17. 17th January 2025. More vinyl

And now it's today, still, and I'm writing about today. 

David Lynch died last night. 78 and not unexpected, he'd been diagnosed with COPD (or similar) and was now unable to leave the house. But sad. A towering genius, a man who approached life on his own terms; you may not have needed to watch everything he ever made but the world was a better place for having him in it. 

Add David's passing to that of Tony Slattery and Linda Nolan in the last few days, both really sad moments, people who'd been there for so long, Tony having seemingly passed through a terrible period (decades apparently) in his life and got to the other side only to be taken so swiftly, Linda after 20 years of recurring illness. Joan Plowright about twenty minutes ago, 95 but a giant of her industry. 

And then there's Alan Stocks. Lots of things at the Royal Court. Known well and loved by so many people I know; I only met Alan very briefly once or twice, passing on the way in to the theatre or the way out, saying hello. But he seemed lovely, and not much older than me. A shock. 

On much much lesser notes: had to go win to Dig Vinyl's sale this morning. 50% off? I can't actually resist that can I? Physically. The anxiety comes on, the idea I'm missing out on a bargain. It's stupid and I give myself good talkings to every time it happens.

Could have spent £50 without breaking sweat. Armful of vinyl. "Do you need No Guru, NO Method, No Teacher on vinyl? When did you last play the CD? this century? Same with His Band And Street Choir. Both Van, and van became problematic during covid. Went from a curmudgeon to a knob almost overnight, takes some of the joy away. Though Astral Weeks remains peerless. Scritti Politti's Provision album? Just for Oh Patti? Spike The Beloved Entertainer? E, you've got it on CD, you've got a white label promo of at least half the album. Put it back. Put it back. 

It doesn't end. There'll always be the next thing you want.

In fairness though, Swoon for £7.50? Oh yes, I'm having that thanks. Sounds great.

Picked up NME on the way out of Resurrection. The paper that gave so many of us our politics, our philosophy, our art, now reduced to what seems to be an AI produced advert for the new Dylan film. Shallow and disappointing, hanging on to a name it doesn't deserve. 

Or maybe I'm just old.

Listened to the soundtrack of A Complete Unknown on the train. Timothee Chalomet making decent fist of Dylan, but making me think "Why aren't I just listening to Dylan. 

So I did. And the film's version of Subterranean Homesick Blues is a note for note reconstruction but manages to misplace all the originals attack, approach and spirit. The version from 60 years ago just sounds sharper, more immediate, urgent, necessary. 

You can't replicate genius, the spark evades you.