I was online yesterday while I was doing the podcast stuff when Cilla Black's name started trending, rather than trust in social media right away (I nearly fell for the news of Stan Lee's death a few days ago) I googled her name and sadly the news was correct, Cilla Black was dead. When ITV broadcast the biopic series about her recently I commented about how her singing career has been largely forgotten in later years thanks to her later fame as the presenter of Surprise Surprise and Blind Date, and how it would be nice if her pop career could come back to the surface. The series did a bit to raise awareness and I am sure that although in sad circumstances, her music will get a fresh airing now.
By the time we had come home from my dad's house after lunch it was all over the news. Hopefully my ahead-of-its-time predictions about downloading music will once again come to something and Cilla will find herself in the charts once again.
Yesterday turned into a day of dead female singers as we went to the cinema at teatime to see Amy, the film about Amy Winehouse. I am not a fan of the cinema because there is usually someone there to annoy me and this evening didn't let me down. The room wasn't busy yet some dickhead decided he had to sit right in front of me, forcing me to move after stage-whispering "fucking selfish twat" for him and his wife/girlfriend to hear. At least this was the Broadway Cinema (although I am still annoyed with them for stealing my idea and making money from it) and not Cineworld where I lose patience with the world. A few sweet wrappers were rustled but apart from that it was okay, they still should have a member of staff in there during the film to keep order.
The film was made up of a collection of home videos and footage in a sort of chronological order to tell her story through her own point of view. We learned how desperately in the grip of addiction she was, and how saddening it was to think that she was a figure of fun for a while for her 'antics'. The film also showed what a leach her husband Blake was and what utter cunts the gutter press were, following her every move in a glare of flashbulbs. Although a respectfully made film there was no attempt to sugar coat her life and turn her into an angel, all the issues and problems right there to see. Amy is one of the best music documentaries I have seen for a long time and more people should see it, it certainly deserves a bigger audience than half a small screening room in an independent cinema on a Sunday evening.
The Sunday Alternative #50 is available from here.
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August housekeeping
We are now in the eighth month of the year and at a standstill as far as work is concerned. In unrelated news, it is my birthday on the 27th of this month so a nice present would be a donation using the PayPal button. This would be spent on creating podcasts, documentaries, short films, comedy sketches and various other entertainments that I will make available to enjoy online for free.
The above t-shirt and bag is also available to buy, all the money goes to the same creative fund. They are on my shop page.
I'll play you a kazoo song request, find out how here.
Letter of complaint written for you for £2, here.
steveEoliver@gmail.com
