Loud and dumb and celebratory and Swedish and dated and fun. Or: “Crikey, have I not heard this since some transient, half-cut mid-nineties dusk?” and “Crikey, there’s a reason why I haven’t heard this since some transient, half-cut mid-nineties dusk”, and “I’ll just stick this here, out-of-the-way, the online equivalent of out by the bins so we can all continue to pretend that every single sliver of vinyl is worthy of being carried proudly aloft through the streets of our waxing, waning, draining city”.
“I’ll try this 7”; Bowie is involved, that’s his cheeky chappy visage all over the record’s cover, it’s guaranteed to be wonderful”. Which is a strange inflexion of memory, I’d suggest; Placebo are still a going concern, apparently – still maintaining that illusion of relevance despite sounding decidedly of their time…but: really? Did I really buy this? That’s the problem with digging out old records, I guess. The stuff that’s gathering dust, the unlistened-to quota. Whispers of a corny application within the stomp reads the notebook after track #1. Untextured guitar and a special guest star who sounds like he’s mailed in his vocal from whatever tax haven the rock aristocracy are currently calling home, after #2. It’s like that far-off and probably hypothetical conversion: not so much “Grandfather, what did you do in the Great War?” but “Grandfather, did you really listen to this?”
Still, saying all that, I’ve an all-important date with the liquor cabinet round about now – after which I’ll play the below and no doubt wholeheartedly retract everything just writ large…
Whale / Hobo Humpin’ Slobo Babe
Placebo featuring David Bowie / Without You I’m Nothing