Hey kids,

Just to let everybody know that I'M PROBABLY GOING TO BE WITHOUT RELIABLE INTERNET ACCESS FOR A WHILE, BEGINNING NOW.

So probably best not to hold your breath for frequent blog updates, and if you're chasing me up regarding an unanswered email or unsent CD or whatever, or just wondering where I've got to, here's the answer. Sorry!

I'll hopeful be back on active internet duty soon, but until then,
Peace & Noise, and good luck,
Ben

(I would happily post my phone number, only I fear it would be abused by spammers and weirdoes and shifty criminal types - so drop me an email if you feel a desperate need to contact me and I'll answer ASAP)

What more could I possibly say...

SOME ANNOUNCEMENTS AND STUFF;

1.
We at Stereo Sanctity are very sad to hear of the premature demise of Cat on Form, one of the liveliest, smartest and generally bestest young British bands of the past few years. It’s sad to see a band with such an obvious group dynamic and strength of purpose bite the dust, and obviously good luck goes out to them in any future musical ventures or, y’know, just general life and stuff.

2.
Apparently, the paper-bound Stereo Sanctity has been reviewed in that influential compendium of general awesomeness, Punk Planet. The only reason I know this is that a hardcore label based in Blackpool just sent me a free record, saying they got my details from there. Thanks guys! (This is actually the first time my zine activity has attracted any decent free stuff – anyone who feels they can rectify the situation is more than welcome). So hurrah for all that anyway! If anybody’s got a copy of PP#61 hanging around, I’d love to know what they said about my stuff..

3.
I picked up the new issue of the premier journal for connoisseurs of gaunt, bearded men (and occasionally music), Loose Lips Sink Ships, at the weekend, and as previously it’s well worth yr. cash. To have even a fleeting insight into the current activities of Josh T. Pearson / Lift to Experience is surely worth the entry price alone to all of us who obsessed over ‘the Texas-Jerusalem Crossroads’ a while back, and aside from that my favourite bits so far include: the illustration of Everett True as indie-caesar, the writings of Jennifer Maerz and Neil Kulkarni, the interview with Monkey Island (who sound awesome).. and so on. Even when they feature artists I’m not particularly bothered about, the quality of writing and presentation in this magazine is absolutely exemplary. Top.

4.
The eternal search for the Best Band Name Ever is now closed. According to last night’s John Peel show, a group or individual going by the name of DAVID CRONENBERG’S WIFE will be taking the stage at some event or other. Truly we are not worthy.

5.
If anybody has any good suggestions for anywhere I could get a decent job and/or place to live at the moment, that would be, like, awesome.

Man, I’ve had just the most exhausting and fucked up couple of weeks, so you’ll excuse the lack of blog updates, but hopefully I’ll be able to make up for it now with a series of hurried “what I did on my holidays” style reports of some stuff I’ve been up to.

No time for any worthwhile writing-ness I’m afraid, time constraints mean we’re in “first word, best word” territory, and unlike Jack I don’t know all that many good words.

AUGUST BANK HOLIDAY WEEKEND;

Pete came down for our second annual “do something way more fun and cool than going to the Reading Festival” weekend and, surprisingly given the track record of this damned town, it was action all the way.

On Saturday we popped out to More Musicand I bought about 10 LPs for £14 or something, and some of them were even good ones. I got ‘Sketches of Spain’, a slightly scratched Shop Assistants 7” and best of all Lee Hazlewood & Nancy Sinatra’s ‘Nancy & Lee’ album. Obviously I’ve always dug ‘Some Velvet Morning’ and ‘Sand’, but gee whiz, every single track on this record kicks ass. Why wasn’t I informed sooner?? Meanwhile, albums by Twisted Sister and Nuclear Assault soothe the more primitive elements of my character.

Saturday night we turned away from the familiar ‘go to the pub’ option and instead decided to drink wine with some art students in a free-form exhibition space thingy – not an option which is often open to the residents of Swansea, so we thought we’d make the best of it.

Then we went off to Swansea’s irregular and inconsistently cool indie/garage/mod/r’n’r clubnight The Velvet Underground. Plus points are that it takes place in a huge hanger-like stone basement and that not many people go there, thus allowing cute gurls and preening boys to slowly twist around in big dark empty spaces. Minus points though for the wildly inconsistent music policy – one minute the DJ slays us by playing the Standells, the Cramps and Sonic Youth in quick succession (and the motown section goes down a storm), but then his indie arsehole mate takes over and we’re sitting down again fuming with rage as we’re subjected to bloody Oasis and various other shite that got played on the radio a bit in 1997 cos it sounded like Oasis. Requests seem to mean nothing to these bastards. Resorting to antisocial behaviour and yelling “FUCKING RAMONES!” and “PLAY SOME ROCK N’ ROLL!!” over the outro to every track proves equally ineffective, but feels pretty liberating.

Sunday morning we discover that THE DIRTBOMBS are playing in Cardiff, and decide we’d better go.
Good move, cos it wass a fucking bloody amazing gig! It went perfectly – we turned up, we were thoroughly rocked, we left just in time to catch the last train.

First support The Mutts did a jolly and endearing Stooges impression, then The Mooney Suzuki were great fun as ever, proving they’ve still got the moves despite having offended the whole world with their reportedly appalling new album.. and then.. man, the Dirtbombs are so good they make me want to resort to every gnarly rock cliché in the book, and they justify all of them. They rock the party! They tear the place apart! They crush us like a juggernaut of pure rock! And so on. It’s just that fantastic super-sized thunderous SOUND they’ve got, what with the double helping of big, clattering drums and – my personal favourite – the absolutely killer rhythmic fuzz-bass attack. I love that sound!! It just snaps me straight back into non-stop dancing mode. Just one of the greatest, coolest, loudest, energetic and above all… well I was gonna say ‘fun’, but that’s not quite right.. ‘fun’ sounds kinda mild. They reach more like that righteous state of intensity that you get when you’ve overdosed on fun and just go beyond it and feel like yr going to explode.. yeah. One of the most thoroughly GOOD & RIGHT rock n’ roll bands I’ve ever been fortunate enough to witness firsthand anyway.

And it’s that recurrent problem; lot’s of big men standing at the front NOT DANCING. THE FUCKERS!! Are they hearing the same music I’m hearing?? What the fuck do they think they’re doing, standing there like they’re observing an intriguing anthropological spectacle?!? THIS ISN’T A FUCKING TV SHOW YOU SWINE - GET WITH IT!! Grr. There’s no punishment too bad for those bastards. They should have their throats cut or something. Seriously.

Ok, maybe not seriously. Er… anyway..

On Monday we rested. For a bit anyway. Then I packed up as much noise-making equipment as I could carry and we headed up to Sam’s house to play some music and watch TV and stuff. She’s still really, really good. I’m still appallingly shoddy and inconsistent. Still, there were some bits where I almost managed to play the right tune in time for more than ten seconds, so that’s progress I guess. We tried plugging the bass into my Big Muff, but sadly we didn’t get anything like the Dirtbombs heavenly fuzz-bass. More like some monstrous goth freakout sound. Hmm. It was a really cool n’ fun and relaxed day anyway – the weather and the general quality of the light that day was amazing, it looked like we were in a film with a really expensive and pretentious European cinematographer.

COMING UP NEXT: the grim aftermath of this weekend, as I have to go back to work and my flat gets flattened.