I don't want to talk about it.

It's still too raw- I've never had a band split that I've loved dearly. At least when I've been aware of them... (read- The Libs)

Yes, I know- quite a few of the songs sound the same, lyrically, but my GOD, does Noel do a good job with the tunes... the strings on 'Stand By Me?' COME. ON. They're insane.

And now it's Liam's band. Our Kid, who wrote 'Songbird.'

Oh my.

RIP, Oasis.

I know

he's been missing since 1995, but this still makes me sad.

Missing Manic Street Preachers guitarist Richey Edwards has been declared as presumed dead, a band spokeswoman confirmed yesterday.

The Welsh musician disappeared 13 years ago, at the age of 27. Despite alleged sightings across the world, many believe Edwards, whose car was found near the Severn Bridge, took his own life.

His parents Graham and Sherry Edwards have now been granted a court order for him to be declared presumed dead, Manic Street Preachers publicist Terri Hall said today.

I can't handle this

Today, I said goodbye to my dog, Daisy.

Dais AKA The Poodle is 13+ years old, and she's been sliding rapidly downhill for the past few months. She's so thin and ill, it breaks my heart to see her. We would have taken her to the vet today, to put her out of her misery, but it's rained a whole bunch this week, and we couldn't bury her. We've her casket ready. My cousin made it on Monday.

I just sat with her in the garage, weeping over her shivering body, placing an old flannel shirt beneath her head to comfort her. I told her that Duke, our late, lamented marmie, was waiting for her at the Rainbow Bridge, and that we'd be along many years from now when they were both rested and strong. That we'd be looking for them.

I told her I wanted her to go to sleep, and not wake up. That I loved her. That I wanted her to be healthy again. To be whole again. To be able to run and play and swim and shake her wet self onto a human again.

I think she understood me, because she breathed deeply and fell asleep, not aware that her transition into another world was eased from the tears of a human that loved her. That loves her enough to tell her to let go.

You are a Good Dog, Daisy.

R.I.P. Mr Wexler

US record producer Jerry Wexler, who influenced the careers of singers including Aretha Franklin, Ray Charles and Bob Dylan, has died aged 91.

David Ritz, co-author of Mr Wexler's memoirs, said the producer passed away at his home in Sarasota, Florida.

Mr Wexler rose to fame as a partner in the influential Atlantic Records label with the late Ahmet Ertegun.

He also coined the term "rhythm and blues" while writing for Billboard magazine in the late 1940s.

Mr Wexler produced the hugely popular Aretha Franklin hit Respect, itself a re-working of an Otis Redding song.

He also produced the Wilson Pickett song, In the Midnight Hour and helped Bob Dylan win his first Grammy award by producing the 1979 album, Slow Train Coming.

Excuse me, I need to go listen to some Aretha...

I'm not going to lie-

I bawled when I saw that Estelle Getty had died. Giant tears, as I spent many hours of my formative years laughing my ass off at 'The Golden Girls.' RIP, Sophia.

Getty, who suffered from advanced dementia and died on July 22 at the age of 84, wasn't always a sitcom queen. She got her start in Yiddish theater, but didn't break out until 1981, when she played Harvey Fierstein's mother in the Broadway play Torch Song Trilogy. She also had small roles in Tootsie (1982) and Mask (1985). In 1985 she started on The Golden Girls, which was an instant hit and quickly became a staple of NBC's Saturday night lineup.

Ah....

So that's why Pete was in Newcastle...

Pete Doherty has played at the wake of a 16-year-old fan who died from cancer. The Babyshambles singer and ex-boyfriend of Kate Moss formed a special bond with Daniel Squires after meeting him last year. Daniel died in his mother Becky's arms on July 4 after losing his battle with bone cancer.

Doherty, 28, attended the wake at the Golden Lion pub in Jarrow, South Tyneside, and spent an hour with the family. He took to the stage with his guitar, teaming up with one of Daniel's friends for an emotional tribute
following the funeral at South Shields Crematorium.

The boy may be constantly conducting chemistry experiments upon himself, but he has a good heart.

Horrid

Poor Corinne...

The husband of British singer Corinne Bailey Rae has been found dead of a suspected drug overdose.The body of saxophonist Jason Rae, 31, was discovered in a flat in the Hyde Park area of Leeds on Saturday (March 22), said West Yorkshire Police. Officers found the body of a 31-year-old man there."As a result of inquiries a 32-year-old man was arrested on suspicion of supplying controlled drugs," a police spokesman told the BBC."He has now been released on police bail pending further inquiries."

Not a good year for

people associated with "Road House." First Jeff Healey, now this...

Patrick Swayze is fighting pancreatic cancer, a rep for the actor has confirmed to Access Hollywood.
"Actor Patrick Swayze has been diagnosed with pancreatic cancer and is currently undergoing treatment," a rep for the actor said in a statement released on Wednesday. "Patrick is continuing his normal schedule during this time, which includes working on upcoming projects. The outpouring of support and concern he has already received from the public is deeply appreciated by Patrick and his family."

Oh, no

RIP, Jeff.

Well said

from Steve Coogan's tribute to Tony Wilson-

"In the late 70s there were quite a lot of arty, lower middle class, catholic Manchester grammar school boys. Some of them tried to form bands; others (me) just bought records and listened to them. Tony was the apotheosis of those baby boomers who wanted to reach beyond their background and find the poetry in this post-industrial landscape. He gave confidence and legitimacy to an army of haltingly insecure men. Put simply, he showed it wasn't poofy to wear nice clothes and use long words. But above all he was a true civic champion, who found excitement and creativity on his own doorstep. Under his stewardship, Manchester became and still is an alternative metropolis. That is his legacy.

Dammit

Tony Wilson, co-founder of Factory Records, has died at the age of 57.

Born Anthony H. Wilson on February 20, 1950 in Salford, England, he went on to become a renowned broadcast journalist, band manager, record label executive and night club owner.

As the Factory Records boss, he was responsible for signing legendary bands including Joy Division and New Order to his label. Also, as owner of the renowned Hacienda nightclub in Manchester, he played a key role in the Madchester scene of the late 1980s and early 1990s that mixed indie rock and dance music and included artists such as Happy Mondays and The Stone Roses.

The Hacienda, which hosted Madonna's first UK television appearance in 1983, was forced to close in the late 1990s as it was losing money allegedly because its patrons were taking ecstasy rather than buying drinks at the club.

Wilson reportedly became involved in the Manchester music scene in the 1970s when hosting the culture and music programme 'So It Goes' on Granada
Television.

After covering a Sex Pistols performance at the Manchester Lesser Free Trade Hall in June 1976, he described the experience as "nothing short of an epiphany" and booked the band for one of the first television broadcasts of British punk rock.

These aspects of Wilson's life were later chronicled in the semi-fictional 2002 feature film '24 Hour Party People', in which he was portrayed by British actor Steve Coogan.

More recently, Wilson was involved in In The City, a yearly music festival and conference that takes place in Manchester and New York City, which he co-founded with his partner Yvette Livesey.

In 2005 he launched F4, the fourth incarnation of the Factory Records label. Earlier this year, the music mogul was diagnosed with cancer and underwent surgery to have one of his kidneys removed.

via

I'm just going to cry

You couldn't have just laid off the bud a bit, Ian......

HE admits he's barely strummed a guitar in the past year, but who needs rock 'n' roll when you can take the art world by storm instead?

Former Stone Roses legend John Squire unveiled his new artwork this week to critical and commercial acclaim.I hear that just a day after the launch he's already sold more than half of his collection - with pieces ranging from £2,000 up to
£28,000. And John tells me he's enjoying his art so much that he's now shelved-for good - any more music projects. He says: "Music and art are both disciplines that fulfil the same need, that is the need to create. I get the same buzz from creating a successful painting as writing a great song - it comes from the same place.

Someone I aspire to resemble

in both form and function is Heather B. Armstrong from Dooce. She is, quite simply, a fantastic writer, and this piece regarding Britney is so compassionate and knowing, that I wish I was her (Heather's) friend.

You wouldn’t have ever found me out at night flashing my bare vagina, but so what? I did things that were far worse, a lot of yelling, a lot of walking away, a lot of wishing I had never had a child. But I forgive myself for all of that because I was sick. I am not that person anymore. I wasn’t that person before my breakdown, and I’m doing everything I can to not ever become her again.

And while I understand that Britney Spears is not everyone’s cup of tea, that to most people she’s just a spoiled celebrity who has more money than sense, I would hope that other women and other mothers are looking at her with a little bit of compassion right now, if only for the sake of those two baby boys who are innocent in all of this. She is their mother. I had too many people pulling for me when I went through it to not extend that sympathy to her or to any other woman who might feel out of control enough to start sabotaging her life.

Regarding Molly

One of my favorite writers, talking about my dearly-departed favorite writer. God Bless Charles Pierce.

Aw, dammit all to hell.

A year or so ago, we lost a gentle soul named John Ferguson, the first great editor I ever had, who'd cut his professional teeth at The Texas Observer under Kaye Northcott and Molly Ivins. Every great story John had, and he had a rack of them, began with the phrase, "One day, Northcott and Ivins..." and went from there.

So, in 1980, when I met Ms. I. for the first time, I told her that I considered her, if not a professional mother, at the very least, a professional aunt. She got a very big kick out of that. (It was then, I believe, that I passed along the ultimate Boston compliment and told her I thought her work was "wicked smart." Hey, if she can drop the Texas lingo on me ...) When John passed, and she couldn't make the memorial service, she asked us to send along the eulogies we'd read. That was the last time I heard from her.

Now she's gone, and so is Father Robert Drinan, S.J., a brave and decent man who entered The Society (as the Jesuits call it) shortly after my uncle Michael did, and who always returned my calls as a congressman, and as an ex-congressman, because of that. (My European history professor once said that there were only three things you needed to know about European history: the nobility is always corrupt, the middle-class is never ready to take control, and the Jesuits are always being expelled.) Two brilliant troublemakers, gone at a time in which there is so much brilliant trouble to be made.

I think the reason neither of them really fit the role of modern media celebrity -- I mean, Jesus, Gloria Borger is preferable on TV to Molly Ivins? Maureen Dowd is a better writer? Yeah, and I'm the Tsar of all the Russias -- is that they believed too strongly and too genuinely in too many things for an era in which we've spent two goddamn weeks talking about a caesura in a remark Hillary Clinton made in Iowa a flat year before anyone votes there. Molly made a point often of how much she liked good politicians and believed in the political system. And Father Drinan -- I know. I know.

But the honorific is a tic of my Papist heritage that I can't lose -- was deadly serious about deadly serious topics -- war and peace, economic justice. That's not the way we do political commentary -- or politics, alas -- very much any more. What do we get? Michael Kinsley stuffing his IQ into a jar and defending Scooter Libby on the grounds of Business As Usual. Two weeks of idiocy about a caesura in a remark made by Hillary Clinton in Iowa a flat year before anyone votes there. (And let's not get into the fact that the very thought of an HRC candidacy seems to have driven Chris Matthews into some serious brain-fever). Snarky "Messiah Watches" about Barack Obama.

The worst thing you can do at the Kool Kids table is be either sincere or serious. Sorry, you pack of smug, insufferable bastards -- a war's gone bad and the country's a mess, and you never were funny, anyway, not like Molly was. So go and take your little slambooks and wreck some other profession for a while. The grown-ups have work to do.

via Atrios

Ah, hell

Molly Ivins, RIP.

Anyone who could coin the nicknames "Shrub" and "Goodhair" for our esteemed POTUS and Gov. Rick "MoFo" Perry, respectively, was a righteous woman.

Syndicated political columnist Molly Ivins died of breast cancer Wednesday evening at her home in Austin. She was 62 years old, and had much, much more to give this world.

She remained cheerful despite Texas politics. She emphasized the more hilarious aspects of both state and national government, and consequently never had to write fiction. She said, “Good thing we’ve still got politics—finest form of free entertainment ever invented.”

Molly had a large family, many namesakes, hundreds of close friends, thousands of colleagues and hundreds of thousands of readers.

via Atrios

I couldn't resist looking up some choice Molly quotes. God DAMN, she could write.

_"Naturally, when it comes to voting, we in Texas are accustomed to discerning that fine hair's-breadth worth of difference that makes one hopeless dipstick slightly less awful than the other. But it does raise the question: Why bother?", in a 2002 column about a California political race.

_ "The poor man who is currently our president has reached such a point of befuddlement that he thinks stem cell research is the same as taking human lives, but that 40,000 dead Iraqi civilians are progress toward democracy," from a July 2006 column urging commentator Bill Moyers to run for president.

_ "Many people did not care for Pat Buchanan's speech; it probably sounded better in the original German," Ivins in September 1992, commenting on the one-time presidential hopeful's speech to the Republican National Convention.

_ "....our very own dreaded Legislature is almost upon us. Jan. 9 and they'll all be here, leaving many a village without its idiot," from a December 2000 column.

via the Star-Telegram

This made me cry

This article about the N'Awlins Saints fans made me bawl like a little kid with a skinned knee. And I say this as a life-long Bears fan- born and raised in a small Iowa town, 3 hours from Chicago.

A fine piece of writing.

Then it hit him, like it hit thousands around this heartbroken town.

"I'm going to the airport," he announced. "They brought hope to this city when nobody else could. The mayor sucks. The governor sucks. The legislature sucks. The president sucks. The only thing that doesn't suck is that team. They brought hope to this city, and I'm going to the airport."

So much in professional sports is canned, and this was something real, something spontaneous and pure. Through a neighborhood they drove, down a winding, dark road to a private terminal where the team's charter would land. Cars parked, one after another, the headlights looking like that scene from "Field of Dreams." Fans brought coolers and bottles of wine, standing in the pouring rain, giving something back to the team that gave them so much.

via First Draft