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Simon Reynolds' much-feted Rip It Up And Start Again is an entertaining but ultimately shoddily researched book about what he describes as 'post-punk'; he has far less grasp on the literary and artistic cultural references he bandies about than he and his band of nostalgic mostly fortysomething readers might like to think. But that's rock writers for you. Anyway, enough of that.

On a personal note, it's irritating how Reynolds' included unverified quotes from Neil Megson get lazily regurgitated in various quarters, and once again, in this month's Wire magazine, Megson eagerly jumps at the opportunity tossed in his direction. And before I continue, I should state for the record that I admire both Chris and Cosey, nor do I have a problem with Sleazy (despite not being especially familiar with his latter-day work).

Hippie Megson has been playing the numbers game since the early 70s, trying his luck at almost any thing in the hope of hitting the big celebrity jackpot that, like the grapes to Tantalus, so sadly seems to keep eluding him. And despite the bold bulimic rhetoric he utilises in conversation, Megson in all that time - with the assistance of his trusty sidekick, the Oxford Rhyming Dictionary - has not managed (in my opinion) to write one single half-decent set of lyrics. His continual griping and posturing and bitching and rationalising and whingeing and namechecking and boasting says a lot more about him than it does about anyone else: a subtext of why he doesn't get the recognition and public love for everything that, at least in his own addled moral worldview, he feels he's invented or achieved, and donated to the world.

The ironic and disappointing truth is that he's not a man in drag at all, I really wish he was. He's Nicholas Fairbairn with piercings.

MOUSE BROWN

I'll get my apologies in first. As the first anniversary of this blog approaches, I've noticed my posting frequency inexorably diminishing month by month, so from now on have decided to somewhat artificially pad things out a bit in the form of more movie 'reviews'.

The curious thing is that, despite never having done any acting since playing Captain Smollett in a school production of Treasure Island at the age of about 11 (my major claim to fame since it also starred Laurence Olivier's daughter Tamsin...), of all the theory that interests me, that of the theatre is where I find one can learn the most. Plus it's an endless source of powerful inspiration because in its purest form it's inside you at potentially the deepest emotional level.

REVISIONISM 2

I'm recommending a Disney film: and before you impertinently laugh out loud at the suggestion, or choke on your luxury chocolate cake - why not reread REVISIONISM and see Bridge To Terabithia.

THEMATIC APPERCEPTION

Egon Schiele prints hang all around my flat, you can't escape them - he always has been one of my favourite painters, and yet I was astounded, when visiting some of Vienna's finest galleries, to see them live, as it were, hanging on the museum-white walls. They seemed to reach out and touch in a way the more celebrated Klimt works didn't - at least for me. Schiele is perhaps most noted for his sexy female studies, and they are indeed studies in the most unflinching sense of the word - not jut because of the graphic poses and reveals but also because he forces the truth, and at the same time are truly romantic, as I would define the word.

There were also several of his other landscape and more abstract works, which were also vivid, and dark and foreboding - and this posting is only serving to remind how much a return trip to Vienna is needed for another fix of Schiele and the countless other lesser known (though equally impressive) artists' works.

THE WILD THEATRE

An incredible bit of wildlife drama - many thanks to Tim Goldie for passing on this link.

RUN IT ON ME 4

There've been all sorts of interesting responses to Racket - and the nice things that have been said, especially from those whose opinions I particularly value, are really most gratifying to hear.

One comment that has been repeated in several quarters that continues to mystify is that Dyad is somehow about The Wire - so let me state for the record it's neither about The Wire, Playboy, Woman's Own, The Economist, nor any other magazine for that matter.

One type of response that I love is one such as the priceless following example (by a certain 'Zeno Marx'):
"If this was done by someone else, say, Konono N°1, which would never happen because they're actually good at what they do, this album would get panned as it justly should. While generally a purist, I'm no Whitehouse purist because I don't care about them enough to hold them to a strict standard or style. I don't think they've had a good idea, let alone executed an idea well, since Quality Time, and maybe even before that. Racket, and what an appropriate name that is, sucks. Tracks 4 and 7 are the only ones worth a shit, and the only reason I'll even give those credit is because the others are so bad that they stand out as having a semblance of value. Live off the name, boys, because that's what you have left."

HORIZONS

Some new links added on the right hand side of the page - K-Punk's prolific blog is a great favourite of mine, I highly recommend it. I originally met him at a noise music conference at North London University; we had the pleasure of having dinner later with a group of the other participants, and I have been a great admirer ever since.

TOUCHING

There is no totally right or wrong relationship.

As you listen to music, with whom or what are you relating? Can you be touched?

Shut your eyes and ears for a brief time of silence, and try to discover who you wouldn't be in mental communication with, if there could be found one solitary moment when you'd not be in contact with some object. Because you may find something rather interesting: that even as you attempt to focus on something inanimate you cannot at all remove it from associations of life, perhaps of a person who created it, who placed it there, who touched it, who spoke about it, who looked at it.

If, as artists, we wish to exchange our feelings or our thoughts with a person, we must offer something you and I have experienced. Real communion is so much more magical than imitations of it - the simple desire to be merely effective cannot be allowed to cloak this relationship, this communion, this truth.

AFRO NOISE ON BOARD

I think it's been obvious for a while now my fascination with African (and Haiti for that matter), especially in terms of the music, language, and art - the inspiration has been utterly invaluable, and now my plan is to take this passion and endeavour much further with the pursuit of an open-ended genre that I've dubbed afro noise. Essentially to consist of obscure African percussion elements in free-form work-outs with almost any other type of (genuine) sound experimenting. Already in evidence in some of the latter-day Whitehouse tracks, I believe there are incredible and exciting possibilities here which will also serve to draw a firm line between - what seems to me at least, and I've said it before - the utterly staid, conservative, conformist, and oh-so-boring ageing 'noise' genre. Let's recapture the flame and the excitement.

We're going to soon begin putting out a series of albums of the best of these compositions beginning with Afro Noise I which will proudly feature the amazing art of Stefan Danielsson - so anyone who has any interest will be very welcome to get in touch or send us their own experiments; it's of no matter who you are, what you normally play (noise, jazz, classical, electronica, whatever), or what part of the world you're from; just that it comes from the heart and that it works, just that it hits the spot. Also, in the Edinburgh vicinity, if there are any percussionists, djembe players, or just eager pairs of demon hands, it would also be great to hear from you because we're going to be organising some regular sweaty work-out sessions.

There's also a blog dedicated to this (contributions very welcome), a website is coming soon, and a MySpace page.

DEARTH

Still alive, still clinging on - album's been out a week or so now and, like that morning after the best party of your life, I always experience a feeling of utter emptiness and it's going to need a while to reanimate.