In the spirit (ka-boom) of this week's Word Newsletter entry (New York Times vs The Wall St Journal, via the medium of Taiwanese animation), I found this. It covers the story of, as the title would suggest, a woman who mistook a lingerie thief for a ghost. Love the way the narrator and gfx artist collaborated to make the word ghost as chilling as possible.

It would seem Channel 5 news still has some way to go...

Went to see Hooky's An Evening of Unknown Pleasures last night at The Glee Club in Birmingham. Compered by Howard Marks, the do is a sweet treat of chat and good humour. Hook and Marks (or Hook and Crook, as Marks commented) make a good double-act, albeit one slow to warm up due to Mr Marks' evident 'speed-of-speech OR the life style' state. However, once it got going the night was like Hook's book 'The Hacienda: How Not To Run A Club' come to life. The evening is big on laughs, and Hook is candid, throwing half the night open to questions from the audience. The love/hate state of his relationship with Bernard Sumner was very much - inevitably - in attendance, with Hooky flipping between some cheeky pokes at his former partner in crime and obviously loving (and rather bruised) efforts to defend Sumner's honour.

There are a few musical moments book-ending the evening, generally revolving around Hook playing over backing tapes, and it was a bit ramshackle (what with it being the first night), but really it's about PH's current turn as an ace rock raconteur. There was a whole heap of memorabilia on show, too, which had most of the punters engrossed at the start of the night and during the intermission. Definitely worth seeing if you get the chance, and it actually got me thinking that more faces should be exploring this model.

Subsequently having a bit of a New Order morning, so thought I'd add some loveliness for the Massive...

I've been umming and arring about picking up Jonathan Lethem's Fortress of Solitude. Can any of the Massive give feedback, as I've not read any of the man's work before. I was tempted by the new Michael Chabon, Manhood for Amateurs, yesterday; I really couldn't get on with The Yiddish Policemen's Union, but Manhood looked like a return to more accessible ground. However, at hardback prices during these days of unemployment, it will have to wait.

This actually made me cry, I laughed so much...

With only one more episode of Mad Men to go before the end of season three, there's always the Mad Men Barbies to play with. And yes, there is no shame, they're available to order from the official Mad Men site...

No, not a euphemism, but clearly Bazza's lunge for the vacated Paul Newman gap in the film/food market.

Spotted them in my local Sainsbury's on Saturday; didn't buy, though, as I'm not too up on Barry Norman's food rep. Are they any good?

Has Claudia Winkleman only taken the Film 2010 chair as she plans to market her unique way with a frankfurter?

Here's a question for the Massive: what the heck happened to Jerry Dammers' teeth? He looks - at least in oral terms - like some boozy old tramp who's rotted his front end with too much sugary alcohol, or else a rabid speed freak grinding down the wrong side of chemically accelerated dental dissolve. Yet, as soon as he opens his mouth, he's clearly a man of relative health...

Has Jerry Dammers got the worst teeth in Pop? He certainly makes Joe Strummer look handsome; however, I suspect Head Pogue McGowan must hold the golden toothbrush-shaped trophy for molar malevolence. But as he's undead, does he actually count?

(Lifted this from The Guardian's Viral video chart...) Adobe are working on a feature called Content Aware, which will make the removal of objects and the editing of unwanted imperfections out of photos much easier. The name of the application is the key: Photoshop will decide what will show through from the background when something is removed; will act with awareness of overall picture content. Easier said than done to our human brains, but bear in mind computers up until now have only been able to read pictures as a collection of zeroes and ones. Now, with this function, we are into the realm of computers making educated assumptions given the actual visual content to us humans. Of course, computers have been able to do a minor visual manipulation of late, by adding lens flare or blurring an area, but that is small fries compared to the unprompted removal of entire objects and the replacement what might be behind.

From here, the time when search engines will be able to scan the internet for actual picture content, rather than by name, is therefore getting ever nearer, and that scene in Blade Runner when Deckard pokes around the otherwise impossible depths of a 2D photographic space are theoretically around the corner.

(Tip, in the first instance, the narrator is editing trees in the distance, and off-centre-right. The guide lines he uses aren't initially that easy to spot against the background)...

There's a free download of the opening track, 'Oh, The Divorves' from Tracey Thorn's new album over on her website. Subtle, un-dance-y, but with gorgeous vox, as usual...

http://www.traceythorn.com/

I'm almost to the end of 1973 in Nick Kent's decade-spanning memoir, and have to say I'm thoroughly enjoying it. Bit slow to start, but by the above year it's cooking on gas (or perhaps a blackened spoon held over a grubby Bic lighter). The characters come thick and fast, so even once you've convinced yourself you'll only read until the next paragraph break before putting the light out, another maniac slides in to the narrative to hold your attention further.

Good stuff!

Am I the only one that fails to grasp the excessive hyperbole that surrounds Dr.Who? With the new Dr coming in, Matt Smith seems to be everywhere, not least being paraded as some kind of kooky fashion icon by the increasingly smug Guardian newspaper.

I loved Queer As Folk, but via Dr Who, Russell T Davies seemed to get swiftly elevated to the level of genius, which put me right off him.
Equally David Tennant seemed to get elevated to level of a Shakespearean actor (literally via his much-hyped role in Hamlet, and figuratively, via the amount of attention he received, and the parts he was offered over winter 2009), and I can't honestly see the appeal; I didn't even think he was that good at playing the Doctor for a start: all knowing looks and purposefully raised eyebrows, lacking any sense of subtlety, and a bit too heavy on the camp.

Am I missing something or have the BBC just done a fine job of rolling the proverbial snowball of hype down the media mountain, and the Dr.Who franchise is now an unstoppable, self-propelled wrecking ball, crashing all the headlines? Is the series really that good, or even that popular? I tried watching it and was quite disappointed. Granted, as I'm in my late 30s and without kids I know I'm not the show's target demographic, but I was actually quite disappointed at how very average it was, in terms of look, feel and content.

Having just read Mick Wall's Axl Rose biography (well, I needed a break whilst chewing my way through the Gram Parsons 'Twenty Thousand Roads' work by David Meyer... phew, there's a dry read, if ever I experienced one), I decided to give the 'Chinese Democracy' album a proper listen. And, blimey, it's not that bad! In fact, I've played it pretty solidly for the last week, and I have to admit it's a great LP to crank up loud and have a jump around to: Does everything a rock album worth its weight in gold (boom, boom) should do. Yes, it's overworked and a bit busy (and I have very little clue what Axl is actually singing about most of the time), but a good album nevertheless.

There's some well executed ideas, a decent handful of catchy vocal melodies, some blinding guitar work; all leading to at least five tracks that should, in an alternative dimension where Axl Rose clearly wasn't his own - and everyone's else - worst enemy, be massive pop hits straddling the number ones slots on either side of the Atlantic simultaneously.

To get there, however, you do need to suspend more than the average amount of needless preconceptions: Get past the fact that it's not an actual GnR album in the style of old, through the lack of everyone but Mr Rose - therefore, a solo album in all but the branding. Equally, turn a blind eye to the rather dis-likable fact of Mr Rose as a person (ranking him up there with the likes of Bono and Mick Hucknall: dodgy people you wouldn't want to get stuck in a lift with, but who clearly possess obvious talent); and somehow get onside with the crazy Orson Welles-ness folly of the whole project. But if you can get past that arcade game-like assault course of reasoning, it's a blinding listen. Heck, who said great pop and rock music was based on prerequisite common sense?

Very much a forward-thinking, 21st century album, one that provides another view on what rock can deliver; sort of like the heavy rock equivalent to a latter stage Michael Jackson album: grandiose, itchy dance-infused production, with the amount of ideas that only blank cheques multiplied by a kind of paranoid fear having to better your last work produces, and subsequently at times too clever for its own good... but still does what a great rock record should.

I'd stake my claim that it's fundamentally an album in thrall to Jane's Addiction (specifically Dave Navarro's eclectic, left-field guitar style, and JA's swift cornering within song structure), and probably would have been made for a tenth of the price and a tenth of the time if Axl had Mr Navarro as an equal co-pilot, and hadn't been working it alone. Beyond that there's also some mammoth, beautifully over-indulgent Jim Steinman operatic-sized moments that it's rare to experience in our post-ironic, 'keepin' it real' times. But, as a standalone piece of work, well, I reckon it deserves more attention than it has/will receive.

Well worth the time, if you're that way inclined.

Something to sooth The Massive's Monday (with some gorgeous backing vocals by Maura O'Connell and Karen Matheson that will warm your heart)...

Due to my car being written off in an accident, I've had a hire-car for the last month - and thus a CD player for journeys - so have been listening to more music direct from CD. I've been rotating discs into and out of the car, but amongst them at any one time has been several by James Grant; either solo, or with Love & Money.

At the moment his Holy Love solo album is getting a heck of a lot of play; what an album, phew! For those that aren't up on Mr Grant, this particular album is a heady, bitter-sweet spiritual rush, stood in the dusky shadows of some crossroad cutting between folk, country, gospel and soul; a ballsier Gram Parsons but with whiskey tinged Scottish poetry for lyrics.

I've often wondered why the heck James Grant isn't greatly respected or treasured; or simply big, especially in these folky/acoustic times, but Holy Love is just blinding. The title track, Give The Poppy to the People and The Streets You Walk Everyday are near perfect and as uplifting as anything I've ever heard.

Is anyone else a fan of Mr Grant, and especially this album?

For those of you with Spotify, and who might be curious, here's a link:

http://open.spotify.com/search/james+grant%2c+holy+love

As featured in The Guardian's viral charts this week: a sharp American parody of 24hr-news from the Onion (nod to Chris Morris)...