You've got to love Portishead, or rather, their blog where Geoff Barrow writes about the progress (and also the lack thereof) of their new record. It's apparently half-way through getting done, they've met somebody about videos, and anyway, sod the lack of progress, I mean, I'd rather they wait until they're happy about work rather than push something half-arsed out just because they felt the pressure to do so. "its really hard not to sound like your doing a bad Impression of yourself" as Barrow writes, and I do love honesty, which is why his line about the probability of Danger Mouse producing their album is grand: "id rather poo in my mums suday roast than have danger mouse produce a portishead record............no offence like/" and in his next post:

i dont rate myself better or above anyone else

it was purely in responce to a message that suggested he should produce our album

and also to be honest im a grumpy old fuck who hates everything and narls barkley

Brilliant, the world needs them. And if you think he's just a miserable bastard, you can't have heard Portishead before. Check their myspace-page out, where they've posted videos and doodles of tracks that are three years old. Mmm.

On another note I laughed hard when I saw the ad that Amazon presented me when viewing my own blog: a sweatshirt titelled "I love Niklas". Oh, my day, my day...

I've spent the day listening to Portishead's second album and now a live show by The Smiths from Rockpalast, 1983, spins in the background. Check out 16:05 where Morrissey's arse is plastered with fauna. YouTube is infinitely helping people re-live the older days, mostly due to unselfish, very nice people like dallow. I mean, most youths today have very little to anchor them to the past. And not only the youths, as there are people my own age (29) who don't give the light of day that the Israel-Libanon-conflict is decades in the making and not merely a few weeks, to paraphrase Gallagher. Anyway, I recently caught up with Diamanda Galà¡s again thanks to the site.

Now I'm off to cure my hang-over and get my hair shorn by my fave cutter.