tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-106996732008-05-24T00:24:48.915ZStevie Chicknoreply@blogger.comBlogger98125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10699673.post-39512691763693983682008-05-13T16:16:00.001Z2008-05-13T16:16:36.242Z

for the Guardian

Stevie Chicknoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10699673.post-68697784991152463392008-05-13T16:15:00.000Z2008-05-13T16:16:05.611Z

For the Guardian

Stevie Chicknoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10699673.post-46015588633444655562008-05-13T16:14:00.002Z2008-05-13T16:15:26.596Z

I love The Breeders so very much. Here's my recent Guardian feature on 'em...

Stevie Chicknoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10699673.post-74876286521708803742008-05-13T16:13:00.002Z2008-05-13T16:14:28.446Z

For MOJO

Stevie Chicknoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10699673.post-68977734875207812122008-05-13T16:13:00.001Z2008-05-13T16:13:47.720Z

For MOJO

Stevie Chicknoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10699673.post-15644254869929263152008-03-01T12:36:00.002Z2008-03-01T12:38:09.736Z

.flickr-photo { border: solid 2px #000000; }.flickr-yourcomment { }.flickr-frame { text-align: left; padding: 3px; }.flickr-caption { font-size: 0.8em; margin-top: 0px; } it exists!, originally uploaded by Stevie Chick, Foxy Boxer. Published March 3rd, and something of a labour of love...

Stevie Chicknoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10699673.post-31075473158034179782008-01-10T23:09:00.000Z2008-01-10T23:12:26.752Z

Dave Day, singer and banjo player with the remarkable Monks, just passed away. RIP. This was written for the London Lite when the group played the Dirty Water Club last year. What a night... THE MONKS are like The Velvet Underground of the garage-rock scene – few bought their sole album, Black Monk Time, on its release in 1966, but the group have since become an influential rock’n’roll cult.

Stevie Chicknoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10699673.post-58234782521089118402008-01-09T13:48:00.000Z2008-01-09T13:49:57.422Z

I interviewed George Clinton last year and he was AWESOME.

Stevie Chicknoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10699673.post-69494123586902222032007-12-01T18:06:00.000Z2007-12-01T18:11:33.572Z

[for Plan B magazine; meeting Maceo was, as you might imagine, quite a trip, and he was one of the coolest interviewees I've ever had the pleasure of questioning. Long may he blow...] He was, and perhaps still is, the hardest working saxophonist in showbusiness, blowing horn and evading fines with James Brown over several stretches through the 60s, 70s and 80s. Maceo Parker lent his furious

Stevie Chicknoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10699673.post-74916582970327741722007-11-01T00:50:00.000Z2007-11-01T00:51:31.225Z

[news piece / review from MOJO] September 12th saw Brian Wilson return to the freshly-refurbished Royal Festival Hall – where he had previously debuted Smile and Pet Sounds – for the world premiere of his newest work, a song-cycle written with Wondermint Scott Bennett and long-time collaborator Van Dyke Parks. Entitled That Lucky Old Sun (A Narrative), conceived while Wilson was “in the middle of

Stevie Chicknoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10699673.post-57725004841185549322007-10-28T22:23:00.000Z2007-10-28T22:24:55.681Z

Big Dada Records is ten years old! Buy their new Well Deep compilation album and DVD! Then buy everything else they ever released! But first read this.

Stevie Chicknoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10699673.post-8346970452890147342007-10-21T22:52:00.001Z2007-10-21T22:53:20.208Z

Oh, hello. You can find my Guardian feature on the wonderful Amerie here

Stevie Chicknoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10699673.post-49603111961671986032007-09-27T14:25:00.000Z2007-09-27T14:27:57.915Z

[for Arena... Las Vegas, well, I hated it. The Fall Out boys, however, were lovely. Big shout to Louise Mayne who had to put up with my interminable gloom throughout this trip (seriously, June sucked...)] “EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!” The high-pitched banshee wail is ear-piercing and nigh unbearable. We’re at Nellis Air Force Base in Clark County Nevada, North East of Las

Stevie Chicknoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10699673.post-44757896558677018902007-09-08T22:22:00.001Z2007-09-08T23:23:22.914Z

.flickr-photo { border: solid 2px #000000; }.flickr-yourcomment { }.flickr-frame { text-align: left; padding: 3px; }.flickr-caption { font-size: 0.8em; margin-top: 0px; } too much time behind the monitor today, originally uploaded by Stevie Chick, Foxy Boxer. Am deep into a weekend of writing and transcribing, and going slightly mental. Earlier I fashioned a relief sculpture of E.T. the

Stevie Chicknoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10699673.post-56113048809296119492007-09-06T18:28:00.000Z2007-09-06T18:43:26.975Z

[featuring The Bronx's Matt and Joby, and the sons of Los Lobos guitarist David Hidalgo, The Drips delivered one of the all-time great punk rock debuts with their eponymous 2006 LP. I play the shit out of it every chance I get, if you ever loved the Descendents or Husker Du you must get this album! for plan b] The Barfly is the biggest cheese of all Camden’s venues, most nights playing host to

Stevie Chicknoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10699673.post-86711747236953963642007-09-06T18:11:00.000Z2007-09-06T18:16:45.724Z

[the best part of this 'job' - aside from the joyful/agonising work of chipping a feature out of the impenetrable hunk of rock that might be your feelings about said music - is meeting people who you just think are ace in every way. and meeting the grates, an awesome young group from australia, was one of those moments; they totally won me over with their enthusiasm, their unforced bonhomie, the

Stevie Chicknoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10699673.post-10884170755338673022007-09-01T10:51:00.001Z2007-09-01T10:51:11.308Z

.flickr-photo { border: solid 2px #000000; }.flickr-yourcomment { }.flickr-frame { text-align: left; padding: 3px; }.flickr-caption { font-size: 0.8em; margin-top: 0px; } kim dances, originally uploaded by Stevie Chick, Foxy Boxer.

Stevie Chicknoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10699673.post-15600419144438161282007-08-27T17:29:00.000Z2007-08-27T17:39:48.414Z

[written around 2001, getting published here in celebration of the upcoming Big Dada 10th Anniversary. Roots is a GOD.] The setting is Pimlico school, Westminster, in the mid-1980s. "Hip hop was everywhere, everybody was writing things on their tracksuits and colouring their white trainers black, having freestyle battles on the concourse," reminisces Rodney Smith, aka Roots Manuva, aka British

Stevie Chicknoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10699673.post-54908028506529435582007-08-24T22:30:00.000Z2007-08-24T22:44:00.613Z

[this began life as a proposed MOJO blog idea, and subsequently grew into this mess of ideas inspired by a song that I'll admit I've been obsessed with most of this gloomy Summer. I have been reliably informed by my friend Tom that Surf's Up is actually a pretty good film; whatever the truth is on that score, go find this song.] The best single you’ll hear all year isn’t actually being

Stevie Chicknoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10699673.post-65667955474242960302007-08-24T18:31:00.000Z2007-08-24T18:34:12.960Z

Blinkered idealism defuses a time bomb blindly Sorting through a tangle of mixed messages Selecting only the strands that flatter bluffing fingertips Ensuring eventual explosion

Stevie Chicknoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10699673.post-69052717646402843802007-08-24T18:27:00.001Z2007-08-24T18:27:50.128Z

WordsWhat has happened? language eludes me the nice specifying words of my life fail when I callAh says a friend dried up no doubt on the dessicated twigs in the swamp of the skull like a lake where the water level has been shifted by highways a couple of miles offAnother friend says No no my dear perhaps you are only meant to speak more plainly

Stevie Chicknoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10699673.post-81429469686746889012007-08-21T21:34:00.000Z2007-08-21T21:37:52.809Z

[for Plan B, and put up here mostly in honour of the friend mentioned in the piece, who is a dude I haven't hung with in far too long. A bit nervous uploading this one, now I know my mum reads my blog; Mum, I don't think you'll like this one, it's a bit rude] Hope For Men (Sub Pop) I’ll never forget the night I was devirginised by The Jesus Lizard, sometime back in the 1990s at a dingy,

Stevie Chicknoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10699673.post-15137384733019041102007-08-16T23:17:00.000Z2007-08-16T23:18:59.088Z

[for London Lite; TY is an absolute diamond] Rap’s a genre obsessed by location, location, location. Few can forget the infamous East Coast/West Coast ‘beefs’ of the 90s that pitted Californian gangstas against their Big Apple brethren. The biggest noise in mainstream hip-hop the last couple of years has been ‘crunk’ – a lewd and loud rap hybrid from Atlanta with a peculiarly Southern swagger.

Stevie Chicknoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10699673.post-91566356862645053322007-08-16T23:14:00.000Z2007-08-17T11:13:22.385Z

[for London Lite] Innocence and darkness figure equally in the music of Daniel Johnston, a Texan singer-songwriter whose frail, homespun pop has won the hearts of rock superstars, and whose unlikely, unhappy life story was the subject of award-winning 2005 documentary, The Devil And Daniel Johnston. Johnston is, in many ways, the ultimate ‘outsider’ artist; diagnosed as manic depressive soon

Stevie Chicknoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10699673.post-54882210493794392902007-08-16T23:12:00.000Z2007-08-16T23:14:43.121Z

[a preview for Sly's performance at the Lovebox weekender; wish I'd made the show, whatever it was like] If it seems like the 60s superstars were doomed to Icarus-like fates, few soared as high or plummeted as sharply as Sylvester Stewart. As Sly, he led The Family Stone through a dizzying run of smash singles and acclaimed albums, their upbeat riot of soul, funk and rock evoking the optimism of

Stevie Chicknoreply@blogger.com