Nov 29

Since I cant post on the official blog (it refuses to send me my new password :( ) Ill say it here:

Happy Birthday Mr Knight :)

Hope all your wishes and dreams for the next year keep coming true for you. All your fans wish you nothing but the best in health & happiness. 40 isnt old, just well aged – like good wine.. mmmmwine.

Enjoy the next few weeks of peace and quiet coming to you, because I promise the UK & Europe are going to take it to the NEXT level for you and the rest of the guys :)   . (And you thought it was crazy at home??!?!)  Cant wait to see you on 27/01/09 with my 5* upgrade :D

Love, Kerri xx

Nov 27

1. rickroll

To post a misleading link with a subject that promises to be exciting or interesting, e.g. “World of Starcraft in-game footage!” or “Paris Hilton blows Busta Rhymes’ dick” but actually turns out to be the video for Rick Astley’s debut single, “Never Gonna Give You Up”. A variant on the duckroll. Allegedly hilarious.

Enjoy

PS – Holy shit its cold back home! At least its not snowing like it did way back in 1989 when nkotb were in it…

Nov 27

gobble.

Nov 27


Find more videos like this on New Kids on the Block

i wonder exactly how many directors donnies worked with who were just like THIS?
lol

Nov 26

Mr Cocker came home tonight..

DJ Jarvis after the set finished..

Im trying to upload video and when I get a moment will sort out the setlist I wrote down from the show.. stay tuned for this post here..

Edit 2:

Okay I’ve just woken up and though the show was BRILLIANT! (okay I might be a slight be biased because I’m obsessed with Jarvis, but thats besides the point) Played a great mix of old and new (those songs sound GREAT! if anyone loved Jarvis, youll love the next record!) and told a few stories.. Gave a lecture on Take Thats writing skills and his opinion of their new single as well (why put the emphasis on ‘oh’?? you generally emphasize what you want like ‘Can I have a LAGER mate’, not ‘Can I have a lager MATE’ or something like that.. the vodka is clouding my brain) and showed a few pictures of this great city (me stupidly shouting ‘Thats Sheffield’). Such a good time and such a great performer.

He was on stage for about an hour and a half and then DJ’d the remainder of the night until the venue turned into a club night.  WE stayed for most of it, but my friends wanted to get a few drinks in before the pubs closed, so off to Division street we went. I had an awesome time, and it was just as brilliant as when we saw him at the .plug last year

I still need to grab my phone and upload some video.. I dont have many pics of the performance because we arrived a little later than we wanted to and we had to stand far back underneath the over hang. The camera kept focusing on THAT instead of Jarvis. Stupid technology, not knowing what *really* matters.

Edit 3 – the Setlist:

Into
Further Complicationsr* (thank you Mr Travers)
Tonight
All Caucasian Band*
Girls Like Today*
Big Julie Rules the World
I Will Kill Again
Angela*
Bones*
Big Stuff
Black Magic
————–
Encore 1
Fat Children
Another Fucking Song*
Cunts Are Still Running the World
————–
Encore 2
Dont Let Him Waste Your Time
Cover song (disco he said, but cant find the right lyrics to match)
—————-
DJ set for 45 minutes or so

*New Tracks from the upcoming record

Edit:

First video:

Black Magic

Big Stuff

Ranty Jarvis before the start of the new track, ‘Angela’

Nov 25

No Sleep ’till Sheffield

Great little documentry from circa 1995 about Pulps rise to fame after Different Class’ release.

The ‘real’ story of the song that made Pulp from BBC3

Nov 25

love this blog entry, made me well up a little but that might be from the booze from tonights gig.. lol.

http://nkotb.com/blog/2008/11/grateful/

Tuesday, November 25th, 2008

GRATEFUL

After the show in Vancouver I was talking to a fan- I really don’t
like referring to people as fans, so lets say supporter… That feels
better.
So anyway, I was talking about how after the Seattle show (the
following night) we have to get on a plane at 1 in the morning, then
land in LA at 4 am then be up at 7:30 am for soundcheck at the AMA’s
and then fittings and then a run thru and then try to get a couple
hours sleep before getting ready for red carpet and then the awards
show at 5 pm and then we are the second performance of the night.
Now when I was saying it, I wasn’t really complaining but I guess I
had a little “whoa is me” in my voice, maybe a little dramatic.
And she very dryly said “nice life” with a tad of sarcasm. I got a
good chuckle at it. I’ve felt that I have been rightly grateful thru
out for all the amazing things that have happened to me/us, but it’s
always funny to be checked up on.
All that being said, it was quite a 24 hour period- from rehearsing
once before the show in Tacoma then off to All Access VIP to meet our
supporters (these parties are getting more and more fun… Now groups
are performing for us), then an awesome show in Tacoma, then the
flight where you were lucky to get any sleep with Jon Knight and
Natasha Bedingfield yapping away into the wee hours of the morning.
Then 2 hours sleep then some sort of a run thru in a hazy morning fog.
For me to go back to the hotel after that and close my eyes and close
off all the noise and excitement takes alot of patience and focus.
That’s an oxymoron, “trying hard to fall asleep”.
But I did cuz I personally would have been a zombie if I didn’t.
After all that, the AMA’s was a really good time. I felt a solid unity
among us and I thought our performance showed that. Through the whole
whirlwind, we had fun and put together a good performance.
I was not surprised when Donnie told everybody to get up (he’s been
doing that for years, but it isn’t any less ballsy to do so now) and I
wasn’t totally surprised when the whole audience stood up, but it felt
good to feel the love.
I thought the whole show looked amazing with a bunch of great
performances- Beyonce is from another planet, and Ne-yo can handle
that mic stand, huh? It was great to be back at the show. And let me
tell you something, out of all the people there, they were still
screaming our names from the cheap seats… Not during the
performance, I’m talking about when we were sitting in the audience
during commercial breaks.
I didn’t hear any other names being shouted.
Those are the kind of fans… I mean supporters we have.
I hear bands and artists say alot how they have the best fans in the
world and I’m sure they feel that way.
I think we have the most special fans in the world.
Xoxoxo
-jm

All I can say is, I love a man with a way with words .

Thank you, Joe, for letting me be proud to be YOUR fan xx

See you in Jan Mr McIntyre

Nov 24

humminahmumminahmumminah


Find more videos like this on New Kids on the Block

do want! now. (though hes still no mike…)

Nov 24

http://www.guardian.co.uk/music/2008/nov/24/jarvis-cocker-pulp-pop-music

‘You can snort as much cocaine as you want and have as many beautiful women as you want … but it doesn’t make you happy’

Jarvis Cocker talks fame and excess with Simon Hattenstone

Jarvis Cocker

Jarvis Cocker photographed in Ladbroke Grove. Photograph: Eamonn McCabe

Jarvis Cocker wants to reinvent the wheel. Again. Thirteen years since Common People, a stomping vignette about a rich girl sexually slumming it, brought Pulp’s unique brand of kitchen-sink pop to the nation’s attention, he’s off again. This time, he’s going on the road, determined to create a new type of spectacle. “I want it to be part show, part lecture, and part disco.” He smiles at the ridiculousness of it all. Jarvis has got a lovely smile – knowing, a little bit ironic, but ultimately sincere.

His mini tour is partly to celebrate 30 years of Rough Trade records, home to the Smiths and, more recently, bands such as Arcade Fire and British Sea Power. Although Jarvis has only recorded one album on the label, his first as a solo artist, he has been managed by Rough Trade’s Geoff Travis and Jeanette Lee for the past 15 years.

He’s 45 now and wearing a reclusive-pop-star beard – black with a few sprigs of silver – but is otherwise little changed. He’s still a stick insect of a man. A trendy stick insect, mind, with his carefully cultivated designer-Oxfam look: grey jacket, blue cords, a tie that thinks it’s a cravat, spectacular specs and stack-heeled leather shoes taking him up to 6ft 4in.

We meet at Rough Trade, where we have been lent the marketing manager’s office. I am sitting behind the desk, Jarvis in front, like a job applicant. I offer to swap places, but he seems to like the subservient role.

Back in the 1990s heyday of Britpop, there were three headline bands – Oasis with their no-nonsense classicism, Blur with their arty rock, and Pulp with their literary pop. Cocker sang and wrote the words, which resembled short stories written by a down-and-dirty Alan Bennett – the sour nostalgia of Do You Remember the First Time?; the bitter vengeance of I Spy, addressed to the husband he has just cuckolded and the world that has failed to embrace his genius; the pulsing desperation of The Fear when he realised success has made him even more insecure than he was in the first place. Often he was the hero, or anti-hero, of his own songs; sometimes he would appear in the third person; occasionally he adopted a female persona.

Cocker’s epitaph could well be, “Be careful what you wish for, lest it come true.” He grew up in Sheffield, a shy, gawky boy who was desperate to be a pop star. One of his heroes was Scott Walker, who became a huge success and then ran away from fame. Cocker continued to strive long after most would have given up, and eventually his band also became huge. He loved music and performing, but he hated success even more than failure and, like Walker, did a bolt. The “glory years”, as he calls them with that smile, seemed to happen at hyper-speed. On one album, he was anticipating the big time and the perks it would bring; on the next he was despairing at the sell-out he had become.

I tell him that what I love about his songs is that he sounds as if he has spent a lifetime eavesdropping. “Yeah, well I have, I suppose,” he says. His father left home when he was seven to make a life for himself as a DJ in Australia. From then on, Cocker remembers listening in on the chatter of his mum and Auntie Mandy, whose husband had also walked out. “I learned most things about the adult world from eavesdropping on my mother and her friends. There was another friend whose husband had also fucked off, so they discussed the various blokes they were dating. They’d talk in the kitchen over a cup of coffee and I knew if they shut the kitchen door they’d be discussing something quite juicy so I’d go and listen.”

Despite the famous song, when he was growing up his family were considered anything but common. After all, he was called Jarvis, his sister was Saskia, his grandfather had a successful DIY shop, and they lived in a big stone home set back from the road, which had once been the manor house. It was only when he went to Central Saint Martins College of Art & Design as a mature student at 25 that he discovered what really posh people were like – people such as the Greek girl in Common People who wanted to sleep with him, largely because of his accent. He says he found it quite liberating to discover he was working class, after all.

Cocker is one of pop’s great observers, and he has never observed anybody quite as closely or as critically as himself. I ask him what he thinks he’s good at and what he’s rubbish at. “Erm … well … I don’t know. I guess I’m fairly insistent and maybe consistent. If I decide I’ll do something, I generally will.” He speaks slowly, pedantically, in an Eeyoreish monotone. Sometimes, he sounds so lugubrious you can forget how funny he is. “Pulp existed for 12 years before we got famous. Now, you could say that was just lack of imagination, but it’s some kind of quality isn’t it? Tenacity.” He pauses. “You could also say it was sloth.”

But he could also say he stuck with it because he loved it? “Yes, I think so, otherwise I wouldn’t have kept doing it. The main thing I don’t like about myself is an absurd level of self-consciousness that makes any sort of social encounter an ordeal for me.”

He recently went on a trip to the Arctic with 40 artists and spent the weeks beforehand worrying how he would cope socially. In the end he enjoyed it, and he has determined to become more sociable. “I’ve been going out a lot more. You have to try yourself out on other people, don’t you?” I ask him if his wife, the French stylist Camille Bidault-Waddington, thinks he’s antisocial? “She thinks I’m a bit autistic, basically.” They live in Paris with their five-year-old son, Albert. Has Cocker made friends in France? “Maybe three or four. You don’t need more than that, do you?”

If he were so shy, why on earth did he want to be a pop star? “Oh well that’s easy to answer because it’s a way of being sociable but at a safe distance. You’re on a stage but people are a bit away. You’re singing songs that are a personal expression, but you’re not doing it individually to people; you’re doing it to a mass of people. I find it much harder to be open with someone I’m intimate with.”

And that, he says, has always been the problem with him and his relationships. “Every woman I’ve had a relationship with has found this maddening; the fact that I will talk about anything on the stage, and reveal all this stuff, and yet when I’m at home, I clam up and won’t discuss anything intimate or personal.”

But he does express himself honestly in music? “Yes. But it must be unhealthy if you only express yourself in that area and you don’t express yourself in your real life. That’s a bit fucked up, isn’t it?” He often turns his statements into a question. If he didn’t express himself through music, wouldn’t he go potty? “Yeah, I’d explode. As I say, that’s what I think art’s for.”

In some ways success was great – the acceptance, the feeling that people were finally listening. But, he says, apologising for another paradox, he lost the most important thing to him – his invisibility.

“The way that I work is reacting to things that are going round and listening and picking up on what’s going on, and to do that you have to be anonymous, basically. So my natural habitat disappeared. Then it becomes very internalised and that’s not good for anyone.”

There is a famous quote from his drinking, druggy days that sounds embarrassingly self-congratulatory. I recite it back to him. “I had access to the most quality fanny available.” Ah, he says, that’s taken out of context. “It is a bit embarrassing, I suppose, but it wasn’t meant in a show-off way. It was more that they’re the rock’n'roll cliches; they’re the things that are supposed to bring you happiness, aren’t they? You make it, and you’re bathing in champagne and you can snort as much cocaine as you want and fuck as many beautiful women as you want. Then you find you can do those things, but they don’t actually make you very happy.”

How long did it take him to realise? “About six months.”

Early on, he says, he really did believe Britpop was a new dawn – not just musically, but politically. If the alternative, rather than the mass-produced, could be embraced by the mainstream in pop, maybe that would be the harbinger of social change. “I had high hopes that it would be some kind of revolution within English society. But I think the mainstream is too strong. It’s flowing too fast. These little jagged things go in there and they get smoothed off straight away.”

What kind of revolution had he envisaged? “What makes society and life interesting is diversity, so if something that embraced that diversity could be accepted in the mainstream that would mean mainstream society would be more open and accepting. And that’s what excited me about it. That that could happen.”

He says he’s always been a bit naive, and it was hardly the first time he had been pulled up short from his dreams. “I’m always going through these false dawns. It was the same the first time I went to a rave. I thought, this is fantastic, people are dancing all night, they’re all being friendly to each other, they’re not really drinking, it’s not about pulling birds or having a fight. And I thought, that’s got to have an impact on society. When they go home after being all loved up and talking to everybody and being really inclusive, how can that not have some knock-on effect in normal life? And yet it didn’t.” He smiles, baffled. “That was the last spontaneous youth thing. I can’t think of anything that’s not been stage managed since then.”

Once the photographer’s camera is on him, Cocker seems to relax. He explains why he wears heels. “It’s like, what are you going to gain from wearing flat shoes? You’re still tall, so why not just go for it? I admire that about Beth Ditto – she just goes, ‘Here you are, that’s it.’ I think it’s great. By not being ashamed of it, and accentuating it even, you turn it into something quite positive rather than something you’re ashamed of.”

The worst thing, he says, was seeing gangly, geeky Jarvis turned into a brand. “If you’re an inadequate person, you make this thing called a group to give you something in life that you’ve got some control over, a little bit of a fantasy to escape things. And then that thing becomes popular. So that very personal almost self-medicating thing you’ve invented gets taken way from you and becomes a product. And in some way, your personality and your funny clothes and your funny glasses also become a product. So you start feeling you’re part of some capitalist system. Something personal has been made into a commodity that is considered valuable. And I hated that.” On This Is Hardcore, he compares himself to a pornography worker who has been violated through every orifice and then given the heave-ho. “But you have to realise you’re complicit in that act. You’re taking your clothes off in the first place.”

In 1996, at the height of his fame, he protested at the Brit awards when Michael Jackson turned himself into a contemporary Jesus for a performance of Earth Song. Cocker invaded the stage and waggled his bottom disrespectfully in the direction of Jackson. There was a tremendous hoo-ha, which resulted in performing children receiving minor injuries as security tried to get Cocker off stage. It led to Cocker being labelled the antichrist by the press the next day, although he was later feted for ridiculing Jackson’s messiah complex. This one act branded him more than anything as Cocker, the situationist prankster. He is all too aware that this is the first thing many people associate him with. Again, he knows he has no one to blame but himself. “I guess lots of people have one particular incident that overshadows just about everything else they’ve done in your life. Although I don’t regret it as a moral action, the fact it will be the first line in my obituary is just a little bit disappointing. I’d like to think I’d given more to the world.”

He says that after Pulp, he almost walked out on music for good. It was only when he was on the verge of quitting that he realised how much it all meant to him. Even though he’s spent most of the intervening time in Paris being a dad and recovering his anonymity, he’s involved himself in a surprising number of projects – writing songs for Marianne Faithfull, Charlotte Gainsbourg and Nancy Sinatra, curating the Meltdown festival, making music videos for bands, lecturing on lyrics, working on his second solo album and now the tour. And more than ever, he’s determined to make it special – hence the mix of gig, lecture and disco. “Even when we were deeply unsuccessful we used to cover the stage with tin foil or hang things from the stage. People used to take the piss out of us, but I always thought it defined it as a night that’s not the same as every other night in that venue – I think it shows a bit of respect for your audience.”

Does he think this time around he can have success without becoming a commodity? “Well I hope so; otherwise I’m fucked.”

He had been about to hit 40 when he considered walking away from music before. “I just thought, ‘You’re too old to be in a band.’” Does he think that he’s too old now he’s 45? “Yeah, but who cares? I am too old. I have resigned myself to the humiliation that goes with it now.” I laugh. “I have!” he protests. “I have, because I realise it’s the only thing I was born to do”.

• Jarvis Cocker headlines Rough Trade Records’ 30th anniversary UK Tour from tomorrow. Details: roughtraderecords.com/lookingroughat30

Nov 23

ive been helping out with the parking situattion at work – even though i dont drive – because people would moan about it and then not do anything. i hate that, why whinge and then do nothing about it? anyways, i took it on so people would stop ‘passing the buck’ in a way.  all it cost me was using a connection or two i had at work to talk to a local councilman and a few hours of emailing my floor – not even the whole building – to put a small plan in place. all i gathered was a little bit of data (< 50 or so people responded to my intial email), put it in a spreadsheet and passed it along when the parking scheme went under review in late September.

nothings been set in place yet, but the council, theyre actually LISTENING and taking on board all the information i gathered to help put a plan in place. In fact the plan theyve almost agreed to is the one i came up with just looking at the situation from being on the outside.  its weird, because the council asked why no one has brought the issue to anyones attention until now – when the scheme was under review – and not before it was put into place in Oct 2007. apparently no one objected at the hearings held nor was the issue discussed at work. its great this is actually happening because people always moan that councils dont listen to their residents. well apparently this one is listening to me.

anyways, it feels good doing something to help make my town a better place to live and where i work a better place to be. its just a shame it took this long to sort it out, when it really didnt take THAT much effort in the first place. i jut wish i could say EXACTLY what was happening, but cant until meetings take place in late January. ahhhhhhh

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