gun

Raygun Are The New Spinal Tap!

All hail RAYGUN, the new Spinal Tap!

Shame the tunes don't come close to the greatness of that one about "The Majesty of Rock" and "The Mystery of Roll." Ah vey. Check the wisdom:

"If you stuck Iggy Pop, James Brown, David Bowie and, um, Shirley Bassey in a lift... you'd have our band! Ha ha ha!"

Where's my SMH gif?

smh

Ah, there he is.

"We'll be at home, kocking up some beats or whatever on reason or Logic or, you know, Ableton or whatever, then we, we kind of... we get together... and mash... you know, hy... two types of songs... sort of a hybrid... of songs, really. Delia Smith style, you know, Phsychedelia Smith, chuck it all in and see what happens."

Only a gif can describe my feelings right about now. Where's that gif I use in times like this?

headmsahing

Aaaaah. There he is.

There's a part two. You want a part two?

Well, have one anyway.

Oh dear Lord I just did some kind of awful scretching cackle at 2:01 and freaked out my neighbours. Ray Gun descibes what their song, Waiting, is all about.

We waited eight years to get the record, out. You know, we'd been writing for eight years, there was time, when, you know, we had no work, and, there was, there was a time when I was at the job centre, trying to get a... job. In music. And they couldn't even get me a job in one of the record stores."

There is no gif for this. Anyone got a suggestion?

EDIT: Ray has apologised.

Appologies

So, there were a bunch of updates and pictures and things, and they got wiped! Oh, the tragedy. So, a recap. On my last day on Rivington Street I saw a white thug in an open-top Hummer drive by blasting out 'I Want The One I Can't Have' and nodding along with a serious expression about his face.

Then we went.

Wade and I ended up on the coach, as there was no room in the van, or car. We got there early, and checked out the scene. The scene is small.

We don't actually live in Woodstock. We live in Shandaken, outside. Well, just outside. Half way up a mountain, hidden away by forest, amongst bears and chipmunks and what have you. In a big old dusty house full of weird porn and broken stuff, with brown water and giant ants. Like, there's a jacuzzi, but it doesn't seem to work. There is the biggest TV you've ever seen, but it's got a big black tear across the front and doesn't tune properly. It's a two hour walk to the nearest shop, whihc is a petrol station, and does a good line in biscuits. The local girl's got a lot of guns.

It is very lovely to look at up in Shandaken. Mountains covered in trees, mainly. Streams. Clouds so low you can jump up and punch them.

I miss Wade, who is back in London sorting out affairs. All my stuff is in boxes.

Lush

So I fell alseep on the sofa after 5, and was awakened gently by Super Phil at 6:20, and it transpired Bird left my bag with my passport in it at the venue last night. But Bird's got me another ID card, so we're outside waiting for Jeff to pick us up at 6:30. And at midday we're in LA, and soon after that we're in Interscope's offices,and I'm filling a bag with Nirvana, Guns N Roses, Gilbert And Sullivan, Dre, Peter Gabriel, Police and other such back catalogue. Jimmy Iovine has a signed letter from Tupac and a video console that won't switch on. And loads of ideas. A balcony. A lush view. LA is lush to look at, from these places of advantage. Like, later we visit Jeff and Trent's, and there's this fucking alien cat that loves me, and an incredible, incredible view, of this desolate wilderness spattered with money.

It was a lovely day.

But in the nighttime it is hard not to see that LA is awash with cunts. It is a sad and massive amount of cunts, and I am not sure whether it is sad because this is what the world did to them, or because this is what they do to the world, or because they are cunts, and you can see their faces rotting right in front of your eyes.