A Poxford On You 2nd July 2007

So [band] have finally played our last show in England for the foreseeable future. Fittingly, it was a pointless jaunt to Oxford (only saved from the gigs-there's-no-point-in-fucking-playing chopping-block as the promoter, Russ Swiss Concrete, has previously been nice to us). When we arrived the atmosphere was befitting of a small pub at the end of a boozy weekender. Fatigue had set-in among the promoters and audience. We didn't really want to be there. Oxford likes stupid twee shit bands, this much we know. A band called Last Days of Lorca played some turgid Muse/Radiohead fare and were instantly forgotten. After we'd finished, the relentlessly shit Foxes! churned-out the usual bile-inducing twee nonsense that goes down so well in this town but nowhere else. We were outside cooling down.

In slightly lighter news, I popped into town on Friday to deliver some copies of [band]'s CD to Sister Ray in Berwick Street, and got a chance to try one of the new Hagstrom Vikings (I'd had a bash on one in Germany last summer, but it left no impression at all). It's a deluxe model.



The amber-burst doesn't look at all cheesy in real life, and the workmanship is surprisingly top-notch. I was genuinely impressed. The pickups are however abysmal.

Unable to control myself, I came home with a this little monster.