When middle-class white blokes were the future of dance music

Frances, Simon and Maya arrived safe and well yesterday. It’s great to have them here. They had a chilled out day at home yesterday trying to get over the jetlag. When I crept out of the house this morning at 7am everybody was asleep, so hopefully that’s kicked in already. They’re off up to Avoca this morning, and I’ll join them later. Luvverly.

Cup Final this weekend. I’m torn about whether to support Liverpool or West Ham. Liverpool are a good club, Simon will be cheering them on, I like several of their players, but…West Ham are a good club too, I like several of their players too and I used to live within walking distance of the ground. Tie in the underdog factor and it’s “Come on the Hammers”. A winner from the admirable Nigel Reo-Coker would be good. Thanks for helping me work through that.

In other news, I’m coming to terms with the sad fact that I am now too old for dance music. Maybe it’s all those dreadful Ministry of Sound chill-out compilations that are to blame, but the Lemon Jellification of it all is really depressing. What looked to be forward-thinking and exciting ten or fifteen years ago has now congealed into a moribund and conservative scene. New stuff sounds less exciting than Kraftwerk re-issues, and any number of Aphex Twin rip-offs are duller than a good guitar band. Actually, I think Gnarls Barkley are the future. I tipped them back in March, you know.

I am the wrath of God. Who else is with me?