Henry Farrell:

It is tempting to see the procedures of

the EU as a long-term conspiracy to bore

the public into submission. The truth is

more mundane. Europe’s leaders fell into

technocracy by accident rather than design.

This article on Lester Bangs is sharp and appealing:

No, sorry. Rock ‘n’ roll isn’t the party. It’s what you do when you’re home and miserable alone because you weren’t invited to the party. It’s what you do to make up for not being at the party. That’s why it sounds like a party. A guy wouldn’t break out one of those rubber fake-vaginas in the middle of actual fucking, would he? Rock ‘n’ roll is social masturbation.

It’s sort of appropriate for it to be less about Bangs himself than about his position and meaning, about his impact on his readers. After all, that’s much of the appeal of Bangs, as far as I can tell. It’s hard to know; he’s by now so frozen into the hall of fame that I can’t really get excited about him.

Still, I’m not sure I quite buy the idea of Rock ‘n’ Roll as the antiparty. Because unlike music or poetry or painting, music makes far less sense alone

Despite

London Calling

being one of my favourite albums, I’d never before realised what the cover was about:

[via Sheila O’Malley, whose now-waning period of Elvis obsession has been a joy to encounter]

It’s not so surprising that lobbyists are offering to demonize Occupy Wall Street for money. That’s their job, after all: latch on to whatever is happening, and demand cash to support or hinder or manipulate it.

What’s sweet is how fixated they are on finding some rich central backer pulling the strings. Maybe it’s Soros? After all, these people wouldn’t do anything unless they were being paid for it:

“It will be vital,” the memo says, “to understand who is funding it and what their backgrounds and motives are. If we can show that they have the same cynical motivation as a political opponent it will undermine their credibility in a profound way.”

Mark Ames on Greece:

See the guy in the photo there, dangling an ax from his left hand? That’s Greece’s new “Minister of Infrastructure, Transport and Networks” Makis Voridis captured back in the 1980s, when he led a fascist student group called “Student Alternative” at the University of Athens law school.

David Edelstein on the Rum Diary:

Rollicking car chases, colorful carousing in tropical settings, psychedelics jags with outlandish special effects: It should be just what the Doctor of Gonzo ordered. But Robinson doesn’t have the gonzo touch. Even if his Withnail & I featured a spectacularly dissolute antihero, it was soaked through with cold rain and the melancholy specter of alcoholism and failure. To work, The Rum Diary would need to make the case for all the excesses that killed Thompson, and Robinson’s heart (or talent) isn’t in it.

[why Edelstein? Because Sheila O’Malley recommended him, entirely accurately, as “best when he dislikes something”

People, I lack music.

My office in Berlin was in a bar, above rehearsal rooms, with an electro-heavy playlist constantly on the stereo. There was enough music around that I didn’t need to find my own. So, aside from the odd medicinal piece for a particular mood, I just soaked up whatever was in the air already.

My current office is more mundane: choose headphones, or choose silence. I can’t just sink into the emotional rhythm of other people’s music, so I need to create my own or let the entire day be identical.

Still, I’m not really asking for music recommendations. I really want to find

music journalists

. Or music blogers, music essayists, whatever.

I may draw the line at twitter

. Suggestions?

Ones I already like:

• Simon Reynolds (despite his habit of concealing his articles across a dozen half-forgotten blogs)
• Velvet Coalmine
• K-punk,
  
  Splintering Bone Ashes, and the rest of the hauntology crowd. Though they’re more philosophy than music, and in any case seem mostly to have given up the ghost.
• Sasha Frere-Jones (though I wish he were a bit less tastefully even-handed)
• 
  um…there most be some more? Right?
  

Reminder that today is my belated housewarming, and my housemate’s birthday party. Location is 8A cheshire road, london n22 8JJ. Turn up any time from early evening — with friends/partners/etc as you see fit.

Should you need it, my phone number is 07935 589442

Laurie on sexy women we love to hate:

Sometimes it’s Lady Gaga, but Gaga is weird and confusing and you never quite know when she’s going to turn up dressed as a man, a lobster or all three volumes of Marx’s Das Kapital at once, as opposed to the standard alien vinyl barbie look of which certain sections of the curtain-twitching middle classes love to disapprove.