In chase o’ thee, what crowds hae swerv’d
Frae common sense, or sunk enerv’d
’Mang heaps o’ clavers:
And och! o’er aft thy joes hae starv’d,
’Mid a’ thy favours!
—Robert Burns, Poem on Pastoral Poetry (excerpt), 1791
Nothing exciting to post today. There’s been a bit more design reworking going on behind the scenes, but mostly it’s another January weekend of catching up on marking.
A few grumpy tweets by Times journalist Camilla Long, who once tweeted about crying over Michael Jackson’s death but said Bowie fans doing the same should get over it, prompted an article on “grief police” at The Atlantic which led to a Metafilter thread on the whole subject of public grieving, and whether that’s even the right word for it. I pitched in a few thoughts, reproduced in edited form below for the benefit of the all-consuming daily-posting schedule.