skinnywhiteboy

Now, I'm all for a bit of graffiti, but when Jimmy Cauty's new promotional stunt was ruined by Brighton's anti-graff squad I thought it was pretty funny. Cauty (of 'he torched a million pounds' fame) had whitewashed 'Portslade Massif' across the front of the gallery, 'ink'd', where he was launching his new show.

Whether Brighton's street cleaners are from rival Whitehawk or Moulsecoombe areas isn't known, but they cleaned off the graffiti pretty effectively. A couple of days later, it reappeared...situationism re-situated.

Or have I fallen for it? Was this all part of the publicity stunt...? Time to get out there again guys - the Council's website recommends chemicals, overpainting, or 'creating three dimensional iron work, mosaics or climbing plants on walls'.

Woodland Recordings night, Brighton Komedia, 13 October 2007

The Komedia's Studio Bar hosted a gig for badgers, squirrels, dormice and other indie kids on Saturday night. Woodland Recordings are a small DIY label based in Brighton, with a small roster of very English new folk. Three bands played. It reminded me of old Sarah Records gigs - a small, friendly, somewhat twee family, dedicated enough to hand make their CDs - booklets, artwork and all.

The Diamond Family Archive is a tall furry man with a wooly hat, who defines being dragged through a hedge backwards. A kind of unpolished Devendra Banhart kind of look - huge beard, long hair, stooped indifference. All that belied the sensitivity of his performance - warm and gentle looped and layered guitar and percussive noises, a soft voice. We nearly dropped off to sleep - in a good way.

Liz Green is more olde school folk, but probably the one most likely to be 'noticed' thanks to her voice, which brings to mind Antony Hegarty of Antony and the Johnsons. She picks a Spanish guitar and plays an organ. Warbling, lisping, bird-like, unexpected. Songs of love and pornography.

The headliners, deservedly from the audience's point of view, were the Sons of Noel and Adrian. A group with singers, Spanish guitarists, violin, cello, flute, percussion, a marriage of Beirut and British Sea Power. The singer sounds a lot like Zach Condon. Although obviously the worse for wear, he led superbly intricate guitar and droning, somewhat Celtic rythms. Songs of the sea and shipwrecks, caves, and a man called Damian.

The animals loved it.

Brian Wilson's just agreed that his band can accompany the English National Ballet in a royal gala performance of God Only Knows. After the weak 'That Lucky Old Sun' I've been crossing my fingers and legs that Mr W would redeem himself with his next project.

Well, is he to be admired for pushing the boundaries of his music and embracing new art forms to express the timeless beauty of this song? Or are his producer and collaborators breaking into a smirk whenever he looks away and dreaming of the dollars? Hmmm....let me think...

In the meantime we can look forward to Angela Rippon (I shit ye not) presiding over a right Royal massacre of one of my favourites. Here's a good idea for the next project - 'Pet Sounds, Men In Tights'.

Noticed that today is Bob Geldof's birthday. Never was much cop was he, old Bob. Don't get me wrong - I like people who remain reactionary into old age, and he's got some unfashionable principles that he's stuck by...but my weren't the Boomtown Rats shit. Unfortunately he's still flogging that one.

So how about real punks that are still real? Not many are there - John Lydon for sure, Patti Smith. Iggy Pop. Struggling now. A guy I know, Ian Dickson, is real too. Photographed most of the real punks at the time. His website (Late 20th Century Boy) is a must - you'll recognise a lot of these pictures for sure. He's just done me a copy of his Phil Lynott 1976 which has pride of place in the house - I had it on my wall as a kid. Glen Matlock leaping like a loon was a Sounds cover that also graced by wall.

Ian's a real punk. Still wears black head to toe every day. Long live punk.