Kelly Bellyaching

Apologies for the relative dearth of recent posts - the day job has been more taxing than usual. And we went to the rather unusual lengths of not reading anything from the papers or internet over the weekend. We had CNN on, but apart from a good-natured shouting match between Ed Giillespie and Terry McAuliffe, nothing caught our attention. What were doing? Entertaining, as well as completing the Herculean task (if such a obsessive-compulsive endeavor can be described as such) of downloading album art for the 500-odd albums and obscure EPs into iTunes. We're not proud. In fact, we're the opposite of proud. Except for the bit where we managed to find the obscure late 90s NME/Melody Maker free CD covers. That was pretty hardcore right there.

What has caught us this morning has been the Observer Music Monthly, which leads with a suitably scaborous look at R Kelly's recent troubles. And the realisation that only in music journalism, joined possibly by movie critics, do writers get away so much with tangential whining about interview timing/PR/handlers/being inconsiderate. Either you get a chance to talk to your subject, and get them to say something useful, or you don't. If you want to bitch to the PR people/label, write them a letter. Stop wasting our time, you crybabies, just pad the piece with more rock star lunacy anecdotes. No, wait, you already do that with recycled "rock lists", don't you?