I ran out of time and into beer. I went with train to Brussels and back here, and I sat and watched people graduate, and I ran into beer. And I woke up and watched Will Farrel go into the wild with a crazy British SAS guy. I biked north and ran into more beer. One day I had hamburgers and fries for breakfast, and dinner. I sold my body to the devil and this Sunday it is payback time. You can only run on beer and unhealthy food for so long. I spend the money I don't have on printed paper, and yesterday I talked with a guy who works with communication for a big international company. I told him that I read The Economist. He said he thought the text was too small, and that is was too serious. I should have mentioned this small news from this weeks issue:
A Bolivian religious fanatic briefly hijacked a Mexican airliner, ordering it to circle Mexico city. He told the crew he had three accomplices, whom he later identified to the police as "the Father, the Son and the Holy Ghost."
Maybe you thought that Peter Bjorn And John were a one hit whistling wonder. Well, I forgive you for thinking so, but you were always wrong. The Swedish three pieced orchestra is getting ready to hit back after their monumental album Writers Block, and they're doing it sounding like Lykke Li's Breaking It Up (Bjorn produced her debut album Youth Novels, so you should not be that surprised) mashed up with Teddybears Stockholm. The two first tastes from their forthcoming album shows that they've clearly lost their mind, in the same good way as M.I.A.s clothing always did. The videos for Nothing To Worry About (above, containing Japanese Rockabilly gangsters in black doing choreographed dancing) and Lay It Down (containing ironic dancing with face masks in basement party) shows that the band still have a killer sense for what is contemporary (funny videos on youtube) and still know how to put together a pop song, with Nothing To Worry About being especially impressive with it's big beat and fuck you attitude, not so common in Sweden (excluding big mouthed The Hives).
On the 26th of March they grace Amsterdam and Melkweg with a visit, I've got tickets, you should come too. Last time I saw them here, fall of 2006 in Paradiso's small hall the base player seemed stoned and talked about Skellefteå AIK, a Swedish hockey team, in Swedish.
Later in the week I will write about Brussels and yell at corporate leaders and their lack of communication understanding. It will be great.
Stranded. In Amsterdam. Stuffed nose. Headache. Cold feet. Insert: oh I'm so sorry, here--- Watched Frost/Nixon. Great. Watched The Wrestler. Great. Watched Melinda and Melinda. Even though it was a Woody Allen movie. Less good. Took a walk. With music. Nose still stuffed. Drinking diet Coke. Brussels tomorrow? Maybe Insert: sleep, now.
I'm really into France right now These are the reasons:
I'm reading Bodil Malmsten's – Priset på vatten i Finistère (in Swedish), about her first year in France after leaving Sweden. A bit too much about gardening, but full of wisdom.
I'm also reading her blog where she writes about life in France, and Finistère.
I'm in love with Phoenix new song 1901 I wrote about here. It was the most blogged about song in the world the past week. If you haven't gone to their website and downloaded it, you really should. They know how to craft a hit, Paris based Phoenix.
I'm going to French speaking Brussels tomorrow for three days of cultural, beer and European Commission action. I will try and write something about my experiences in 'Urine City' on the blog.
I've rediscovered Une année sans lumière, the part French song from Arcade Fire's monumental debut album Funeral.
And I'm watching this video of Eddy Izzard explaining how difficult it is to say the monkey is on the branch in French, in France.
It's all about France and nose spray here in my room.
