Dylan hits Brixton

"It's like one massive Dylan gig!" enthused my friend James, who's going to all five of the consecutive nights Bob Dylan is playing at Brixton Academy this week. "With gaps," added a nearby Mancunian.

I suppose you could take the formula one step further: for some people life is one big Dylan concert, with gaps. I don't think I'm quite one of those people, but on my way to the Academy I did actually start to feel quite nervous, in case something went wrong and I missed the whole thing.

I didn't, thank the good Lord. Dylan played a real crowd-pleaser of a setlist, but the amazing moments were during the songs you didn't think you'd be bothered about. Mississippi, Cold Irons Bound, Highway 61, Love Minus Zero/No Limit, Summer Days and John Brown were all extraordinary. Even though it's 'barely' two years since Dylan recorded it, Mississippi already sounds like a new song. John Brown came on like the dark Scottish indie-skiffle of Sons and Daughters and the graphic war-is-bad lyrics made everyone stand still. And Summer Days kept switching brilliantly between '40s swing and heavy guitar-thwacking.

There were a few letdowns - Stuck Inside of Mobile and Most Likely You Go Your Way (And I'll Go Mine) got a bit boring even before he started singing them (I don't really like the latter - that riff's as annoying as hell), and I Don't Believe You was fairly forgettable. But that's nitpicking - by the time Like A Rolling Stone rolled round, with the house lights flashing up on the crowd for the chorus, the lowlights were a distant memory. Wish I'd got tickets for all five nights.

Setlist is here.

What the Dickens

Congratulations to writer Charles Dickens, who's been included in Waterstones 200 Best Paperbacks of 2005 for his novel Bleak House. To be ranked alongside such greats as Ben Elton's Past Mortem and Dan Brown's Deception Point is a truly impressive achievement and Dickens himself, a little-read cultish writer, should feel proud of himself. Hopefully the exposure from his inclusion this list, as well as the television adaptation currently airing, will mean this underrated writer will be read alongside literary heavyweights like Harlen Coben and Michael Crichton.

Backstreet's Back, all wrong

Please watch this extraordinary webcam footage. Two masters of karaoke at work. I salute them.

Westlife Ho!

I've been thinking recently about shit Irish boyband Westlife, who were switching on the lights at Oxford Circus last night. Looking at the cover of their new number 1 album the other day (all their albums are number ones. I wouldn't be able to name a single one of them) you can see that they're not the sprightly young things they once were. "You're growing old, boys," I thought to myself. Then cruelly added, "And you've wasted your lives." If I woke up age 35 and found myself in Westlife, I'd wire the nerve endings in my right hand up to the Christmas lights, then get Bryan McFadden to flick the switch. That's how to spread true happiness to the world and his son this Christmas.

But speaking of waste, now I'm imagining one of my old teachers browsing the internet and somehow stumbling across this blog entry. He reads, sighs heavily at the sheer unoriginality of ridiculing Westlife. He remembers the promise I once showed as a young boy, and the words "what a waste" resound in his head; a solitary tear rolls down his mottled cheek. And another image springs to mind too: my girlfriend Sarah looking expectantly into my eyes, guessing at the complex and beautiful thoughts that are dancing around my head like delicate figurines. She reads this and weeps.

Unbelievable: by spending time thinking on the utter mediocrity of Westlife, I'm brought down to their level. That's how dangerous they are.

Album review: Chocolate Genius Inc – Black Yankee Rock (Commotion Records)

The music of Chocolate Genius Inc, aka Marc Antony Thompson, could easily be described as "genre-bending". However, despite his moves between New Acoustic Movement style folk, Marvin Gaye soul and quiet stoner rock, it could also be described as "a bit boring". A feeling of overly laid-back listlessness pervades his third album, making it tough for the listener to engage with many of the songs here. On the plus side, it's often so soporific, you can't be bothered to get up and switch it off. There are some inspirational moments, but CGI doesn't seem to be able to tell the difference between these and the mediocre ones. There's one line in 'Cry' that makes you think it has the makings of a classic ballad, but a general tunelessness brings it down to the level of forgettable background muzzzzic. 'Rats Under Waterfall' goes for the loveable eccentricity ticket, but comes across less Super Furry Animals recording in Rio, more crazy bearded man mumbling on park bench. The more up-tempo 'Forever Everyone' sounds like it might perk things up, but it's track 10 of 11 and is ruined by the ill-judged and flat vocal. "I lose momentum," he sings, on 'It's Going Wrong'. Yeah, me too.

TomCat

Congratulations all round. Firstly to Tom, a friend of mine for about 21 years now. He's just got engaged to his girlfriend Dom. Congratulations to her too, of course. Tom was always well against settling down, marriage, housebuying, getting a pension etc, so he has completely sold out - but news of the engagement is surely a testament to the good vibes surrounding that relationship.

Congratulations too to my university friend Cat, who just had a baby boy. He's called Oliver John Hudson. I for one will be taking advantage of the fact that Cat's surname is Bell by calling the child "BabyBel". Until he's a toddler, when I'll start calling him "OJ".

More on signs

I miss India. This is one reason why.

Single review: Sleater-Kinney – Jumpers (Sub Pop)

Yet another song about the problem of sweater shrinkage? Thankfully not, though Sleater-Kinney’s new single initially seems to be about traffic jam stress. However, it quickly turns into a more poetic and dark creature than such mundanities might suggest, as we realise the song's protagonist is considering the merits of jumping off the Golden Gate bridge. Not one to stick on at a wedding reception then, unless the sight of the bride running out with mascara-stained cheeks fills your ugly heart with leaping joy. The lyrical feast comes with side orders of off-the-beat staccato guitars, banging drums and stark vocals, giving the whole thing a quality both lo-fi and epic. Urgent, intense and bleak – but much more fun than that sounds.

Bad sign

Saw a sign on the side of a truck today that made me simultaneously smile and shudder: "This truck contains no Bovine Vertebral Column". Euuurgh.

The best headline in the world

There was a cracking headline in the Sunday Sport yesterday: "Woman gives birth to 8lb haddock". If this wasn't genius enough, it was followed up with the fantastic subhead: "There but for the grace of Cod".

While we're on the subject, check out the Daily Mail headline generator. I blame Channel 4/political correctness/Gordon Brown/asylum seekers.