W H E R E
In her latest List Diary instalment, Radio Scotland DJ and girl-about- town GILL MILLS pops up at every opening night in Glasgow.
Somebody, somewhere is busy right at this moment compiling the data that will confirm that Glasgow is
in the middle of some vast leisure boom. For the past
few years, the city centre has resembled a building site, with huge buildings shrouded in polyurethane and mystery; but now those wrappings are being torn down and all of us are being allowed through hallowed portals to wreak consumer damage.
The fortnight kicked off with intent at the Jigsaw Menswear opening. Dragged BF along to raise the ranks of the great uncool to two, then spent evening trying to work out just what exactly a koolberry was. After lengthy discussions on how to plant the bush and harvest the fruit, realise am completely spanked and no longer care what the hale and pace a koolberry is. Apart from that it tastes nice with vodka. The evening spirals into chaos as glammed- up fashion kittens stagger about the shop, trailing beer over the fine cashmeres of this year’s collection and spilling glitter on the most austere of this season's greys.
‘Glammed-up fashion kittens stagger about the shop, trailing beer over the fine cashmeres of this year's collection
struck me and muffled giggles ruined the recording levels. Obviously completely delighted at the presence of a (admittedly v. dishy) Melody Maker journalist to record my shambolic approach for prosperity. Adjourn to the boozer and plan top rock night at the Black Crowes the following night.
After gnawing on lobster claws and avoiding huge bouffant hairdos at the opening of the Sky Bar, the conspicuous consumption continued apace as I picked my way through the rubble of West Nile Street and (wait for it, huge articulated pun approaching) broke for the
and spilling glitter on the most austere Opening of the new some“ bookshop.
of this season's greys'
Igniting stray threads and dust particles with my breath all the while, conducted a not-still-drunk-at- all interview with the three Welsh stooges, The Stereophonics. As luck would have it, they too were still rubbered and everything went swimmingly, until the similarity between Stuart and Windsor Davies
Whole different ball game, thought I, as wine was doled out by the French region. Have
school reunion flashback when allowed to drink in forbidden areas. Spotted authors like William Mcllvanney and Christopher Brookmyre. Marvel once again at the trusting souls prepared to risk thousands of pounds worth of stock in the name of red wine.
Spent the night With the AC Acoustics in the car park of the Practice Pad in Maryhill as they shot their new video. Soaked Paul Campion to the skin and trapped the band for hours in a tiny hire car, along wth lots of fluorescent tubes. For all I know, in the name of art, they could still be there.
After being backstage at Ash's Barrowland gig, Spilled out to The 13th Note with the band. Had the delight of being stuck in my seat with a well—gone Charlotte slumped across my chest, but passed the time watching Tim and Rick happily fend off the hoardes of female fans. Eventually, the gallant Colin from Idlewild came to the rescue, pouring Charlotte into a taxi -- pity about the leg sticking out the door as the cab headed off into the night.
As the week ended to the strains of Mogwai's not very secret at all gig at Nice ’n' Sleazy, had sudden moment of fondness for this dear rubbled place. As Luther (Vandross, not King) once said, the best things in life are free.
Start scribbling, because the best letter each issue wins a bottle of Smirnoff Blue
I liked your Halloween H20 spec ial last issue, especially the slasher inovre rating chart, That live out of five for [be Texas (lid/IlSclVV Massacre made me head down to my local Video shop and ask if they could get in a copy. Boy, (lid | get some weird looks
you'd think I'd offered tickets for folk to come and watch me ritually
sac rifice my grandmother. How was I to know it was banned as a Video nasty? C learly you guys rate it as a classic of its kind and you say there's no sex and very little gore Far less, probably, than some stuff that’s currently showmg in the multiplexes. Sounds like the censors have got their priorities mixed up
Rhyme and reason
lwrite regarding your rev:ew of (farly Rab's book (lias/ng Rainbows [Issue 343]. I agree her poetry may be unequal to her conterriporaries, but find the last passage of your revrew highly offensive and blatantly untrue:
6 THE LIST 8 if) “v'ov 1998
’rf you're looking to" poetry of real guality, buy something from an estabiished publisher and taste the difference'
HHS suggests the orin poets who count in the revrewer’s ()[)l.".l()ll are those With major publishers and that
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Texas Chainsaw Massacre: Leatherface takes on the censors
those who operate on the ﬂanges of a major playerdominated iria'Ket have to do so because the" poet'y 's not good enough to stand a ongs‘cte that published by llaroe'C oll 5‘s, e‘. al lhe but.“ Is that many srnal l)ill).‘l8".(‘l"s operate or: Sl‘.()(‘Sl.’l"(]
budgets, anthotit tl‘e fir‘ar‘ca muscle o‘ a llavoc>'Cc)l?:'is or a Minerva, and ca" o" y a“ord \.'.""‘<BY 'c heap desktop- o..o s" "c: so‘twav‘e' alfows r‘. teruts of ciesg" a":i ayout Seconcl'y, as a 'eot. a' have." o‘ poetry book's
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