Recycling Night. Highlight of the wheelie bins' fortnight. I get a garbage guard of honour. The hot ticket tonight is unarguably Thurston Moore and Michael Chapman at Band On The Wall, but my interest was piqued by this hot shit, Pitchfork-adored, up-and-coming Estonian songstress whose alliterational name with its connotations of legendary greatness is never far from superlative descriptions like 'sensual', 'dreamy', 'narcotic', 'hazy' or even "libidinous swirl". This being the week in which Kevin Shields refrigerated Hades, she's going to have her work cut-out for her with this particular critic, whose two-day attempt at trying to review the solid gold soma of 'm b v' resulted in only 17 words squeezed out on Twitter:
There has never been a good enough word for love. Which is why My Bloody Valentine exist.
I'm propelled toward this particular gig on the pumping-blood chugging undercurrent and tremolo of tumultuous stomach butterflies born of pubic pupae. …
Kevin Shields