Swapping Castle Hill for Green's Mill

And so, it comes to an end. My time in Huddersfield is drawing to a close, and my next stepping stone in life will be Nottingham.

My relationship with Huddersfield has always been ambivalent, and more so since the break-up of my marriage. On the one hand, I love the town. Some of the most amazing architecture is here. I produced some damn fine music here. But it has a darker side: a side that haunts me. I see betrayal and deception lurking around every corner, and the healing process has been too slow, too painful for me to properly settle.

So, 17:13 this evening is time to go. The ties aren't cut completely, I shall be back: but the pull of the East Midlands is too hard to resist. I love my home area - I feel like me the way I never really did here. It's not a yearning, more a recognition of who I am.

Just like football, Alan's coming home.

Ow, ow, ow.

I had a mild dose of the flu just before Chrip. Nothing much to report about: the usual shivers, aches and pains and a hacking cough afterwards.

Oh, yeah: and I broke a rib coughing.

I've just hit the bone knitting stage and I must admit I feel a tad rough for it - muscles ache from the spasming, and I make other muscles (my neck on the other side) ache as I compensate. The cartilage seems to be out too, but all I can do is take it easy.

Come on world! I need your sympathy!

Getting a rise out of information....

Apparently, the CIA have a new weapon in the intelligence war against the Taliban. Viagra.

Read all about the little blue pill's part in the War Against Terror here.

Digger to the stars

world champion
Originally uploaded by Grain Damaged

Back in 2001, for reasons I won't go into too much, I was a bit on the skint side. On the other hand, I really, really wanted to go to the Eugene Celebration. So, what does a man do?

Volunteer. That's what he does.

So off I trotted to the Eugene Celebration offices and I offered my services.

"We've got just the thing for you," they said. "We're having a sand art competition..."

"Sounds... interesting," I said. "Pop my name down for 4 hours."

In the meantime, something horrible involving planes and tall buildings happened. I'm sure you remember: so you can imagine I was wondering whether anything would happen at all. I showed up on the day to find everything cancelled for the day EXCEPT the sand art.

When I got there, I was introduced to a rather engagingly charming bloke called from Cleveland called Carl Jara, who produced a Scooby Doo comic from his bag. It had a rather silly cover depicting Scooby emerging from the middle of a cake with a rather shocked Shaggy looking on.

"We're doing this," he said. "I reckon the kids'll love it, what with all the stuff in the news..."

And so we did.

Sand art is an odd discipline. It requires hours of prep work, which is hand-blisteringly, back-breaking work for a poor civilian like me. Then, if the sand is rubbish (and apparently it was that day), the best-packed sand can sometimes collapse, causing on-the-fly alterations to be made to the entire sculpture.

However, Carl was calm throughout (mostly) and kept me going with cracks about giving up smoking (I'd made the decision to quit not knowing about Al-Qaeda's plans and had spent the last three days wondering whether a Day of National Mourning was really now the best day to stop...), me being British and a never-ending stream of fascinating trivia about sand, Ohio and the idiotic questions asked by the general public.

Eight hours later, we'd finished. I was damn proud of my contribution to the festival, and well chuffed to have helped such a nice bloke.

And now, after visiting his flickr page, I find he is the 2008 World Champion Sand Sculptor. I'm made up for him. Well done, Carl. Proud to know you, mate.

"Academic inspiration, he gave me none..."

I was immensely lucky to be living in the Midlands in the early 80s, but I didn't think so at the time. One of the great things about being a Midlander back then was a programme that the BBC put on during the Tuesday night BBC1 regional opt-out featuring local bands and youth issues. Hosted by Toyah Wilcox, "Look Hear" was a lo-fi goldmine of great live performances from such local luminaries as The Specials, The Selecter and (believe it or not) Judas Priest. Hell, they even featured a just-starting-out Duran Duran.

However, the showcase here goes to one of my bands of the moment, who are providing the soundtrack to a rather nostalgic time in my life: Dexys Midnight Runners, performing, inevitably, "Geno".

Beautiful.

Phoning It In

I've just discovered this, and I can't quite believe it's been going on as long as it has under my radar. So, in my inimitable style, I'm going to burble on about it like you should all take a listen.

But you know, you should.

So what's it all about? Let them explain...

"lo-fi is the right fi: dj talksonthephone calls up all your favorite musicians for live over-the-phone performances and awkward conversation." 

Phoning It In is a radio program whose flagship show is broadcast on 88.1fm BSR in Providence, RI (where it's hosted by Gabe) and whose satellite show is broadcast on 88.1fm WMBR in Cambridge, MA (where it's hosted by Nadav). You can listen to every single past show from both stations in the Archives.

Yup. Live sessions over the phone. It's a genius idea. 346 sessions online. Get in there and listen. Phoning It In!

Stop press: given the title of this blog, this is a must: Jens Lekman at 1am Swedish time, in the bath, with a kalimba and a dying phone battery. Touching, cute and just plain funny. 

Download mp3 | Stream mp3

Indeed: you can't keep a good man down.

I've been at a loss as to what to do with this blog for a few days. Not being in Fife anymore kind of makes the title a bit redundant - then, walking into town, listening to some music, it all crystallised. So: we have a new title and another beginning - so let's celebrate that with the song that inspired the name change.

Chocks away, Jens.