Keep Music on the High Street

As someone who has been a victim of the steady decline in music retail, I'm kind of opposed to the whole downloading music concept. I liked it when there were record shops on every high street. I enjoyed browsing them and looked forward to running down and looking at the "new release" wall every Monday. Even if there was nothing I wanted to buy, it was good to see the new stuff out there.

Those stores also provided jobs for the freaky little kids who got laughed at at school and knew they'd rather die than work in a bank. It gave them a space to find others of their ilk and spend time figuring out who they were - watch Empire Records if you don't know what I mean.

When I first started working in record shops it was all about music as an art form. Every member of staff was a huge music fan and the product was treated with respect. Then came the endless buy-one-get-one-free and three-for-fifteen-quid campaigns, suddenly the product didn't matter anymore, it was more important that you were getting it cheap. After a while the stickers advertising the sale prices became so large you could barely see what was beneath.

Inevitably it reached a point where people wouldn't buy anything at full price anymore, the passion for the music was gone and they would rather wait a few months for the discs they wanted so they could get them at a reduced price. Profits declined, stores had to close and people like me got made redundant and had to take shite jobs in government and insurance.

Then came the advent of downloading where music is little more than a commodity. It's not a real part of your life anymore, it's just something you keep for a while then delete when you're sick of it.

When I worked at Our Price one of my favourite customers was this little geeky guy who was a huge Pet Shop Boys fan. Everytime they released something new he'd be on the doorstep at nine o'clock prompt with a big excited smile on his face, you can't get that same buzz when you simply download something.

For one thing there's no artwork to treasure, no discs to archive that you can look back on and remember as part of your history. So there's also no jobs for photographers and designers. Remember when marketing didn't mean cut price? It used to mean gatefold sleeves, coloured vinyl and free posters. It was all about fun, artistry and inspiration.

Now it's just an impulse purchase from the sale rack in HMV or a couple of faceless tracks on an iPod.

The point of this rant is that yesterday I thought I should stop being an old fart and give this new fangled downloading thing a bash. I thought it was suppposed to be easy.

In the time it took me to individually download the 11 tracks of the Lily Allen LP, I could have taken a leisurely walk into the West End and bought a copy. Then I found I had to apply for a licence for each-and-every-track before I could install them on a CD. Good lord, if that's progress then take me back to the olden days.

I'm pleased to say it was worth the effort. The album is fun and easy to listen to. It very teen-centric but I enjoy her sassy, tough girl lyrics. Some of it puts me in mind of a young Kirsty MacColl, and I can't think of much higher praise than that. It's good to see girl with attitude being courted by the media at last, I can't even remember the last time that happened.

Check the album out on her website, then go and buy it from a shop.

Chillin' with Tom

I nearly forgot to tell you that I went to see Tom Verlaine at the 100 Club on Wednesday. I'd never seen him solo before and wasn't sure what to expect. It was kind of like taking a giant happy, sleepy pill. There was nothing upbeat about the performance whatsoever, but it wasn't downbeat either, just unbelievably mellow.

At first I didn't think I was going to like it cos I had to stand and thought I might drop off. Then I found a chair at the back and though I couldn't see anything (it was only him and another guitarist sitting on stage anyway), I just shut my eyes and let the sound wash over me.

He did a few tracks from his latest Songs and Other Things release, a couple of instrumental numbers and some older stuff I didn't recognise. A lot of it was similar to Television, the same guitar phrasing and clarity, but more stripped down.

He only spoke once to announce the last song, then when he got disappointed boos he jokingly decided it was the encore. He played for about an hour and a half but the time passed in a flash. By the end I felt so relaxed it was as if I'd had a good night's sleep, suddenly finding myself back in the crowds on Oxford Street and heading for train was bewildering.

I loved the venue too - friendly staff and so mush history in the place. The red walls are covered with framed prints of people who have performed there before. I was wishing it was lighter so I could see them more clearly.

Along with the Bush Hall, it has now been added to my list of approved venues. Promoters please take note!

Is It Winter Yet?

It's no good, I cannot cope with this heatwave. It makes the dye run out of my hair, leaves me with white, salty sweat stains on my clothes and has even had the unprecedented effect of putting me off alcohol. What the hell??

A move to the Shetlands needs to be factored into my five year plan. I think I'll open a gay bar, there can't be much of a scene there so I'll create one. Maybe in time I can take over an entire island and make it a queer paradise. I'll even have a League of Gentleman-style gift shop with snow storms of drag queens and other precious things. I can't wait.

The Shetlands also sounds perfect for the wildlife. Imagine having seals and otters living outside your door, I'd love that. In fact I'm considering booking a weekend trip to go otter watching, the flights are a bit pricey though.

The only thing getting me through these hazy days is the fact that it will soon be October, we'll have proper weather back and, wait for it ... some of the San Franciscan Trannyshackers are back in town. YAY !!

Putanesca, the divine Kiddie, Faux Pas and Metal Patricia will be part of Trannyshack London's birthday celebrations on October 18, then they're going to be at Horsemeat Disco on the 22nd. I'd better start getting my outfits sorted if I'm going to make Kiddie my new best friend, dress to impress and all that. They're only here for a few days, not long enough for my usual stalking pursuits, I'm quite anxious.

Who's coming?

Buck Angel Interview

You may remember a while ago I was wittering on about Buck Angel. Well, I got in touch with him and he agreed to do an interview - HOORAY!

I have spent the last couple of weeks trying to hawk it to various mags but none of the buggers will run it - BOO!

It now appears on the Transgender Zone website where you can read it right now - PHEW!

(Here's me being plugged by Buck - yow!!)

Turning Japanese

I’ve been reading about a big wank-a-thon that’s going to be taking place in London at the end of July. Fantastic! But then again, ew! Imagine all those dirty old men doubled over their fists with sweaty beads of determination pouring down their faces.

There’s going to be a prize for the person who has the most orgasms and also for the one who whacks off for longest. Apparently the record is 8 and a half hours which is pretty impressive. I wouldn’t last that long myself, tantric’s not for me. I’m a bit of a wham-bam-thank-you-mam bean flicker. I’m not a bad lay but I never call myself afterwards.

I should mention that the whole she-bang (geddit?) will be the subject of a documentary for channel 4. No surprise that moral rights campigners are trying to get it banned. I don’t see what the problem is, it’s not like they’re interfering with anyone else, only themselves. Get over it!

The event is for charity and open to UK residents and “travelling masturbators” – hilarious! Sign up here.

David Hoyle Revisited

Been told off by Gerald for not updating my blog. Bloody cheek. Truth is, I've not been up to much, it's been too bastard hot. On Saturday I went to see David Hoyle's show again. I'd seen the opening night so thought I'd go for for the finale, I always like to see the start and finish of a run.

The show was more aggressive than Tuesday's. After my surprise at finding myself introduced to the audience and getting a round of applause, I was cock-a-hoop to find my two favourite subjects were up for discussion: gender dysphoria and gay politics. There were lots of quips about how being gay is so mainstream now you might as well be dead. Also digs at muscle marys and gay couples who have relationships that "could almost be heterosexual". Then there was a rant against civil partnerships and my favourite line of the night, "we'll know we have achieved equality when married couples say things like "Oh, we're absolutely delighted, our youngest son has started to show signs of effeminacy."" How I laughed.

It kind of reminded me of when my friend Sarah phoned a while ago to tell me her 16 year old had come out. I'd figured he was gay years before when she told me he hung out with girls and listened to Kylie. She appeared quite surprised but then agreed he'd always been "too nice to be straight".

I was reading recently about some Native American cultures where male children who displayed feminine characteristics were valued by the tribe as sacred. They believed that the Great Spirit had sent the child to act as a bridge between the sexes, someone who understood both sides of the human condition. Now, of course, they're just called fags.

David Hoyle's SOS

The tag line for David Hoyle's Soho Theatre show is "only angry people can't see beauty". Personally I disagree and think that there is a lot of beauty contained within anger, some of which informs aspects of the dialogue for the show. That's not to say it's one man and his rant, far from it, and we're not encouraged to get angry, but rather to laugh at life's little challenges and use that laughter to give us strength to carry on.

Partly autobiographical, David makes many references to his six year exile in Manchester since retiring his former incarnation, The Divine David. He sings, he dances and he constantly interacts with the audience. This face to face delivery gives him an almost evangelical quality, but the emphasis is on fun.

David claims he's bringing the seaside to Soho and, indeed, the show opens and closes with a kitsch 70s style dance troupe playing with a beach ball, like a Blackpool postcard come to life. His use of movement is hilarious and his self mocking wit is skillful and engaging.

Despite his enormous wisdom, David is always keen to deny being an intellectual. He loves Big Brother and his powers of observation are never more astute than when dissecting it. For example, he points out the arty, clever types who sneer at BB and worship Warhol are quick to turn their noses up when the archetypal Warholian project is beamed straight into their living rooms and made available on tap.

He claims Big Brother should go on forever and that he would be happy to play his part. I seems like the perfect platform for his sage-like persona. The Cult of David would be born.

Little Creatures

I'm not quite sure how it's been allowed to happen, but chil-der-en have moved into the grounds of Right Nasty Mansions. Not just any children either, but the kind that have to shout AT ALL TIMES - sometimes reciting the same phrase over and over for as long as two hours. On the rare occassion they're not shouting, they scream. The usual tranquility afforded the residents of a backstreet cul-de-sac has been shattered and my head is aching to the degree it might explode. No wonder their parents lock them out in the garden, I'd drop them off in a field and run.

Anyway, before I start attracting the unwanted attention of pedants, let's move on ...

As you know, I had a week off work this week so, despite my shoe-string budget, I decided to have a couple of days out. On Thursday I went to the zoo to see the furry animals. I thought I might see the new gorillas but they don't move in 'til next year. Aren't they the ones that throw poo at people? I like them!

I saw some other monkey types. The weirdest was a Pygmy Marmoset. At first I thought it was a baby cos it was so wee, but apparently they are the smallest living monkey - they're tiny little things with screwed up faces, and not only that, they're GREEN! I wanted to take a picture but they live in a darkened room and I didn't want to mess up their eyes, I found this one on the web.

I took some pictures of other animals, view my not very impressive gallery here.

Yesterday I went to the V&A with Toblarina. We went to see the 60s Fashion display which was very entertaining - lots of bright colours and some dazzling abstract prints. I can't believe how skinny the women were supposed to be then, some of the waistlines were terrifying. The men's fashion was less oppressive with flary pants and poofy shirts.

We sniggered at some things and gazed in awe at others. Above all we wished there'd been a 60s dressing-up box to play with. Elsewhere in the museum we came across a kimono, and lo, a photo opportunity was born ...

Bob the Builder

It is true there's a cultural link between lesbians and flat-pack furniture. So, with a week off work and the weather, like, a million in the shade, am I going to get out the lounger and sunbathe? No! I'm going to go to Ikea of course!

I hadn't been to the branch in Croydon for ages and the first obstacle to overcome was the new car park - a baffling maze-like structure that reminded me of those MC Escher lithographs where there are roads and staircases all going different directions and you don't know where to rest your eyes. It was obviously designed by someone who was either, like Escher, a brilliant mathematician, or the owner of the sickest mind in history.

Having managed to park the car, I headed off for the showroom. It's all very well looking at "this is what your home could look like" areas for a while, but then you get bored. Of course, there's no escape, cos the maze-like car park is nothing in comparison to the rigidly laid out showroom, forcing you to march with jack boot precision past every single item available to purchase before you're offered the respite of the exit.

By this time I had managed to fill my purchase card with about 20 "must have" items. Spent ages to trying to find Benno CD towers in my desired silver / grey. Was just about to give up when, oh hang on - there they are, sitting on that UNMARKED SHELF. They spend so much time trying to entice you, you'd think they'd make the bloody products a bit easier to find! Still, it was good news for my bank account as I decided the other 19 items could wait.

So now, settled between 2 fans wearing a vest, pants and protective footwear (safety first) I am about to assemble my wares. The testosterone rush is amazing.

Euro Pride - Blow Your Whistle!

The streets of London were swarming with blinkin' homos yesterday. Every corner you turned you there were further deviants, it was a bit like a dream come true!

Toblarina and I were going to join the march from the beginning but we realised we wouldn't see much, so we watched it from outside John Lewis and waited for a space to join in.

The parade was fronted by a young boy with a very poor homemade banner, I'm not sure what that was about. After him came a large group of people with the longest rainbow flag in the world (maybe) - to be honest it was a bit too long, we got the message after the first few feet. After them were the gay military and police, then an almost never ending parade of floats from clubs, charities and magazines.

I snapped away with my camera at anything that moved, particularly if it was in drag. When the XXL bears float passed by, followed by a troupe of drag queens, we new we had found our calling and ducked beneath the barriers to start walking. We felt a little bit under dressed in their company, we need to brighten ourselves up for next year.

We ended up next to Johnny Woo who was proving to be a great attraction. Dressed in denim shorts with a dreadful long blonde wig and a face full of glitter, he amused the crowd by first flashing his underwear then sitting down in the road to remove his shorts and pants and run around Lady Godiva style with his tresses covering his winkie. He got rounds of applause from everyone.

We walked down Regents Street, through Piccadilly then into Pall Mall. By Nelson's Column we were met by a group of God botherers who had popped out to preach fire and brimstone. This was the only point the walkers had to be moved on, we all wanted to stop and take pictures. Some people flicked 'em the Vs, but with about half a million of us and 40 of them, they never really stood a chance.

There was further hilarity later at Trafalgar Square when the noise boys had turned up to watch football. Just as Gerald had predicted, on sight of a few of blokes in dresses, they picked up their Stella 12-packs and ran!

At Leicester Square we stopped by the Drag Idol tent. The Drag Idol competition has been running in bars across the London, the top 5 entrants were here for the final. Sadly what we saw was a pile of old poo. The Black Cap's winner was Victoria Sponge - the name was the only good thing. She sang a Lorraine Bowen-type song about cakes and made some amazingly unfunny jokes, it made us wonder who the hell she competed against. While Toby's pain at watching her was entertaining, we decided to cop a strop and leave.

Soho Square was uncomfortably busy but we couldn't leave without seeing the stalls of gay tat. Somehow we resisted the pull of bondage wear and rainbow jewellery. Though I we were tempted by diamante collars for our cats.

I decided to not to extend proceedings by heading out to Gay Shame and went home to my foot spa instead. There's only so much excitement you can take.

View my photographic galleries here.