I was invited to a birthday party recently at the local freemasons lodge, the birthday boy was vice-buffalo or something.

Jesus wept, the level of pomposity had to be seen to be believed, chandeliers, candlesticks, subdued lighting (dark) and art a plenty decking the hallowed halls. When the bison-in-chief made a speech, the other members seemed to bow their heads in reverence, I'm not making this up.

There were a couple of sinister (or old guys trying to be sinister) guards to stop riff-raff coming in when folks went out to smoke and us revelers going down the "red passage" or some such nonsense, wonder what was down there. All regional accents seemed to be jettisoned at the door.

Now the birthday boy is basically a good lad, married to a close friend of the wife and a local doctor, so I tried hard to cut them some slack but I left the party feeling uneasy about the whole thing. I think it was a combination of the feeling of secrecy and religious undertones combined with prominent people looking very serious. It was really creepy.

So, what is the massive's take on freemasonry?

on a Swedish chat show. Earlier today, I was reading the Elton John article in Word (I know...I've been busy) and I'm sitting here listening to Izitso for the first time in years.

I'm thinking, not for the first time, how lucky I was to have grown up in the 70s and how interesting it is to sit here 40 years later and see how the players have evolved. There is no bigger fan of Elton than me but my toes were fair curling reading the piece as he obviously still feels the need to be continuously "on".

Cat/Yusuf, on the other hand, seemed serenely comfortable in his own 60+ year old skin, played a few bars of Father and Son and generally enthralled the audience with his intelligence and poise. I couldn't help thinking that he has ultimately emerged among his contemporaries as the tortoise in the race to be cool.

Lykke Li was on the same program by the way, wonder how that will turn out?

http://www.guardian.co.uk/music/2010/dec/02/mick-hucknall-apologies-to-1...

I had no idea, he kept that quiet.

I have lived abroad since the late 70s and, by 1990 my sense of patriotism was still high and, being an ardent football fan, I was really looking forward to Italia 90.

My eldest son, then 7, could not help but be infected with my enthusiasm and, although he had a tenuous grasp of football at that stage, dutifully watched the opening games by my side. He soon understood this it is much more fun to watch football if you support a team and, through a 7 year olds eyes, the concept of nationial loyalty came a poor second to bright colours and cool kits so he chose Holland (orange shirts) and Germany (a lightening bolt design on their shirts). As you can imagine, this aberration on his part had to be swiftly corrected so I had a serious talk with him which, of course, only meant that he would regularly shout "I love Holland / Germany" at me whereupon I would dutifully shriek with anguish and chase him, Keystone Cops like, around the kitchen to whoops of laughter, this was a great game (for him, got a bit tiring for me).

Another trick I tried was to threaten to take him out of my passport. The previous year, we had been home to England to visit my parents and I had added him to my passport instead of his mothers which was a big deal for him as it had given him some playground kudos. Again, the sequence was a derogatory remark about England on his part followed by a “if you say that again I’ll take you out of my passport” at which point he would look to the beacon of reason and truth (ie his mother) with a "does he really mean that" look and, of course, got a reply to the negative, where upon another cry of "England is rubbish" ensued followed by more Keystone Coppery.

As the tournament wore on however, undoubtedly influenced by my increasing levels of insanity, he stopped the taunting and started to sit dutifully beside me as we rode the England roller coaster of emotions, now a firm England fan. Then came the semi final. To him, I must have seemed like a person possessed as kick off time approached, pacing up and down, calling friends in England to discuss the tactics etc (remember, no SMS, Twitter or even internet in those days to take the edge off). We sat through the game, my levels of hysteria constantly reaching new peaks and when the final penalty was missed I honestly can’t remember what I did but I’m sure a degree of howling, arms thrown into the air and (mild) profanities were in the mix. Anyway, the point was that my son saw his father out of control for a brief period, and when I looked at him I saw to my horror that he was crying his eyes out, I started to move towards him to comfort him but he shot off the sofa and ran bawling to his room. Now I’m sure that the parents among you will agree with me that there is nothing so gut wrenching as seeing your small child crying real tears, especially when you are the reason for said tears.

I looked at Mrs W who shot me one of her “now look what you’ve done. If you don’t fix this immediately you will suffer in ways you cannot even begin to comprehend” looks. This was not the first (or last) time I had seem this look but I have never seen it laced with the same intensity as that evening.

I dutifully trudged off to my son’s bedroom, sat by his bed and tried to console the sobbing child by explain that it really wasn't so important, it’s only a game – sob, sob – look son, I’m sorry, I wasn’t really that upset, I was only playing – sob, sob..It’s all your fault!!! – I know love, listen I’m really sorry but I’m really not that bothered, its only football etc, at which point my son turned his head and looked at me through puffy, tear swollen eyes and said “it IS all your fault, if you hadn’t threatened to take me out of your passport, I would have been supporting Germany”

Kids eh?

when visiting my old Dad, we have a routine of watching Bargain Hunt over lunch. For the uninitiated, this is a daytime antiques type quiz, pretty standard fare hosted by one Tim Wonnacott who is, by all accounts, a bona fide expert in the field. One of the regular spots is when he finds an object in the fair and talks for a short while about its history and potential value. On one day last week, I saw this:

Now, I'm willing to bet that that took several takes and my first thought was that I would LOVE to see the outtakes.

So, Massive, any favourite outtakes? Or, indeed, euphemisms.

I'm a sucker for sick jokes (sue me) and always have been and I have always prided myself that nothing shocks me. I certainly don't find all sick humour funny and if I think someone is trying to shock first and be funny second, eg. Jimmy Carrs comments about the army providing tomorrows paralympics team, I just think to myself what a prick he is and move on. I don't get upset, just dismissive.

So, why did I find Frankie Boyle's comments about the Downs Syndrome kids so offensive?

Does anyone else think he crossed a line here or is it just me getting old?

is anyone in music more marmite than Tom Waits?

Have you ever heard anyone say, "ah, he's allright I suppose"? .....didn't think so.

I think this is wonderful but I know many will disagree (violently in the case of GLW).

As everyone has either a) gone home to their loved ones and/or b) are having trouble hitting the on switch, let me be the first to thank all, especially Hannah and the organising committee for a fantastic evening at the Lamb tonight. I'm sure there will be others adding more detailed content, and I did see some cameras, so I'll leave it here for now. Suffice it to say that a good time was had by all, and there were a tidy few!

I just read the Jah Wobble article in the latest (for me) edition. He seems to come across as this east end, salt of the earth bloke and a bit of a hard man to boot, bit of a brickie with a soft side.

Hang about - isnt this the same Jah Wobble who holds the distinction of being the only artist in the history of Later with Jools Holland to refuse to play in the opening jam, claiming that it was demeaning to his art.

another candidate for the most Pretentious Prick in Rock anyone?

A recent thread about coolness got me thinking about a couple of weeks ago when I was driving home late at night and decided to listen to one of my favourite albums of all time. I hadn't listened to it for a couple of years and it is one of those albums which really come into their own at special times, in my case driving late at night along empty roads or sprawled on the sofa in, that very definition of a relaxed state, which comes between a heavy night and bed. Another quirk of this album is that it has (to me at least) to be listened to in its entirety in the correct order. As the last track faded away I couldn’t help feeling, not for the first time, that this piece of work is very, very special.

So, where does coolness come into this? Well, for most people, including (perhaps especially) fans of the band in question, this particular album will never be cool despite the fact that they have probably listened to it and enjoyed it more than most of their library.

It also belongs to a genre of music in which involves a good deal of chin stroking and where there is a lot of kudos in obscurity, so it goes violently against the grain to admit that one of your favourite albums is, not only the biggest commercial success of the band in question, but one of the biggest commercial successes in the history of music. In short, it carries the stigma of popularity.

They are much more likely to say something like “I like everything they did except THAT”, or “it was OK but I preferred their early stuff”, or “this is where they sold out”…you know how it goes. It’s a bit like Stairway to Heaven, most Led Zep fans say they never liked it but, in reality, I suspect most of them did at the time.

So, you may have guessed we are talking 70s here and, for those who like this music and perhaps, like me, grew up with it, I would like to challenge you to look me in the eye, put your hand on your heart and deny that Dark Side of the Moon is one of the most remarkable albums ever made.

Can’t do it can you? Well, not many of you anyway, that’s what I thought. Don’t worry, your secrets safe with me.

uplifting is the word I was looking for

for his bosses at the Daily Record.

http://www.chortle.co.uk/news/2009/06/28/9180/boyle_quits_over_michael_j...

Well, heres why:

"So the Michael Jackson roller coaster has stopped. Looks like he got enough.

Apparently he died after walking into a pub in Paisley and saying “Do you wanna be starting something?” We can all learn something from Michael’s life. For example, it looks like oxygen tents are a big waste of money.

Why did no one pick up on it when he had shown all the signs of a heart attack? Wheezing noises, jerking of the arms, ashen complexion? I suppose to be fair he has been showing all those symptoms since the mid eighties. Had Jackson’s staff noticed something was wrong earlier he might have been saved, but when they saw him grab his left arm, go stiff and yelp they just thought he was practising his moves for Beat It.

It’s not known what triggered the heart attack, but High School Musical 3 was on cable at the time.

In many ways he was a tragic figure. Let’s be honest, he had more personal issues than Batman.Who could have imagined that the monster he transformed into in “Thriller” would look less weird than what he transformed into in real life? It’s got to be a tossup whether he get cremated or recycled. His postmortem will look like the Roswell autopsy.

I was a big Michael Jackson fan when I was 8. I didn't know it at the time, but I was his 'type.'

For his London concerts Michael Jackson advertised for children in wheelchairs or with missing legs! What parent would agree to that? Look what happened with kids who could run away!

Those tickets sold out in minutes. An interesting attitude we have to paedophilia in this country, “ We don’t want paedophiles round here! Unless they’ve really worked on their choreography…”

He was a legend and his funeral will be amazing. Ironically the funeral will be the first time in years his children haven’t been forced to wear veils.

With the amount of money the concert tickets have made I wouldn’t be surprised if they still wheeled him on. It would add an interesting touch to I’ll Be There. Michael Jackson was apparently refusing to eat ahead of his O2 gigs. He now weighed less than nine stone and the only thing he would eat willingly was nachos. Nachos being the name of a young Mexican boy.

It’s said that Jackson had developed a phobia about being fat. Not like him to worry about his looks.

Apparently when the news broke Jackson’s father rushed straight to the hospital, just to check if the medics needed a hand with beating Michael’s chest.

Jackson’s family said they were moved to see that the hospital staff were all wearing black. Actually, they were all wearing white as usual, but that family had always had a little trouble admitting the difference. The man may be gone but he has left a musical legacy that will be around for hundreds of years. As will his face."

Ouch!

Reading a recent thread on Rod Stewart made me realise how often an artist has a parabolic career path and the time at the summit is often extremely short. If they have the good grace to do the decent rock star thing and die young (or take brain damaging amounts of drugs) when they are at, or near this point, their legend will be sealed for ever. If not, well lets think of a few examples:

Jimi Hendrix: would we all look at his blistering (if short) body of work as a masterpiece if he had spent the best part of the last 40 years in Las Vegas.

Talking of Las Vegas, would Elvis have been perhaps better served by taking a dodgy plane ride a few years before the peanut butter and jelly sandwiches took hold. Alternatively, you can wonder how much more embarrassing would he have got had his heart not given out.

If Rod had turned his toes up in 74 or so, we would all be wistfully wondering where his genius would have taken him, maybe Elton too...definitely Clapton.

The fact is, there are extremely few musicians who have evolved over 40 years and can still hold their head high, I give you Dylan, Neil Young...erm, there must be others. Most are on their 10th comeback / reformation churning out the same stuff or simply drifted into MOR banality, trading on their name (I would put Clapton in that category, some may disagree).

A positive example of 60 somethings who can still (or could until recently) claim credibility - Pink Floyd. How I dreaded Live 8 as, although I'm not a huge Floyd fan, they did nearly wear out the cassette in the old Vauxhall Victor a few years ago and I wanted to remember them "in their time". No problem! They looked 60 odd and seemed comfortable with it, played well and my toes uncurled nicely.

A negative example - got to be the Rolling Stones. If I want to watch Spitting Images, I'll hire a DVD.

came across this again the yesterday. If theres a better example of how to do a "goodbye event" I havent seen it. Not a tear a-dripping or even a lip a-wobbling yet still incredibly moving and, as Joe escorts Mrs H offstage, they look genuinely pleased that everyone could make it.

sorry if this is old news, I've been travelling but I just saw this http://www.wordmagazine.co.uk/content/look-its-mark-kate-and-theyre-read....

Is it just me who sees an uncanny resemblence? OK Mark, I'll let you off with uncle and niece.