Pj would soooooo kick Kate's aging ass!!!

Like, I mean, REALLY!??  PJ would just smack Kate right in her High C cake hole and throw her bratty little soprano son, Bertie, on a spit roast.  Mind you, this is VERY pretty....

album of the year

Oh no Johnny, I beg to differ.

Kate Bush could like totally beat PJ Harvey in a scrag fight and deafen her at twenty paces with a well placed top C, and make her librarian hair curl to boot.

50 words for snow.

Je reste mon valise.

Let PJ Shake You

Honest to God, probably the best album of 2011 has got to be the astonishingly talented PJ Harvey's 'Let England Shake'.  A collection of beautifully crafted reflections on England's violent past.  Go here for her latest video.





The Words the Maketh Murder


I've seen and done things I want to forget;
I've seen soldiers fall like lumps of meat,
Blown and shot out beyond belief.
Arms and legs were in the trees.

I've seen and done things I want to forget;
Coming from an unearthly place,
Longing to see a woman's face
Instead of the words that gather pace

The words that maketh murder.
These, these, these are the words
The words that maketh murder.
These, these, these are the words
The words that maketh murder.
These, these, these are the words
Murder

These, these, these are the words
The words that maketh murder.
These, these, these are the words
The words that maketh murder.

I've seen and done things I want to forget;
I've seen a corporal whose nerves were shot
Climbing behind the fierce, gone sun,
I've seen flies swarming everyone,
Soldiers fell like lumps of meat.
These are the words, the words are these.

Death lingering, stunk,
Flies swarming everyone,
Over the whole summit peak,
Flesh quivering in the heat.
This was something else again.
I fear it cannot explain.
The words that make, the words that make
Murder.

What if I take my problem to the United Nations?
What if I take my problem to the United Nations?
What if I take my problem to the United Nations?
What if I take my problem to the United Nations?
What if I take my problem to the United Nations?
What if I take my problem to the United Nations?
What if I take my what if I take my problem to the United Nations?

It wasn’t planned this way, but our annual jaunt to Les Montagnes Bleues coincided with the “Winter Magic Festival”. As I charged up the hill to High St Katoomba, I thought, Marve! Colour and movement; though I skirted around visions of a muddy paddock and drugged-out hippies murdering the penny whistle and waifs on the congas.

Okay, sure there were more than a handful of folk dressed like they were on day release from the local funny farm, and there was a rather high percentage of those whose eyes were a tad too close together for comfort; not to mention the ubiquitous spouses who bore a striking family resemblance to each other ... But where else can you find grown-ups who still believe in fairies brushing shoulders with the pied piper and Captain Jack Sparrow?

The parade chuffed up the high street.

It was a cross between a provincial livestock fair in Medieval England and the 1978 Mardi Gras parade - though with fewer drugs. Actually, that last bit's probably a good thing.

The local chapel had a handful of wannabe Harlem songstrels belting out gospel tunes that wouldn’t have sounded out of place in downtown Mississippi. All that was missing were wire specs and pitchfork. These faithful amateurs packed a vocal punch, albeit through deformed lips and beards with chaffinches nesting in them.

The solstice: druids dancing like jesters and whistling at the moon; kids with painted faces; stray dogs howling; toothless banjo pickers; and runting, no doubt, in the backstreets of pagan Katoomba.

I couldn’t decide if it was really good fun, or really scary.

Perhaps a bit of both.