I've been gone over a week now. I could have come back with news of the new Kraftwerk live CD, which appeared today, or perhaps some pictures of bearded guys or a lengthy appraisal of the article I read in last month's Harpers about the Religious Fundementalist Broadcasters convention, which was a seriously brilliant and also frightening read and highly recommended.
Instead, I'm coming back with this - a photo of the rather brilliant band Clinic.
What is wrong with the world? Why do I appear to be the only person outside their immediate families who really cares about these guys? An acquaintance of mine who works at their record company even went to far as to point out that they can sell out decent sized venues in the US but had to cancel their last London show because of lacklustre ticket sales. I don't get it. They have a really unique sound - kind of 60s garage crossed with woozy-sttyle Velvets and a smattering of Devo. Yes, the masks are gimmicky, but so what? Razorlight are gimmicky too - in a way less interesting way. Their live shows (Clinic, that is) are superb - crisp, tight, less than an hour, no encores. When I saw them in L.A. Nancy Sinatra was sitting next to me. If it's good enough for Nancy it's good enough for the masses. When the time comes for me to programme a festival, Clinic are way up on the bill.
In case you're wondering, this was all prompted by a track of theirs appearing on shuffle on the iPod this morning. It fair made a cracking start to my week.