I watched Crash by David Cronenberg for the first time on T.V the other night. If you haven’t seen it, you’ve probably heard of it with all the hysteria in the press that followed its release. It follows a set of characters (principally James Spader) that develop a fetish involving car crashes and wounds resulting from them. They literally sit around wanking to world scariest police chases (I thought I was the only one).

It seemed to me as I was watching it, that this is an allegory, but an allegory for what? Then, as Spader was fucking Rosanna Arquette, running his fingers along the deep scar lines on what was left of her legs, it struck me that at some point during the early stages of a relationship people reveal emotional or psychic scars to each other, confess their damage, as a way of testing each other and deepening the relationship by admitting the initial idealized version of themselves they were previously presenting wasn’t exactly the full picture. Sure you can love the good me, but can you love the bad me?

Some people though, begin to idealize the damage, to fetish it, believing it makes them more real, genuine, dangerous, unique. Their damage defines them and justifies endless self-pity, melancholy and inaction. Half- consciously, they begin to compete; “You think you’re fucked up that’s nothing compared to me”. Richie Manic fans spring to mind. There’s a line in a song from a band called, co-incidentally, The Driven, that goes:

‘Desperately I lick your scars, not that the taste does anything for me.’

On another level it seemed to be commenting on the fetishing of violence by the media. When Elias Coteas is leaning out of a convertible taking pictures of a car crash, it reminded me of how the media are doing that every day on our behalf. When he explains that his project is exploring how our bodies are being transformed by technology, if you substitute film for project and psyche for body, the central point of the film reveals itself. Open a newspaper, turn on the newspaper and there are pictures of train crashes, war zones, crime scenes everyday, always accompanied by a self righteous sense of outrage and a pair of tits on page three, or an ad with a half naked model, or simply being introduced by a woman who could be a model. This adds a juicy level of irony to the witch hunt that followed the release of Crash. Surely there were more important stories at the time that deserved the media’s attention but they didn’t possess the vital ingredients of sex and violence.

Listening to: Autechre-”Confield”….which is part abstract wank and drives you up the wall but not without some moments where you can see some kind of method to their madness. The album has divided it’s hardcore fanbase between those who think it’s a masterpiece and those who reckon this avant-garde electronic duo’s (Sean Booth and Rob Brown) heads have went right up their arses. The album mostly comprises of electronic blips, clacks, booms and gurgles which sounds about as appealing as a yoghurt enema. It feels like yr taking a walk around in the head of the bloke from “pi”….right before he took a drill to it. It’s defiantly non-musical which is admirable but a lot of the music is relentlessly oblique, gloomy and just so damn ugly. The first two tracks are possibly the most difficult ie.annoying tracks. It’s when they inject a bit of energy like on “pen expers” it sounds more interesting. The track sounds like an electro groove thats been cut-up and contorted all out of shape. “Parhelic triangle” sounds like knackered steam pistons but with an monastic bell chime melody which gives it an eerie, nightmarish feel. “bine” has the same kind of feel with its creepy UFO engine drone. Maybe Autechre’s problem is that they are thinking too much about how they are perceived…

It’s only now that I’m finding out that Felix Da Housecat’s-”Kittenz and thee glitz” is a really, really good album. It’s like the sleazy, Eurotrash, coke-snorting sister to “Discovery”. I love the dead pan “we-are-the-beautiful-people” vocals courtesy of Miss Kittin (rowr) and stomping techno beats on “Madame Hollywood” and “Happy hour”. If “Discovery” took its cue from “Video killed the radio star”, this takes its cue from “Sweet Dreams”. “Glitz rock” is the most joyous and poppy track with it’s “baby-baby” vocoders and uplifting synths. “Magic fly” breaks down into some squirty drums that sound like they came off a “Defender” arcade game. For others on a similar eighties synth-pop for 2002…there’s International DeeJay Gigolo Recordsand Electroclash

Welcome to b00mbl0g, the latest addition to the new-look b00mb0x site. It’ll be brought to you by myself, JackUzi and partner-in-crime Bluegerm and we’re gonna be gabbing about music, movies, books, whatever… Dont be shy to send us an e-mail to let us know if we’re talking bollocks or vice versa or just let us know that there’s someone out there…..