26th and running

The winter accelerated to it’s usual blinding speed and then crashed right into, or rather – all through, Christmas. I won’t go into much detail of how I got through this the most stressful and cant of holidays (not to mention rather enjoyed most of it) and just skip ahead to present time.

I’m back on the northbound bus I used to ride too fckng many times a year back in the days when I still studied and played in the best rock band to never release an album. The stubborn monotony of the green, brown and white Norrland landscape gradually induces a state of sweet coma. I had a moment of weird magic half an hour ago when the bus drove into Umeå, hometown of AvsC while My Cool blasted in my ears. Some kind of twisted, familiar irony. (It also reminded me that I have a couple of e-mails to reply to. I just need a day or two in the studio…)

A question that will haunt me all throughout 2008, much as I like the guy’s music:

Who shoved what up Alexis Weak’s arse?

A new friend

I’ve made a new friend. This old guitar was given to my wife’s grandfather decades ago by a man who is now a fairly well known and respected Swedish musician. Since my wife’s grandfather doesn’t play the guitar he thought it would be better off with us. And it’s a beauty.

Even the capotasto is a tiny work of art. (Click picture of choice for some more Flickrisms.)

Admittedly it’s not the best guitar in the world per se, not very Martin-esque. And it’s been beat up pretty good. Still it has a certain something – a bluesy quality I really like. And it sounds great in my fairly reverberant living room. I’m trying my best to fix it into good shape. The first thing I’m going to do is get some new strings for it, truth be told I don’t think it was ever meant to be a steel string guitar. And then I’m gonna stick a tube mic on it and see if it sings. Mp3s to follow, most likely.

We could have sex again

Pressing pause on the remote to answer the phone may have unexpected results. Here’s what awaited me when I hung up.

I don’t know about you but I find it hilarious. To hit it or not to hit it…

I’m broke. Hence no new records, no club nights worth mentioning (though Soul-John and David’s thing over at Bondi Pavillion was a hoot, and I hear they have big plans for the future) until I get payed. Hence very few posts here. See you in a week(ish).

Mixtapes as escapism

I need someone to make me a mixtape right now. It could feature songs like “We walk the same line”. Hell, even “Bridge over troubled water” would do. Or just buy me a cup of coffee. That would be nice.

Fuck this week and fuck this Friday in particular.

I took my refuge to Röda Sten for an hour or two, just to clear my head. It almost rained. I loved it.

Interlude

Here’s what I’ve been up to.

(Picture taken at Fiskebäck.)

On the Dangers of Disco

There have been a number of disturbing reports on the Dangers of Disco. (Swedish only, sorry)

But the robots don’t care.

(Smokes and ‘bots courtesy of Richard.)

Pretending it’s not freezing cold

Activity may seem low around here but that’s just because things are moving at 182 km/h (that’s 113.089557 mph) outside of the keyboard/blog/spare time-combo. Two days until I have some time off. I’ll treat you (all… three of you) to movie quotes and other stuff then. For now… here are two filler pictures from Gothenburg. Gothenburg is ice cold this summer (not in the Andre 3000 sense) but we’re doing our best to ignore that fact.

Fredrik at Lokal.

Gustav, 200 7″s, a lawn and warm clothes.