I’ll be 22 on Sunday. Here’s a pimping one-song-a-year playlist starting in 1988, like a timeline of my life:
1988 – Dinosaur Jr., Freak Scene
1989 – Pixies, Debaser
1990 – Nirvana, Sliver
1991 – Blur, She’s So High
1992 – The Cure, High
1993 – Suede, Animal Nitrate
1994 – Stone Temple Pilots, Vasoline
1995 – Elliott Smith, Roman Candle
1996 – Wilco, Hotel Arizona
1997 – Foo Fighters, My Hero
1998 – Teardrop, Massive Attack
1999 – Placebo, Every You Every Me
2000 – Oasis, Gas Panic
2001 – Ryan Adams, Sylvia Plath
2002 – Interpol, Obstacle 1
2003 – The Cooper Temple Clause, Blind Pilots
2004 – Hope Of The States, Black Dollar Bills
2005 – Clap Your Hands Say Yeah, In This Home On Ice
2006 – ¡Forward, Russia!, Nineteen
2007 – Two Gallants, Reflections Of The Marionette
2008 – Crystal Castles, Tell Me What To Swallow
2009 – The Horrors, Sea Within A Sea
2010 – Hot Chip, Brothers
I’ll burn this on a CD if anyone wants it. Let me know baba ganoosh.
Emmanuel Eboué is a funny fucker. He turned up to Arsenal’s Christmas Party dressed as a tiger. The event was black tie. Here’s him pretending to understand North Korean:
And this is a) an incredible nutmeg and b) why Spain are a bit good:
And here is why the Ghanaian team are winners of the Dude award for this years tournament. I would love it if they could win. It will never happen. But it would top off what has been a boss few weeks.
This makes me want to be an astronaut…
This makes me want to be Norman Foster, but not 75
In other news:
-A really interesting article about prison and rehab.
-I keep staying up late, and complaining of being tired. Ergo, I’m a tit.
-Best before? Pfft.
Actual bedtime. For sure. 21, goodbye. It’s been beautiful.