Three meals that were eaten at least once a week, throughout the year after I discovered that they existed, as I desired to sit bloated and content in the sun, slowly recovering from a hangover.
3. The BLT — with a smudge of avocado — sandwich on Turkish bread from Newscaf, Newtown.
Mammoth and messy, it smears green and drips red. Swine strips on your tongue. Terrible for your arteries, great for your hangovers. You decide which is more important.
2. Ham, cheese and tomato open grill sandwich on Turkish bread from Newscaf, Newtown.
Cheese, so much cheese. A town of tomato and ham situated near an erupting volcanic cheddar, molten queso terrorising the townsfolk’s livelihoods and sating their taste-buds all at once.
1. The beef Chimichanga from Beach Burrito Company, Newtown.
Hey, God. Is this what you eat? I think this is what you eat. You spent, like, a day on the planets and the sun and the wind and wireless internet, then you spent six days on this. Intoxicating, addictive. I would better understand Eve’s unbearable temptations if this were hanging from the tree in Eden.
Three songs that inevitably burrowed their melodies into the crevices of daily listening, whether or not they fit the weather patterns, life occurrences and time constraints.
Yes, yes. Why? It’s simple. It flickers and flickers and spins itself into an earthly refrain. Paul — can I call him Paul? — offers a morsel of poignancy: “Now and then / I can see the truth / above the lies. / Now and then / I can see you’re truly / anesthetized.”
“Separate / or combine / I ask you.” The xx’s follow-up was hotly anticipated, sourly received, carefully neglected. This is right. Sad and right and easily repeated. More of Oliver’s twists of tongue and the instrumental minimalism that so compelled audiences to listen to lovelorn tales quietly.
1. Freedom Fry – Summer In The City
Freedom Fry have been here once before. They were chirpy and sanguine-sweet then, in the middle of winter, and now as the mercury rises their rotation in the household — as cupboards are cleaned or in the car as the road to the sand and ocean gets shorter — is unquestioned.
Songs that mean more now than they did before, or “Songs That Joan Has Professed To Love All Along When Once He Ignored Or Under-Appreciated Them And Now He Is Really Sorry, Please Forgive Him.”
3. Bloc Party – Positive Tension
AND YOU CANNOT RUN OR EVER, EVER ESCAPE. AND YOU CANNOT RUN OR EVER, HIDE IT AWAY. SOMETHING GLORIOUS IS ABOUT TO HAPPEN. OH MAN OH MAN I FUCKING LOVE THIS SONG NOW. I DIDN’T BEFORE BUT THE DRUMS, MAN, THE DRUMS! “RUN RUN RUN RUN RUN RUN.” THEN THAT GUITAR KICKS IN AND THEY GO, THEY SAY…
WHY’D YOU HAVE TO GET SO HYSTERICAL? WHY’D YOU HAVE TO GET SO HYSTERICAL? WHY’D YOU HAVE TO GET SO HYSTERICAL? WHY’D YOU HAVE TO GET SO HYSTERICAL? WHY’D YOU HAVE TO GET SO HYSTERICAL? WHY’D YOU HAVE TO GET SO HYSTERICAL? WHY’D YOU HAVE TO GET SO HYSTERICAL? WHY’D YOU HAVE TO GET SO HYSTERICAL? WHY’D YOU HAVE TO GET SO HYSTERICAL?
WHY’D YOU HAVE TO GET… SO FUCKING USELESS?
2. Radiohead – Myxomatosis. (Judge, Jury & Executioner.)
I remember: Thom Yorke, frenzied and impassioned with his microphone clasped sweatily to his bearded lips. The distortion rang out and shook the arena. Droning and droning. The crowd cheering and waving, twitching and salivating. I know why I was so tongue-tied.
1. The Smiths – This Charming Man
Somewhere this song was lost. When The Smiths were every song played, this song was lost and that was a goddam shame. Infectious and, yes, charming. Rooms rise when this song comes on, limbs jerking and heads shaking from left-to-right while the bartenders call Last Drinks and nobody hears them. The year is ending and the stores are closing and the jobs are lost and they don’t hear it. They just keep dancing. Uh-ah!