Spent most of the morning trying to find, shock, horror, a copy of the Mail On Sunday to cash in on its free Prince promotion. Nothing is ever free, of course, and the thought of subjecting my household to the frumpy, right-wing jism in the MoS is a heavy price to pay, even for 10 tracks by the little purple master. And it also raises questions about the diminutive Minneapolis dude's state of mind. I mean, why the Mail on Sunday? Why not Blues n' Soul? Or the New York Review Of Books? After finally tracking down a copy of Planet Earth in the fifth Hull newsagents I ventured into (a scary experience at any juncture), I found the answer. Prince has not the lost the funk, as such, but this, in the main, is very derivative, pale imitations of his 80s purple majesty. Saccharine soul, with sleigh-bells, 80s drums, and very muzacky arrangements. The single Guitar is a little like U2 and features Prince Rogers extolling the virtue of his instrument over his woman: "I love you baby, but not the way I love my guitar." Am guessing it ain't a Squire Strat made in Korea. (although track eight's got a pulse - even if its about Chelsea Clinton or sumfink...hang on track nine issssssss Purple Rain, but less good)
Also: the eagle-eyed will notice my new stat counter. Somebody came to my site through putting the words "Bat Rescue, Hull" into google. There ya go, Chips On Me Shoulder. A big hit with endangered species. But not new Princey-baby records.
And also also: swimming at Beverley Road baths, eating veggie lasagne, reading the Faber Book Of Reportage and Billy Bragg's The Progressive Patriot