Made by my head
Music, Ireland. Grey, name. My name. A step ladder. This house was built in a bog. Music is the window. I fell off a step ladder.

Saturday, February 25, 2006


Music. The Chalets.

I've never been more here. Here has never been more now. My foot is stuck in the box I kicked and I'm going to kick it again as soon as I get my foot out. They just fall into swimming pools with Greta Garbo, and where's Greta Garbo? "She's in the swimming pool." No she's not, she's dead. My car is on fire.

Did I just say my car was on fire?

Repeat of the paragraph where I said my car was on fire:

I was talking to a bar maid in a bar, and a speech bubble suggested that I asked her if her ankle used to be in Depeche Mode, but I was really just telling her about Greta Garbo and the swimming pool. I don't know if she slapped me across the face because of what I said or because of what the speech bubble suggested I said.

Band: The Chalets.

Album: Check In.

They're one of the few bands who know what their feet, hair and ears are for.


Kitty didn't know that when she wrote the letter to Bizet (I think the thing that Kitty didn't know was that Bizet is dead) but (but I think the real question is 'who is Kitty?') although (you might be thinking that the real question is 'why can't you answer these things?') but you're wrong. A thought bubble over my head says that Kitty is a fool. Her speech bubble says my car is on fire.

Saturday, February 18, 2006


Music. The Would Be's.

I saw a drummer with a walking stick. I pointed at him and said, "Look, a drummer with a walking stick." He hit me with a shovel and said, "It's not a walking stick." But it was.

I've spent most of the past week looking at a snow dome with a bee in it. The bee looks very happy every time I shake the snow dome. I took a brief break from it on Valentine's Day. I got a wheelbarrow full of leaves and a few Valentine's cards for my girlfriend. I emptied the contents in front of her and she said, "Aww." A man with a 'press' card in his hat said, "Did you steal my coat?" This interview's over.

Band: The Would Be's.

Song: My Radio Sounds Different in the Dark.

This is one of the greatest Irish singles by one of the greatest bands with one of the shortest lifespans. They released a few classic singles in 1990 and 1991, and then split up. They re-appeared about five years ago with two more excellent singles, and disappeared again. I'm sure I'm not the only one waiting for a great Would Be's album. You can download the band's Peel Session in this post at The Perfumed Garden.

The press man drew a picture of me stealing his coat and it appeared in the paper. This gave the drummer another excuse to hit me with the walking stick. "It's a shovel." I'd look at the bee in the snow dome to forget about this, but the bee has gone to school with a bag on his back. He looked very happy. I think there's something wrong with the bee.

Saturday, February 11, 2006


Music. Bray Vista.

My senses keep telling me I've got a neck. This Coke bottle tells me I sold my neck to the devil at a crossroads. It's all academic anyway - I'm stuck in a tree.

The bright sun, the shadows of the leaves, waiting in the drawing room where Miss Marple has gathered us all and then then thennnn then then then thennnnn if I knew Morse code I'd know what happens then. Actually there's nothing 'then' because I'm stuck in a tree.

Band: Bray Vista.

Album: Sing my Darling

They're a country band. They're more country than crying because your ex has glued your car keys to a radiator as a work of conceptual art, which isn't really country at all, but they're much, much more country than that. They're from Bray.


Saturday, February 04, 2006


Music. Ash.

A cow was looking at my curtains. And then I looked at my curtains too because I was wondering what the cow was looking at. And then my phone book was gone. I really should have been looking at the cow.

Looking at the goldfish (point at them with a 'that's a goldfish' sign). I'm a private detective and I'm about to solve my latest case (I'm wearing a hat with a card in it that says 'private detective') but I've mis-spelt 'detective'. It doesn't matter anyway - someone is standing next to me with a sign that says 'He's not; his name is Grey and he writes a stupid blog about music'.

And no, the case I was working on had nothing to do with the cow and my phone book.

Band: Ash.

Album: Meltdown.

I don't know if I was supposed to use the word 'bees' or 'shovel'. Bees. Shovel. Maybe if I try using them in a sentence: Arr, a pirate ship. That didn't really help. Ash are better than both of them anyway.


He shoots, he scores, he glues himself to a lilac tree. Let's kick him.

A walk in the rain - Poetry. Ireland. Reading the news with no trousers.
Very Slight Stories - Very short stories.
Henry Seaward-Shannon - Slightly longer short-stories.

More blogs about music.


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