
Archive
Apparently the costume drama season is upon us. Here runs a report about this very British genre.
Mr Damon Gough is Badly Drawn Boy. He’s awesome. Have you Fed the Fish is my fav album.

I picked up this flyer in some club in Barcelona some years back. Fuck knows why. But it ended up somehow moving all over the world with me and hanging out in various cupboards and suitcases. Somehow it turned up the other day and it was like ah… Man with flowers! It’s finally out of the closet. I like the crazy psycho enthusiasm of it. It’s got a bit of the Don Quixote vibe that seems to endure through the odd vein of the city just beneath the surface of layered and accumulated urban grime smothered in graffiti. Whatever. Cool character.
See the artwork here and get some video from ANGELO says:

This classic song was rather nicely revived for Hotel Chevalier, the short film that opens The Darjeeling Limited. It’s a beautiful introduction to a great film. The adventure story takes three brothers on journey through India. It’s full of delightful quirkiness, harsh realities and good humour.
Here are the lyrics:
WHERE DO YOU GO TO (MY LOVELY) ?
Peter Sarstedt - 1969
You talk like Marlene Dietrich
And you dance like Zizi Jeanmaire
Your clothes are all made by Balmain
And there’s diamonds and pearls in your hair, yes there are
You live in a fancy apartment
Off the Boulevard Saint-Michel
Where you keep your Rolling Stones records
And a friend of Sacha Distel, yes you do
But where do you go to my lovely
When you’re alone in your bed
Tell me the thoughts that surround you
I want to look inside your head, yes I do
I’ve seen all your qualifications
You got from the Sorbonne
And the painting you stole from Picasso
Your loveliness goes on and on, yes it does
When you go on your summer vacation
You go to Juan-les-Pins
With your carefully designed topless swimsuit
You get an even suntan on your back and on your legs
And when the snow falls you’re found in Saint Moritz
With the others of the jet-set
And you sip your Napoleon brandy
But you never get your lips wet, no you don’t
But where do you go to my lovely
When you’re alone in your bed
Won’t you tell me the thoughts that surround you
I want to look inside your head, yes I do
Your name, it is heard in high places
You know the Aga Khan
He sent you a racehorse for Christmas
And you keep it just for fun, for a laugh a-ha-ha-ha
They say that when you get married
It’ll be to a millionaire
But they don’t realize where you came from
And I wonder if they really care, or give a damn
Where do you go to my lovely
When you’re alone in your bed
Tell me the thoughts that surround you
I want to look inside your head, yes I do
I remember the back streets of Naples
Two children begging in rags
Both touched with a burning ambition
To shake off their lowly-born tags, so they try
So look into my face Marie-Claire
And remember just who you are
Then go and forget me forever
But I know you still bear the scar, deep inside, yes you do
I know where you go to my lovely
When you’re alone in your bed
I know the thoughts that surround you
‘Cause I can look inside your head
(na na-na-na na na-na-na na-na na na na na)
(na na-na-na na na-na-na na-na na na na na)






