I got given P which I found a bit tricky.
Funnily enough it contains lots of PROPAGANDA about PUNK
Pie (and Pie Porn): Actual pie as in lovely food wrapped in pastry is a glorious thing but pie can also be used as a generic term for any lovely food. Mmmmmmm I like pie in both these forms. Pie porn is also good, pie porn being hilairiously voyeristic film/pictures of glistening, wonderfully coloured but frustratingly smell-free food, you see a lot of that on TV and in magazines these days. Pie porn can also be used as a term to describe any book or TV show featuring Nigella Lawson.
Plymouth Gin: My favourite gin. You can keep your overrated Bombay Saphire, I'll stick with Plymouth. I remember going into a pub once and Amy ordering me a Plymouth and tonic the result of which was the barman giving her some kind of secret barman wink and congratulating her on the choice and not being a Bombay Saphire swilling dolt.
"Plymouth Gin is documented from 1896 as the original base of the first dry Martini, and is the only gin consistently specified in the Savoy Cocktail Book, the bible of mixed drinks."
Or look here for some history: http://www.energymanagertraining.com/distillery/pdf/The%20History%20of%20Plymouth%20Gin.pdf
Pogoing: The king of dances and it's best done to PUNK. It's simple and inclusive, anyone no matter how drunk or free of rhythm can do it. It's energetic and fun. When done en masse it's very social with everyones closely packed bodies aiding with the balance of everyone around them. Of course it does fuck up your knees.
Public Enemy: "THIS IS THE VOICE OF GOD AND YOU WILL OBEY" is something Chuck D never said but I would've liked him to. Public Enemy at their best always hit me in the same way as great Beach Boys or Phil Spectre do, a wall of sound that just swamps you. Of course their wall of sound is an infiinately different one to Phil or Brian's, it's the sound of a city in the middle of a heatwave about to explode.
Pulp: Airships! Golden idols! Meetings in shady shanghai bars! Beating up Nazis! Gangsters! Detectives! Trenchcoats! Men of Bronze! Super intelligent animals! Robots! Rockets to the stars! Hideous cephalopodic beasts that drive men mad!. Pulp is all this and more. Pure escapism.
(Pulp is also a rather fun northern pop group led by a charasmatic geek)
Punk: Gather round children and I'll tell you a story. In the late 60's a shadow crept into music, a taint that often manifested itself as pretentiousness, introspection and a belief that music that just made people happy was somehow inferior. In the early 70's a group of well-meaning but doomed fellows in ill-advised catsuits, glittery eye-shadow and face paint tried to crush this darkness under their platform heels but their actions resulted in nothing but glorious failure...in fact some of them even became corrupted by the shadow and joined with it. Because of their failure we then had to endure a few years that seemed like eons, years when a corpulent, ugly creature called Prog stalked the land gathering around it an army of earnest engineering students, worthy musos and monged-out stoners. The Prog beast forced us to listen to it's concept albums, it's experiments with jazz, it's never-ending Castro-like proclamations about 'real' music and 'musicianship', it's endless noodling solos and it's bizarre desire to play keyboards with knives.
And then out of nowhere came the punks. They we're messy, grubby, noisy, energetic, often talentless but still filled with a fire that the Prog beast couldn't understand. They came, they slew the beast and then they imploded as revolutionaries often do and on the way they produced some of the greatest singles ever written and even a handful of great albums.
To all those that fought in the Punk Wars, I salute you!
Propaganda: Propaganda art fascinates me, especially the soviet stuff. It often has a disturbing purity about it, a religious fervour that shines out coldly. Yup it was used to spread some hideous lies and cover up heinous crimes but that doesn't mean it can't still be beautiful.
Place names: This ties in with my love of maps, I love place names whether towns, cities, villages, a single copse of trees, a river, a bridge, a house whatever. These little labels are links to the past, layered like russian dolls, the gentic code of a location locked up in language. JEEEEEEESUS that sounds pretenious but it's the quickest and clearest way I can express something that I feel more than think about.
Pop: Often seen as a *very* dirty word, one that many makers of music shrink from like vampires from a cross - they are fools. Pop is an increasingly endangered species as US-style formatting and internet stations stamp all over pop radio. Great pop is a beautiful thing from The Ronettes, to Slade, from Abba to Prince, from Buddy Holly to Scissor Sisters great pop transends any genre it might be part of and coils around the brain stem like a beautiful parasite constructed entirely from hand claps, yeah-yeah-yeahs and unforgettable tunes.
Pistols: aka The Pistols aka The Sex Pistols. I love them. I love Never Mind the Bollocks. I love Johnny Rotten. Can't really say much more than that. The passing years and their increasingly panto-style antics has not diminished the way I fell about them one iota.
I found 'P' quite tricky to do but I should mention that the following things just missed out: Prince, Prince Charles, Planet of the Apes, Prawns, Plaice
Pie (and Pie Porn): Actual pie as in lovely food wrapped in pastry is a glorious thing but pie can also be used as a generic term for any lovely food. Mmmmmmm I like pie in both these forms. Pie porn is also good, pie porn being hilairiously voyeristic film/pictures of glistening, wonderfully coloured but frustratingly smell-free food, you see a lot of that on TV and in magazines these days. Pie porn can also be used as a term to describe any book or TV show featuring Nigella Lawson.
Plymouth Gin: My favourite gin. You can keep your overrated Bombay Saphire, I'll stick with Plymouth. I remember going into a pub once and Amy ordering me a Plymouth and tonic the result of which was the barman giving her some kind of secret barman wink and congratulating her on the choice and not being a Bombay Saphire swilling dolt.
"Plymouth Gin is documented from 1896 as the original base of the first dry Martini, and is the only gin consistently specified in the Savoy Cocktail Book, the bible of mixed drinks."
Or look here for some history: http://www.energymanagertraining.com/distillery/pdf/The%20History%20of%20Plymouth%20Gin.pdf
Pogoing: The king of dances and it's best done to PUNK. It's simple and inclusive, anyone no matter how drunk or free of rhythm can do it. It's energetic and fun. When done en masse it's very social with everyones closely packed bodies aiding with the balance of everyone around them. Of course it does fuck up your knees.
Public Enemy: "THIS IS THE VOICE OF GOD AND YOU WILL OBEY" is something Chuck D never said but I would've liked him to. Public Enemy at their best always hit me in the same way as great Beach Boys or Phil Spectre do, a wall of sound that just swamps you. Of course their wall of sound is an infiinately different one to Phil or Brian's, it's the sound of a city in the middle of a heatwave about to explode.
Pulp: Airships! Golden idols! Meetings in shady shanghai bars! Beating up Nazis! Gangsters! Detectives! Trenchcoats! Men of Bronze! Super intelligent animals! Robots! Rockets to the stars! Hideous cephalopodic beasts that drive men mad!. Pulp is all this and more. Pure escapism.
(Pulp is also a rather fun northern pop group led by a charasmatic geek)
Punk: Gather round children and I'll tell you a story. In the late 60's a shadow crept into music, a taint that often manifested itself as pretentiousness, introspection and a belief that music that just made people happy was somehow inferior. In the early 70's a group of well-meaning but doomed fellows in ill-advised catsuits, glittery eye-shadow and face paint tried to crush this darkness under their platform heels but their actions resulted in nothing but glorious failure...in fact some of them even became corrupted by the shadow and joined with it. Because of their failure we then had to endure a few years that seemed like eons, years when a corpulent, ugly creature called Prog stalked the land gathering around it an army of earnest engineering students, worthy musos and monged-out stoners. The Prog beast forced us to listen to it's concept albums, it's experiments with jazz, it's never-ending Castro-like proclamations about 'real' music and 'musicianship', it's endless noodling solos and it's bizarre desire to play keyboards with knives.
And then out of nowhere came the punks. They we're messy, grubby, noisy, energetic, often talentless but still filled with a fire that the Prog beast couldn't understand. They came, they slew the beast and then they imploded as revolutionaries often do and on the way they produced some of the greatest singles ever written and even a handful of great albums.
To all those that fought in the Punk Wars, I salute you!
Propaganda: Propaganda art fascinates me, especially the soviet stuff. It often has a disturbing purity about it, a religious fervour that shines out coldly. Yup it was used to spread some hideous lies and cover up heinous crimes but that doesn't mean it can't still be beautiful.
Place names: This ties in with my love of maps, I love place names whether towns, cities, villages, a single copse of trees, a river, a bridge, a house whatever. These little labels are links to the past, layered like russian dolls, the gentic code of a location locked up in language. JEEEEEEESUS that sounds pretenious but it's the quickest and clearest way I can express something that I feel more than think about.
Pop: Often seen as a *very* dirty word, one that many makers of music shrink from like vampires from a cross - they are fools. Pop is an increasingly endangered species as US-style formatting and internet stations stamp all over pop radio. Great pop is a beautiful thing from The Ronettes, to Slade, from Abba to Prince, from Buddy Holly to Scissor Sisters great pop transends any genre it might be part of and coils around the brain stem like a beautiful parasite constructed entirely from hand claps, yeah-yeah-yeahs and unforgettable tunes.
Pistols: aka The Pistols aka The Sex Pistols. I love them. I love Never Mind the Bollocks. I love Johnny Rotten. Can't really say much more than that. The passing years and their increasingly panto-style antics has not diminished the way I fell about them one iota.
I found 'P' quite tricky to do but I should mention that the following things just missed out: Prince, Prince Charles, Planet of the Apes, Prawns, Plaice