All Your Basses Are Belong To Us

November 19, 2008 at 13:28 (Music, News, Reviews, Video Games) (, , , , , , , , , , , )

However misguided the R&B ambitions of Jack White and Alicia Keys’ Quantum of Solace may be, it’s been much too long, I fear, since I last indulged in such bombastic bass, and “Another Way to Die” fills that sweaty pit of sub-sound perfectly.

Still haven’t seen the movie, though.

So who saw this coming?

How Many Million Bicycles in Beijing?

How Many Million Bicycles in Beijing?

I’m enough of a dyed-in-the-wool Guns N’ Roses fan that this album already means more to me than the punchline I imagine much of the rest of the world will hear it as, but all the leaks have meant there are only five songs I haven’t already heard a hundred times over.  “There Was A Time” is still my favourite; I’m such an outright sucker for rock ballads I should be pelted with animal crackers until dead.

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Two new reviews for you all to take a gander at.  Actually, come to think of it, six reviews, I suppose — the Puzzle Pack and the Power Pack collect together three PSN titles apiece.  The latter is decidedly the better of the pair, and while it’s great value for money – both are, but I’d sell my remaining grandparents for flOw – I can’t help but be a bit disappointed SCEE seem more intent on wringing a few more sales out of some middle of the road downloadable games than genuinely representing the unique strengths of the PlayStation Network.  Still.  A tenner and change makes for an incredible deal that’ll keep anyone with a PSP busy during what little downtime they have between the flood of triple-A console and PC releases.

Soundtrack to this entry: Donovan – Hurdy Gurdy Man

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Chinese Democracy of One

July 21, 2008 at 15:39 (Music, Rants) (, , , , , , )

I don’t know that I can justify my unfettering love for Guns n’ Roses.

I certainly don’t feel it – ah, the aches of early-onset age – but that said, I’m ever-so-slightly too young to have grown up with Axl yowling in my ears.  Thanks to my Dad’s occasional benders and his unfailing ability to work a record player even when utterly out of it, there was plenty of Led Zeppelin, lots of Dire Straits and ZZ Top and the Beatles; I think I’m most grateful to him for the Pink Floyd, but that’s neither here nor there – suffice it to say I’m not altogether surprised my favourite ladies get on with him so well.  But whatever he wanted to soundtrack his too infrequent booze-ups with, it was never GnR.

There was no Guns n’ Roses on the radio, either – wow, remember the radio?

There was Whigfield, 2 Unlimited, Shaggy, East 17, Eternal, PJ and hot-damn Duncan.  And what a tragic fucking youth that could have been.  By the time I was old enough to take an interest in music, it… well, it sucked, as far as I knew.  I heard plenty of it, but I made time for none of it.  It was when Dad got drunk – or rather, after he’d gotten drunk and the anger had passed – that I started to care.  It was at New Year’s and whenever our childminder, Walter, turned up with a bottle of malt to drink him under the table.

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