Dancing In Your Seat

I had a good weekend. I went dancing at Poptimism. I made a huge, stonking hot curry. (And as strange as this probably sounds, I feel like I smell like myself again, due to my increased curry consumption.) And best of all, I spent the weekend recording.

The results are up on My Personal MySpace: the swaggering jam of (Keep My Name) Out Of Your Blog (yes, I am well aware of the irony of that title - it's the endless recursive nature of the Internet Age.) and the blissed-out shoegaze/happy house mashup of The Boy Hairdresser.

Although the latter is based on a much older song, it started out so heavily influenced by Thom Yorke that I nearly called it The Boy Eraser, which might actually be a much better name for a song. But then I put the vocals and guitars on and it sounded like me again.

Out Of Your Blog passed my pop test - which is, basically, if I piss myself laughing while recording, to the point where I can barely sing, I know it's good. Pop music should never take itself too seriously.

The Freaky Trigger crew actually played Sticky and Brown at Poptimism. I've never seen a dance floor clear so fast! Until all my friends realised what it was, and got up to dance. I, of course, could not dance because it's not cool to dance to your own songs, or, erm, something. Well, really, because it was too bloody hot to dance, and anyway I was enjoying my Bond Villain Recliner Chair too much.

I had forgotten how much I enjoy recording. I need to do it more often.