kickin' up a storm

the rain has left the city sparkling and twinkly as anything and you're all very clever sweethearts coming up with such smashing thundery hits. thankyou ever so dears



the dramatics - in the rain

x

lightning strikes

there should be a million more records with thunder and rain and lightning in them to go with last nights brilliant kept me up massively over excited storm but now i can only think of the ronettes. to be fair i can often only think of the ronettes...


the ronettes - walking in the rain

you gotta help me out here people

let's ride

i know surf's up and two wheels are good and all but i'm a bit more born to be mild and "look at me, terry collier - bachelor pedestrian" than wild for kicks scooterist burning rubber on a bank holiday run.drop me at the little chef and i'll be fine. pull up in one of those big old rollers maybe and not on a bank holiday when it'll be packed with heaven knows who and you might just persuade me mind. anyway i just came across these beauties (oh for gawds sake grow up) and thought they'd go perfectly with a few suede shoed organ powered instrumental satisfaction guaranteeds to get you smashing a deckchair over the nearest greaser


the small faces - own up

jimmy smith - the cat


and if there's a more fabulous camper than anything dames on bikes mel torme singing comin' home baby smash bit of film than this ever i'll be flabbergasted. and with an intro by judy. it really doesn't get better.



for more scooter/lady filth head over here why don't cha

torment tuesday

tortured tormented and cheated ... this one's going to tear you apart







dusty springfield - i wish i'd never loved you

x

say it ain't so joe say it ain't so

the stupid greedy shortsighted bastard wankers are closing down the stow. you've got till august people then that's it. apparently new changes in betting laws have meant loads of people are gambling off track. off track for gawds sake. i know walthamstow is the back of beyond and i'm never really totally positive that greyhounds really like bunnies quite that much but hell the place is a palace a national treasure a feast for the senses and the soul. i despair.


it's really upset me.


diana ross - touch me in the morning
tom waits - hang down your head

glorious photographs courtesy of estherase

and there's some super 8 magic from our dear chum bltp

hold my hand and we're half way there

so this was supposed to be a sunday afternoon kinda thing with fairy cake and the best china and ooohs and ahhhhs and long gorgeous silences but i got distracted by a troll around regents park with thierry henry and ducklings and a blimp and whatnot. well anyway you know we're rather partial to a showtune and no one can not sing a showtune like tom waits. wouldn't the tom waits show be a fabulous addition to a sunday evenings telly. he'd make a marvelous host i'm sure. crack a few jokes. tinkle the old ivories. bellow through a megaphone. introduce special guest. (i got totally stuck there thinking of anyone who could be on the tom waits show. it's past my bedtime really it is)
there was supposed to be photoshop trickery too with toms dolly old eek plastered onto a west side storyer but i've got no skills and very few inclinations at my age so you'll just have to use your imaginations you clever little things.
lets just start our week swooning with 'somewhere'

tom waits - somewhere

not singing for england ...eng-er- land

anything you can't do we can can do loads loads worse my american chums. you might think you've got this singers what can't sing thing all sewn up but you never reckoned with our very own super secret weapon so secret we disguise him as a postie and don't let anyone buy his records and by the look of him these days don't give him any dinner just so at times like this when you think you've got us licked we can drag him out spitting and scowling and not sing you lot to pieces

vic godard and subway sect - make me sad

grooming tips for the modern gentleman

eighteen months in the north and i never went to the tache. disgraceful. if it'd exclusively featured moustachioed turns and ran special zapata only nights you'd never've got me out of the joint obviously. hell maybe they did and i just didn't know. it's just the sort of thing blackpool would do what with blackpool being so fantastic and all. it's just impossible to resist that killer polo neck and zapata combo and just crushing when you put it next to massive hair and bambi eyes. next to for gawds sake next to. oh jesus. like nancy and lee.

nancy sinatra and lee hazelwood - paris summer



there's times though rare i know when all that blondness and mascara just kinda gets in the way

lee hazelwood - pour man

tache photo by the ever fabulous multi talented i'm not always so stupid nancy. thankyou dear.

so wrong it's got to be right

if i ruled the world pop idol would be a thrill a minute adventure with contestants trying to burst the poor ageing singer out of generation x but what with another weeks dastardly deeds ending only with mauled henchmen and exploding secret hideouts that's looking increasingly unlikely. i blame stevie wonder. not for the downfall of my nefarious organisation but for all that round the note caterwauling that clogs up our tellys and drags dannii minogue screaming out of her favourite lap dancing clubs. not that i've ever watched any of that muck obviously. and i love stevie. i just can't help thinking that's where your mariahs and everyone got the idea and ran with it. and they laugh at the poor suckers who can't sing when obviously they should be cheering them on with screams of it's the new richard hell no he's more lee hazelwood neil tennant ronnie spector jarvis cocker ari up phil ochs bobby dylan even hell all those gorgeous marvels of non singing who are worth more that a zillion four octave nightmares

richard hell and the voidoids - time

sorry for laughing

i've been following the vinyl villain's 45 45s at 45 doohicky with an over excited mixture of ooohs and ahhs and simple bloody minds what is he ons and todays one was nirvana. i never got nirvana. i can't see what the fuss is all about. it's all just moaning and not washing his hair often enough to me i'm afraid. but put a bit of their what a bleedin' row one about not wanting a bath or whatever it is he's on about with the wobbly arsed wonder of destinys child and i'm there
nirvana v destinys child - smells like teen booty


oooh that's much better...