I've never been a design nut, architecture addict or buildingophile, but when I first saw Le Grand Rex in Paris I was reduced to the state of a lovesick puppy.It was years' ago (don't ask how many), during my first trip to Paris. I was staying at a far-from-swanky hotel just a few far-from-swanky streets from Gare du Nord station and, on the first day, went for a reasonably long walk. As someone who only started travelling abroad when I was all grown-up and could afford to pay for it myself, I was doing then what I still do now: [...]
So here I am, nearly three weeks after we finally packed up our tents, and I'm still writing about the Latitude Festival. Haven't quite grasped the concept of live blogging, have I?Anyhow, we've now reached Day 4 or - as it was more commonly known back in those days - Sunday, 20th July 2008. It was the last day of the festival and, without hesitation, my undisputed highlight was seeing Grinderman perform at the Obelisk Arena. Grinderman, in case you don't already know, is a band Nick Cave formed with erstwhile Bad Seeds Warren Ellis, Martyn P. Casey and Jim [...]
At some point between the blistering Mars Volta set and the 2am Buzzcocks gig we stumbled off into the woods. It seemed like the right thing to do. Like pack-a-mac clad moths to a flame we were drawn to the gaudy disco lights of the Club de Fromage. This, as the name suggests, was an open air Bacchanalian knees-up dedicated to synth-soaked, drum machine-drenched music of a Cheddary nature. With its heavy rotation of retro floor-fillers, it put me in mind of one of those god-awful 80s theme bar chains like Reflex, yet managed to be nothing like them. For [...]
Buzzcocks, in the wee small hours of 20th July (approx 3am, can't be sure), courtesy of some YouTube and some good natured soul with a camcorder. Clare rather unkindly said that they looked like a pub darts team. I reckon they played like a force of nature.Brother Younger and I were taking care of business in the mosh pit. It may be undignified, but it's fun. If you see someone in the crowd jumping up and down in a mad pork pie hat it's probably him.
On Latitude Saturday (otherwise known as 19th July), Sigur Rós were the headlines. They were good, but I don't like them as much as I feel I ought too. There's something about that finely-crafted, Icelandic, plinky-plonky minimalism that makes me feel as though I've stepped into a mobile phone commercial. I guess I can only take minimalism in small doses.It was just after the Sigur Rós set that we encountered the Parachute Man. We were sitting on the field when some guy tripped over my foot, flew through the air and landed on a patch of grass nearby, face first. [...]
