RUNNING THE WORLD BY JARVIS COCKER

Well did you hear, there’s a natural order.
Those most deserving will end up with the most.
That the cream cannot help but always rise up to the top,
Well I say: Shit floats.
If you thought things had changed,
Friend you’d better think again,
Bluntly put in the fewest of words,
Cunts are still running the world,
Cunts are still running the world.

Now the working classes are obsolete,
They are surplus to society's needs,
So let ‘em all kill each other,
And get it made overseas.
That’s the word don’t you know,
From the guys thats running the show,
Lets be perfectly clear boys and girls,
Cunts are still running the world,
Cunts are still running the world.

Oh feed your children on crayfish and lobster tails,
Find a school near the top of the league,
In theory I respect your right to exist,
I will kill ya if you move in next to me,
Ah it stinks, it sucks, it’s anthropologically unjust,
But the takings are up by a third, Oh So
Cunts are still running the world,
Cunts are still running the world.

Your free market is perfectly natural,
Or do you think that I’m some kind of dummy,
It’s the ideal way to order the world,
Fuck the morals, does it make any money?
And if you don’t like it? Then leave.
Or use your right to protest on the street,
Yeah, use your rights but don’t imagine that it’s heard, Oh no no,
Cunts are still running the world,
Cunts are still running the world.

Of course, Natural's not in it, as The Gang Of Four put it some decades ago. Music is mainly used to sell stuff these days, so it's great to hear a song that cuts through the bullshit so economically.

THE DEATH OF GILLO PONTECORVO

The director of The Battle of Algiers has gone to that world where everything's in 16mm and black-and-white. Thank you, Gillo. BOA is not just a Third Worldist film for a bygone era of anticolonial nationalism. Viva Insurgent Cinema!

I LOVE YOU 8 [CHAMPAGNE POUR SHUCHI]

I've been finessing this playlist since the end of August and am finally happy with it. Shuchi and I were in court in Austin, Texas on 31st August 1996.





EVELYN 'CHAMPAGNE' KING--I'm In Love
LES NUBIANS--Tabou (featuring Casey)
DJ /RUPTURE--In Front Of You
EXILE--Algae
THE SISTERS LOVE--Give Me Your Love
J DILLA & PHAROAHE MONCH--Love
PRINCE PAUL--Sucker For Love
EDDIE KENDRICKS--Intimate Friends
SWEET AND INNOCENT--Express Your Love
J.R. BAILEY--Love, Love, Love
DOROTHY ASHBY--Come Live With Me
HOLLYWOOD JILLS--He Makes Me So Mad
CHUCK JACKSON--I Like Everything About You
HANK JACOBS--Playboy Penthouse
THE PENGUINS--Earth Angel
MAREVA (GALANTER)--Bang Bang (Avec Jacno)
HELENA--Can't Get You Out Of My Head
LUKA BLOOM--Dancing Queen
BONNIE 'PRINCE' BILLY--Loves Come To Me
BILLIE HOLIDAY--Comes Love
THE BOSWELL SISTERS--Coffee In The Morning And Kisses At Night

WET WEEKEND

Holiday weekend here. I realize that I write so little about where I live: Mt Albert in Auckland. There's a part of me that's very much in the now and here. I like my neighbourhood and most aspects of my everyday life. I'm local as. I find the free suburban paper in the letterbox quite comforting, but I almost never look at the rag that calls itself a national daily. I'm detached from the search for a national identity. I suspect that many people in the land of the long white cloud share that boredom with New Zealandish hype, though we're not supposed to say this in public. I've been a guestworker here for 10 years and made it to citizenship. Give me a warm home, some friends, a job that pays the bills, works the mind, and a government that cares for the welfare of the people and the environment without having to brand the territory or big up some unitary cultural identity. But make me believe in a national fantasy and I couldn't care less. These feelings--never far below the surface of routine--bubbled up again as I watched a smidgeon of the New Zealand music awards. Various local pop culture celebrities and musicians desperately tried to sound funny as they gave out awards for a mediocre miscellany of the last year's sounds. Chug a chug chug. I'd rather listen to 1960s tunes by Montreal ye ye groups.

GET ME A VEIL

Thanks to Shirin Neshat who I've 'bitten' with the picture here.

I've decided that when I next go to Inglan which, to paraphrase LKJ and Snoop, is certainly a beeeeeaaaatch right now, then I'm going to wear a veil. Not one of those wimpy scarves with forehead exposed but the serious Ninja niqab so that no one can see my face. Not even my eyes. When the blancmanges make you visible only according to their scopic regimes, then it's better to be invisible. This look or should I say veil-style will be even more severe than the sistahs who sneaked their bombs through to kill the French occupiers in the Battle of Algiers. Sorry forgot my etudes cinematique. They actually disrobed to deliver the bombs, integrated into western culture as Jack Straw would have it. Jackass is angling for a job in the next PM's cabinet. Oh you're so hard, Jackie boy. Thank you for protecting the deep-rooted fashion values of Great Britain. Winston Churchill would be proud of you. I'm surprised the Strawman's constituents haven't asked him to don the niqab himself. That way they wouldn't have to see his ugly visage. The sight of Fiery Jack certainly upsets my cultural sensibilities. I like to see an honest open face when I meet a member of parliament, not a liar's mug. I guess if you help send troops and bombs to kill Iraqis and occupy their country based on the WMD lie it will eventually appear on your face. 655,000 and still counting. So let's cover that face. At least wear sunglasses so we don't see your dishonest pupils. It's all in the face, as you said. In yer face.

AND I LIKE IT, I LIKE IT, I LI-LI-LIKE IT

Highlight of the week may have been Status Quo playing Rockin' All Over The World on Coronation Street.

INGLAN

Gary Younge hits the nail on the head.