78641MONSIEUR SEBA N'EST CE PAS?

One Month of Monsieuring About Like A You Know What.

2010-01-30T15:28:00.000-08:00

Sometimes the life of a monsieur is fraught with difficulties, vagueness and downright obfuscation. At least, thats what it seems like anyway.

Being the very epitome of a monsieur, and also being named after one by my creators, I admit to feeling a certain sense of Monsieurness every time I open my eyes in the evening and lay my head down the next time I choose to do the thing they call "sleep". And being a Monsieur, this is the perfect weather to indulge in some like activities. The future, it seems is spray painted in bright neon taggers letters "Here". That is, it's happening as we speak and being gobbled up by the monster they call Past as we stand. After this last month of busyness in my Monsieur like grind house of creativity and salty sweat, I must say that being busy really is the key to self fulfillment in these days of economic uncertainty. Well, it's always been the way to self fulfillment, and sometimes I find it's best not to know what is going on in the world outside and concentrate on your own existence for a while.

This month has been very similar to a crash course in seasonal disorders, with ideas and concepts flying backwards and forwards around my cranium like a poltergeists bar brawl. Feels good, too, to be creative and busy. Some would argue that the difference between creativity and actual work is the clean needle supplier in your neighborhood, and they'd be wrong. If you apply yourself well enough, creativity can become an avenue to prosperity and freedom. Every Monsieur knows this to be a fact, and tries to be true to themselves and their latent creativity. In Paris, it's called being French, and everywhere else it has different meanings entirely. But in my world it's called being a Monsieur.

Le Monsieur

A Pessimistic New Year.

2010-01-01T02:56:00.000-08:00

Le Monsieur wants to say Happy New Year to you all, but pessimism is overtaking his nsul like Triffids in London .

My friend Seba Rashii, he's so cheerful, so people tell me. "Why can't you be like him?" People say to me. "Sacre bleu!" I spit into these people's faces, and say "I am a Monsieur! Le Monsieur is not a cheerful person, he is a culturally over sensitive critic with a hate for everything modern. How you can expect me to be cheerful when the world is drowning in balloons and fireworks?" This Seba Rashii, my friend, he write often they say for his loyal readers, and "why you not do that?" they ask me as if I am Le President of the world. If Seba Rashii has the time for writing so much, I say he should write my blog for me!

Yes, whilst I'm out at art galleries snorting over my coffin nails and sipping wine less than delicately, the unrelenting pessimism of the art critic can never be seen to lapse. The imperative points are that nothing is original and wine is the only thing of importance, because it's that which gets the pained critique through the galleries corridors in the first place. Yes, when you hear us praise the fearless individualism of a painting or work, we are in fact saying this about everything we see. Art critics are cunts, you see. Their noses are bent from turning them up all the time. Unless it's Van Gogh, you may as well give up trying to impress these classically trained soul vacuums.

I hear this Seba is an artisan with words and I must go now now to criticize his work before he reads this and sends his Sebalitia over to my studio to arrest me for treason. You think it's Seba World? Is more like Seba Dictatorship! I have heard that listening to The Beatles will get you executed..

Happy New Year,

Le Monsieur.

Le Monsieur Says...Oui, I Know.

2009-12-13T14:18:00.000-08:00

You know, much as I keep starting a post I can never seem to get it finished or beyond the first paragraph. And it's not because I'm lazy, unsophisticated or pissing away my existence on drinking expensive wine in dark rooms...hic... not at all, this Monsieur has been exploring avenues of culture that he hasn't explored before and possibly won't explore ever again. Were they scary festivals of intense desire and rage? No, they were just plain uncultural to this here Monsieur. Now I never usually turn my already quite well re-angled nose up at anything - because too much of that stuff just fucks up your nose completely - but the things I have seen recently have just disgusted me to the core of soul. (I think it's still there unless I sold it for something in my misspent Masterhood...) But enough of those hideous unmentionable things that shame the concept of high culture, this gens has things to discuss.

You probably all wondered where I've been these past few weeks, hanging on tenterhooks in your collective digital lounges awaiting my next dispatch from the world of Le Monsieur. Well, if I told you I'd be lynched and Kim-Jong Il would kill me next time I set foot over the border, so I'll not risk my Monsieurhood for such a minor transgression. But the one thing I can say is that life is not the same without a glass of something and a pen and parchment. Shakespeare had it right when he *possibly* said that writing is the best thing ever to happen to mankind besides coffee beans, and being a Monsieur like him I can only concur lest the hounds come and consume me again. However, to explain the babble that the caffeine makes me pour out like a verbal kettle (I know, good!) I really have to say that I envy that lucky fucker Seba, a friend of mine so you're not confused, in that he can write so many posts and throw so many away to be able to post almost every other day. In all honesty, I'm sure he's on drugs the stuff he writes about. But I still love him like an almost twin brother who is extremely anti-social to boot.

It just goes to show that people really are people and the world is a truly bizarre place. There is a theory that if you meet your double you will surely die a horrible death soon after. Well, that means that one of us is bound to die very soon. In the advent that it's me, I think I'll sign off. I need to pay that bill...they find you whereever you go, I've heard!

Le Monsieur.

Le Monsieur à Noël.

2009-11-19T09:57:00.000-08:00

Greetings mes readers,

Lately I have been a little distracted by things to say the least. - The neighbors playing Thriller until all hours thinking that a tribute concert is excusable when in fact Michael Jackson would probably have eaten him were he really a zombie in the video that accompanies it. The colder weather making the skin on my hands feel very much like inverting itself and running amok like some bizarre Robbie Williams tribute act. Finally, there's the impending event of sorts that is Christmas.

The thing that irks this Monsieur the most is the fact Christmas is the season of dutiful entertainment. There is few and far between anything of anything truly, spectacularly culturally rewarding. Of course, culture depends entirely on your definition of the indefinable. For a Monsieur like myself, it involves jazz, wine, cheese and maybe - though entirely optional - a few orgies. Of course, we all know that orgies are so out of fashion that they make The Stones look like Kate Moss. So these orgies are ironic orgies. At an ironic orgy, people don't actually fuck, they talk about the possibility, laugh at the idea of an actual orgy and then go home with the strange sensation they just wasted their time when they could have been doing something far more useful, such as looking for The Stig in his new Where's Wally style book, that is actually quite entertaining in traffic jams, but not in all jams.

The idea behind my supposition that Christmas is a sullied event has something to do with the feeling of cultural loss I have every Boxing Day when I look around my house and think to myself "Hmm". It's not an Osama bin Laden style despising festival against the seasonal spirit, more a mounting sense of unease at the earlier arrival of brain squishing compilations of Xmas music and chocolate that screams out at me in Satanic tones to "buy me buy me buy me". Honestly, where is the culture in that? Alors, that's the way it is and that's the way it'll stay until the hairs in Santa's beard fall out from overwork and he quits citing long hours and reindeer maintenance. But despite my pessimism I do want to say that I'm looking forward to celebrating the real meaning of this allegedly festive season. Before you ask, that's not the guy who came back to life and got arrested for being a nut, it's time with one's family.

You may think a Monsieur is a cold hearted, monosyllabic individual who threatens pigeons with his brooding Parisian masculinity just by breathing out, but you'd be wronger than a food porn movie. No, a Monsieur can love as well. And this Monsieur can be loving when he absolutely needs to be. So despite the screaming Christmas songs, the raging gifts and presents, the tinsel burning around me and the trees flashing at me more than I'd normally tolerate I will resolutely try and enjoy the festivities this Christmas. I shall make it my sworn mission to have a cultural jihad. There will be wine, cheese, coffee beans, jazz and fine art flying from every orifice of the sky. An apocalypse of sorts, for a lack of any real apocalypse. And hopefully, I'll have a bonne Noël.

À demain,

Le Monsieur

Le Monsieur en Review: The Lights - January Blues

2009-11-19T02:16:00.000-08:00

Maybe it's deliberate that The Lights release January Blues when it's not actually January yet, but either way, they still have a point.The song, produced by the noted Gavin Monaghan, is very pleasant and fits well into your ear with it's lush production and Indie melodies, but sometimes that can be a detractor rather than a positive aspect. With January Blues, it is the former, but only just. Whilst the song itself is pleasant enough the production is what ultimately ruins it for this reviewer. I said before the production was lush, and it is, but January Blues sounds over done when a more lighter touch would have been appreciated to enable the listener to fully immerse themselves into the songs lyrical world. Don't get me wrong, this isn't a bad single, it's just too run of the mill in the production area where something a little less processed would have suited it much better.

Asides from the production issues, this is a good listen indeed and comes recommended for the B side Start Again, which is a simpler affair and showcases the vocal talents of the bands Liz Sheils to great effect, which definitely won't give you January Blues!

Le Monsieur

Le Monsieur en Review: Battlefield Band - Zama Zama...try your luck

2009-11-19T02:10:00.000-08:00

Look at the cover art of the this release and you'd never guess what genre it was. To the casual observer it may be metal album or even a weird alternative hop hop album, but actually you'd be wrong in those suppositions.

It's a collection of gaelic songs, some instrumental, some with vocals, that is actually rather a refreshing change which, after taking a few minutes for the ears to adjust, reveals itself to be an enjoyable collection of songs about, of all things, gold. Not an untimely subject considering our current economy, the album isn't a scathing indictment of all things consumerism, merely a well recorded jam session of contemporary Scottish folk that keeps your ears alert and your mind expecting even bigger things as the tracks go by. Of particular note is the single Robber Barons which may or may not be aimed at the rich who hoard their gold and let the people go without. It's the most overtly political track on the album and is the closest thing I've heard to a modern protest song for a while, making it all the better for that. An album that is educational and refreshing, I'd recommend it to all!

Le Monsieur

Le Monsieur on Reality AKA すみませんでした.

2009-11-03T12:55:00.000-08:00

Well, well, well.

Apologies to the world outside the Internet -if there is such a thing- for my long absence from this page. My good friend Seba said to me the other day, chided me if I'm honest, about my lack of updatingness on the Le Monsieur Blog!

"What kind of gentleman keeps people waiting for that long for a reply to their desperate cries?!" He said.

And, he's right. If you can imagine it, I'm bowing humbly as I type, which means that I can't see the keyboard and have just dislocated my shoulder joints. But that's OK, because breaking ones own arm as an apology is perhaps a very apologetic thing to do. Selfless, passionate and above all apologetically painful. The way it should be, gens. Recently I've been busy with exploring the world of reality, and it's a bit like an injection. That is, shiny, filled with liquid and occasionally painful. (Like my synonyms, maybe.) But as a few of my compatriots iterated to me, reality is a waste of time. If you're going to live, they said, you have to work your way around the pockets of reality and play with it like a new puppy that needs to be trained. Eventually, reality will bend itself into a position that you'll desire to be wedged into and you'll be satisfied wit yourself. Wow.

Such philosophy is a akin to Yoko Ono's messages of wisdom on Facebook, but phrased slightly more oddly. If you knew my compatriots, you'll be very doubtful of their motives in handing out such dodgy advice like condoms in a red light area. But if you knew me, you'd know that I'm a typical Monsieur, who already dodges between reality and unreality like a serial killer in The X Files, and so I agree with them, kind of. What compatriots I have, readers. If you had compatriots like them, you'd be covering the world with a velvet cloth so you dance on it.

And, it'd be fun.

Le Monsieur.

A Statement.

2009-10-28T15:29:00.000-07:00

Yes, it's been a while, but I'll be back soon.

Oui, je n'ai pas ecrit pour un temps longs mais je vais retourner!

そう、最近は書きませんでしたね。でもすぐ書きます。

Le Monsieur 様

Le Monsieur Watches: Skunk Anansie...Because Of You.

2009-10-08T15:10:00.000-07:00

Have You Fed The Fish?

2009-10-08T01:53:00.000-07:00

Being a Monsieur, I really must pay more attention to my domain. All those good intentions that I started out with have kinda fallen by the wayside as my life has fattened itself up, gorging on my time like an American in a Japanese branch of McDonalds gorges their tiny burgers. (Trust me, they're so tiny you could eat them in three bites if you had a mouth as big as mine.) Which is all very worrisome, as there really shouldn't be any American inside me, especially those who eat in McDonalds. All this means that I haven't found that much time to update recently. So, you're probably surprised that I'm here right now.

Yes, a few hours of peace have prevailed over me and their mighty force has literally pushed me into my armchair with a mocha and a latte cupcake with the remit to "write a damn post on your blog, you misfit!". Well, I'm not a misfit, as far as I'm aware, but I do need to pay some attention to my enigmatically titled blog. So, here goes. The more observant amongst you may have noticed that there are some fish swimming around on this blog, and they get hungry. They have been known to bite the hand off visitors who innocently click by hoping to garner Monsieur like wisdom. Literally. See, it's not difficult to satiate them, the key point is that they are digital fish. Yes, people, digital fish. As such, it takes only a few clicks of the mouse to fee them. Why not have a go? I promise they won't bite, except for the blue one, he's a bit of Conservative.

Hopefully this will go some way to ensuring the safety of my treasured readers, whom I would embrace physically if my restraint order didn't still apply. That, and the fact that in a digital world there is no law except the Four Pixels of the Apocalypse, whose names remain a much guarded secret. (Hint: Gates) Of course, I have to thank my friend Seba for allowing me access to this vital information, which may be the most important thing ever. ( It isn't.) But, even if this makes no sense to you at all, the most important message is that I am still alive and will probably drop a post on you very soon.

No, there will be no puns.

Le Monsieur.

Soil & "Pimp" Sessions with Tsuchiya Anna - Smells Like Teen Spirit

2009-09-29T12:17:00.000-07:00

Watch GPF07 - SOIL&"PIMP"SESSIONS in Jazz | View More Free Videos Online at Veoh.com

Le Monsieur Listens...On The Corner -- Miles Davis.

2009-09-18T13:41:00.000-07:00

Let me make one thing clear, I am not a jazz critic. I am though, Le Monsieur, and would like to think that I have a good ear for music. So, I'll admit that I do listen to Jazz. Recently, maybe it's something to do with entering ones second quarter of life that makes me do it, I've been drawn into the leanings of the jazz world that I touched upon briefly when I was in my teens. One things for sure, there are a lot of Jazz fans out there, and with all the sub-genres of jazz alone, that's enough to cause a metaphysical fist fight very quickly when the wrong combination of these fans is placed together at one time. So, now's a safe to mention that I'm listening to one of the allegedly "most controversial Jazz albums of all time", that, according to a particularly verbatious reviewer on Amazon is "Miles Davis' Metal Machine Music".

Obviously, it can't resemble Metal Machine Music, Lou Reed's none too subtle fuck off to commercial fans, as I've actually listened to it in it's entirety on more than a few occasions. The only people who've actually listened to Metal Machine Music all the through are now locked away in an asylum somewhere counting matchsticks on a far too regular basis. No, On The Corner, to mention the album title at last, - how postmodern of me! - is very listenable, and although it is a very challenging piece, it more than rewards the listener with the will to see it through to the end. I said before that I'm not a jazz reviewer, and I really don't want to be either, if they can get so complacent as to what music is actually allowed to be jazz that they rubbish anything different from the norm straight away. No, I'm a citizen of the planet, and as such I take everything as it comes. Sure, back in 1972 this was a revolutionary sound for a Jazz artist, but in these years of Internet and Organic Coffee, the revolutionary element has gone, and the controversy has turned into enjoyment.

The one thing that can be said about On The Corner is that is it certainly makes it's point quickly. As the sleeve notes impart, this album was made with attitude to spare and it shows in the music! The pace of the album is fast and furious and even the marathon grooves of Helen Butte/ Mr Freedom X don't get tiresome over their nearly twenty-five minute length. Of course, the sound of On The Corner is still revolutionary for it's (then revolutionary) production techniques and complete disregard for the listeners who appreciated his earlier, more Jazz-like albums. Hence, this album is a brave one, and one that could have been a disaster, but it isn't and Miles Davis merely cemented his reputation as Jazz's greatest experimenter extraordinaire.

This is an album that needs listening to if one wants to fully understand it's heart and soul, so I'll save the traditional analytical adjectives for another review. Simply put, you may not like this album after listening to it, but if you get anything from it, take the fact that it was sheer will and pure restless creativity that created it.

Le Monsieur

Le Monsieur Warches...Alanis - Feel Your Love.

2009-09-17T14:47:00.000-07:00

Not that bad video from the very early days of Alanis Morissette's music career in Canada. Strange to hear the electronica-poppy sound and the dancing that is ever more present in her recent videos, but takes a very poppy form here. Put it this way, not as good as her later , more satisfying albums, but still worthy as a stepping stone to the future.

Le Monsieur

Le Monsieur Reviews...椎名林檎 - 性的ヒーリング〜其ノ四〜 / Shiina Ringo - Seiteki Healing 4

2009-09-04T14:25:00.000-07:00

My friend Seba Rashii wrote his post about this artists latest album in a color that matched, perfectly, the colour of it's packaging.

But, as someone completely different, I'm not going to do that. No, none of that gimmicky colour coding for Le Monsieur, Non, Le reviewer is strictly a serious embodiment of critique. Stereotyping? Yeah, tell me about it! Asides from stereotyping and pretending to French - or am I?- the review of Shiina Ringo's latest video compilation will begin in the next sentence. See, I was looking forward to volume four of Seiteki Healing, the same as I look forward to anything Shiina Ringo related. And I wasn't disappointed, too much, either. Except that, well, these videos are just a little too much on the normal side for a Shiina Ringo release. There is nay a burnt out car in sight, cats don't turn into machine guns and the sexual side of nature is definitely on the cards in the first of videos, Shun. Well, it's more like very obvious visual flushes of innuendo that amuse in a clever way more than shock. Still, though, it's a nice, simple clip that is very fitting to the song itself.

Next up is the much debated on Electric Mole Forums, Ryuukou. (Not Hayari, Ryuukou!) Well, it's about fashion and indoctrination at the temple of fashion and beauty, and the video features the cat walk strolling Shiina Ringo singing with Mummy D. The opinion? Well, I like it. But out of the five it's probably in the middle of the overall ranking. Next up is Irokoizata, probably the weakest of the collection simply because it lets the song down by being too tied to it's content, rather than trying to make some new ideas for itself. Still, not too bad though, although it does loom extremely close to the cheap look , which is not how a Ringo clip should be at all.

Ariamaru Tomi is clip four, and is definitely one of the most effective of the collection in it's simplicity and focus. Objects float out the sky, ranging from cars to balloons to animals and it works very well. Eerily reminiscent, in fact, of a Love Psychedelico video! If only all the videos had looked this good, production wise.
But, hold the presses, here's the last clip of the collection, and they've saved the best for last! One of the best tracks off Sanmon Gossip, Tsugou No Ii Karada deserved a nice video, and with this animated homage to Disney and their copiers it got the best video of the set! If Shiina Ringo dancing with hatstands and mirrors does it for you, you'll love this very cute video with a message. The fish choir and dancing pillows are definite highlights for this reviewer!

All in all, a nice if cheap looking set of videos. Blame the credit crunch, I say. Shiina Ringo said in an interview that she let the directors play, and they did well with most of the work here. But next time a better budget would be very helpful if we're to maintain the quality of previous releases. Also, where were the funny adverts, clips etc? Next time, please, Virgin Records should give more to work with than one thousand yen and a blue screen!

3.5/5

Le Monsieur

1 旬
2 流行
3 色恋沙汰
4 ありあまる富
5 都合のいい身体

Le Monsieur Talks Albums.

2009-08-29T14:44:00.000-07:00

Well, here is an article that hit me in the right place tonight. There aren't many people saying it these days, but the album is much more preferable to the single track. Disagree? Well, I do on occasion too. The thing with music is that it divides and unites everybody in their various agrees and disagrees. The album experience is one that I prefer raw and unedited.

Arudou Debito, taking a break from his worthy human rights issues, drops an article in the vein of the cultural commentary. As an avid listener of almost every genre of music in popular existence, I wholeheartedly agree with the point he makes about the modern theory of single track listening that is slowly diluting the art of making an album. For Le Monsieur, this is something which definitely needs addressing. As a generation of serious music fans become enabled with iPods etc we slowly see the point of the album disappear completely from the psyche of the modern listener, when it should be growing and nurturing the listener to a lifetime's enjoyment. To be honest, there probably isn't much that can actually be done about it.

After all, the fact remains that there are still many good albums released, and in my opinion they do contain tracks that are good on their own, but only to a degree. Can you imagine listening to the same song twenty times in a row? Very unlikely, unless you're a musician learning chords or a listener with highly obsessive tendencies. Of course, you could just love a song that much, that you need to listen to it twenty times. But it does rarely happen, and the album is the reason for that. The album is like a family of songs that belong together, and their right to be unseperated remains.

But, since talk is cheap, here's some of Le Monsieur's suggestions for a good listen all the way through album:

Blondie - Eat To The Beat
Dolores O'Riordon - Are You Listening?
Love Psychedelico - Love Psychedelic Orchestra
Prince - The Rainbow Children
The Invisible - The Invisible

Of course, there are many more, but only you can discover them!

Le Monsieur

Le Monsieur Watches... Mushishi. (Movie, 2008 Japan)

2009-08-23T14:47:00.000-07:00

Friends are funny things, one moment they're all over you, and the next they're no where to be seen. Of course, I mean that in the friendly sense. I don't do the funky thing with my friends, what else would be left to say afterwards? No, my friends are the kind who forcefully, at friendship point lend me things they think I may have some palpable need of. One friend, whose name I won't reveal in case the FBI catch up with him, suggested to me that I HAVE to watch this movie, and forced the DVD of said movie into my hands, disappearing off into the woodlands never to be seen again until a few days later, and/or he's finished the DVD I politely suggested he may want to see, then blended into the foreground neatly.

So, now that I've watched it at last, in full, without my progeny screaming at me to press stop and put SpongeBob on instead, I can honestly say that his intentions were good, despite his ninja tendencies. (The best movie idea ever, Ninja vs FBI!) See, Mushishi is actually a damn good movie, despite the description putting it slightly into hackneyed Anime territory. And, it is based on an Anime and Manga series too, funnily enough. One of some rep, as well. Director, Katsuhiro Otomo, steps right up to it and delivers a tight, not too fantastical concept that remains grounded despite the obvious fantasy elements. This is the key to the whole success of the movie, as well. Fantasy movies can be too overwhelming, complicated and downright confusing, but Mushishi works on the level of average looking characters and beautiful visuals mixed with dialogue that has just the right level of intrigue and a plot that never loses us, somehow.

Yes, despite my initial misgivings, it won me over soon. Not being a watcher of Anime or a reader of Manga, I suppose I can't fully appreciate the subtle nuances of the genre that it's fans rapture to instantly. I don't consider cartoons and comics for children, I just have never actually got into them too much due to my ever increasing pile of interests merging into a whole days work. Cliches are won over this way, and should a ninja wonder from the darkness and force DVDs into your hand ever, don't give the misgiving stare of a victim, embrace his gift, as I did. You may get a surprise when you slip the discs into your device! Such ninjas of culture are a virtue in this ever more digitised world, and we should be thankful for their silent contribution to our collective existences. As to the plot, it doesn't matter too much, just get engaged by the visual splendour and the ever impending doom looming large over every moment, and you'll get that on the way.

Recommended.

Le Monsieur.

Le Monsieur Reads Vice Magazine Vol 7, Number 8.

2009-08-20T15:51:00.000-07:00

If I was an evil maniac, I'd have strange hobbies such as flesh manipulation, eyeball golf and T-Cell sculpture. But, since I am not an evil maniac, I have to settle for more serene leisure options, like embroidery, sculpture and reading magazines. Magazines like, say it quietly, Vice Magazine. Have your drum kit ready, because it really is bit of a vice. The old ones are the best, readers.

Well, after the scandalous two score and nine days last month when the June issue just didn't want to come home with me and nestle on my kitchen counter to be fumbled and groped by the greasy hands that bless my residence, I was losing hope of being able to get this issue. Luckily, for what ever reason, the creatures - for that is what they are - who deliver Vice to the distribution points in Liverpool every month deigned to supply the goods that this addict wanted and yesterday I jumped for immature, smutty and quite artistic joy when I saw it looking at me through the window of Size, which is actually not full of very tall and scary
Swedish people, as many seem to think, although there must be a reason why they sell so many obscenely huge sized shoes when the majority of people in Liverpool are stunted in their growth cycle form eating too much McDonald's from when they were just a vendor of shit on a bun with odd looking ketchup. Hey, I survived the despair generation intact, and would purchase a pair of the trainers there if my bills would ever let me have enough money to actually be able to buy them.

But, I think I'm talking off the right track here, as I came here today to talk about the rather bizarre world of Vice Magazine. If I'm right, big people must read Vice Magazine. And when I mean big, I mean bigger than Proposition Joe from The Wire. That guy was big, and he wasn't trying to hide it, which is more than can be said for the people who distribute Vice. It' s very rarely within easy view, and when you do find it you get very excited very soon. That's me, and because I'm a sad Monsieur I go straight to a cafe and read it over my Latte, evading the looks from frowning passers by as I do so. Although, to be honest, this months issue has a relatively straight faced cover, unlike the usual in your arse or bare something or other placed artfully in glossy semi-glory in pride of place on the front page like a purple dildo in a sex shop.

At least this month I can leave it on the kitchen table and not have worry about my toddler asking what that thing on the cover is expectantly. The inside is the opposite option though, there's more questionably artistic photo shoots with girls who look like students in need of a bit of cash, and there's the usual brilliantly awful cartoon from Johnny Ryan at the back. But, for those who say that Vice is an immature collection of semi pornographic images and dirty jokes, it generally is except when it does some genuinely eye opening independent journalism like the feature on North Korean deserters helping fellow deserters by sending balloons with drawings and letters describing their horrific stories back over North Korea as a form of reverse propaganda. Read it and feel extremely sad, people.

The best thing about this issue is that it actually has some content of an actively interesting nature. If you can finds yourself a copy, have a look.

Le Monsieur.

Soil and "Pimp" Sessions: Storm PV

2009-08-18T14:30:00.000-07:00

Le Monsieur highly recommends that you feast your wily peepers on this lovely video from the wonderfully cool Soil & "Pimp" Sessions, whom my friend Seba loves very much!

Le Monsieur

椎名林檎 - 都合のいい身体 PV/ Shiina Ringo - Tsugou no ii Karada Pv

2009-08-17T14:48:00.000-07:00

Le Monsieur recommends that you have a watch of this video. One of the videos from this artist in a while! Imaginative, quirky and from the album Sanmon Gossip, which is just as good for the health as a nice invigorating walk in the park.

Le Monsieur.

All Good Things Must Come To An End.

2009-08-13T13:29:00.000-07:00

In these days of recession and swift change as fast as the wind itself, all good things must come to an unfortunate, if not unavoidable , end. This is unfortunately the case with one of the free magazines I discovered only a few months back, +1.

I picked it up today from the usual over priced boutique selling tat on Bold Street, (Which one? My left lobe.) and was flicking through it amiably enough, soaking up the content into my extremely spongy frontal lobe when I came upon the last page, entitled, curiously, Obituary. The word obituary is an everyday buzz phrase when you're a morbid undertaker, or classifieds editor, but to this Monsieur it sends a signal so spine chilling I had just cause to take a sip of my double strength mocha post haste. Problem was, the obituary was of a selfish nature. You know people choose to die just at the wrong moment, like in the middle of sex, or whilst tied to a lamp post in Newcastle, well +1 has decide to die for , quote, adult reasons.

And, we're not talking auto erotic asphyxiation here, either. We're talking post economic heaving. That meaning, lack of revenue to maintain publication. You know what, fuck this fucking economy! What the hell am I supposed to read over my mocha now, huh? Tell you, if there's any reason to string a banker up to a lamp post and prod him with blunt metal objects, this is one. OK, I've still got Vice to furtively perv through, but that's the point. See, it's damn hard to find a nice publication, worthy of thine own intelligent eyes these days, and +1 was as close to that as is possible in the days of Big Brother, X Factor and other shows slowly sapping away the already depleted intelligence quotient of the nations bus stop fucking youth.

Mesieurs et Madames, I am saddened. But still the web version lives on, even if it's not half as satisfying as clutching the magazine and sniffing it's freshly printed smell in the summers breeze.

RIP +1 print edition. You will be missed.

Le Mnsr

Some Apologetic Moments from Japan.

2009-08-09T13:00:00.000-07:00

OK, because I like to spread the love around like jam on a particularly sexy piece of burnt toast, I'm gonna deliver some lovin' to y'all in the motherfucking hard form this video! Why motherfucking? Well, because when it comes to apologies and all things fight wise, the Japanese are just so great. By the way, I just abhor unnecessary bad language.

So, imagine you did something mega bad, anything, the worst thing you can think of. And, depending on what you actually did, admitted to doing, left out of the official explication and what the do-ee actually feels, you may need to place an apology in his mental letter box. How would one go about righting the inevitable wrong that blackened your actions in the first place? Well, after self mutilation, flagellating and prayer to your chosen God, there is the polite bow. Shall we try the latter, less onanistic option? Let's make it so and move on with the bows!

See, if you choose to believe this lying video, put together by a bunch of surprisingly gifted humorists from Japan who actually have some humor in them, (Quite a rarity, to be honest!), the Japanese are so polite they'd break their own back just to prove their innocence and conviction of apologetic stance. Maybe, to a degree, you could believe them. I've seen plenty a person bowing in the street, in the course of their duties etc, and they look extremely sincere, for someone who is an expert at not giving anything away for the best possible reasons. (Inner self versus public self, a very Japanese concept, which is why the various levels of politeness came to be.)

Heck, that sarariman I always saw on my train used to bow as he was talking on the phone, something which I have been known to do on occasion. But if you really want to know about the extreme cases of bowing and apologetic attitudes in Japan, here's a very amusing place to start!

Le Mnsr

Murder In The Forest...or is it?

2009-08-06T06:10:00.000-07:00

Readers, there are some things in life that we shouldn't take for granted. Amongst which include the walk in the park. The walk in the park can be a genuinely uplifting experience for many reasons. For most it's the thrill of being outdoors in the middle of nature, companionship with animal or human. or even the opportunity to take it slow for a while.For me, it's the opportunity to spend quality time with my son in the playground and runaround madly for an hour so with out fear of being looked at like a strange person. As well as that, we also take lots of photographs and meet squirrels. But, the other day I had the weirdest photograph ever on my camera. Well, there are probably weirder photos in my collection, but recently this is the weird one. For what ever reason, somebody decided to hang their kids cuddly toy from a very tall tree. Very nice, that's the best thing to do for your kid. Hang their kids toy and for what reason? Well, I can't fathom it. Maybe a freak wind storm blew it there in the night. Whatever the reason, I got a very good photograph. I think it's a Teletubby hanging there, but the way that the height and distance of the tree combined with the hazy light made it somehow Twin Peaks-esque and just plain bizarre.

And why not? Have toy, will hang it! Obviously that's what the perpetrator of this crime thought...

Le Monsieur

THE DREAM AND THE REALITY.

2009-08-03T13:51:00.000-07:00

Readers, Le Monsieur has a dream.

In my dream, the people behind the dictionaries would categorise words that are apparently *offensive* as now not quite so offensive after all. The effect on society would be massive, but slow to take it's full toll on the people's conscience. I could potentially march around saying "Hey nigga!" to every cracker on the street and they be very unoffended. They would, in my imagination, respond with a very hearty "Yo cracker, wossup!" and we'd bond in the way that homies do, by playing loud music from our beatboxes and pretending to be Bob Marley's lost sons. Anything is possible in a dream!

What a dream it is. Well, Eminem's been living the dream for years now, dissing on all us whiteys who don't rap as if it's a prescription drug for Swine Flu. Hip Hop, whilst admittedly an *Urban Passtime* for kids with issues, was certainly built for a sociopath like Eminem, who, contrary to my vocab requisition, isn't on my Black List. I quite admire him, in his ability to send hate mail to Mariah Carey and get seemingly no criticism at all. Heck, if I did that, the cops would knock on my door and search house for any nipple clamps that happen to be strewn about like anything perfectly innocent. I'd probably be punished by having Mimi played non stop in my cell on a loop! But, all this urban stuff is making me feel rough, and there are other words that people dislike as much as the dictionaries, who are influencing them way too much to my mind.

See, the way I was raised, language is a tool with a definite purpose. For example, if you want someone to go away, suggesting politely that they are in the way won't work, and they are more likely to stay firmly in your way than move out of it. But telling them to F*ck off in a loud uncompromising manner will work more easily, I guarantee. Now, I'm not suggesting that you be like that to everyone, as you'll be mistaken for a rude fucker. This technique is reserved only for times of extreme irritation, and in places where guns and knives aren't commonplace. Point is though, I'm saying that our once effective communication lines are being hampered by words and phrases being constantly "outlawed" by people with more moral substance than sense.

Truth is, I love my dirty words as much as the next person does, but slowly they are being bled out of our societies media portrayed face and pretended out of existence by the ignorant sociopaths who control education these days. There are many teenagers who have no idea how to answer the questions on The Weakest Link, let alone the test they do at school, and the way it's changed our use of language is concerning, to say the least. Language changes, of course, and I love it, the English language is apparently the most expanding language in the world and I say let it expand, but don't cancel out the words you think society doesn't need! Very American, to put it mildly. It's amazing how words like disabled, once able to be uttered freely without fear of causing offense is slowly being turned into a swear word, and replaced with "special person", which is equally as offensive as calling someone a coon to my mind. There are numerous more examples of it, but I don't want to drone on for too long. Suffice to say, you can probably think of a few yourself!

The biggest problem it's causing though, is that swearing is now a form of humour ! It's not big, and it's not clever, and although I love etymology, swear words in particular, I'm not amused. What was once an expressive tool for anger, irony etc has become a controvertial non-issue that makes people ashamed of the words they heard as they wre growing up.

Le Monsieur

THE EVER INCREASING MOUND OF LE MONSIEUR.

2009-07-31T13:53:00.000-07:00

The ever increasing mound of free papers on my desk is threatening to either topple over and bury me like the rubble from an earthquake or bend desk irreparably into a weird shape. Solutions available? Well, as Confucius once said, he who tidies his desk will discover wisdom. (Very homocentric guy was Confucius...) But concerning the wisdom bit, he was right on the ball. See, there are wisdoms and wits just waiting to be stirred into brain stimulating activity in my gigantic pile, and despite my love for cleaning out, developed in small spaces in Tokyo where keeping tidy was de riguere, I haven't been able to bring my self to get rid of the legions of magazines in my apartment yet. In fact, I seem to be a bit of a prisoner to them!

My Stockholm syndrome like condition has me nodding in agreement as I read them, and occasionally laughing like a paralytic maniac at three am in Liverpool on Friday night on occasion! What kind of sweet trap have I let myself fall into so willingly? See, I'm a sucker for free things, and when I spotted a rather innocent looking magazine in Size the other day, giving me eyes like a desperate charity fund raiser, I just had to say "Yes! I will help the free magazine community by delving into the new issue of the new magazine Rader! Yay!" Well, I didn't really say that, I just picked it up, raised an eyebrow and slipped in into my bag to be read at a later minute. And, what a read it was. More of a look really, as it was big on imagery and somewhat more minimalistic with the actual words.

But any magazine that recommends you to visit Tokyo by virtue of the fact that there are many virgin otaku guys in Akihabara where fresh blood can be obtained by virtue of their, erm, virtue is definitely a class act! Heck, I'd rather have a blood donation from a mangafied virgin guy than some Shibuya backstreets girl who's had half the Crews in the area already, probably leaving them distinctly browner in the process! Of course, there are other reasons to visit Tokyo besides that, maybe there are some of you who prefer the Shibuya backstreets girls with more fake tan on than Jordan on a bad day to the otaku strewn wastelands of Akihabara. Personally, I'd prefer to go to Harajuku and try on some of the more bizarre items of couture, if I don't have to under go surgery to even be able to consider the putting on of these "kawaii" garments. But, that's just me. Le Monsieur is just of himself, after all.

But, in all seriousness, Rader has the snap, brightness and originality of concept that makes the best magazines what they are. Sure, they could have done with a translator with a bit less American in their brain, but that's forgivable for now. Afterall, it's not often one finds a Japanese free paper in a Liverpool boutique. Curiosity did indeed bite me in the right place, instead the orifice it usually nips into submission.

Le Monsieur

IBARAKI RACISM!

2009-07-29T16:02:00.000-07:00

Le Monsieur doesn't like this kind of thing.

The poster above is from Ibaraki, a prefecture near Tokyo where they apparently have such an issue with invading "foreigners" that they feel the need to place posters on the walls to tell everybody that they should be on the look out for them a la the not so hot uniformed officers in the picture who could be of any nationality, if we're honest!

If it wasn't for the vaguely racist intentions of this, it'd be funny. But, it isn't. Why is it that during my almost four years in Tokyo I saw nothing on this scale in the poster area? To be honest, I'm all for rooting out the illegals who make life Hell for all the honest people who make an honest living, contributing to society as anybody in their own country would, but this is ridiculous! Sad thing is that the average just off the plane foreigner in Japan who can't read Japanese without the aid of a friend is unlikely even to realise that they are being violated in public by posters like this.

Personally speaking, I've never had any such problems with racism in Japan, in fact the most racist people of all are the foreigners themselves to my mind, but I realise that with posters like this things aren't going to get better soon. Thank God Tokyo is used to it's foreign population to a degree - not comfortable, but used to them -whilst rural areas have less in general so tend to make a bigger fuss of their presence than in really necessary. I'm not forgiving them or even excusing them, if people put up anti Japanese posters in London there'd be an outcry, so why the authorities of Ibaraki consider it appropriate to place blatantly discriminate literature on their walls and stations is both beyond me and offensive.

Although I do think that there people of a suspicious nature in Japan - even I have my suspicion alarm on with some foreigners, but that's common sense rather than the pure unabated racism that many local authorities seek to promote so openly - I do think there are better ways of doing it than the present system. If people actually did something about it, rather than merely tolerate it things might change sooner rather than later. Easier said than done, of course, but every seed needs to be planted to grow. And removing the weeds is even more vital along the way!

Le Monsieur.

DIGGING OUT THE INNER CHILD.

2009-07-26T02:51:00.000-07:00

If there's one thing to do on a rainy Sunday morning, it's watch cartoons.

As an adult, I am proud to admit that I do occasionally watch cartoons. Usually, it's with my son, who is at the perfect age to enjoy the simple pleasures and bright shades of the average cartoon show. He also finds it quite educational, does my little Monsieur. On a Sunday morning, I usually dig out the SpongeBob box set and have a Spongeathon until lunchtime rears it's ravenous head once and for all. See, secretly all adults can admit to having a small like of cartoons, and those who rigorously deny all affection for animation are like alcoholics in the midst of a serious addiction. They are also denying a big part of their childhood!

There can't have been many of us who didn't watch TV when we were younger, and the first show we probably watched was an animated kids TV show. I remember vaguely the first time I watched TV, when I was four, - Yes, four years old! - and it was a kids show from what I recall. The TrapDoor, maybe. Ah, The TrapDoor! Even now I watch that show. It's so unthinkably dirty in it's humor that such a kids show would never get past the censors these days without some very serious cuts to the even back then highly obvious bonking jokes. Of course, my toddler likes it too! The least I can do as a parent is to pass on my childhood to him. In fact, every parent should do the exact same thing.

There are so many kids who think that Teletubbies is the epitome of televisual entertainment, when are so many great TV shows from the past that would be just as effective today. When I find an older kids show on the shelves in my local DVD purveyor I smile to myself. Being a quarter into ones natural life, everything is suddenly looking different than usual. Those memories I used to consider worthless now have attained an extra significance due to my new mindset. Of course, there are many who never grow up, and applause to them for being able to do that in a world where youth is snatched from our children at an early age and never given back until our dying days when it's an unfitting as a bad hairstyle.

I do think, to some degree, having a child does reconnect you to your inner child, and my enjoyment of kids shows is maybe connected to that. The sheer fact is, that there are some brilliant kids shows out there that really should be discovered by more people! If this were Japan, were grown ups are entitled to watch their anime by virtue of the fact that being childish is openly encouraged by some corners of society. And, if you've ever been to Akihabara, you'll see millions of such people walking around. Not all of them are your typical geek style people either!

To end this , I'll leave you with some videos to consider. Will you reconnect with your inner screaming baby? Or will I see you in Akihabara with the other millions of people?

Pass it on people, pass it on!

Mnsr Seba

Watch kitaro(1968)7 in Animation | View More Free Videos Online at Veoh.com

A MULTITUDE OF GENRES.

2009-07-24T14:21:00.000-07:00

Monsieur Seba, they say, would you like a copy of our magazine?

Of course, I partook in their offer. Free things are a blessing a money-light world of contradictions and problems du financiers. I love free things, especially free papers and magazines, which are in fact better than most of the publications you have to pay for normally! One I discovered recently, is Kruger Magazine.

(URL here)

Contained within it's happily unglossy pages is a multitude of entertaining articles and features. Now Kruger is not Vice Magazine, so I'm not even going to suggest that Kruger is better than Vice, because is Vice is evil and must be stopped. And until some literary hero comes along and avenges the moral consciences of those five people in Wales with serious reality issues, I will continue to fly the Vice flag to the world for all with eyes to see. Kruger is in the same vein as the aforementioned glossy filth purveyor, but has a different agenda entirely. As well as being smaller, it is more music and gig based in it's coverage and contains less swearing than it's uncouth cousins.

In particular, an article captured my attention with it's beautiful lasso. That article was the feature on music genres in an A to Z format. That is, all the letters of the alphabet that we are truly blessed with in our ability to type and read these words. Now, besides the obvious Rock and Pop genres, there are some pretty interesting looking genres and sub-genres out there that you may or may have not heard of. I don't usually like definition of things that much, but there were a few of my favorite genres included, and I thought I'd mention them to you, just to be kind and guru like.

The very first genre on their hit list is Anti Folk,which even from it's definition, is still quite hazy. To my mind, Ani diFranco at various points of her long career has been the epitome of this genre, although I'm sure many will disagree. (The definition has it that Anti Folk is defiantly insincere and mocks the pretensions of music and itself. Vague, and yet some how clearer for the stating of it.) Another genre that I see mentioned for the first time in a more mainstream(ish) publication is Queercore, a genre that apparently contains many styles of music and seeks to question the values of the so-called "oppressive agenda" of the LBGT community. I can see their meaning, but that doesn't explain why Windows Media Player proclaims Bitch and Animal to be Queercore for no other reason than the fact they are gay!

Besides a few other genres, the list is pretty normal in terms of popular music, with the tail end of the alphabet providing the starkest glimpses into underground and just plain bizarre styles of music . How about the very confusing Unclassifiable? As the magazine quite rightly states, there is nothing that can be unclassifiable when there are so many different types of genres and sub-genres in existence! Although, I wish someone had told the people who perform Wizard Rock, (it's a link mesieurs et madames!), that enough is enough and that the Christian Church really does frown upon that sort of thing, even if they don't care at all.

Although, a bit of Viking Metal can never go amiss in these days of constant sunshine, ahem, and the very existence of it and all associated genres really does give you faith in the pessimistic world view. The dark growls are just a very throaty bonus!

If you feel like diving into the world of weird music genres, head to the music genre list page on Wikipedia for lots of musical head scratching!

Pick up Kruger if you can, and remember that nothing is truly unclassifiable, except our existence.

Mnsr Seba.

God Is A Blogger.

2009-07-24T14:00:00.000-07:00

As with most things, it stared with a thought. The now cliched light bulb flashed above my noggin and suddenly I was illuminated. So, I logged into my Blogger account, clicked on the the button marked 'Create a Blog', and attempted to get the following URL:

godisablogger.blogspot.com/

You're probably thinking that I've lost my mind, aren't you? I wouldn't blame you, to be honest. Such URL's are generally the property of heretics with natural skull caps and toe nails as yellow as the sun. But, worry ye not faithful readers. For, if it is the case that I am insane, my sanity has long been in question. I am in no doubt that I am not *normal* in a normal sense. See, there are somethings that man, or indeed, a person, has to do in order to make life a more enjoyable experience. And, just as some people crave to have in their possession that special bag or license plate, I wanted that URL desperately. Readers, i actually craved to possess a URL. Think about that fact for a second. Isn't it cool?!

Why, you ask yourself, would I want such a URL so desperately, ravenously even. the answer, my friends, is not because it's blowing in the blogosphere, but because it's a cool name for a blog. And, in the blog world, a name matters a lot. Just like a designer name, or even a brand. And, call me mad, but god is a blogger is bound to be an attention grabber. And,whilst I'll unfortunately never know how much of grabber it is, as it wasn't available, I can still bask in it's glory. because. there is definite coolness about that name. You could argue that it was a little big headed of me to actually consider wanting it that much in the first place. To that opinion I say this: Maybe it is but does that make it bad? We all want something, after all. Be it money, sex, power or even a URL.

But just because we get it doesn't make us totally happy. Unfortunately, I didn't.

What's next on my list?

Mnsr Seba.

VITAL ORGANS AND SUNNY DAYS.

2009-07-19T14:09:00.000-07:00

Never having been one to boast, but as days off go, this has been a pretty good one!

You know how you can hear it raining when you wake up and it just instantly makes one of those pre-emotive onomatopoeic moments? Well, it was one of them for me. My son, for once waking up after me, remained the same juice demanding, Dora watching tyrant he always is at nine am, but I felt somehow unable to wake up at all, and had a nuclear bomb strength coffee to edge my existence into more clearer territory than it previously had been.

Now that I could see clearly out of one eye, I considered myself in a fit enough state to look in the mirror, not something I do often actually for some reason, and check that my face is still there. What with the spate of burglaries recently, you never know what will go missing. One of these days, I'll learn to lose my Scouseland paranoia , seemingly a genetic imprint from every Liverpool jibe you hear as a child. It's not just non-Liverpudlians who hide their items in Liverpool, it's the Liverpool people too. Out of good sense and a general feeling of wanting to remain personally intact when I return from a day out.

It shouldn't be an issue, after all this is not a Russian back street "medical centre" where you go in a for a health check and leave minus several vital organs. My neighborhood is blessed with so many blue rinse persons and rusting lamp posts that this is the last place anyone would want to steal body parts. My coffee did help rid those thoughts from my head and I eventually enjoyed a lovely day in the park with my son, jumping in very muddy puddles, eating cinnamon rolls, and being generally very childish.

Point being? Well, just that life is god when it seems so mundane and bizarre. I thoroughly recommend everyone to do absolutely everything of a random, fun nature with their kids on a Sunday.

Fun.

Mnsr Seba

GORDON VS MARCO: THE CHOICE.

2009-07-19T14:00:00.000-07:00

I was recently asked by a colleague who, between Gordon Ramsey and Marco Pierre White, I would have sexual relations with. I bet you weren't expecting that were you?

Well, shall we say that were I that way inclined, i.e. not straight, (Although no-one is a hundred percent straight if you've seen some of the things I've seen!), and both Marco and Gordon were also by extreme coincidence gay, I'd have to say that the person on the end of my punishment stick would be Gordon Ramsey. Why? Well, how can I put this? Shall we say that whilst Marco-Pierre does look like the type who could go through an entire brothel without stopping for a rest, (He could certainly afford it!), I think the fact he looks as if the word "shower" and "get the fuck in" have never been uttered towards him in his how ever many years of existence. Maybe he has the rough and ready look for televisual purposes, but based on this I'd much prefer that "fucking" Gordon Ramsey. Having set foot into one of his restaurants, (literally a foot, then I decided to go someplace else instead, but for good reasons...), I can definitely feel the love he's trying to pass on. Marco Pierre's love love lovin' may be a little more obvious, but the way he leers over Page Three stars may just get me a little mad.

Plus, since people seem to talk about food in pornographic terms these days, I'm gonna do it too! Seriously, there does seem to be a fine line between restaurant reviewing and verbal porn. Marco Pierre Whites maniacal stares and kitchen cloth bandanna style tie back seem totally harking back to the days when porn was about ugly men doing beautiful girls. I'm pretty sure I'm not the only one who thinks that the lovely Marco resembles a (retired) porn star who's turned to cooking to give the love. Although saying that a table won't get their food because he doesn't like them is a bit like the traditional headache at bed time that women (and men) apparently fake. Thank god he said that, because him on top of me, or besides me vertically either, come to think of it, is not something that's on my Christmas wish list! (I'll have a meal though, if he wants to serve me!)

Bear in mind here, that I am actually a male, and am straight. The person who asked me was a girl. (She said she's do Marco, by the way! Blindfold at the ready...) To be honest, gay or straight, chefs, especially of the celebrity kind, are not the best to my mind anyway. (Apart from Gordon Ramsey...) Now I ask you, dear readers, given the chance and the correct sexual alignment, who would you invite to your sleeping domain?

It's still my beautiful partner, by the way. Although Gordon was good for this post only...wink wink!

Mnsr Seba

LIVE REVIEW: HERE WE GO MAGIC AT KOROVA -- THE WRITERS CUT.

2009-07-16T14:09:00.000-07:00

It started quietly, with a comment that changed the whole mood of the show instantly for the better.

“Can we get the lights turned down please? This music is meant to be heard in the dark…”

This simple beginning was followed by one of the most accomplished shows I’ve seen in a while, with all five members of the band playing a vital part of the sound. Despite the relative brevity of the set, all the members of the band had their own little moment, be it instrumental, visual or conversational. Interestingly, there was very little actual conversation with the audience save for the odd one liner between songs and the admittedly over excited drummer, (name), and his constant questioning of the audience about the nightlife in Liverpool. (Best line of the night was his “Hey guys, we’re going out after the show, anywhere good?” and the audience just showed him their beers!)

Although this was their first time in Liverpool, in front of the usual loud crowd of the Liverpool scene, the very first chord from Luke’s guitar silenced the crowd and started the show with a flare not unnoticed by everyone there who were watching every note, every second the whole show long. And, what a show it was, showcasing the definite indie leanings of the band and also the big sound they bring with them. The double guitar sound had an even bigger effect in the more, as was noted by the band themselves, intimate conditions of the stage. Although, (as observed before in a previous review from this venue), the acoustics at Korova can be incredibly bad on occasion, which does mar an otherwise expertly done show, which probably lead to the singer himself looking a little perplexed on occasion and requesting a sound adjustment more than once during the gig.

But, that aside, it was a good show with thrills a plenty. There is indeed plenty to recommend the sceptic, most notably the manic variety in the songs which range from quieter acoustic numbers to loud rock riffs to ambient instrumental type intros that thrill more under whelm with this band. The band also looked totally committed to the music they were playing, which is relatively rare to see these days. Even watching them set up their instruments, it showed more than any band I’ve ever seen just how much they were feeling the music. And if they were feeling it, the crowd were definitely following their vibe. Nods and smiles abounded, and even the unintentionally annoying couple in front of me, drunk on whatever it was they were drinking, got forgiven their sins of blocking the view somewhat.

Needless to say, fans were made with songs as great as Tunnelvision or I Just Want To See You sending people to the merchandise table soon after the show had finished. In short a band to see live before you die.

Mnsr Seba

HEAVEN IS A RAIN SHOWER.

2009-07-05T12:49:00.000-07:00

Sometimes one just needs to get wet.

A shower is not enough when sweat is making up more than 100 percent of your body. Today I felt I was festering away in ill gotten high temperatures whilst people in the developed world freeze their asses off, and I doubt that was even a correct assertion in the least. Truth is, I hate sweating like a pig on steroids. And I hate having having no fan in my apartment, which isn't really something I can't be blamed for, I think. So when the heavens opened on me today I almost shouted, cheered and rolled about like a maniac on speed and Red Bull prescriptions.

Personally, I love the rain like I love a hot shower. The one thing I would thank the Lord for if I was even remotely religious would be the fact it rains. Rain makes me feel comfortable beyond belief. It's cool atmosphere makes it a thing of beauty to my mind and if it rained everyday, as it does during Rainy Season in Japan to my delight and others chagrin, I wouldn't complain too much. Let me clarify that getting wet is something that I enjoy from a rain perspective, and there is no better smell than fresh rain to make one nostalgic for things past. When you're from the UK rain is something that forms an essential part of life and you're prepared for it every time you even suspect there may be a drop of it due. We're not as doggedly rigid as the Japanese, for whom the slightest mention that there's going to be rain induces the whole of Tokyo - and I mean every person in Tokyo here - to carry an umbrella, but we're close enough! I bet you anyone reading this of a British nature can identify ten places to shelter instantly anywhere they go! I know I can, that's life in the grim North-West. (The same goes for shoot outs too!)

But the very fact that it even rained today has improved my temper immeasurably and that's the best thing about this gloomy and miserable and forlorn and downright Dickensian weather we're having down here in Seba World today! Hopefully floods of a Biblical nature will ensue soon and I can really chill out!

Mnsr Seba

TRIBUTE: THE KING IS DEAD.

2009-06-25T14:20:00.000-07:00

The first Michael Jackson video I saw. Let's remember The King for the music he blessed us all with forever rather than the tabloid rumours.

Mnsr Seba

Watch Michael Jackson: Thriller in Entertainment | View More Free Videos Online at Veoh.com

AM I SERIOUS?

2009-06-24T13:40:00.000-07:00

If honesty was my policy, I'd have no-one to talk to.

Even the speaking clock would hang up on me. (It did once, clunt!) This begs the question of what exactly I'm supposed to know if the time isn't for my subversive waxy ears? Truth is, I don't give a fuck. Anything that I want to know can be found on the Internet! I might just go on Twitter and send random people messages calling them tw*ts for getting me pregnant and arrange a meet up to see how many people bring knitting needles and anaesthetic with them "just in case". On second thoughts, I won't. Reason being that I have no womb and I also have no Twitter account either. I hate social stuff, to be honest.

The only people I get on with are freaks, goths, drug dealers and whores who I don't want to get involved with for very good reasons. For those who know me, hold back the fist and give to the relevant part of your anatomy tonight instead to celebrate peace. Don't believe the church, there's nothing wrong with a euphemistic fight with yourself as long - and here's the important part - as long as you're thinking about God! Which explains why a Christian society places billboards featuring naked women on almost every corner. God is in fact a lingerie model/porn star/fantasy shag. People, I think I have seen the light. Butler, bring me the latest Playboy!

But, those of you who know of me personally and/or read my blog on regular occasions will know that there is a word for what I'm doing now. And, no, it's not "illegal". The word is in fact "digressing". The point I have been trying to make in a rather vague and caffeine-induced manner is that my humour is apparently very sharp. It can and will stab you in a split second so much that you won't notice at all until you're rolling around on the ground like a euphoric maniac. Which means that I love you. If you laugh I love you. I want you in my life forever and I want your babies....to laugh at me too. Exert some parental influence get them on my side so I can stage a political coup when my humour dies. Rest assured that those unpersuaded by my humour will be defiled by ex-Presidents of the USA in Hell!

Am I joking? Well, try it and find out, then you'll know just how funny I am. Would you laugh at a big Kiss tongue emitting laughter with no visible means of doing so?

Mnsr Seba.

GAGA IN JAPAN.

2009-06-14T13:08:00.000-07:00

MR POSTMAN, I HATE YOU...

2009-05-16T12:34:00.000-07:00

Readers, do you look forward to your post? I absolutely look forward to my mail hitting the door mat everyday and, despite the obligatory bills and junk mail I do still enjoy the surprise aspect of wondering who, or what, has decided to contact me today.

However, I have to draw a big fat line at receiving the trash that came through my letterbox yesterday. The person who decided that it would be a good idea to slip the racist rantings of the British National Party into my post box deserves to be sent to live in North Korea for a while and really experience racism for what it is. Personally speaking, I hate racist fuckers like the BNP. The sad thing is that there are people across the country who actually think that by voting for the BNP they'll actually get something. It's all very well to go around spouting bullshit like "British Jobs for British People" but you have to look further than a pamphlet designed to soften the image of a party of proven thugs. Firstly, by voting BNP you are throwing away any freedom, admittedly not much these days, that you enjoy. Why? If they can exclude the so called "foreigners" from the pleasures of normal life, they can exclude anyone. Think about how Nazi Germany came about, and you'll see that voting BNP is a seriously bad idea.

And as for the pamphlet itself, it frankly made me sick to touch it. If it weren't for the fact it had journalistic interest, I'd have torn it up and tossed it in the nearest bin to rot. The pictures of so called "ordinary people" who give the reasons they're going to vote BNP are embarrassing to say the least, and the models they used -for I hope that's all they are- should be ashamed of themselves for even allowing their faces to be seen on such trash! I don't disagree that there are a multitude of issues that need sorting out but , again, the BNP are not the answer to any of them. And as for the pledge that all MEP's of the BNP will give ten percent of their salaries away to help local communities celebrate St Georges Day, why? Wouldn't it be better to give ten percent of their salaries to more worthy causes than an event that has almost bearing on our culture in these modern times? Personally speaking, I'd rather suck a cyanide lozenge than celebrate such a blatantly exclusionist event.

Don't get me wrong, I'm not against standing up for your heritage or celebrating your culture. I just think there are better ways of doing it than voting for the British National Party, waving odd out dated flags around and sitting around being house proud. Being British in the modern sense is about non-exclusionist behaviour and openess to others. We all have open minds, refrain from espousing uneducated racist opinions that only cause others to think us stupid and bigoted and ultimately take people as we find them. So, why should we not vote BNP? Because We've Earned the Right! That, by the way is the campaign catchphrase of this bunch of no hopers, and it's highly ironic that it should be so easily used against them.

Remember, BNP equals racist idiot thugs with no grasp of culture or tact.

Mnsr Seba

HYPOCRISY IN THE EXTREME.

2009-04-26T14:17:00.000-07:00

Readers, are you angry? Personally, I think we should all be angry. Extremely angry!

So door smashingly angry that our fists bleed in unison after the deed is done! I'm not just talking about being angry for fun, or smashing things up so we can get compromised by a sexy pig, erm, policeman. (G2o riot squad excluded, of course) I'm talking about the shockingly offensive waste of paper that was inside my newspaper today. The newspaper was the Sunday Times, and the offending item was the porn like Rich List, which was mildly fascinating last year, but just an offensive kiss off to the jobless and debt ridden this year. To be honest, I don't need shit like this in my house. I've already banned The Sun, News Of the World, and most of the tabloid papers, I don't want to ban The Times. For sheer value for money, entertainment and dubious politics, The Times is worth it's place on my lounge table. But The Rich List is just plain insulting to my mind. If I was a single parent, working all the hours that this so called God sends, (I'm not religious,you might have guessed!), just to pay the bills and have somewhere to live, I'd doubtless be even more offended. This elitist tradition is nothing more than printed masturbation for the sake of glorifying the rich. And, I have no problem with people being rich, the majority of people on the list have worked hard to get where they are and should rightfully enjoy their wealth, in their place I'd do the exact same thing, if I'm being honest. The only part of it that annoys me is that there are people out there who will take this completely the wrong way.

Until a few years ago, when I knew no better, I used to look forward to The Sunday Times Rich List like it was the hottest sex ever had by anyone. It was genuinely thrilling to read the figures and find out who was the richest person, the fucker! Now, it just passes over my head. I am still vaguely interested, and the thrill is indeed a very voyeuristic one, but I don't enjoy it. In fact, I felt sick to the stomach when I looked at the front page once I'd got home. If I'd wanted porn, I'd have gone to Abby Winters. Right now, this is the equivalent to having sex with a horse. Maybe next year The Sunday Times will think better than to insult the many millions with no money to speak of with this crass publication.

Of course, it may provide some comfort to many to many to know that most of these millionaires lost a lot of money. It may also motivate them to get back on their feet and aim for their own entry in a few years time. If it does, great! I'm all for self motivation, but in this year of toning things down, they should at least have not plastered it all over the front page for all to sign over.

To quote someone, 'nuff said.

Mnsr Seba

*78641*MONSIEUR SEBA N'EST CE PAS?