Ok, I admit it, I don't understand The Oscars. Mind you who the hell does?
To me the whole selection process, in terms of hazy-mysteriousness, resides somewhere between The Freemasons, The Offside Rule and Long-Division. I think this dates back to 1992, when Marisa Tomei scooped the Best Supporting Actress Oscar for My Cousin Vinny.
Don't get me wrong, I've nothing against goofball/buddy-buddy/feelgood/knockabout comedy, (I love Caddyshack for God's sake) and I'm a fan of Joe Pesci generally...but come ON, My Cousin Vinny and Academy Awards??? I was confused then and I'm still confused now.

So, over here on the right we see David Reefer Madness Cameron during his current sell-out tour of the nation's inner city housing estates, in his capacity as Conservative Party leader and advisor on Street Culture. That's one his homeboys in the background, joshing around, obviously relishing the irony - Slacker-Dave's Ghetto tour being itself prompted by an unprecedented level of gun-fatalities in Cruel Britannia these past few weeks.
Interestingly, our very own Prime Minister, also a high-scorer when it comes to Street Knowledge, was himself in another part of the same city (Manchester) that very same day, lending the proceedings an edgy Tupac & Biggie danger-vibe.

Personally, I'm just glad that Slacker-D has finally stepped in to put a stop to the madness.
His inspirational Hug a Hoodie campaign of last Summer was an undisputed success and a major blow to critics who just couldn't accept his central point; That Joe Public needs to show the nation's street gangs more ello-vee-ee LOVE, not lock 'em up ... or be beastly to them in any way at all, for that matter.
As Dave himself said in the Commons, 'Damn baby, that's cold!'
If only we'd seen this before. The years we've wasted.
As Dave also says, Peace Out.

Studio maverick Joe Meek departed this mortal coil 40 years ago this month, Pop-kids.

Not your usual exit-style it must be said; On February 3rd 1967, (the 8th anniversary of his hero Buddy Holly's death) he killed his landlady after an argument, apparently about the rent, then shot himself.
Much has been written about Meek and his legacy, so I won't bother with a potted version. If you're curious just click on the links.

Suffice it to say, he was a genuine innovator in the field of sound-manipulation and recording. In Popular music, where the word 'Genius' is mostly overused, he was truly deserving of the accolade.
Using a converted flat (above a shop in Holloway Road, North London) as a home-studio decades before the very idea became even remotely feasible, he produced numerous Top 10 hits in the UK, using The Outlaws and The Tornados as his backing bands. With the latter he composed and produced the UK Number 1, and first U.S. Number 1 ever by a UK act, Telstar, in 1962.
However, the new era of Pop Culture ushered in by The Beatles (who he regarded as 'Just a Bunch of Noise') was the eventual undoing of Meek, whose life was, at times as dramatic as some of his arrangements.
I recommend y'all check out his I Hear A New World album.

Breathe it in Blog-children.
The air is heavy with the scent of Change. Cosmic wheels are a-turnin' up there, and I alone can hear them.
I'm seeing the signs everywhere. The rambling grounds within which Chez Sonique sits are replete with unseasonably early buttercups and sonic-daffs. The forest wistfully murmurs while larks and linnets sing their sweet song with girlish glee, mere feet from where I contentedly type this despatch to the vast and unending Blogosphere.
Sonovagun, I can even see that Icon of al fresco dining Sonic BBQ2 coming up from the cellar months early at this rate.
But it ain't just the 11/8 time-signature of the seasons I'm banging on about here. No sir, something far more serious is on the cusp of irreversible change: The Zeitgeist.
Don't bother looking for the signs pop-kids, they'll find you.
Remember I said this, because later you'll want to thank me.