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Posts Tagged ‘lists

Is this still ongoing? Yes it is. If I’m honest all this exercise has done is put extra pressure on me for my 2010 edition. I can’t even remember half the films I saw in 2010. All I know is I’m very glad that 2010 is over, and that’s the attitude I expect will permeate my memories. 2009 was somewhat cheerier. Massively moreso. Voila:

Song of the Year – “Bad Things Coming, We Are Safe” by Emmy the Great.

Film of the Year – Should be “In The Loop”, probably is “Fantastic Mr Fox”.

Book of the Year – “What A Carve Up!” by Jonathan Coe.

Dissertation of the Year – “A History of Knots” by me. Coming soon to a recycling depot near you.

Emotion of the Year – For 2009, there was a gaping hole where my heart should be.

Hobby of the Year – Filling in newspaper brainteaser sections epically incorrectly then leaving them on the train for other people to find.

Hobby I Want To Have of the Year but Never Have the Nerve For – Photobombing.

Catchphrase of the Year That Never Really Caught On Because Not Enough People Saw In The Loop – Difficult difficult lemon difficult.

Achievement of the Year – Well, I suppose this should be the MA, but finally getting my hair cut surely warrents a mention.

Anti-Achievement of the Year – Trying to get a job with an MA in Creative bloody Writing, of all things. Why didn’t I do dentistry when I had the chance?!

Ringtone of the Year – Cat Party.

Dogs of the Year – These Ones!

Continuing my trawl through past glories, we reach 2008, a year full of stuff and things that I sadly can not recall. Thankfully I have my list to fill in the many, many, significant blanks in what was surely a red letter year.

Song of the year – “Young Love” by Mystery Jets and Laura Marling

Eurovision Song of the year – “Divine” by Sebastian Tellier

Film(s) of the year – “There Will Be Blood” and “Son of Rambow”. No similarities between the two except for their extreme awesomeness.

Classic film of the year – “My Favourite Year” (not available on DVD, why must the heavens mock me so?!)

Book of the year – “Wise Blood” by Flannery O’Conner

Newspaper headline of the year – “Newry Sex Offender Living In Wheelie Bin” from The Newry Reporter, 13th February 2008. No, really. Yes. Really.

Celebrity sighting of the year – Bill Bailey at Latitude, on a warm Saturday afternoon, in black shirt, black trousers, black sunglasses, full length black leather coat, and black cowboy hat, flanked by an adoring Ross Noble and Robin Ince, trailed by a small but increasing group of fans like the rats to Bailey’s Pied Piper of Hamlin.

Emotion of the year – the apathetic cynicism that prevailed throughout the final few weeks at work and for the entirity of my MA so far.

Surprise of the year – discovering that “dearth” means the exact opposite of what I thought it meant. Lack of, not plenty of.

Witty/biting comment of the year – From the imdb trivia page for “The Red Shoes” – “When people complained to Hein Heckroth about the grim ending, he pointed out to them that in Hans Christian Andersen’s original fairy tale, the ballerina had her feet hacked off by a woodsman to stop her dancing.”

Onstage banter of the year – Sebastian Tellier at Latitude, with such hits as “This is a song about…my bee-sexualllitee”

Greatest success – Buying a ukulele for £15.

Greatest regret – My inability to play music.

Oh. Apparently I did a Masters. Well, that explains the wonderful career in writing that has followed.

I love lists. I have a near deranged obsession with the bastards. Just last night I watched a five year old programme counting down the best (“best”) celebrity meltdowns. Oh, I watched the hell out of that bastard. I gave up on keeping a diary long ago but have been making a yearly list of important things for a few years. Over the next few days I’m going to post my past collections in anticipation of my new list for 2010. Hooray!

Today – 2007.

Song of the year – “Galaxy of the Lost” by Lightspeed Champion.

Film of the year – “The Darjeeling Ltd”.

Book of the year – The one I haven’t written yet. Or ever.

Dog-spotting city of the year – almost Berlin, but pipped to the post at the last minute by Paris. (The bichon frise by the Sacre Coeur! So small its owner stood on it! It emitted a noise not unlike a squeaky dog-toy!)

Emotion of the year – the mixture of sympathy, empathy and heart-melting gooiness arising from seeing a puppy with a bandaged paw or Same Difference.

Witty/biting comment of the year – the one I make about “Atonement” in the ‘Favourite Books’ section*.

Greatest success – Probably some shoes.

Greatest regret – My inability to maintain my fringe.

* something along the lines of “the first two-thirds of Atonement before it all goes to shit” which it completely does by the way. Damn you, McEwan!

Eurovision, traditionally the bastion of the loudest, sparkliest operatic power ballad with leather clad backing dancers, trite lyrics of peace and love in pidgeon English and a section where the vocalist engages in some rhythmic drumming. So far, so But occasionally, something magnificent will break through.

Well, twice. Twice, something magnificent has broken through. And they’ve both been French.

Firstly, France Gall’s 1965 winner, Poupee de Cire, Poupee de Son, a thumping ye-ye classic, written by Serge Gainsbourg and performed with spectacular charm by 60s icon Gall.

And merely 40-something years later, France, having long since given up hope of winning the popular vote, turned to sexual raconteur Sebastien Tellier, friend of Air and Daft Punk, for his particular brand of louche lounge lizardy and sultry quirk. He appears onstage, driving a moon buggy. Tellier missed the win, but doubtless shrugged it off and lit another cigarette before going back to write a song about his bisexualité*.

Will tonight’s entrants live up to these ideals? I will take a wild guess and say no.

* He actually claimed the same when I saw him live.

Often accused of being twee as fuck, Belle and Sebastian have always had a darker edge hidden deep, deep within their lyrics. Not to mention that time they put a lady breastfeeding a tiger on their album cover. They may be a glistening pretty-pop delight, but they are still a bunch of fuckers from Glasgow. Here are some of their most hardcore moments.

  1. Trashing Top of the Pops: Their only appearance on the flagship show (for Legal Man, peaking at number 14) involved some extraordinarily bad miming, having being denied permission to play live, Stevie’s patented Elvis dance moves, and a man in a gorilla costume crashing on top of Richard’s drum kit.
  2. …swiftly followed by trashing the Eastenders set: Afterwards, they decided to get a pint in the set of the Queen Vic next door, only to be arrested for trespassing after Richard and manager Neil Robertson were caught urinating next to Arthur’s bench. Presenter Jamie Theakston managed to convince security to set them free.
  3. Stuart and Isobel’s break-up played out on The Jools Holland Show: Stuart and cellist Isobel Campbell’s turbulent relationship ended before she left the band, producing some very bitter break-up songs. In what could be the most awkward four minutes of television ever, Stuart performs I’m Waking Up To Us (“You like yourself and you like men to kiss your arse”) while Isobel sits sullenly on the floor. The rest of the band avoid eye contact.
  4. Murder Threats: in We Could Be Dreaming, Stuart offers to kill an abusive love rival “outside a butcher’s with a knife on a bike chain” – the most threatening sentence ever to be followed by the words “la la la, yeah yeah yeah yeah”
  5. Accidental Outings: Many fans mistakenly believe Stuart’s brother is gay, according to the lyrics of The State I Am In, where Stuart alludes too vaguely to a dream he once had. According to Stuart, his brother, a navy officer, is not thrilled with the assumption.

Talk about stretching it. Okay, so Crass probably have nothing to worry about, and one look at the video for Is It Wicked Not To Care? demolishes the argument pretty quickly, but let’s not fight.

Instead let’s bond over the Graham Linehan shagfest that is Step Into My Office, Baby.