Starting with the pinacle let down. Andrew Bird at London Scala June 7th. He didn't seem arsed. I couldn't see from any place in the venue. And I'd spent and travelled a long fucking way to stand at a gig receiving messages about how brilliant the Simian Mobile Disco gig was in my hometown. I'm still bitter.
NME. Continually degenerating.
The third of people who downloaded the Radiohead album In Rainbows who didn't pay anything for it.
Mercury Music Prize.
Jo Whiley seems to have become ever more self-important and, even worse, mainstream followers seem to reaffirm the belief that she is important.
Seeing one of the Klaxons in an Erol Alkan t-shirt. I've not worn mine since.
Falling in love with Death From Above 1979... just about 2 years too late.
The Aliens' live performance at York Fibbers. A drunken slur. But, bloody hell, they didn't half redeem themselves when I saw them at the Stockton Riverside festival. Brilliance!
Bloc Party.
Come on. You know you can probably extend this list ten-fold, as I could go on. Throw out some more... Come on...
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