Well, of course apoplectic.me is back for my favourite post of every year – a round-up of the best popular music tracks of 2021. I wonder if the list will reflect the nature of the year…?Continue reading Eight Tracks V
After King Rocker the other week, Mrs Stroke Bloke indulged me by sitting through Creation Stories, a biopic of sorts about Creation Records main man, Alan McGee.
Creation Records plays a big part in my, er, origin story, as indirectly noted by an old school friend.Continue reading A Personal History Of Creation
The Wee Man objects to my musical taste. Fair enough. If your three-year-old is waxing lyrical about Arab Strap’s marvellous return, he’s got problems. But not as many as he’s got in store for you.
So, when I’m listening to 6Music/something from 1991/Britain’s slide into fascism*, the demands from the back seat begin.
Continue reading Disappointment
“80s MUSIC!!!”The Wee Man, 2021
After I published the latest apoplectic.me post in August, Paul commented that
the new music in 2020 hasn’t caught my ear yet. Nothing like last years Jaime by Brittany Howard, which I loved. I also fear we are about to get some not very good quarantine inspired music coming our way.Comments to Under Cover Under Wraps
Amid the huge static roar of distraction that was 2020, perhaps it’s unsurprising that there’s something out of time about my Eight Tracks of the year.
Join me, won’t you, on a journey to a place that isn’t here in a time that isn’t now. It’s gotta be better than this, right? Or, just hit up the Spotify playlist.Continue reading Eight Tracks IV
Hi! How you doing? Hello…?
I hope that your home-administered haircut has left you still looking as hot as horribly-coiffed Cillian Murphy in 28 Days Later.Continue reading Under Cover Under Wraps
With thanks and apologies to Long-Suffering-Reader-Of-The-Blog-Paul.
Long-suffering readers of the blog will know I’m a huge fan of nineties British indie music. So, I was thrilled when a hot, skinny boy who looks good in an Adidas tracksuit came onto the stage this week.
(Dominic Cummings ft. Blur)
You know, I was just going to do one more post about COVID-19 and then move on. Something technical about its link to strokes.
Partly because, Do you want to read another hot take on the Coronavirus? Partly because I’m so angry about what’s going on, I figured if I did yet another one after a few more days had passed, I’d probably bust one of my brain aneurysms.
Then Boris Johnson did his thing on the telly.Continue reading Television/The Strokes
I’ve been seeing folks doing calls for – and offering up – playlists to offer some kind of respite from The Lockdown that’s gone into effect here in the nations of Britain and Northern Ireland. So, what better time to belatedly offer up some of my favourite tracks from the happy days of 2019?
As it happens, the apoplectic.me post of my favourite choons of 2018 began by noting that it was the death of David Bowie that had heralded planet Earth’s one-way trip to hell in a hand basket.
So, join me, won’t you, on a trip down memory lane to when things hadn’t yet gotten entirely out of hand? Or if you don’t like wurdz, just hit up the Spotify playlist.Continue reading Eight Tracks III
Earlier this week, a friend who makes a brief cameo appearance in my survival memoir, Stroke: A 5% chance of survival, sent me a link to this recent article celebrating the original release of Pavement’s album Crooked Rain, Crooked Rain. Here’s the tl;dr take:
I mean, I was there. Not James Murphy. Though he probably was, too. I saw Pavement touring their first album, the epochal Slanted and Enchanted, at Edinburgh’s late and legendary venue, The, er, Venue.
That’s quite enough sub-muso-journo dross from me. Get to the human reflection below.
And in the Apoplectic Tiny Letter.
On Christmas Day, I put up a post that predicted the events of the first three months of 2019. Therein, Theresa May faked her own disappearance on Ben Nevis to run out the clock on a No Deal Brexit.
For Easter 2019, I was going to have David Bowie rise from the dead, having observed that it was his death that had set the world on a single trip to hell in a hand basket. It was gonna be great stuff.Continue reading Eight Tracks Two