Monday, March 26, 2012
#175. Jinglin' Geordie, 22 Fleshmarket Close, Edinburgh
Why isn't Fleshmarket Close the official red light district of Edinburgh? A Geordie, by the way, is a person from Newcastle. Don't ask me why.
That round dude at the bar with his back to me kept asking to hear the Paul Weller song Broken Stones. I sat quietly drinking my Caledonian 2.8, reading a book on music copyright law that I had just bought at Blackwell's.
Speaking of Paul Weller, who I have complained about previously, it amazes me how certain artists are revered in their home country, but ignored everywhere else in the Western world. Why do the Brits love this guy, anyway? (And parenthetically, why do Canadians love Gord Downie so much?) Is it because he reminds them of their surly best friend who bullied them when they were growing up? Do they think that they can fix that relationship by wedding themselves to his career? I mean, listen to that song... why on Earth would that guy at the bar give two shits about that mediocre dirge, anyway? Paul Weller seems so contrived and self-conscious (particularly in the Band Aid video, especially at the 3:09 mark where with a single arched eyebrow he manages to ooze disinterest, discomfort, and disdain) that I almost feel sorry for him. In my forthcoming book It's Just Not That Awesome (Thought Pilots, 2013), there will be a chapter devoted to Paul Weller and his various projects.