Pet musical peeves.

“What kind of music do you like?” Fuck. Who can answer a question like that? I HAVE FUCKING THOUSANDS OF ALBUMS, MOTHERFUCKER. IF YOU

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The good parts.

iTunes beat into people’s heads that they could buy a single song instead of a CD of two good songs and lots of crappy

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Artist’s shit.

This week, the cheap shitty MP3 player is filled with improvised noise. I have entirely too high a tolerance for this sort of thing if it’s the right genre, in this case early industrial — all those albums from the eighties released in limited editions of a few hundred for the Artist’s Shit market.

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Music is free. In China.

Google now gives away legal downloads in China. And thus the official market catches up with the kids with 500GB USB drive parties. Meanwhile,

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The Boat That Rocked

I was hoping The Boat That Rocked would at least be fictionalised reality about British pirate radio in the sixties, in the manner of

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Albatross.

Saw a girl on the tube with a Get Hip Records bag. I told her I approved. I’m contemplating my own half a ton

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