200th Post: The Day of 200 Songs


My 200th post came up on me quite suddenly, but i figured it was momentous enough to mention. As I’ve said before, I never expected to keep this blog going as long as I have. My track record for most of my life hasn’t been great with diaries, journals and the like. I can be a fickle, writerly type with writer’s blocks, mood shifts, and a short attention span, but for the most part, I’ve struggled through and kept this blog going. Without really thinking about it too much, I’ve settled into a style and pattern of sorts.

Sometimes I’m too academic. Sometimes my descriptions are too unwieldy, and my verbiage gets the better of me. Sometimes I’m completely dissatisfied with my writing. Sometimes I resent writing about art and not writing art. Sometimes I get a flicker of pride after working through a post and it actually says what I wanted it to say. Sometimes I just wish my indecisive, overloaded brain would stop considering every possibility and write without self-editing anxiety.

This stifling inability to settle on ideas or write them out before I’ve worked them out in my head, spreads into all areas of my life, including nearly every novel I’ve ever tried to write. I think it means something that my only completed novels were written when I was between 11 and 14 years old. Self-doubt, second-guessing, searching for an originality that doesn’t exist, these are all the things that hold me back. I’m also starting to think I must have a mild form of manic-depression; during highs, I make a lot of notes and plans and feel flushed with my own creativity to the point I don’t even remember writing the words, during lows, I can’t even look at those same notes and other people’s art intimidates rather than inspires. It may also explain the parabolic (perhaps sometimes hyperbolic) shape of this blog. Maybe by admitting this on the screen to a relatively faceless audience, I can move on and actually act upon the latest idea I have for a novel and see it through.

When I was 13, I sent a novel-sized manuscript off to a publisher only to have it, of course, politely rejected. But now that there aren’t any of these barriers anymore (I could easily publish anything myself online), I can’t produce anything I’m comfortable with the world seeing, aside from a few published short stories. The freedom and opportunity scares me. It makes it too easy and suddenly the onus is all on me. And maybe I don’t let enough in. It’s like I’m afraid of being too influenced or being shown an idea I had but in a better style or execution that I never would have thought of. It’s a lot of ridiculous insecurity, I know.

There are also times that I wonder if I really am a writer – I think of that Charles Bukowski poem and wonder if I should be scribbling something new everyday. Or whether the fact I don’t means I’m not really a writer. I used to scribble every day when I was 12; I have the notebooks to prove it. I lost something along the way, and I’d like to retrieve it. Maybe this blog is part of that recovery. And maybe that’s why the 200th post matters.

Now that all of that rather self-indulgent rambling is out of the way…In honour of my 200th post, I’m going to try something out that could potentially be a lot of fun or it may not work at all. I’m asking that any of you out there who read this blog (or stumble upon this) give me one of your favourite songs – you can either upload it somewhere (preferable option) or email it directly to me at anglopunk@hotmail.com. Then, when the first 200 people have done so, I will compile them into roughly ten different mixes and post them up here to download. Hopefully, 200 people actually decide to participate, otherwise I will have to alter the plan as necessary. There are no restrictions, the tracks can be old or new – they just have to be something you love. Should there be doubles, it will work on a first come, first serve basis – if someone has beaten you to a particular song, I will ask you to choose another one. My hope is that we’ll all hear something new and perhaps in a new way.

Write What You Know – Stars

Paperback Writer – The Beatles


11 Responses to “200th Post: The Day of 200 Songs”

  1. 1 Mickenzy
    April 5, 2009 at 3:38 pm

    Curses! I’ll have to sit this one out because I cannot possibly pick just one lol.

  2. 2 Rol
    April 6, 2009 at 1:32 am

    Do I still have to send you the song if I know it’s one you already own? Or should I try to choose something I think you might not have?

  3. 4 aria
    April 7, 2009 at 6:41 am

    just emailing you my song now. Hope you are getting lots of songs. Congratulaions on reaching your 200th post!!

  4. 5 Sheila
    April 8, 2009 at 2:29 pm

    Funny, I don’t remember writing this post and yet it describes me, and my delemma, perfectly. I have about a half-dozen novels started, and they are sitting on my computer secretly laughing at me as I flail around trying to find the inspiration to finish just one of them.

    Anyway, congratulations on your 200th post and, if you don’t mind, I will email my song(s) to you. I might fudge and send in a couple just in case you don’t get 200 submissions, and if you do, well, then you have some extras.


  5. 6 jc
    April 18, 2009 at 2:22 pm

    ‘There are also times that I wonder if I really am a writer…’

    You shouldn’t. You are a talented and thoughtful writer.

    Oh and sorry that its taken so long to get round to sending you off a song for the project. Hope its going OK…..would be happy to send you 200 songs myself……


  6. May 4, 2009 at 9:21 am

    Hi ya

    Could you -please- post the opening track from the John Hughes movie “Some Kind of Wonderful” from Propaganda (it’s genius)



  7. 8 TeenageFC
    May 6, 2009 at 5:53 am

    Hi there,

    Just stumbled onto your blog after reading a post at Vinyl Villian’s blog. I like it…especially the post about Australia….that’s where I’m from. Incidentally, if your looking for other good Aussie music, you could try The Panics. They put out a great album a year or so back call Cruel Guards.

    I’m not really into the ‘Modular set’ as you called it (but thanks for providing me with that term), so my Australian music recommendations for you may not suit your ear. But then again, you strike me as a person who is open to all comers, musically speaking.

    So now to my song choice….I could send you an Australian tune…but none really speak for me…I could send you a U2 tune (my fav all time band – sshh all you U2 haters out there)….but instead I’ve sent you a song that hit me at a turning point in my life. The Origin of Love from the Hedwig And The Angry Inch soundtrack. If you know it, that’s great…if not I hope you enjoy it.


  8. 9 Alfalfas
    August 14, 2009 at 9:00 am

    could you repost “walk away” acoustic from franz ferdinand. the link to download has expired and I love this version!

  9. September 19, 2009 at 4:17 pm

    Congrats on your 200th post. Can you include in your 200 songs – “Lips Like Sugar” by Echo and the Bunnymen? Let me know if you need me to e-mail to you.


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The only certain thing that is left about me

There is no part of my body that has not been used

Pity or pain, to show displeasure's shame

Everyone I've loved or hated always seems to leave


So I turned myself to face me

But I've never caught a glimpse

Of how the others must see the faker

I'm much too fast to take that test

The Smiths Queen is Dead

A dreaded sunny day

So let's go where we're happy

And I meet you at the cemetry gates

Oh, Keats and Yeats are on your side

A dreaded sunny day

So let's go where we're wanted

And I meet you at the cemetry gates

Keats and Yeats are on your side

But you lose 'cause weird lover Wilde is on mine

The Clash London Calling

When they kick at your front door

How you gonna come?

With your hands on your head

Or on the trigger of your gun


Charles Windsor, who's at the door

At such an hour, who's at the door

In the back of an old green Cortina

You're on your way to the guillotine

Here the rabble comes

The kind you hoped were dead

They've come to chop, to chop off your head


Then you came with your breezeblocks

Smashing up my face like a bus-stop

You think you're giving

But you're taking my life away


Won't someone give me more fun?

(and the skin flies all around us)

We kiss in his room to a popular tune

Oh, real drowners


Don't walk away

In silence

See the danger

Always danger

Endless talking

Life rebuilding

Don't walk away

Walk in silence

Don't turn away in silence

Your confusion

My illusion

Worn like a mask of self-hate

Confronts and then dies

Don't walk away


You don't want to hurt me

But see how deep the bullet lies

Unaware I'm tearing you asunder

Oh there is thunder in our hearts

Is there so much hate for the ones we love

Tell me we both matter don't we

The Associates Affectionate

I don't know whether

To over or under estimate you

Whether to over or under estimate you

For when I come over

You then put me under

Personal taste is a matter of gender


I wake at dusk to go alone without a light

To the unknown

I want this night inside of me

I want to feel

I want this speeding

I want that speeding


You'll never live like common people

You'll never do what common people do

You'll never fail like common people

You'll never watch your life slide out of view

And dance and drink and screw

Because there's nothing else to do

Vanilla Swingers

All I have is words, words that don't obtain

And I feel I'm a stain on your horizon

So I stay away - it's easier that way

And there won't be no-one I need to rely on

Is it him, is it me

Or is there something only I can see

How did I get here, why do we blow around like straw dogs on the breeze

I'm a special one, what they used to say

But I've to stay on, finish levels-A

You don't need exams when you've read John Gray

The Indelicates American Demo

And nobody ever comes alive

And the journalists clamour round glamour like flies

And boys who should know better grin and get high

With fat men who once met the MC5

And no one discusses what they don't understand

And no one does anything to harm the brand

And this gift is an illusion, this isn't hard

Absolutely anyone can play the fucking guitar

JAMC Darklands

And we tried so hard

And we looked so good

And we lived our lives in black


Plucked her eyebrows on the way

Shaved her leg and then he was a she

She says, hey babe,

Take a walk on the wild side

Said, hey honey, take a walk on the wild side


Hide on the promenade

Etch a postcard:

How I dearly wish I was not here

In the seaside town...that they forgot to bomb

Come, come, come - nuclear bomb


Back when we were kids

We would always know when to stop

And now all the good kids are messing up

Nobody has gained or accomplished anything

Wire Pink Flag

Prices have risen since the government fell

Casualties increase as the enemy shell

The climate's unhealthy, flies and rats thrive

And sooner or later the end will arrive

This is your correspondent, running out of tape

Gunfire's increasing, looting, burning, rape


Well, maybe there's a god above

But all I've ever learned from love

Was how to shoot somebody who outdrew you

It's not a cry that you hear at night

It's not somebody who's seen the light

It's a cold and it's a broken hallelujah


And what costume shall the poor girl wear

To all tomorrow's parties

For Thursday's child is Sunday's clown

For whom none will go mourning


My body is your body

I won't tell anybody

If you want to use my body

Go for it


Oh it's opening time

Down on Fascination Street

So let's cut the conversation

And get out for a bit

Because I feel it all fading and paling

And I'm begging

To drag you down with me

Mansun Six

And you see, I kind of shivered to conformity

Did you see the way I cowered to authority

You see, my life, it's a series of compromises anyway

It's a sham, and I'm conditioned to accept it all, you see

Japan Gentlemen

Take in the country air, you'll never win

Gentlemen take polaroids

They fall in love, they fall in love


We just want to emote til we're dead

I know we suffer for fashion

Or whatever

We don't want these days to ever end

We just want to emasculate them forever

Forever, forever

Pretty sirens don't go flat

It's not supposed to happen like that

Longpigs The Sun

There's no perfume I can buy

Make me smell like myself

So I put on perfume

To make me smell like someone else

In bed

Calvin Harris I Created Disco

I got love for you if you were born in the 80's, the 80's

I've got hugs for you if you were born in the 80's, the 80's


Does his makeup in his room

Douse himself with cheap perfume

Eyeholes in a paper bag

Greatest lay I ever had

Kind of guy who mates for life

Gotta help him find a wife

We're a couple, when our bodies double

Simple Minds Sons and Fascination

Summer rains are here

Savaged beauty life

Falling here from grace

Sister feeling call

Cruising land to land

No faith no creed no soul

Half a world away

Beauty sleeps in time

Sound and fury play

Bloc Party Silent Alarm

North to south


Running on


As if to say, as if to say

He doesn't like chocolate

He's born a liar, he'll die a liar

Some things will never be different


LCD Soundsystem

Well Daft Punk is playing at my house, my house

I've waited 7 years and 15 days

There's every kid for miles at my house, my house

And the neighbors can't...call the police

There's a fist fight brewin' at my house, my house

Because the jocks can't...get in the door

Johnny Boy

I just can't help believing

Though believing sees me cursed

Stars Set Yourself

I am trying to say

What I want to say

Without having to say "I love you"

Josef K Entomology

It took 10 years to realise why the angels start to cry

When you go home down the main

Your happy smile

Your funny name

Cocteau Twins Bluebell


Doesn't she look a million with her hairagami set

Hair kisses 'n' hair architecture

Yes, she's a beautiful brunette angel from heaven with her hairagami set

Hair kisses 'n' hair architecture

Augment a beautiful brunette

New Order Power Corruption

How does it feel

To treat me like you do

When you've laid your hands upon me

And told me who you are


You must let her go

She's not crying



Feeling like I'm waiting

Modern times



Hating to distraction

Just leave them alone


Girls in the back

Girls in the back

Puressence Don't Forget

They say come back to earth and start getting real, yeah

I say come back to earth and start getting real

I know I can't


So I walk right up to you

And you walk all over me

And I ask you what you want

And you tell me what you need


The problem of leisure

What to do for pleasure

Ideal love a new purchase

A market of the senses

Dream of the perfect life

Economic circumstances

The body is good business

Sell out, maintain the interest


Sitting in my armchair thinking again and again and again

Going round in a circle I can't get out

Then I look around thinking day and night and day

Then you look around - there must be some explanation

And the tension builds

Psychdedelic Furs

India, India

You're my love song

India, you're my love song

In the flowers

You can have me in the flowers

We will dance alone

And live our useless lives

Ladytron Light Magic

They only want you when you're seventeen

When you're twenty-one

You're no fun

They take a polaroid and let you go

Say they'll let you know


No consolation prizes

Spit out your lies and chewing gum

Cut off your hair yeah that's it!

If you look like that I swear I'm gonna love you more


All the neighbors are startin' up a fire

Burning all the old folks, the witches and the liars.

My eyes are covered by the hands of my unborn kids

But my heart keeps watchin' through the skin of my eyelids


Prince charming

Prince charming

Ridicule is nothing to be scared of

Don't you ever, don't you ever

Stop being dandy, showing me you're handsome


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