― DavidM, Sunday, 19 August 2001 00:00 (twenty-four years ago)
― dave q, Sunday, 19 August 2001 00:00 (twenty-four years ago)
― mark s, Sunday, 19 August 2001 00:00 (twenty-four years ago)
― Ned Raggett, Sunday, 19 August 2001 00:00 (twenty-four years ago)
― Geoff, Sunday, 19 August 2001 00:00 (twenty-four years ago)
I once wrote a song with the working title of 'Ben Clancy is a Crap Shop' if that counts...
― emil.y, Monday, 20 August 2001 00:00 (twenty-four years ago)
― DG, Monday, 20 August 2001 00:00 (twenty-four years ago)
Rumour Has It that the journalist in question in TJIFA was none other than J*n S*v*g*.
As to the other section of the question, I know plenty of cases of journo + popstar, sitting in a tree. Twice it happened to me. But on neither occasion could my seducer really be called a popstar in The Charts terms.
― suzy, Monday, 20 August 2001 00:00 (twenty-four years ago)
― Mitch Lastnamewithheld, Monday, 20 August 2001 00:00 (twenty-four years ago)
― DavidM, Monday, 20 August 2001 00:00 (twenty-four years ago)
suzy ain't telling , so WE MUST GUESS!
1. Mark E. Smith 2. Kid Creole
Sav'n'Moz: *NOT* convinced (I'd have heard). But I shall set the old-skool manc-punk gossip massive into hive-like evil activity...
― mark s, Monday, 20 August 2001 00:00 (twenty-four years ago)
― gary g., Monday, 20 August 2001 00:00 (twenty-four years ago)
My gossip source for Moz was friendly with Parlophone pink mafia at the time; heard it from JS' subsequent love interest.
Actually, a certain magazine's music editor is after me at the moment, I think. Help!
― Dickon Edwards, Monday, 20 August 2001 00:00 (twenty-four years ago)
― Ned Raggett, Tuesday, 21 August 2001 00:00 (twenty-four years ago)
He really is a crap shop, though- I tried to get some crisps out of him and pff! impossible.
I think suzy's popstars are:
1)Rick Wakeman 2)Miles Hunt
(no offence meant, suzy, just in case you suddenly get an urge to hit me very very hard)
― emil.y, Tuesday, 21 August 2001 00:00 (twenty-four years ago)
Of course, the worst part of musician-writer relationships (Mary Ann Hobbs and Miles Hunt, Andrew Eldritch and Jennifer Nine, Chris Roberts and Darling Buds woman, Simon Reynolds and Woodentops woman, woman out of Lush and Ted Kessler, Sade and Robert Elms, and on and on) is the doubled gossip. You get gossiped about - lied about, more likely - if people are curious about your lifestyle or if they have some bitchy problem with you. The potential for this within that particular sphere is obviously colossal. Plus, of course, many of your friends and acquaintances will be musicians, journalists and the people who hang around musicians and journalists, who're notoriously bitchy and who also have, in many cases, a national outlet for their shitstirring. I'll personally never forgive the lady journalist who pressed my ex on nonsensical rumours that at the time of our dalliance, she, the palest and photographed woman in the music press, was being beaten up by me. Strangers know too little of your character to doubt juicy gossip, I suppose, and why should they(I don't know that Michael Jackson is a paedophile, but I sort of assume he is, like everyone else)? Gossip is gossip; shit happens, especially around shit people. But printing this stuff, even as rumour - "Some people have said..." - is deadly. Especially when you do what all good journalists are told to: have the lack of taste and lack of foresight to ask people about all sorts of subjects they'd rather avoid, then write up the sneering stonewall that ensues with an element of manufactured mystery..."refused to discuss"...
Then, with both the subject and the "reluctance" (dignified refusal) to discuss it fully legitmised by publication, every other article for a month in the supplements and glossies (written by hacks whose only background knowledge is the press pack containing the previous article) contains the same line: "a violent/abusive boyfriend she doesn't want to talk about". A subject they never brought up during the interview, partly from cowardice, partly through fear of losing a nice snippet of dirt. People kid themselves that they can read between the lines of journalese, but things like this are only visible to the journalistic eye. They're not even tricks, they're so embedded in the structure of journalism in this country that if they ceased to exist the whole thing would come down with an expensive clatter (all those mags full of tat, all the showbiz exclusives about boring people, which directly fund the news desk, etc. etc. et bloody cetera). Can't be bothered to go on any more than you can be bothered to read on, but that's the basic anatomy of demonization, anyway.
That's partly why I've come to hate Popbitch, and why I can see that young pop fans in fucking Bedford or somewhere would love it so much. When you actually know half the people involved, or at least near- identical versions of them from a few years ago, the whole thing starts to look like a John Martin painting or something, the twisted faces of the doomed and wretched sluicing into the inferno under the booming, ominous clouds, wreathed in lava and something that looks like cocaine.
Suzy, I'm guessing Momus, because Occum's Razor says so.
― Taylor Parkes, Tuesday, 21 August 2001 00:00 (twenty-four years ago)
― DG, Tuesday, 21 August 2001 00:00 (twenty-four years ago)
Also remember that some people *love* to be gossipped about and actively court it - after all, why would Dickon publish his journals online, bleach his hair white, and join a band if he didn't want to be recognised and talked about. Remember what Oscar Wilde said about being talked about . . .
So yeah, Taylor, the pop industry and celeb journalism is a simulacrum of Bosch's Haywain. But its not like that's a *bad* thing.
― David T, Saturday, 10 November 2001 01:00 (twenty-four years ago)
― chaki, Saturday, 10 November 2001 01:00 (twenty-four years ago)
― maryann, Saturday, 10 November 2001 01:00 (twenty-four years ago)