If, Dear Reader, you share my admiration of the unique films made by Mr John Waters of Baltimore, MD, you may like to know that his latest movie A Dirty Shame has just been quietly and belatedly released in the UK.
It’s on at two West End cinemas till Thursday, then plays at ‘key cities’ around the country from May 6th.
Quick notice in my Ambassador for The Boogaloo capacity.
Tonight (Weds) at the Boogaloo there's the following event:
RIP IT UP AND START AGAIN: Postpunk 1978-1984
To launch the new Simon Reynolds book Vox N’ Roll presents a postpunk panel discussion chaired by Simon Reynolds, with Paul Morley (writer), Gina Birch (Raincoats), Jon King (Gang of Four) and Richard Boon (Buzzcocks manager). Plus screening of a 60 min video compiling footage of New Order, the Fall, Cabaret Voltaire, Pop Group, Magazine, PIL, Orange Juice and Josef K.
Arrive early as capacity crowd expected. Free entry. Doors 6pm. Event at 8.30pm.
Venue Address: The Boogaloo, 312 Archway Road, Highgate, London N6.
Note that Howard Devoto has had to drop out.
Update: Here's a related article by Mr Reynolds in last weekend’s Observer
Other recommended events in London tonight:
MOMUS + THE FREE FRENCH
Concert at Bush Hall, Shepherds Bush.
http://www.freefrench.net/
<b>THE BOOK CLUB</b>
Robin Ince's comedy & cabaret night. Includes Martin White, cult accordion hero. Venue: Lowdown At The Albany, 240 Great Portland Street, W1W.
http://www.lowdownatthealbany.com/
AIRPORT
Pop & indie club night hosted by uniformed DJs Alicat, Clare and Val. At The Roxy, 3-5 Rathbone Place, W1.
http://thefanclub.info/other.htm
CLUB CYNTHIA<
New pop & trashy electro night at the similarly affordable Trash Palace, with Kash Point DJ Scottee.
http://geocities.com/clubcynth/
Last night – to the London Review Bookshop in Bury Place. It's one of their occasional Shopping Evenings. The shop stays open for a couple of hours later than usual, lays on free wine, bowls of crisps and the like, and gives 10% off everything. Of course, once one's had a couple of wines, the temptation to spend more on books than one can possibly afford is overwhelming, but that's the idea. I look forward to their shopping evenings and save up in preparation, giving myself a limit: three books maximum.
After much browsing and agonizing over what to leave for another time, I go home with the following:
– <i>The Smoking Diaries</i> by Simon Gray. Memoirs and rantings from the playwright. It's a word of mouth hit I've always meant to get around to. Another excellent book of his, Fat Chance, covers the mid-90s debacle of Stephen Fry having a breakdown and walking out of Mr Gray's play Cell Mates, leaving the playwright to pick up the pieces. This has just been re-published too, in a similar jacket design to The Smoking Diaries. The success of both books is a good example of Life upstaging Art. But at least it's Mr Gray's life upstaging his own plays, rather than Mr Fry's. That's the trick – if someone is upstaging your work, the only solution is to upstage it yourself. I open it at random, and the sentence "my masturbation is sponsored by London Transport" leaps out at me. So naturally, I have to buy it.
In fact, this is my preferred manner of how to decide on any book purchase, and for choosing a book at the library. I read a few random lines, sometimes from the middle, sometimes from the start, and make my decision then. That way, I quickly know whether I want to spend part of my limited time on earth with the book or not.
Good writing is like a stick of rock – you should be able to cut into it at any point to find its message.
I also equate choosing what to read with choosing someone interesting or wise or entertaining to chat with, or rather listen to, at a party. Often with the added bonus of them being dead for some time.
– <i>The World of Simon Raven</i>, edited by Howard Watson. I'm already a Raven admirer, and this is another on my Must Get Around To List. It's an anthology of his non-fiction and autobiographies, packaged as a Humour Classic. I open it at random, and the line that leaps out is, "I loved Burgo; not physically, for no one, except the lady with the erectile clitoris, ever did that; but with my heart." So into the basket it goes.
– <i>Natural Novel</i> by Georgi Gospodinov. A curious new Bulgarian novel written in a fragmented style, which comes highly recommended by the bookshop. Random line: "I'm taking Salinger out in the train compartment. I'm not the talkative type and I see books as my shield against those endless conversations that always start with destination inquiries and flow over to kids and kidney problems."
Some previous evening – I find myself in a Tufnell Park room full of Czechs and Slovakians. They are all watching a Depeche Mode video with quiet intensity. Mr Dave Gahan uniting them like a kind of Basildon Tito.
****
Last night – to Brixton for Martin White's birthday drinks. On my way there at Brixton Tube, there are shouting touts for whoever's on at Brixton Academy (the band Interpol, I think). They loiter right by the station ticket barriers and are impossible to avoid. The Tube staff seem blissfully resigned to not doing anything about these intimidating, frightening, Awful Men. "Tickets! Buy or Sell Tickets!" is their mantra.
Idea for parody of that scene from Oliver!, where London street vendors' cries become the song 'Who Will Buy This Wonderful Morning':
"Who will buy my sweet red roses?Two blooms for a penny…"
"Ripe strawberries, ripe!"
"Who will give me their wonderful Direct Debit details? I've a clipboard of a charity brand… "
"Spliff? Weed? Ganja?"
"Minicab, mate?"
"Spare change?"
"BUY OR SELL TICKETS! BUY OR SELL TICKETS!"
Cut to Oliver Twist looking out of the window. He can't hear anything. He is blissfully hooked up to an I-Pod.
Back at Brixton Tube station, I am in my glasses and no make-up mode, which I like to think is Minimum Risk. Not minimum enough. As I exit the barrier, the tout I pass feels the need to adjust his ugly chant:
"Buy or Sell Tickets! Buy Or Sell Tickets!"
He sees me.
"Faggots Night Out?"
He shouts this comment loudly enough that the man in front of me, also attempting to exit the station, thinks it is aimed at <i>him.</i> He turns around and walks back to the tout. He is rather large. I wish I could see what happens next. But I have my head down and, as ever, am just trying to reach my destination without incident.
***
Weds night- Boogaloo Monthly Movie Quiz. Last one with Messrs Williams and Hupfield. The previous month my team actually won. But this time we go out at our usual placing of, oh, 10th place or something like that. Even after spotting the themes to Eyes Wide Shut, Boogie Nights and so on. Still, a fun time was had by all. Managed to get the Who Sung Which Bond Theme question right, of course. But ask me to recognise the theme to Blade 2 and I just giggle.
I put the previous win down to a combination of luck and a good amount of film fans on the table. The team then included Val, Clare, Alison and Adam – all four of whom are the dressed-up DJs at their new club Airport (every Weds 10pm-3am, at The Roxy, 3-5 Rathbone Place W1.).
Mr Adam works for Tartan Films, so lately he's been handling the UK business of films like The Woodsman and Palindromes, the new Todd Solondz. If a new movie has got paedophiles or serial killers, but with a quality 'indie' feel, it's probably a Tartan film. I'm rather a fan of the <a href="http://www.tartanvideo.com/" target="_blank">Tartan DVD label.</a> Last year they put out the likes of Capturing the Friedmans, Wisconsin Death Trip and Control Room. All three of which are highly recommended to you, Dear Reader. Must write about them in depth some time. Naturally, my first question to Adam was 'When are Tartan bringing out Liquid Sky on DVD'? No plans. Some problem with rights, apparently.
Team members this time were myself, the stalwart Dr Dave Kennedy, the dedicated Mr Martin White (who travels all the way from Croydon to do the quiz), plus Mr Wren Gullo and Mr Andy, Ms Silke and Mr Sam, Ms Amelia From-The-Dedalus-Book-Launch and – a pleasant surprise – Mr Ian Watson of How Does It Feel club fame. Turns out Ms Amelia knows Mr Watson behind my back, in some kind of writing-for-the-Guardian context. Mercifully, I make it a rule never to utter the expression 'small world'.
I sit down and think about all the people who've been on the quiz team since I started attending last September. Invited from all the different London Worlds I drift in and out of. Can one be defined by the sort of people one attracts – a Venn Diagram intersection labelled People Who Don't Mind Being Associated With Dickon Edwards? Well, they all seemed to get on with each other, and I think they enjoyed themselves. No one died. It's been a lot of fun.
This curious group has included:
– people from England, Ireland, Germany, Sweden, France, Australia and the US
– males, females and transsexuals in their 20s, 30s and 40s
– at least 5 people who play in bands or manage bands
– at least 5 workers in cinemas or video shops
– at least 3 playwrights who've actually managed to get their work performed in public
– at least 4 journalists who apparently manage to get paid regularly
– at least 6 DJs who know how to fend off requests from drunken Non-Regulars at their clubs
– 1 x editor of early Belle and Sebastian videos
– 1 x offspring of the man who wrote the song Blame It On The Boogie
– 1 x runner of a fan club for the TV series, Lexx
– 1 x runner of a fan club for the Kenickie offshoot band, Rosita
– 1 x actor from the 80s TV series The Tripods
– 1 x Suicide Girl (Suicidegirls.com being a kind of Playboy for the Marilyn Manson set)
– 1 x contestant on Channel 5's Make Me A Supermodel
– 1 x vocalist from the bands Blood Sausage and The Lies, on the 'Kill Rock Stars' label
– 0 x concert ticket touts
I need a job, and there appear to be no less than three job vacancies in the newspaper to take charge of a popular and enduring franchise. Previous incumbents have all been slightly silly white males.
I don't fancy running about all the time, so that excludes applying for the New Doctor Who or the New James Bond.
But I DO have a talent for being inexplicably popular with some people, while resented by others just for existing. And I spend most of my waking life in a befuddled state, wanting to sit down and fall asleep.
So, New Pope it is.
