Oh, the many words for Bono

Well, it looks like I’ve found somewhere else to spout about records on a monthly basis after a lengthy hiatus. May say a little more when it’s confirmed. It’s a nice feeling anyway, after a couple of years of not being able to say, "I’m in WH Smith" to loved ones, friends and bemused strangers.

Anyway, it looks like I’ll need to be even more concise with my words than I used to be. As if trying to write about music wasn’t difficult enough in the first place, this is a right bugger because it pretty much guarantees that you can’t set the scene. So, in an attempt to get myself back into old habits, I present the first offerings in a terribly exciting selection of 20 words reviews. Feel free to contribute some yourself. It might even be fun.

 

The Divine ComedyRegeneration

National Express man loses orchestra, suit and raised eyebrow but gains long hair, weird noises and Godrich production. Oddly undervalued.

 

The Divine ComedyAbsent Friends

National Express man regains orchestra, suit and raised eyebrow but loses sense of fun and retreads past to limited effect.

 

Blur Think Tank

Not much Graham, too much Fatboy Slim. Often chilled, sometimes heartbreaking and – whisper it now – actually Blur’s best album yet.

 

U2No Line On The Horizon

Crap. Cack. Shit. Toss. Balls. Plop. Shite. Icky. Smug. Piffle. Cobblers. Codshit. And, just for variety like, absolute smoldering arse.

 

Suddenly that two years hiatus makes sense, doesn’t it?

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