You will die.

Here's a little snippet of a series of adverts I've been doing for Mogwai's next studio record. I've always loved looking at the front of Mogwai records, so to do something that doesn't interupt the flow too much has been a rewardathon. Doing some big 'ol 60x40's for the streets of London and the Glasgow. I've not been to Glasgow for ages. A wrong I should right. The title of this abum is a great title for an album.

Lost Art

Patch up your stupid jeans.

I love that there is a film coming out about those big hulkin' linotype machines, but I wish the trailer sneaky peeked the results that sprung from such dinosaurs. For those who like a little drama in their type:

"Linotype: The Film" Official Trailer from Linotype: The Film on Vimeo.

Via I Love Typography.

There is also some sickeningly beautiful new Seb Lester work gone up there too, complete with workings out. FIT.

PLUGHOLE.

Psyched on getting an illustration in the new Mercy E-Zine, and that we'll be playing a show for them in an old paint shop on the street that nearly forgot its own name.

Tonight:

I was Tuesday evening blue with a pain flower in dull bloom just left of my stage-right hip bone. The dog in the next yard shookah-shook a yard dog’s day from his shoulders and watched the lock on the gate to the alleyway. “All your months will begin on a Sunday” said the boy in black to a girl in grey who maybe then got home without her keys. I was heavy eyes under weekend weight, and I held my hands to sleep.

You know you're going to make a good record when...

a partner in crime sends a message that reads "The drum sound on Physical Graffiti is mega!"

Couldn't agree more.

I HATE SCHOOL RULES

Caught Rob Penn's Ride of My Life on BBC 4. He bolted about the world buying bits to make his dream bicycle. Some good enough moments, but did a rather bad job of feigning super-loco enthusiasm at every turn (For fuck's sake Rob, it's only a fucking headset), as well as confusing most of his interviewees by pissing himself at really odd moments. He came out with a Campag Record groupset on a Rourke frame with Cinelli bars, a Brooks seat and a Chris King Headset and rode off into the distance with his wallet some 5 grand lighter.

Wimbledon-bound tomorrow, with a pit stop in Camden, followed by some summer rain in Anglesey with the Crash Gang.

Obsessed with Exciter's "I HATE SCHOOL RULES"



And the less said about the album cover, the better.

Stick-Up

Type design for a sticker for your local skateboarding shop.

MOSHICD37

POW.

Back in Black(pool)

Work has been getting all up in my time and shit, hence the no-post. Did a UK legger with my mates for 5 weeks and we're still mates and so we're writing another record so that the exercise can be repeated until we are older men than we are right now.

The severe weather warnings of the weekend saw myself, Dunc and the Brown Town swerve the fuck out of our coast to coast jaunt. We got up with the larks and instead rode up to Blackpool and back instead. The thing about Blackpool is that everything there is disgusting. The food is disgusting and Blackpool tower is disgusting. Everyone that you look at with your eyes is disgusting and disgusted by the disgusting people that they look at with their own disgusting eyes. Still, despite a windy and rainy day, I managed to catch a touch of sunburn and a feigned smile smack bang in the middle of our very own Las Vegas.



So yeah. New work:



Should be seeing the light of day in mainland Europe as September trips over October's welcome mat, and I dare say we'll be tripping up drunk across Germany for as long as they can stand us to.

And if Contador wins the tour due to today's tangled code of honour, will the Yellow Jersey offer him any piece of mind at all?

NEVER interrupt de black man or a sleeping bassist.

The dogs started barking up the alleyway at half 7 this morning. It's quarter past 12 and they're still at it. It's akin to knobhead festival-goers screaming "bollocks!" into the messy night. I think if I'd bought a dog and it reckoned it urgently needed to be in the house, I'd just let it in. Saying that, the dogs round here are souped-up on the devil and put to work on each other in the bowls of Bootle skateparks. 1 and a half weeks into the tour and I got the grump of a nocturnal rock musician. Rough with the smooth. Rob's coffee this morning has got my nails down to the quick.

Instant chat-a-like makes it all worthwhile:

PETER:

it was a weird night, after we left the gig berni got chatted up buy this alcoholic and i heard the most crazy sentence I have ever heard.

PAUL:

What was it?

PETER:

'your exposed ankles are taking me to a new Babylon, i bet you've got a punani dats a real crispy'

haha

she literally ran away

the weird thing was James went 'what are you saying mate' and he goes 'NEVER interrupt de black man'