Archive for October, 2006


No, I’m not having an existential crisis.

I heard Why? in a record shop a couple of weeks ago and I haven’t stopped listening to his album, Elephant Eyelash, since.

Here’s the video to Rubber traits, one of the best songs from the album.

I know most of you probably don’t come here for my music recommendations (in fact I don’t really know why you come, it would be interesting to find out what you like best about the blog) but I hope I’ve put some of you onto some good bands.



We had a party on Friday night.

I’m not sure our little flat was designed to accommodate so many people but it did us proud.

There were no complaints from the neighbours either which was a relief, given that we can hear the TV belonging to the people upstairs and the snores of the people next door.

Have a look at the pics here.

Ah, Paris!

I don’t normally post links to news stories but this one was so good, I had to share it.

Apparently, several Japanese tourists in Paris are hospitalised every year when their ‘expectations’ of the city don’t match the reality.

In other words, the frogs are so bloody rude that it literally drives people insane.


I was out with a friend last week and she took me to a little cafe which doubled as a record shop.

I don’t own a record player but it was good to have a browse.

Anyway, my friend treated herself to an album of Ethiopian jazz fusion.

Which is possibly the most pretentious sentence I’ve ever written.

Anyway, if you’ve seen Broken Flowers you might recognise this lovely piece of music by Mulatu Astatke, which just happened to be on my friend’s album.

To be listened to while staring disaffectedly out your window and pondering life’s mysteries.


Why are Sundays so painfully depressing?

I once read an article by a sociologist or a social psychologist or an anthro-socio-something-or-other about this very matter.

He had some theories but I can’t remember what they were.

As far as I recall, though, he actually had some pretty conclusive evidence which showed that suicide attempts increased on Sundays.

It’s a bit too predictable to point to the imminent arrival of another week of wage-slavery as the reason for people’s black moods.

But how else can we explain it?

Is there some vague collective guilt at the fact that we now routinely ignore the day’s religious obligations?

My girlfriend vehemently disagrees with me on this. To her, Sunday is a day full of possibilities.

She looks forward to long autumnal walks, drinking coffee at a cosy cafe, snuggling up on the sofa or visiting a museum.

I enjoy all of these things but, to me, doing them on a Sunday is always accompanied with a vague feeling of dread.

Where Fridays seem alive with possibilities, Sundays feel laboured and funereal.

I just want to curl up and wait for the day to pass!

It’s frustrating because, come Saturday evening, I’m already dreading another bout of Sunday blues.

I remember one particular Sunday from my childhood which might go some way to explaining my negativity towards the day.

When I was around 10, my parents thought it was a good idea if I had some self-defence lessons and so I started going to karate at the Town Hall.

The lessons took place every Sunday and as far as I recall, I quite enjoyed them.

My dad would come and pick me up and, if we were quick enough, we always made it home in time for my favourite TV show – The Little Princess. (Before you ask, no, I’m not gay. Though maybe it was a close-run thing.)

One Sunday we came home and, to my horror, it wasn’t on.

Had we missed it? Had the series finished? What had become of my beloved little princess?

I have absolutely no idea.

All I remember is the crushing disappointment of that moment.

Sundays would never be the same again.

Cafe Gavlen


Given that Cafes and Bars is a category on my blog, I’ve decided that I should actually try and write about some.

To that end I’ve been spending my Sundays wandering around Norrebro in search of some nice places to write about.

For the past few weeks, these walks have taken me down Skt Hans Gade towards Sortedam Dossering and the lakes.

It’s a nice part of town. Antique stores jostle with boutiques while nearby Skt Hans Torv and Elmegade heave with the local trendies.

Cafe Gavlen (which I think means the Gable Cafe) is a cosy neighbourhood place with a French bistro feel.

p1040333.JPG I walked in and was greeted with the customary wall of smoke. It never ceases to amaze me how many Danes smoke.

It is almost as if that in paying so much tax they feel obliged to smoke themselves to death in order to recoup some of their outlay in hospital treatment.

Anyway, my first impressions were good. The clientele was pretty eclectic (well-heeled older ladies, a father and daughter and the obligatory crowd of hungover 20-somethings still with the fug of a Saturday night thick around them). Brunch was in full-flow but it wasn’t hectic.

We found a couple of leather armchairs in the corner and sat back and leafed through the free mags.

I noticed a TV in the corner and I expect they show footy in the evenings.

Sometimes it’s difficult to really tell why one cafe stands out from any other. Copenhagen is blessed with dozens of cosy little places like this, after all.

I guess it’s just a feeling at the end of the day, your personal sensibilities dimly agreeing with the sensory data.

Or something.

Where: Ryesgade 1, Norrebro

Website: Cafe Gavlen

I hate you forever

This is kind of a repost from my last blog but it’s so good I wanted to show it again.

I hate you forever is a lovely song by a French band called Domotic.

It’s a treasure trove of a website, so have fun.

And while I’m on, here’s something from a band called Asobi Seksu which you might like.

If not, well, tough titties.