A new radio station CITY TALK launches in Liverpool on Monday 28th January from the Radio City tower. As it says on the tin, it's all talk with a variety of presenters like Margi Clarke, Dean Sullivan and Daily Mirror journalist Brian Reade.
Listen out for Kirkby Girl herself, who will be making the occasional appearance on Brian's Saturday morning show (10 -12).
City Talk 105.9
End of shameless plug.
Saturday, January 26, 2008
Monday, January 21, 2008
The Number One Project
Liverpool has had 56 number one singles in the hit parade. I'm not bragging or saying this for camp effect (well, that bit isn't true - I love saying things for camp effect). It's a fact. Actually, as the night of the Number One Project Concert wore on, it was discovered we've had 57 number one hits. My favourite quote of the night - "Carol Decker. T'Pau. China in Your Hand. Born in Huyton". And it wasn't even from Billy Butler. But all this must be sounding very retro and insular to anyone not born within a ten mile radius of the Liver Building. So to the concert itself...
Due to a slight ticket hiccup we arrived a few songs in and I have no idea what we missed. But the seats were good. Seven rows from the front. And in an arena that seats 10, 600 this helped us get into the spirit of things. I hate big arenas. I like my gigs small, dark and slightly sweaty. But this was different, as I hope most things during the Capital of Culture year will be for me. Part of the reason for this blog. It's at this point that I'll say half of me was going with a firm sense of irony and the other half looking forward to seeing bands like China Crisis, The Farm and Shack. Not for me the mawkish sentimentality that often abounds in this city I call home. Ha. How we laughed. Or rather how I stood up and swayed along to Ferry Across the Mersey, All Together Now and You'll Never Walk Alone. Poor Sonia, she came on far too early to get everyone on their feet. And if someone would like to explain to me what Dr and the Medics were doing there then I'd happily listen. For about three seconds...
An Evertonian friend went off to the pub before Gerry got into his stride and I doubt anyone under forty would have had a clue what Mike McCartney and Scaffold were going on about. But being present for a real life rendition of Lilly the Pink pushed all my camp, retro and irony buttons for a good few years. I can't say I'd want to do it again in a hurry but it's a great project. To find out more go to http://www.thenumberoneproject.org/ It's a charity event and a frigging brilliant idea, you've got to admit.
I'll finish with a real brag - Yours Truly puffed up with pride when Gary Daly from China Crisis dedicated Wishful Thinking to all the Kirkby Girls. Oh what a night...
Due to a slight ticket hiccup we arrived a few songs in and I have no idea what we missed. But the seats were good. Seven rows from the front. And in an arena that seats 10, 600 this helped us get into the spirit of things. I hate big arenas. I like my gigs small, dark and slightly sweaty. But this was different, as I hope most things during the Capital of Culture year will be for me. Part of the reason for this blog. It's at this point that I'll say half of me was going with a firm sense of irony and the other half looking forward to seeing bands like China Crisis, The Farm and Shack. Not for me the mawkish sentimentality that often abounds in this city I call home. Ha. How we laughed. Or rather how I stood up and swayed along to Ferry Across the Mersey, All Together Now and You'll Never Walk Alone. Poor Sonia, she came on far too early to get everyone on their feet. And if someone would like to explain to me what Dr and the Medics were doing there then I'd happily listen. For about three seconds...
An Evertonian friend went off to the pub before Gerry got into his stride and I doubt anyone under forty would have had a clue what Mike McCartney and Scaffold were going on about. But being present for a real life rendition of Lilly the Pink pushed all my camp, retro and irony buttons for a good few years. I can't say I'd want to do it again in a hurry but it's a great project. To find out more go to http://www.thenumberoneproject.org/ It's a charity event and a frigging brilliant idea, you've got to admit.
I'll finish with a real brag - Yours Truly puffed up with pride when Gary Daly from China Crisis dedicated Wishful Thinking to all the Kirkby Girls. Oh what a night...
Wednesday, January 16, 2008
Face Off
Something has been troubling me for a few days now. Facebook has been generating quite a lot of publicity, most recently in Monday's Guardian. The latest party pooper reckons that there's nothing sadder than the man who was sat at his computer on a Saturday night with a glass of wine sending messages to friends on Facebook. Excuse me, hasn't he heard Half Man, Half Biscuit singing there's nothing better than writing on the sole of your slippers on a Saturday night...? Each to their own. As the great Nigel Blackwell knows. I resent being told what I should be doing on a Saturday night, or any other time, in fact.
Too often lately I've found myself trying to justify why I joined Facebook or what I do on it. Mind your own bloody business and join up if you're that interested. It's hardly any great secret. And anyone with a computer and a service provider knows that sometimes hours can pass before anything that anyone could call useful happens. We're all guilty of it. Be it solitaire, digital spy or wikipedia...indulging in guilty pleasures is one of the best bits of the technology.
But it seems that Facebook is the current bete noire of the media, some of my mates and even the lovely boyfriend (who keeps slagging it off and then going back on). There are things I hate about it too - the endless and pointless groups that are formed. The pathetic chain mail messages. And the people who change their status update on an hourly basis. Not interested. But I don't want to be told what I shouldn't be wasting my time on when I'm messing round on the net. I have deadlines for that. We'll get over it. It will pass. For now let us enjoy nosing at other people's photos. Leave us to wonder at why some people need so many friends to prove their worth. And get back to wasting your own time.
Now, who can I poke today?
Too often lately I've found myself trying to justify why I joined Facebook or what I do on it. Mind your own bloody business and join up if you're that interested. It's hardly any great secret. And anyone with a computer and a service provider knows that sometimes hours can pass before anything that anyone could call useful happens. We're all guilty of it. Be it solitaire, digital spy or wikipedia...indulging in guilty pleasures is one of the best bits of the technology.
But it seems that Facebook is the current bete noire of the media, some of my mates and even the lovely boyfriend (who keeps slagging it off and then going back on). There are things I hate about it too - the endless and pointless groups that are formed. The pathetic chain mail messages. And the people who change their status update on an hourly basis. Not interested. But I don't want to be told what I shouldn't be wasting my time on when I'm messing round on the net. I have deadlines for that. We'll get over it. It will pass. For now let us enjoy nosing at other people's photos. Leave us to wonder at why some people need so many friends to prove their worth. And get back to wasting your own time.
Now, who can I poke today?
Sunday, January 13, 2008
The Opening Weekend
It's to my great shame that I was largely unaware of most of the Capital of Culture happenings. This made for a lovely surprise though when I arrived in between Lime Street Station and the Liverpool Empire to join in the People's Opening Ceremony. Being a part of the crowd felt special. And also made me determined to attend as many events throughout the year as possible. This is my city and I'm about to reclaim it. Although I doubt Ringo is shaking in his boots at the threat, like Wally I'll be turning up everywhere. Maybe I should set myself a goal to see how many times I can get my grid in The Echo...
I've started off well. Thanks mainly to a trusty old friend who blagged me and the lovely boyfriend (I have issues with the words husband and partner) into the VIP reception. There was Ken Dodd, Alison Steadman, Ricky Tomlinson and you can guess the rest. Shame I missed Marc Almond.
So the Friday night extravaganza was a triumphant showcase of Liverpool, its people, its spirit and its beautiful architecture. Well done to whoever decided to use containers - I loved this reference to the great dockyards that are the waterside boundaries of the city. Precious Cargo spilled out onto St George's Plateau and we were treated to a spectacle that any creative city would have been proud of. All ending in the song. Yes, the bloody song. Ringo's special tribute to Liverpool. Me and the boyfriend disagreed at this point. It was the first time I'd heard it so I let the jury stay out until Saturday night...
And having been lucky enough to blag ( Am I a blagger or a blogger?) another two tickets for the Echo Arena concert - Liverpool the Musical, it was with no expectations that I arrived at the Albert Dock on Saturday night. The RLPO were staged in a high rise effect and led by Vasily Petrenko on his scissor lift. Lots of arial acrobatics entertained us while Echo and the Bunnymen kicked off the show. The highlight for me was Connie Lush on amazing form and The Farm who got everyone on their feet with All Together Now. Special mention to Pete Wylie in his silver (or gold, I couldn't quite tell) suit that had me wondering if he'd had a word with Roberto Cavalli about the leftover material from the Spice Girls tour. It's great to have Ringo here for the celebrations but I'm afraid the song still left me cold on a second listen. At the end of the night Ringo claimed he was this close to moving back. I know one thing's for sure - I'm not this close to buying his new album.
But ending in a few gin and tonics in The Baltic Fleet and The Everyman, after this weekend I am sure I'll be all over Liverpool like a bad rash in the Capital of Culture year.
I've started off well. Thanks mainly to a trusty old friend who blagged me and the lovely boyfriend (I have issues with the words husband and partner) into the VIP reception. There was Ken Dodd, Alison Steadman, Ricky Tomlinson and you can guess the rest. Shame I missed Marc Almond.
So the Friday night extravaganza was a triumphant showcase of Liverpool, its people, its spirit and its beautiful architecture. Well done to whoever decided to use containers - I loved this reference to the great dockyards that are the waterside boundaries of the city. Precious Cargo spilled out onto St George's Plateau and we were treated to a spectacle that any creative city would have been proud of. All ending in the song. Yes, the bloody song. Ringo's special tribute to Liverpool. Me and the boyfriend disagreed at this point. It was the first time I'd heard it so I let the jury stay out until Saturday night...
And having been lucky enough to blag ( Am I a blagger or a blogger?) another two tickets for the Echo Arena concert - Liverpool the Musical, it was with no expectations that I arrived at the Albert Dock on Saturday night. The RLPO were staged in a high rise effect and led by Vasily Petrenko on his scissor lift. Lots of arial acrobatics entertained us while Echo and the Bunnymen kicked off the show. The highlight for me was Connie Lush on amazing form and The Farm who got everyone on their feet with All Together Now. Special mention to Pete Wylie in his silver (or gold, I couldn't quite tell) suit that had me wondering if he'd had a word with Roberto Cavalli about the leftover material from the Spice Girls tour. It's great to have Ringo here for the celebrations but I'm afraid the song still left me cold on a second listen. At the end of the night Ringo claimed he was this close to moving back. I know one thing's for sure - I'm not this close to buying his new album.
But ending in a few gin and tonics in The Baltic Fleet and The Everyman, after this weekend I am sure I'll be all over Liverpool like a bad rash in the Capital of Culture year.
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