If I’d have had the relevant track by The Hollies to hand I would have played it, but then that was the point – I didn’t have the tracks I was supposed to. The chorus of “He’s King Midas in reverse” would’ve been appropriate, seen as everything I touched seemed to turn to anything but priceless radio. I can’t pretend that all ums and aahs in usual shows are finely scripted and rehearsed, and nor can I pretend that I don’t regularly change my mind on what I am going to play whilst the show is actually in progress – sometimes the ways things flow in my head doesn’t actually work in practice and I change the admittedly-vague plotting of the programme accordingly. The surprise from your point of view will be to learn that there is a sort of demi-plan, though, and when this half-baked idea turns out to be scuppered by a metaphorical faulty oven, it throws everything into something of a whirl. Or in this case, I forgot to turn the oven on and then found that the microwave had fused. Or something. Continue reading
Tag Archives: Selection Box
It’s The Magic Number, apparently
I refer, of course, to 3 which De La Soul dictated was a digit imbued with Harry Potteresque mysticism, rather than the pluralised version of the phrase which gives the band The Magic Numbers their moniker. I’ve never been particularly enamoured with the latter – though I bare them no malice – so I cannot imagine they’ll be featuring heavily on Selection Box any time soon.
La Pendleton skillfully handling a tool there. (Oh dear oh dear. Bloody hell, kill me.)
I can’t pretend that I am especially partial to the number 3 either, though if Victoria Pendleton expressed an interest in making that the number which share my marital bed for non-sleeping purposes, I’d be sure to ask my wife for her considered opinion on the matter. Then do a spot of undignified pleading, obviously. However, the number 3 is set to be something of a focus on the show over the next few weeks, like some sort of demented version of Sesame Street (because obviously Sesame Streetis renowned for its no-nonsense straight laced stiff upper lip lack of tomfoolery), as in a few weeks’ time Selection Boxwill be celebrating its third birthday. Will you see a sea-change in accordance with the advance in age – no longer for us the tantrums of the terrible twos, from now on operating with a new-found pre-school application and shitted pants will become an ever-increasing rarity? Nah, I’ll probably peddle the same old pelt punctuated by great records if truth be told, but let us celebrate the calendarial momentum all the same. Continue reading
When Selection Box met Kate Walsh / In BBC Trust We Trust
Some considerable time ago on this blog I promised to post the full interview with Brighton-based songstrel Kate Walsh which appeared on Selection Box 110 back in October. It seems needless to delve too deeply into the who, why and wherefore of Walsh’s career thus far as I’ve already posted three blogs of fairly lengthy detail on these pages (one already linked to at the start of this post, another here and the final one – a review of her last long player Light & Dark – can be found here), so probably best to press on without retreading old ground.
Kate Walsh, apparently hiding inside a giant string vest
Since October, however, Walsh has been busying herself with further live dates across Europe – most recently opening for 1980s sports headband wearing Dire Straiter Mark Knopfler at the Royal Albert Hall – and recording a series of EPs featuring cover versions of some of her favourite songs. Her website revealed recently that these EPs are set to be compiled into a covers album which will be released in September.
If you want to save the interview as an mp3 for posterity – so you can listen to my dulcet tones on your fancy iGramophone at all times of the day or night; perhaps to excite and inflame your senses with an uncontrollable passion during lonely moments – click on the small arrow at the right hand side of the player below and download the content of your heart and indeed other organs. Alternatively, just press the big orange button to listen NOW (yes, NOW) as a stream. You lucky things you.
Patrick Thornton talks to Kate Walsh 19.10.09 by PatrickSelectionBox
Elton in Rush to get down the aisle
Following the story a few months ago (blogged here by yours truly with some ire)Â that Sting played a concert for a tyrannical despotcomes the peculiar tale that fat fingered fool Elton John recently pocketed $1m for his AIDS charity by tinkling his ivories at the wedding of US Radio DJ Rush Limbaugh.
Elton and former EastEnders star Letitia Dean.
On the face of it, $1m (around £690,000) being whacked into the coffers of a good cause for a couple of hours work seems to be a splendid return, but throw a glance at Limbaugh’s CV of controversy and it begins to look like an odd gig for the plump pompous pianist to take on. Although pretty much unknown in this country, Limbaugh is known in the United States as a right wing shock jock, reviled by the left.
The Guardian reports that
Last October, Limbaugh compared H1N1 to AIDS in Africa, a “hyped” disease. “Everything in Africa’s called AIDS,” he said on his radio show. “The reason is [that] they get aid money for it. AIDS is the biggest pile of – the biggest pot they throw money into.” Continue reading
Saltaire Live 2010 (and Selection Box 131)
Only a wazzock would begin a blog entry about what he played on his radio show this week by discussing a band whose wares he failed to commit to the airwaves. I am that aforementioned hitherto hypothetical wazzock. I had all good intentions of playing Salsa Celtica on this week’s programme, and then when the weekly task of packing the record bag full of goodies in preparation for the programme came along, I just plain forgot. If you see me on the street, feel free to point and boo me for my continued enslavement to lacksadaisy.
The timing of the proposed play was imperative, as it was meant to serve as a “heads up” – as I believe trendy people say – to the fact that Salsa Celtica, who released their new live album En Vivo En El Norte on 19 April, are set to play at Victoria Hall this coming weekend as a part of this 2010’s Saltaire Live.
Salsa Celtica - only one of them was expecting rain.
Cope, Arrowsmith & McLaren: Selection Box Shows 128, 129 & 130
After a false start a little while ago, Brigadeer Phillip Agnostin D’Argtanian Tannoy Gargle Pissflap Cope III plonked his posterior into the guest chair for Selection Box 128. I continually say that I am not going to keep noting the number of the show we’re on, as its something I only mark out for my own probably-autistic filing purposes. And yet I continue to announce how many of these by-the-seat-of-the-pants produced pillock presented programmes we’re up to now. Still, worth noting that in around four months we’ll (and that’s very much the royal “we”) be up to 147 shows. Perhaps I’ll have a snooker-themed special to celebrate. Chas & Dave have retired now, so that’s them out the window as potential session guests, but no doubt referee Len Ganley knows how to tap a triangle on cue, so that’s a part of the rhythm section sorted. Actually, he’s probably dead now I think about it. I do know that Steve Davis is a prog rock aficianado, so perhaps this isn’t as daft an idea as it first seemed. The only problem I foresee is that personally I find the majority of prog a bit too, well, shit to play on air.
Yours truly (right) and Phil Cope clearly have nothing in common.
Uzbeki reccy makes cash dash Sting sing-song ding dong (and Selection Box Shows 124 & 125)
I was at a loss to decide what would accompany this week’s playlist at first. I like to throw something out that might be of interest rather than just chucking a list of names whenever I post on here, but this week I was struggling to find inspiration.
Thankfully, you can always rely on Sting. If in doubt, have a pop at the artist formerly known as Gordon Sumner for his latest buffoon statement or glass-chewingly bad venture into 20 minute lute plucking. Finding reasons to have a pop a Sting is a bit like shooting fish in a barrel – this is a man, after all, who bashed out the most pretentious album title of all time in the shape of the frankly vomitous Dream of the Blue Turtle, claimed to be “a bit hot” at The Brits as an excuse to take his top off and believes that “cancer is the result of undigested dreams“. The last few weeks, though, the tantric tosser has excelled himself. Not only did he announce a tour of his hits, reworked for a full orchestra (which begs the question; who the bloody hell wants to hear that? [answer: Sting does]) but it was also revealed that he happily played a gig of questionable validity, proving himself not only to be an utter dick of the first order, but in addition to this he’s either a mercenary little turd who can be bought for the right price, or else a man so interned in his own cosy little world he can’t recognise a decent counter argument when it’s rammed up his Roxanne.
Selection Box – it’s as easy as 123 (and 122)
Someone keeps speeding up time and dashing away all the time to update Selection Box’s legions of fans (and indicators suggest that could be up to as many as three people) as to what tracks it is that they’ve heard on the show, even though I’ve told them all during the programme. Pay attention, cloth-ears.
That'll never work.
Selection Box show 122 was marred by the infuriating skipping of one of them new-fangled compact disc contraptions. They’re going to replace vinyl and tapes, apparently, but I can’t see them catching on. This particular “CD” – as I believe they’re snappily referred to – seemed determined not to play the full glory of The Monster Mash– Bobby Boris Pickett & The Crypt Kickers’ example of one of those rarest of beasts – a comedy song which is a genuinely great record. Continue reading
Selection Box playlist – shows 117, 118, 119, 120 & 121
Ruddy hell, I really do have rather a lot to catch up on. Forgive my tardiness, Pop Kids, but Mrs Selection Box went and done gone popped one of them babies out of her selection box, so time spent writing blogs is time which could be spent sleeping or else improving the already first rate thousand yard stare. However, it does mean that the listener figures for my show have increased, albeit by only one.
So, in the interim we’ve had the usual mix of splendid tunes, my self-imposed embargo of the phrase “so, yes” and the annual delve into Christmas tunes, which is now about as relevant to proceedings as Tony Blair’s comments about Iran were to the question of whether or not he is a lying bastard. Ooh, lidlbiddapolitics.
We also seem to have lost young mentalist Adam Wells from BCB in the last few weeks, which I didn’t know anything about until reading it here. It appears he’s swanned off to my old stomping ground of That Fancy London. So long Adam, and thanks for all the gin.
Anyway, this isn’t about that. It’s about this:
Selection Box Shows 114, 115 & 116
Sometimes I feel like throwing my pants up in the air. I know I can count on you.
And in turn you can count on me to forget several things in the space of a week. One such thing is to remember to put my ruddy playlist up, hence the three week catch-up. Another thing was the name of Florence & The Machine, whose moniker completely escaped me whilst on air and never returned for several days. She gone done a cover version of You Got The Love which I opened with last week which is now out as a single. However, I’d recommend you avoid it on account of the fact that it’s horrid. The whole world seems to love Florence’s warblings bar me, though this is the first track I’ve heard that I’ve actively disliked. The rest fills me with the dreaded apathy. Oddly enough, it’s strangely forgettable.
But this appears to be an unwarranted sleight at someone whose name I’ve been rude enough to slip my mind, so let’s bugger that train of thought off and get on with the playlists…