derek is a champ

Victoly

Sat, 24 Jun 2006 15:25:33 GMT

I think I'm the last to find this out, so I'm not spoiling any surprises, but I suggest that all of us rise up in mass and congratulate, by acclamation, Omeed Rameshni on his engagement.

Omeed ... well, sincerely, congratulations.

And you didn't even give us ample warning.

Thu, 15 Jun 2006 19:35:27 GMT

What's the contour integral of Western Europe?

Wed, 14 Jun 2006 20:03:25 GMT

I spent the last two weeks in Austria, enjoying the waters and the mountain air,

and attending the wedding of Nathan Todd.

I'd forgotten how much fun travelling is: eating local meats by the roadside stalls, sleeping in dodgy places, scaring children on the subway, and learning a new language.... Thankfully, I resisted the mainstream, materialistic urges to buy presents for people ... unless they want my meat, which they're not getting. The people I met were lovely, too. Vienna is a city of artists and hippies, and the people of Tirol, where the wedding was held, are honest in the way that only country folk can be.

I also missed my flight back to the UK ... not on purpose, as it raised the cost of my holiday from a harmless, pov-student-friendly 150 euros to a dire 350.

Stoked

Mon, 22 May 2006 23:18:52 GMT

The only good T-shirt in all of Oxford:

"Rock-and-roll angels, bring thine hard rock hallelujah!"

Mon, 22 May 2006 04:09:18 GMT

The Eurovision song contest doesn't get much publicity in Australia. It's a sort of international, Idol-like competition, where each European country enters one act: a singer, performer, band or whatever. People vote for their favourite, who can't be from their own country.

Most of the contestants are, you know, disposable pop-stars with vacant smiles, or heart-throbs who croon ballads just dripping with sincerity. ABBA and Celine Dion are notable alumni. The UK in general views the competition as some sort of camp comedy, and it's broadcast with a scathing commentary that puts Roy & H.G. to shame.

"Wasn't too hard to sing along to that one."

This year was only a little different ... some screenshots follow:

Lordi, hard-rocking undead Klingons from hell from Finland, took the contest by storm.

Which one was Lordi? Are you fuckin' retarded?

Lordi.

They had me with their song, "Hard Rock Hallelujah," as they sang for the 'Arockalypse' and the 'Day of Rockoning'. I suppose it wouldn't have won if it didn't also have the catchiest chorus, and if the singer wasn't miles ahead of the competition by singing in tune ... in an absurdly guttural way.

Remember when you were a kid and you wanted to listen to the same song over and over again? This has to be the most fun I've had with hard rock songs, ever. Or maybe since Spinal Tap. If any of you fags aren't ignoring my posts, I would suggest you listen to "Hard Rock Hallelujah." Here, I've uploaded the song, and I suggest you get it:
http://www.savefile.com/files/2413548

"Like meat eaters in a vegetarian cafe," say the band, on performing in Eurovision.

R 18+

Thu, 18 May 2006 17:51:32 GMT

Like all vertebrates, I enjoy a bargain.

Let me tell you about one of the finest moments of my life. I was rifling through the discount bins at JB, looking for a steal. I found and bought dEUS' "Ideal Crash" for $2. I proudly announced to the staff that I'd've happily paid %1000 of that price for the CD.

Now, a normal purchase to that dEUS deal ... is what that dEUS deal is to something I bought today.

"Fyrrrpmmyrnggbmrrnygyiehr."
(Phonetic of whatever the hell she's saying at the start of "The Sign.")

I laughed when I pulled this CD out of the pile. The store-owning hippy said I could have it for whatever was in my pockets. I emptied them and found ten pence. Even the insurmountable exchange rate can't touch the quality of this bargain.

A guilty pleasure?

I dunno. Not enough guilt. Too much pleasure.

Speaking of pleasure. Kane, I was gonna do something cool with the photos you sent me, such as hacking a comic out of them, but it was easier to do exactly what you said. Plus, you didn't turn out to be very good supervillain or superhero material.

"I expected something funny, because the link sounded like a joke or something. You know, one of those attention-grabbing tricks. But O Lord, righteousness belongeth unto Dez, and the suppurating wounds that were left after gouging out my eyes...."
--Barry Crocker; Ipwidth

"The horror ... the horror."
--Colonel Kurtz; the jungles of Vietnam

Click here if you're Kane, AND NOT OTHERWISE.

It's been awhile

Sun, 14 May 2006 00:34:50 GMT

Obviously, I dropped the ball on keeping the bullshit flowing.

Maybe I can just lift something from a random journal and claim it's mine. Or, better yet, I could just post the source code of such journals and I'll never have to update this heinous thing again.

[Here are some recondite lyrics that no one will read or give a shit about.]

[Or we could enjoy some haemorrhoid-rupturingly-vile poetry. Uh huh. That bad. Can you imagine it? The rapture of rupture?]

The Resurrection of My Heart

greed was a maggot
growing in my soul
each night in hell
it grew more foul

blackness blackness
spreading blackness
midnight blackness
clawing blackness

my life was barren with pain
hatred was nice
fuck you, or something
a dark sacrifice

i loved to cut me
then i found u and you're faith
set my soul free
i knew you would be true
theres a star in my heart
named after you

Jesus the Christ. This is easier and, curiously, more fun than I expected. I am humbled. You really have to try it. Only then can you understand that the power of the emotions overwhelms your power to punctuate and spell, and simultaneously robs your body of its ability to retch.

But seriously, over the last month, I've plotted to kill Senator Palantine

and started a collection of gold jewellery,

with a mohawk, obviously.

Next week, Omeed Rameshni has trouble with papadams. I'm Adam Ismail.

Tue, 04 Apr 2006 22:02:40 GMT

Food poisoning blows. I detect the hand of Kane in this.

Size Does Matter

Sat, 01 Apr 2006 22:23:09 GMT

Umm, I've been dabbling in photography. This unnecessarily arty photo is my first crack at a self-portrait. Tips on photo composition other than, "Get a better model," would be appreciated.

"Biscuit?"

Now, barmy old England is frightfully expensive. I swear, I was trying to save money by buying second-hand shit; now I have to deal with eBay addiction again. If you're one of those people who spams bids in the closing minutes of an eBay auction, don't let me know. I also bought some CDs from a real store.... Polvo, Polvo, Polvo ... after weeks of famine and Thorogood envy, salvation:

My penis is enormous.... Fearsome.... Baleful....
That's right. Get yourself a nice mental picture.

Forty pounds very well spent.

Music: Polvo, obviously
Mood: Happy that I can sleep again

Yeah.

Wed, 22 Mar 2006 03:40:22 GMT

I can say, without any trace of hesitation, that I'm a happy man.

After tomorrow, I'll be just about movie-ed out, as I'll have seen four films in one week: the Constant Gardener, Capote, Team America, and V for Vendetta. Two were fantastic, one was deliberately and enjoyably dreadful, and the last remains to be seen.

I was resigned to coping without a holiday for a year, except my supervisor announced today, to everyone's surprise, that he'd be in the States next week. Score. I might go for a hike from Oxford to Salisbury, stopping by Stonehenge to "[dance with] the little children of Stonehenge, beneath the haunted moon, for fear that daybreak might come too soon." That sounds fun.

Let's not forget the role of material possessions in happiness. I ordered myself a multimeter--one of those toys that Schultz used to pass around in high-school physics--and a Dremel, which is a rotary power tool that I'll be using to cut dire amounts of bacon. The end is extremely nigh.

Today is of the sucking

Sun, 19 Mar 2006 14:43:23 GMT

Tue, 14 Mar 2006 12:22:22 GMT

For fuck's sake, I ordered Polvo CDs two weeks ago and they're still not here.

Omeed Rameshni vs. the Giant Rat

Sat, 11 Mar 2006 01:52:41 GMT

Welcome to the programme.

I got a handful of presents today. It started with an all-expenses-paid cup of coffee. I knew something was up when people weren't demanding my lunch money to paid for their food and drink.

The day only got better when I got handed the new dEUS album, "Pocket Revolution."

Finally, I got a game ... an old, antique game dear to my heart.... This brought a tear to my eye:

"Halt, G@rDzKi11@!"

Mind you, it was a bit of a struggle to get this crude, square block to fit in the circular, Windows-XP hole; I haven't even started on the infestation of bugs in the programming. Somehow, this game's performance only gets worse as computers get better. These days, townsfolk and enemies dance wildly--furiously unable to leave their square. You walk in constant fear of falling through the floor. Strafing is fucked. But I love it. New-Wave Geography, the old switcheroo, the Annoying Store Music, *sniff* ... I'll be right back. Omeed Rameshni, where the hell is that giant rat? Isn't it time to stop lying to your friends?

Send me an e-mail if any of you folks want the game. You know who you are, scouring the bargain bins for games that look like they might crash like Daggerfall.

Fri, 10 Mar 2006 00:19:39 GMT

It was Alana's birthday yesterday and I figured I could see the Grates off. I guess I'll miss them ... the live music, the free entry, the free beer, the free crack, the free hookers, everything really ... except Conan. He is, put mildly, vile and putrid. I stayed the night, largely because I wanted to make sure he was leaving this island for good. I got Alana "One Hundred Years of Solitude" by Gabriel Garcia Marquez.

Today, I got matriculated.

"What's the secret to your youthful glow in this sun-forsaken country, Derek?"

You dress up in a suit, bow tie and gown, and listen to a man who happens to be the pro-vice-chancellor spout latin. If you're me, you've also called the man a sheepshagger in your earlier, ignorant conversation with him (cf. Volume 1: "Hey [Assistant Dean] Al [Grenfell], fuckin' ... [I shouldn't be saying this] shit.").

"Discover London with Derek Tan" or "Stay Home, Use Imagination, Save Money"

Sat, 04 Mar 2006 16:12:51 GMT

A guide to London written by an Australian? Well, being an outsider is only in part a handicap. I can simultaneously recognise my own ignorance and feel no apology for what my eyes tell me.

"What kind of cultural shock will I face, Derek?"

"Please ... call me Dr. Tan."

Brisbane: Blokes.

London: Kate and Emily, representatives of the two breeds of English lass:
terminally-ill white and reptilian orange.

In other news, I got a brain scan yesterday.

They found it.

Anyway, I was paid 25 quid to participate in this gambling study, on the condition that they could take pictures of my brain while I gambled away. Why not? Well, why: the machine is louder and more offensive than Kane's raving homosexuality. Afterwards, I gave them some tips on how to improve the randomisation algorithm from being "obviously not there" to "slightly noticeable."

After prancing home on all fours, I wanted to see if my brain still worked. A friend gave me a copy of "Eats, Shoots and Leaves" by Lynne Truss. Well, it appears to be some hybrid of grammatical rant and punctuation guide, and several people have said good things about it. I've read about half of it.

Now, although I'm not a grammarian, I know enough about grammar to say she isn't either. The book is rife with punctuation errors, some of which appear in sections devoted to their usage. Part of me wants to hate it, because nothing ruins a party like a clueless grammar nazi. Except lava. But....

I still like it. I like it a lot. Why? Well, it's frothy and histrionic, so it's right up my alley. Truss writes with a kind of righteous, half-crazed voice that's pretty addictive. And hey, I guess it's a good thing that she's creating awareness of good grammar: Something like the literary equivalent of Live8 ... and likely to be just as ineffective, really.

Yeah. Great fun to read. Her pointers are alright. The grammar with which they're made is not.

Sun, 26 Feb 2006 01:27:03 GMT

ARRRR....ALL YE SCURVY LANDLUBBERS BEWARE FOR BUNCANNER SHULTZ. ME BE GOING THERE TO HARPOON A WHALE OR TWO. OMEED RAMESHNI. ARRRRR. ARRRR. ME BE A SCURVY SEA CAPTIAN. LOOK OUT FOR ME C.D. BUCANEEER SHULTZ'S SEA SHANTY'S. ARRRRR.

Derek Tan Quits University, Except Not Really

Thu, 23 Feb 2006 22:18:32 GMT

Alright sluts. That's the first thing that's got to change. No more "alright sluts," sluts. We're going to do an experiment ... you like experiments. We're going to see how long my rating can stay PG-13, because I'm well aware of the sludge that my journal has become. I blame Kane.

So, someone let me know when you wouldn't want your kids to read this.

I had an argument with one of my neighbours about popularity. I'm an MP3 dinosaur, and he complained that Ogg Vorbis wasn't getting enough publicity. Since I didn't really have an argument besides laziness, I claimed that for it to become successful, it must sound cool.

OGG just sounds retarded. "And then I bashed him." "Bashing is fun!"

Betamax sounds like a drug or a second-rate cinema. "I saw Cecil down at the betamax ... you know, the place with the wanton strumpets."

PNG is somewhere you go to starve, get malaria and then shot.

Let's look at bird flu. People ... even governments ... are taking it seriously, right? Well, the advantage of sounding like a Star-Wars character aside, H5N1 has capitalised on the trend of combining numbers and letters to form popular concepts and band names. Haemagglutinin? Neuraminidase? Nonsense.

The rest of this post is serious and very skippable.

What I have been getting into is 'You Forgot It in People', by Broken Social Scene. They're some kind of Canadian inter-band orgy, and with a name like that, I wasn't quite sure what to expect. Now Conesy lent me this quite a while ago. I thought it was decent and loved Anthems for a Seventeen-Year-Old Girl. Now on the second take, it's pure gold. It's something like pop/indie rock with splashes of post-rock sound. I honestly haven't loved such a messy, sprawling album this much since the Lonesome Crowded West. It may not have inspired lyrics, but the diversity on this album is incredible: styles, instruments, moods, vocalists.... Certain tracks grab you because they're melodic and catchy, some are hypnotic for their beats or words, some are interesting because of dissonant structures, and 'Lover's Spit' is slow, deliberate and gorgeous. There's so much to grow on you. Does anyone want me to keep going? Here's my pick of the songs:

1. Lover's Spit
2. Shampoo Suicide
3. Anthems for a Seventeen-Year-Old Girl
4. Almost Crimes
5. Pacific Theme
6. I'm Still Your Fag
7. Stars and Sons
8. Pitter Patter Goes My Heart
9. Looks Just like the Sun
10. Cause = Time
11. Late Night Bedroom Rock for the Missionaries
12. Capture the Flag
13. KC Accidental

Leave yours.

Thu, 16 Feb 2006 20:35:55 GMT

That could be anyone in the mirror.

"[Let's] blow these fucking monsters off the face of the planet."

Wed, 15 Feb 2006 17:05:46 GMT

On the way back from London I picked up the newspaper. Ah, Britain. This is why they are the master race destined to rule the world. The ALF is the Animal Liberation Front, which is similar to a few movements in Australia, the way Jurassic behemoths are related to modern crocodiles, I guess.

The flower of freedom of expression in full bloom, enriched by advanced moral progress.

How funny is this? This is in a major publication, mind you.

Yesterday, I saw the Grates' first show in their tour of the UK. It's kind of surreal, but nice to see familiar faces in foreign places. Real nice. The Grates were good, and redeemed the passable and fucking dreadful performances of their second and first supports, respectively. I'm sure Conan will upload photos of the Grates and handsome men in vague, looking-upward-into-the-camera shots, eventually.

After stumbling out of King's Cross in the morning, finding my way back to Oxford was heaps of fun. There are at least three companies running London-Oxford services and NONE OF THEM CARE ABOUT THE OTHERS.

Honest Commuter: "Excuse me, is this the right bus for this ticket?"

Bus 1: "Nup."

Bus 2: "Sod off, swampy."

Information: "I think there are a couple of stations on the street, maybe."

Useless arseholes.

Conan bought the DVD set of the Mighty Boosh. He might end up hating it, but I'm envious nonetheless. This kind of nostalgia can only be sated by cheese, which "is a kind of meat."

Cult-following good for bones, entertainment career

Wed, 08 Feb 2006 02:48:07 GMT

Apparently, some of the people at the department play D&D. One of them managed to gurgle it out between the punches of a pummeling by thirty jocks.

What's D&D? Well, it's thinly-veiled Satan-worshipping that involves sacrifices, gifts and sexual favours provided to a dungeon master, who is the purveyor of imaginary magical powers to your close, personal, imaginary characters. It's responsible for between three and four billion suicides each year. Seven out of ten master demonologists start with D&D, so its status as a 'gateway' hobby is incontrovertible.

Google Advertisement: Nine out of ten master demonologists use Oral B.

Anyway, all cults have their devoted celebrities. Tom Cuise and John Travolta swear by Scientology; Vin Diesel and Donald Rumsfeld, D&D.

Donald Rumsfeld casting magic missile with poorly-disguised glee.

Rumsfeld, shame and repressed fury etched into his face, after being told by his dungeon master, "Your missile bruises the peasant." Crushed are his expectations of blazing fireball and radioactive fallout, and of increased penis size.
"You want ICB magic missile."

Rumsfeld changes his tie and revives both his dignity and characteric smirk with an expertly-timed Malik-Orgustus joke.

Why do I bother posting on this journal.

Mon, 06 Feb 2006 00:27:27 GMT

"Will somebody shine a light on these two retards?"

Have you been tattooing under a rock or at the bottom of a well? That's not safe, or hygenic.

I assume you're using Internet Explorer. There's a secret code to unlocking the "Mohammed Cartoons," much like the old-skool codes to get extra lives in Konami games.

Print out this guide for easy reference.

1. In Internet Explorer, press [CTRL] + [N]

2. Press [TAB]

3. Type "www.google.com" without the quotation marks

4. Wait five seconds, then type "mohammed cartoons"

5. Press [TAB] twice and then [ENTER]

Alright, that was a bit ridiculous, but you're still a cockrobber. Apparently the cartoons aren't big news in Australia. It's a European thing, I hear.

In short, a Danish newspaper published some provocative cartoons depicting Muhammed, the ultimate prophet of Islam. There were twelve. They're pretty hard to find now, so here are two saucy ones:

The uproar has polarised most European nations into either the "freedom of speech" or "offensive blasphemy" camps. Norway and a few others have re-printed the cartoons.

Obviously, the shit has hit the fan: You have violent protests, every terrorist threat under the sun, lucrative bounties, embassies burned to the ground, and billion-dollar boycotts, or something.

I think it's time for a serious update.

Before I comment on the conflict itself, I should mention that the cartoons, or the satirising of Islam, are long overdue. The two images I posted above are on the extreme end of the Islamophobic scale, but in general, I feel the cartoons are a legitimate criticism of Muslims.

The majority of the world sets great store by freedom of speech, which places nothing above critical examination and includes the freedom to ridicule and offend. Islam seems to have no shortage of men willing to commit beheadings and bombings in its name and justify these atrocities by its teachings. Naturally, people will utilise this freedom to express views that may upset Muslims.

Criticising Islam and Muhammed is not inherently wrong. No one can seriously argue that the protesters' actions have been anything but absurd. When presented with the argument of freedom of speech, their reactions show a mixture of insecurity and an unwillingness to accept or understand Western concepts and culture. But back to absurdity: Most of the newspapers involved are independent, and not government owned nor produced. Will burning a few embassies restore the dignity to Muhammed's name that the cartoons stole? If it's offense at depiction of the prophet, well, just because Islam bars depiction of the Prophet, doesn't mean they can force others to do the same.

Although in another fashion, I guess Muslims have shown that freedom of expression is not a right enjoyed solely by the West. Burning flags is a bit extreme, but "I disagree" is coming across fairly strong.

I'm going to leave this side of the argument, as Islamic controversy is pretty well documented.

But now, the newspapers. It's a bit of an understatement to say the cartoonists have bad taste and the cartoons are insensitive, but I think there's more than one reason. The first is obvious: "Muhammed = terrorist." Nice.

Moreover, just because (scathing) criticism of religion is acceptable in our society does not mean it must be so in other cultures. It's true that these cartoons are less offensive than what is routinely printed in our newspapers about presidents, prime ministers and even sporting heroes. This is where cultural insensitivity is more subtle--despite first impressions, I think the comparisons are irrelevant.

"Freedom of speech" as a complete defence is bullshit, because there are topics that are taboo even in Western society. I can't think of any off the top of my head, but they most definitely exist. Actually, I've got a few: secular symbols, such as flags, and the Holocaust. Speaking to a few Muslims, most of them use a tone that you might reserve, say, for talking about your mother who died of cancer. Apparently "the West has lost respect for the sacred."

In summary: whiteys, tell the Muslims to "fuck off" for being over-sensitive; Muslims, the Koran clearly calls on believers to kill unsaved heathens (Koran 4:89).

Quote me. I might write more when I'm not so tired. If no one comments, I'm going to be disappointed.

Sat, 04 Feb 2006 23:42:02 GMT

I think it would be funny if the cause of World War III were those Muhammed cartoons.

For Kane

Wed, 01 Feb 2006 03:16:15 GMT

For Kane.

What's the moral of the story?

Nothing ruins a party like lava.

I promised you pictures, part 2

Sat, 28 Jan 2006 15:11:00 GMT

Alright, I've had plenty of time to be bitter and emo so I think it's time for a hefty update. Somebody smack me for being bitter. I should be thinking about the white guys whose jobs and spots at university I stole.

DPhil's going alright. I still don't quite know what to pass these three years doing.... I've got a couple of options, all in the realm of mathematical biology, naturally. Know anything about convergent extension or somitogenesis?

I doubt anyone cares, but I'm glad I can explain what groundbreaking research I'm doing in a couple of sentences, say, over a meal. There's nothing worse than sitting down at dinner and offering "Parallel preconditioners based on partitioning sparse matrices."

"Oh," they stammer, "I was never any good at that in high school."

Maybe I'll do infectious diseases. Bird flu seems to be all the rage these days. It'll make my life easy ... pretty soon I'll have to write a report selling my topic and do up a poster.

Here at a leading, world-class research institution, we
know that Nazi occupation is the imminent pandemic.

How good ... is doing a degree by research.

What else. Happy Australia day, folks. Normally, I think it's the height of lameness to go to a different country and hang out fellow Aussies. If I wanted to see drunk blokes, talk about Paul Keating and trade "Eeeee, fuckin'"s, I'd buy a carton of beer, go to 35 Cavan street and save myself two grand. But back to me not being lord of the lame-heap: Since it was Australia day though, hanging out with Aussies seemed reasonable enough. It turned out that, for the small price of singing Advance Australia Fair to the pub, I'd get free beer. Score. I even sang the oft-overlooked fifth verse where we'll "stamp the aboriginal blight from our lands / gather their children in joyful strides / dash their brains against the rocks."

The tennis has been fun.

Bacon every day has been great.

The London-Oxford bus is expensive.

I've been promising people real pictures for weeks and here they are.

The front gate of the college.

Outside, by the main road.

The Front Quad of the college, which is in a forsaken spot out the back.

Where we take our meals, robed or disrobed.
In casual dress, I mean.

The field where we play Quidditch.

Obviously, these are all very picturesque shots of a very pretty college (that's some college spirit coming through there). Not that anyone wants to see a few shabby shots of the city anyway. That being said....

Oxford may be the best part of a millenium old, but attitudes, tastes and sloth have come a long way. Burgeoning wizardry colleges need fast food too, you know.

Sifn't Macca's.

I heard Big Day Out was a bit of alright. Has anyone seen C.L. Thorogood, or has he fallen off the face of the earth, his ego leaving the atmosphere ... I mean, when are the Grates coming?

That's the end of the programme. Until next week, I'm Derek Tan.

Providence

Tue, 17 Jan 2006 00:30:57 GMT

Today, day 7 in Oxford.

Jet lag: 6, Dez: 1

Today was the day I completely overcame my jet lag ... by having my first big sleep in.
I think I mentioned previously that this was my first day of uni as well.

Life: 1, Dez: 0

Apart from the inconvenient start, my day at the Mathematical Institute went pretty well. I got the lectures that I will be joining, to ensure I have the right background, sorted out ... and met lots of quasi-friendly mathematicians. Cultural differences pale in comparison to the universal nature of mathematicians, shall we say.

But that's all superficial. I came away quite impressed, daunted even. It could be QUT, or perhaps it could be my 18 month break, but a brief skim of the lecture notes tells me that the maths I'm going to face will be terrifying.

Maybe it's because I miss Australian accents, but Aussie music has been keeping me real happy.

5. The Giants of Science
What can I say about the Giants that hasn't already been said? Well, I could say that they're shit, but really, they're *the shit*. They're a classic rock lineup, and they play a solid, driven kind of sound that isn't too subtle. Here Is the Punishment doesn't really rock me the same way their two previous releases did.

4. Bluebottle Kiss
It's either BBK or I spend the rest of the afternoon giggling about Malik Orgustus. BBK are fairly new to me, courtesy of my music consultant Conan. They're good ... varied ... interesting ... I really can't give a good reason as to why I'm listening to them so much.

3. Dappled Cities Fly
What a retarded name. As far as I know, these guys have only ever put out one album: A Smile; however it's gettin lots of airplay with me. Catchy and funky, Flaming Lips comparisons come to mind, as do the Shins, but, really, you could go on all day about their inspirations, obvious or perceived. But hmmm, the bookends of a Smile are a little weak.

2. Turnpike
Because I need to get my arse kicked by bizarre, angular rock every now and then.

1. Augie March
They're everything I like in music: beautiful, complex, emotional and poetic. Folky, dreamlike and ethereal are the other adjectives that musos direct at Augie March, quite fairly. Their music definitely deserves to be flogged here in the UK. Sunset Studies is a rock-solid contender for my favourite album of all time, and, dear lord, Owen's Lament....

I feel I should honourably mention the Grates, who will be rockin' the neighbourhood in March.

And the Dirty Three, who crafted Authentic Celestial Music, which is fucking flawless.