Latest ten days of posting
Weblog | I don't like the word blog, it's ugly. Anyway, new content happens here. (Swedish dito)
About me and the site | Twenty-something male who likes text. Obsessed with things such as books, reality, communication, and one or two tv-shows.
Archives | Things written here since... well, 2001. Some of it is good, some is utter shait.
Books | Books read, not books written. So far I've struggled to maintain unpublished.
Photo | I like my camera and it likes me.
Links | Outwards, away, flee.
e-mail | J. Nicklas Andersson
Search the site
If you’re going to buy at least one record album that can be sorted under female-with-piano, you can do a whole lot worse than choosing Tori Amos’ Scarlet’s Walk. You could for instance by mistake pick up Norah “your body will perform euthanasia out of boredom” Jones. You could, but I hope it’s unlikely. If you do, I guess you listen to the Strokes as well and then my friend, it’s time to quote that song by the Doors. But anyway. Scarlet’s Walk. Better music.
The song A Sorta Fairytale is the best thing I’ve heard since I bought Curve’s Come Clean. And that says a lot I think. Well, Tommy does. It is a complete different genre, but just as the Curve record, it gives me these images in my head. Like a showcase by Dave McKean. Curve gives dark visions, blood and metal soaked in fire, and bizarre things from nightmares. Tori Amos is much lighter in tone, warm colours, and more organic all around I guess, but still as bizarre. Both is haunting though. They refuse to let go.
Interesting things happen to my mind when both artists are played back to back, but I won’t give away what. Not yet.
One of my bookmarks from Uppsala English Bookshop died today at the Första-Tisdagen-I-Månaden-Pubmötet. It drowned in Antes beer when it flooded the table. Luckily my copy of Iain Banks Raw Spirit survived. Largely thanks to the coating on the cover. All damage that occurred was that a small bit of the right edge got wet. A rather small bit. If I cut of a millimetre no one can tell what happened to it. But right now it has a faint smell of beer. Somehow I can’t help to think that it would be far more appropriate if it had been whisky instead.