The Twilight Sad’s Forget The Night Ahead.
Just gorgeous music, powerful, driving. The singer’s heavy Scots accent fills the songs with that Celtic feel and the music, while having the soaring qualities of the best of GYBE’s loudest moments, is brimming with real emotion, real passion.
On Fat Cat Records. Two singles have been released, I Became A Prostitute and Seven Years of Letters, each contained an unreleased song. Worth tracking down foe sure, me laddos.
As much as Black Man embedded itself in my psyche forever, haunted as I will always be by the character of Carl Marsalis, the latest book I’ve read by Richard Morgan has knocked me to the ground once again.
The Steel Remains.
Brutal. Visceral. Unrelenting. Fascinating.
Morgan takes hold of the fantasy genre by the neck and gets it in a vicious choke hold before beating it to the ground with masterful authority. The Steel Remains stands over the ordinary hack work found so frequently in the genre and glares down at it. Daring it to get back up for another beating.
I don’t know, maybe it was the vivid gay sex scenes that told me this wasn’t a run of the mill swords and sorcery epic. Maybe it was the violence. Certainly it was the pacing and the dead on characterization that holds you in it’s grip and won’t let go. Ringil, Egar and Archeth. Remember those names,. If you read the book, there’s no chance you’ll forget.
Easily the best novel I’ve read in the genre since the early releases in George R.R. Martin’s Song of Ice and Fire series. Contains the best line I’ve read in any novel in maybe ten years.
“I’m with the faggot.” You’ll understand when you get there, trust me.
So highly recommended it hurts.
I’ve gotten involved with this band. You could say I’d like to become their Rob Gretton, if you will.
They’re called Abandoned City. Their first release is going to be an e.p. called Untethered on Dark Heart Records.
4 songs, two of which will appear on their forthcoming full length album in March, two of which are exclusive to this release.
1. Untethered
2. Broken Angels
3. We Fail We Fall
4. No Clock In My Head
For the new Piano Magic Album, Ovations.
Glen Johnson and co. joined by Brendan Perry on vocals for two wondrous songs and by fellow Dead Can Dance alum Peter Ulrich. I was so reminded of how powerful Brendan’s voice is. I recall seeing them live at the Berkely Music Performance Center in 1989. Brilliant.
Fantastic album all around.
More evidence that DC Comics is dangerously close to sliding down some time anomaly or portal that will bring them back to 1995.
Check out Red Tornado #1, out this week, another mii-series about DC’s resident tortured android. All it’s missing is some sort of fucking holographic foil limited edition cover and it’d look fine gleaming vapidly on the shelves next to the latest books from Marvel or Image of that time period. Which is not a compliment, in case you were wondering.
Yes, I hate Ed Benes that much. And of course, the only thing worse than Ed Benes is a guy with the uncanny ability to draw exactly like Ed Benes. Looking at the artwork for the issue I felt like I did seeing all those imitators of that style come out of the woodwork and crank out so much worthless shit in the mid-nineties.
And don’t forget, I Love Red Tornado. Maybe with not as much nostalgia as I do The Vision, but he was always a favorite.
You don’t want to be seen like that, do you DC? Get rid of guys who draw like Ed Benes and find more who draw like J.H. Williams lll and you won’t be.
Otherwise, bust out the foil.
Of why Comic Books are the greatest medium ever invented.
Because you can go around dressed like this.
Kicking people’s asses.
Admit it. That’s pretty cool.
The image (larger version here) is artwork from a forthcoming DC Comics series entitled The Web.
I’m going to have to see that.
This, my friends, is somewhat interesting news. Edgar Rice Burrough’s Barsoomian novels were a revelation to me as a wayward youth, the pure adventure and allure of them. Martian sands, four armed monsters, nubile, red-hued chicks. And a guy named Carter, a total ass-kicker of the highest order.
What kid wouldn’t love that shit? Hell, what adult?
So now the inner child in me will get to see it on the big screen, done up in style by some high profile talent with some serious resume’s.
Of course, what scares me it that Disney is involved. What are the chances that those clowns will allow it to have the necessary violence and naked skin to do the adaptation justice? Does anyone over there have any balls? I wonder. I doubt.
Maybe if they have the sense to use Frazetta as inspiration they might figure it out. We’ll see.
Current favorite late night dance song. Brilliant cover of the Cure’s The Walk by The Rosebuds who, though their melodic indie stylings can often sound a lot more organic, can also do “darkly danceable” with the best of them.
Absolutely sublime and it reminds you well of all those nights you spent all dressed in black and wasted, frolicking through the haze of the 80’s post-punk scene.
I think I’ll get wasted and listen again. Maybe turn it up loud and invite some friends over.
The night is young.
It’s my favorite time of year. Yes, last week a new Alastair Reynolds paperback came out. You all know my obsession with only reading mass market paperback copies of novels is a bit OCD’ish but Reynolds and his publishers are kind enough to supply my addiction.
This time it’s The Prefect.
I’ll dig into it with delight as soon as I finish up the Charlie Stross novel I’m nearing the conclusion of. It’s not a bad read but it doesn’t set my brain on fire like the stuff from fellow Brit contemporaries like Richard Morgan, Neal Asher and Reynolds who are, for my money, the absolute best out there right now.
