But amongst the joy and celebration, the happiness, relief and vivifying sense of living through a truly historic moment - and wishing Studs, Molly, Anne, Obama's gran and others had hung on to do so too -- we should spare a thought for the chumps. But just the briefest, most derisive of thoughts because you'll either hurt yourself laughing or want to vomit. Now back to the YAH! and the WOO! and the THANK YOU, AMERICA. That's me saying that because we hadn't made the necessary arrangements for fleeing the country if Palin (and McCain) had won....

Today in Were They As Good As I Remember? (And If So Why did I Get Rid Of Their Records?) Corner: Shriekback. Found myself thinking about them for the first time in centuries lately after reading that atrocious Observer Music Monthly article that rhodri linked to on Monday, "Schooled in cool: new literate British bands," and actually got around to listening to the MySpace pages of the new young bands being put forward as the greatest thing in the audible universe since Haysi Fantayzee*.

The Observer piece, if you're too sensible to read it, presents a ragtag group of bands as the New Eccentrics, a not-very-original name for "a new class of smart, literate British bands... challenging the lumbering louts of indie rock". This turns out to mean they're as pretentious and obnoxious as hell but can at least cross the room without vomiting or worshipping Paul Weller and John Lennon. Not being willing to dismiss new bands just because some wannabe Paul Morley has spilled a bibful over them ("an unfolding fusion of the pared-down explorations of modern jazz, the avant-garde textures of post-rock, and dance music's pulsing beats"**) I wanted to hear what they sounded like, because even at my advanced age I worry about missing the latest beaty thing just because their lead singer is called Tarquin and is a prat. And aside from Lightspeed Champion, who are actually rather good in a Prefab Sprout sort of way***, they reminded me mostly of all those bands that were being put forward as the Fabulous New Thing 5 or 10 or 15 years ago, whose names I've forgotten if I ever knew, and who sounded at best like Shriekback.

Which made me want to hear some Shriekback. Unfortunately the tracks I remember most fondly ("All Lined Up" and "My Spine is the Bassline") were recorded at a time when studio technology was at its most obnoxious, when everything aspired to the slap bass MIDI setting and adjectives like "gelatinous" and "spongy" are unavoidable. Which is a shame.

And the videos.... dear me, don't go there.

_____________
* The missing link between The Pipkins and The Fiery Furnaces. No, really.
** As you'd expect the band described this way sound about as far from this feverish description as you can get without being entirely silent.
*** Although his songs seem to be almost over before they really get going.

1. Get back on diet that was going so well before Christmas. Looked at my spreadsheet and saw it has been 42 days since I last weighed myself and slipped from the rigid strictures of my South Beach diet, introducing such calorific no-nos as cheeseburgers, tamales, kolaches and danishes into the mix. So I was a bit apprehensive about getting on the scales again, and it took me a week to pluck up the courage. But it turned out I'd only gained 1.5 pounds in all that time.

2 - 9. Um, there's still time to get started on these.

Plus, a new one:

10. Subscribe to fewer magazines. I can certainly drop the NYTRB when the introductory rate expires. I only subscribed for the free gift anyway. Everyone needs an illuminated magnifying glass. I'll keep getting Texas Monthly and the Texas Observer - Texas Monthly would be worth it just for the foaming mad letters it prints each month from disgruntled readers who think the magazine should be the house journal of the Texas Republicans.  Texas Observer is going through a dull patch at the moment - Texas Monthly seems to siphon off the best writers as soon as they start to get interesting and they're left with well-meaning but horribly earnest interns who write the same handwringing "oh, the poor immigrants living near toxic waste dumps, who will preserve their culture?" piece over and over without managing to make the reader angry or sympathetic or even concerned enough to do anything about it. But I feel obliged to support it. Which leaves either Harper's or the New Yorker. One must be dropped this year, but which?

Here's a fun way to pass a few minutes: who in your zip code has made a contribution to a 2008 presidential candidate so far? Who's the local favorite? It's nothing but Edwards and Obama round our neighborhood. Not a red cent to any Republican -- or Hilary Clinton.